Grease • muke • part of the reality series•

Chapter One : Luke

"I don't know." I said slowly, "Maybe some other time."

"Luke you're alive damnit!" she groaned, "Act like it and live a little!"

"I don't think my mOm will let me." I said honestly.

"Well act like a normal teenager and lie to her."

"That's horrible."

"So is looking back at your life when you're ninety and realizing you blew it."

Unsure, I shifted from foot to foot uneasily.

"We'll pick you up at six." Maxine informed me.

"My Mom likes to eat as a family." I explained lamely, "We're not done until around seven."

"Fine." Maxine huffed, "We'll pick you up at seven, okay?"

I hesitated for what I realized was entirely too long before finally offering a strange shrug nod combo.

"Great!" Ani gushed, "We'll see you tomorrow Luke!"

And then they were gone and I was alone.

A sigh leaving my mouth I shuffled my way into the house where I was immediately hounded by my Mom who had been standing behind the door waiting for me.

"There's my little working man!" she gushed, pulling my tall frame against her short one in a bone shattering hug.

"How was work?" my Dad's voice rang out from the kitchen where he was chopping kale for Mom's "Miracle smoothies" which she claimed had been whispered to her by an Angel in a dream.

That was the thing with my parents. They were both southern, both puppets under the marionette strings of religion and both, while well meaning, incredibly closed minded.

Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, however one can only take so much perfection before they start to snap, and my parents were perfect.

Every room looked like an Art Van display, untouched and uncomfortable. Everything they cooked was fancy, never did I eat boxed mac and cheese and ramen like a normal human being, instead it was cod, or some fancy preparation of meat, or some variation of grilled chicken.

There was no cursing in my house, no violent video games, no excitement. There instead were beige walls, cheesy plaques saying random words such as, smile, live, family, prayer and hope.

Similar words decorated throw pillows and the mat in front of the front door.

My Dad worked from home and my Mom didn't, meaning the two of them were always home, giving me less then no space. Sometimes, they gardened which was nice, and other times they went golfing or to the grocery shopping and on those rare occasions I got the house to myself.

I had two brothers, both older and both away at college, eating potato chips, drinking beer and making their own decisions. It was only a year prior that my Mom finally left the decision making of what I would wear each day completely up to my discretion.

But, like I said, I knew my parents meant well so I tried not to let my irritation with them show.

"It was okay." I said in answer to my Dad's inquisition on the nature of my work experience.

"Just okay?" Mom fretted, "Your Dad is making you a smoothie. I figured you'd be hungry, there's no way we'd leave you to eat that swill at work."

"They have grilled chicken." I informed her.

"It's probably genetically modified and crawling with salmonella."

"I don't think salmonella crawls."

"Wash your hands Luke." She tutted, "You've been standing for hours, your feet are going to swell."

"Elizabeth." Dad chuckled, "He's not glass, he won't break."

Smiling gratefully at my Dad I crossed over to the sink and began washing my hands.

"Sorry," Mom sighed, "I'm just so used to you needing me. I don't know what I'm going to do now that you're better."

"I'll always need you Mom." I assured her.

Seeming dejected, Mom sat down at the kitchen table where a pile of invitations was stacked, "I don't know who else to invite to your party." She said, "So far I've only come up with fifty-seven."

"Fifty-seven!" I shrieked, "I don't know fifty-seven people!"

"Of course you do!" Mom laughed, her mood changed completely, a character flaw I attributed to the wine glass in her hand, "The aunts are invited, Uncle Keith, all their kids, the cousin's kids, my friends, Dad's friends, your brother's are coming, their girlfriends, Ani and her family of course, your friends."

"What friends." I scoffed.

"Your friends from support group." She explained, "And your friends from youth group."

"I don't like any of those people."

"Luke be polite."

"Mom the support group kids have cancer! I don't want to invite them over and brag about how I don't!"

"He has a point." My Dad admitted.

"What about Doctor Collins?" Mom suggested.

"She's probably busy!" I cried, mortified, not wanting the woman who'd seen me at my worst anywhere near my house for some reason I couldn't pin point and seemed completely obvious all at once.

"Luke you're being difficult."

"I think maybe we should take a break and reconvene tomorrow." Dad offered, setting a cup filled with green sludge down in front of me, "Luke's had a long day and he's got a big day tomorrow."

"I do?" I asked.

"We're going back to school shopping." Mom elaborated, "And then the neighbors invited us over for dinner."

"Actually Mom." I said slowly, poking at a chunk of what appeared to be cucumber in my cup, "Ani and I have plans tomorrow night."

"Is that so?" Mom said slowly.

"Well that's great." Dad gushed, "What are you two up to?"

"We're just going to a movie." I lied, my tongue feeling thick and heavy, the weight of lying to my parents for the first time hindering my ability to swallow.

"Do you need money?" Dad asked.

"I've got it. Thank you." I mumbled before raising my glass to my mouth and chugging it, "I'm tired, I'm going up to bed."

After placing my glass in the sink I bid both of my parents goodnight then trudged upstairs to my room a strange feeling of anticipation and nervousness bubbling in my chest.

I felt horrible for lying to my parents, and somehow oddly invigorated. For the first time in years I felt what I could only assume was normality.

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