I had been raised to be a polite guest, which some may think is a positive thing. But when you find yourself sitting at a white-cloth dining table with a whole family of people you don't even know, being polite seems like a curse rather than a blessing.
I only went down for dinner because I didn't want Maggie to think I was rude. However, once I was seated, I decided that I would've rather been seen as rude than eat with these people.
Maggie introduced me to her husband, then announced that we would be having lasagna. I poked at the food with my fork and spread it around my plate to make it look like I'd eaten more than I actually had. Nobody seemed to notice.
Maggie daughter, Billie, was sitting across from me. Occasionally I would glance over at her, trying to absorb her appearance without appearing to stare. I had a bad habit of looking at people for so long that they would get uncomfortable.
She was beautiful, really. A little bit...I wasn't really sure how to describe it. Rough? Weird? Unfamiliar? The latter sounded the most accurate to the way I felt about her. When you're raised around evening gowns and bouffants, seeing someone with baggy clothing and neon-green roots feels illegal. I half expected my mother to spring out of the shadows and scream at Billie to "stop embarrassing the family" like she'd done to me so many times.
After the meal--which consisted of awkward silence and the occasional compliment about the food--I walked upstairs.
As I was opening the door to my room, I heard a voice behind me in the hall.
"Did you even eat?"
I swung around to find Billie leaned up against the wall across from me. I felt my face flush and prayed that the dim lighting of the hall would hide it. I hadn't thought anyone noticed me avoiding the food.
"Yes," I said quickly, trying to make my voice sound confused, as though I had no idea what she was talking about.
Alas, I'm a painter, not an actress, and it was clear that Billie knew I was lying. A stupid, stupid smirk crossed her face as she nodded slowly.
Hurriedly, I added, "I was just not that hungry."
There was a brief silence between us. I debated leaving Billie and walking into my room, but before I could, she said, "Why are you here?"
Huh?
"Um." I wrung my hands together, a nervous habit of mine. "My mom sent me here. She was friends with your mom. In college."
"But why are you here?"
I wanted to scream "none of your business" in her face, but decided against it, not because I didn't want to offend her, but because I didn't want her to go tell her mom about it, who I was starting to like.
"I...I had a...uh...thing."
Billie tilted her head. "Oh."
This time, as soon as silence fell between us, I darted into my room. Before I closed the door completely, I muttered, "Bye."
"'Night," I heard her say.
Alone at last, I slumped against the bedroom door and breathed in deeply in the darkness of my brand new bedroom.