Two-Faced [on-hold]

Two-Faced: Making Breakthroughs (2)

 CHAPTER TWO:

“Was he cute?” asks Ella obnoxiously, throwing her things on the floor of my house, automatically heading for the kitchen.

“Beats me; I didn’t bother looking.”

Ella huffs, obviously annoyed with my lack of attention.  “Well if his mom is gorgeous, he has to be, too, doesn’t he?”

Rolling my eyes, I ignore her question, snatching a bag of Famous Amos cookies off the counter, popping one into my mouth. 

“Aren’t you a little curious?” she presses, her persistence getting on my nerves.  She serves herself a glass of milk, her gaze training on my face.

“No,” I reply bluntly, dipping a cookie into her milk despite her protests; “He was a bit of an ass; I don’t want to associate myself with people like him.”

“His sister is autistic; give him a break.”

With a look of disbelief, I say, “Are you seriously siding with Brandon?  A guy you don’t even know?  Over me?”

She gives me an innocent look but shrugs, downing the rest of her milk.  “All I’m saying is you should get a look at him; maybe he can help you.”  I feel a pang at my heart, knowing what she’s talking about.  Ella is one of the few people who know what happened in my family all those years ago, a young life lost.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so straightforward about it,” Ella repents, noticing my silence.

I nod as an acknowledgement, but the tugging of my heart doesn’t fade.  “So how was your day with the kids?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, it was okay; there was this one really irritating kid though; he wouldn’t stop pulling on my hair, and I swear I was about to deck him.”  I crack a smile at that, imagining Ella releasing her wrath on some poor, unsuspecting child.

“One day you’re going to have kids and feel that way.”

She sticks her tongue out at me.  “I shall never have children; those things are devilish.”

“We were once children too, you know; we were probably even more terrible than that.”

“Amen!”

Later that night during dinner, there’s a prolonged silence after I tell my mother about Ethan from class, and we both stare at our food, pushing it around simultaneously.  It’s an unfortunate thing to have such a silence to sit in, and my dad, who would always be the one to poke his happy head in and break it, was in Las Vegas on a business trip.  As always, I’m skeptical whether it’s really business he’s doing or if he’s just gambling, but Mom is clueless.  I will never understand how such a successful woman can be so oblivious to common, every day things, but that’s just her.

“Ah, excuse me for a sec, Kase,” my mom says abruptly, standing from the table and scurrying away down the hall, leaving me in a quiet haze.  I swear I see a shine in her eyes as she leaves, a telltale sign of tears to come, but she doesn’t let me see—doesn't want me to see, really, her weakness.  I grip my silverware a little tighter than I intend, angry that I would talk about someone who so closely reminded us of the past. 

I stand when she doesn’t return to the table five minutes later, grabbing my neglected dinner from the table and scraping it into the garbage disposal, listening to the gears grind the food up until there’s nothing but a hum and running water.  I wipe my eyes slowly, preventing the salty water to fall.  There’s nothing to cry about, I say to myself, a reassurance that’s half-assed.  It was long ago, and it can’t be changed.  The words only hurt more.