SCARLETT PARKER
Eighteen Years Ago
Dripping wet in a little pink one-piece swimsuit, I followed Seth and our so-called "friends" into the kitchen as the party planner announced that it was time to light the cake and sing Happy Birthday.
I guess the kids in attendance just lived in our neighborhood and my mom wanted to show off her husband's wealth by hiring various performers and setting up extravagant decorations. It was over the top for a seven-year-old birthday party.
The smell of chlorine was overwhelming and burning my nose as we all crowded around the outdoor dining table with a giant chocolate cake in front of me and Seth, listening to all these kids sing to us in British accents while our mom and the other parents drank on the other side of the yard.
"Make a wish!" The party planner exclaimed with a clap of her hands.
I looked at Seth to see that his eyes were squeezed closed as he mumbled something silently to himself, so I quickly did the same and asked if my real dad could come to visit us in London. At the time, I didn't understand why he wasn't there or why we never saw him again before we moved to a new country.
"Yay!" All the kids clapped and started shouting out which pieces they wanted.
Naturally, I wanted the bit that had my name, but just as I pointed it out to the caterer, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder.
"None for her," my mother chuckled and the girl with the knife in the cake looked confused.
I turned my head up to Amber. "I can't have any birthday cake?"
"Scarlett," she sighed with a little condescending laugh. "All that sugar just isn't good for you, darling. I'll have one of the caterers get you a fruit plate. That has plenty of healthy sugar, okay?"
It wasn't a discussion. She turned back to her friends and rolled her eyes before sliding her Chanel sunglasses up the bridge of her nose. I watched the women laugh as she said, "I swear, the child never stops stuffing her face like a little pig. She would look like a balloon if it wasn't for me."
Instinctively, I look at one of the giant balloons in the yard and then look down at my little potbelly in my bathing suit because I hadn't quite learned the art of sucking my stomach in yet. That would come in a few years.
"Scar," Seth whispered, so I ripped my gaze from the balloon to see him gesturing for me to follow him inside. He had a plate with a piece of cake and two gold plastic forks.
I shivered in the freezing house and felt the pool water still dripping from my hair as we went all the way upstairs and to our shared bedroom. From the glass wall, we could sit and watch the party unfold in the backyard without us. Nobody even knew that we were missing.
Seth set the cake between us so we could share, and I started picturing myself turning into a little pig with every bite. It was a funny image, but then I started to wonder if I really was stuffing my face all the time. I didn't think so. I wanted food when I was hungry...wasn't that normal?
"I don't like it here, Scar," Seth spoke quietly. "I wanna go home."
All I could think to say was what our mom said to me the last time I made that comment to her. "This is our home, Seth. We have to like it."
"I don't like–"
"What are you two doing in here?" Frank startled us both as we turned to see him in the open doorway. We should have closed it.
