The cloink of my spoon against the porcelain bowl. The silence of newspaper reading. Our kitchen a peaceful oasis in the mornings. My mum taking another sip of tea, pushing back her glasses again, her long dark hair falling around her shoulders. It was sort of half my face looked like mom's, we had the same slanted eyes and distinct noses, though hers smaller than mine. And the other half like my dad, with the slightly too full mouth and the wide smile and, as my mom never failed to tell me, the stubborn jaw that made me get my way. I wasn't sure she was right about that though. So half and half. Seeing my mom I looked like my dad, seeing my dad, I looked like my mom. But now I hadn't seen my dad for a very long time.
My mum turned a page, her eyebrows furrowed. I scanned the headlines, while chewing down my cereal. We really weren't morning people. And in that us, I only counted me and mum, because the other person sitting opposite me I didn't know, and couldn't care less about. Tim. My mom's boyfriend. I preferred to think of him as this unidentified flying object that landed at our kitchen table from time to time. It wasn't that my mom was too old to have a boyfriend. She was only 38. And she was still very pretty, and it wasn't only me thinking that in a 'my mom's the prettiest mom in the world' kind of way. Even though she had no fashion sense whatsoever.
But Tim. I just didn't get it. He was kinda old, like 45. And he had a beard. And he was one of those freaky kind of people that when you tried to argue with them, they never ever got upset, they were so zen. I knew because I had tried in the beginning. Now I didn't bother, I just ignored him. And also he wore hiking sandals like all the fucking time. It really was a mystery why he was sitting here with us at the kitchen table an ordinary Friday morning.
Delicate steps in the hallway coming closer. I finished my cereal and got up, knowing what they meant. My little sister tripped in. Well, not so little anymore, she was fourteen, with all the giggling and hairstyling and so called trendy outfits that came with it. Like shoes with 3 inch heels that she bought eagerly cheered on by her annoying little friends.
My mom didn't even bother to look up, having heard the characteristic sound. "You're not going to school with those shoes."
"But mom, everybody else does!" Julie whined. As soon me and my mom had stopped fighting on a regular basis sometime this spring, Julie had eagerly stepped it up, entering high school and all.
"I said no. And you're not only drinking tea for breakfast," she added, as Julie rattled with one of our twenty-five or so tea tins and grabbed a mug at the same time, spilling tea in tiny anthills on the kitchen counter.
"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," I quipped, putting my bowl in the sink. If Julie could she would have killed me with a glance. "Freak." Her new pet name for me. Once upon a time she had looked up to me, once upon a time I had adored her, but that was also a very long time ago.
I accidently or actually not so accidently walked into her on my way out. She towered in her heels, wearing them she was almost as tall as me. "I know I'm like a nobody, but that doesn't mean that I don't exist!" She snapped, whipping around clumsily to glare at me.
"Isn't that a contradiction?" I retorted and pulled on of her dark brown curls so it straightened back to its naturally limp state. I couldn't help it. Teasing her was so easy.
"No don't! Mom!" She whined again, grasping after me as I tried pulled another one. "No, stop it! Mom! Did you see what he did?"
"Mischa, Ljyba, poshalyjsta!" My mom pleaded, still determined not to lift her gaze from the newspaper. "And you're not wearing those shoes!"
"Why do you always take his side?" Julie shouted, flailing her arms as she tried to turn to the table again. Big anthill of tea on the kitchen counter now. My mom put down the newspaper with a resigned sigh. Looked like the first fight of the day had officially started.
"I'll walk to school," I said to no one in particular and left the now not so peaceful kitchen.
We lived on the edge of the West Valley area shadowed by the West Highland park, small, similar but not quite alike houses in neat rows, with neat little gardens in front shadowed by big trees. Well ours not so neat, since mom had her very own ideas of lawns and gardening and living things, but it was less obvious now in the fall. It was getting chillier, a fine fog like rain against my face as I got out on the street. Damp softly star-like leaves plastered to the asphalt in rust colored layers. It was called Oakland for a reason. I took my usual shortcut through the groves and the neighborhood, through the so called city center. It had once been a small town some miles outside a suburban area of the metropolis. Now the suburb Glenville had grown into a big city, and Oakland had fallen asleep, becoming the suburb. There was still a pharmacy, a supermarket, a bar and some stores, a couple of churches of various denominations and a community center where they had meetings discussing things like having a harvest market, the new bus route and other serious issues.
It was an ok place, nice and quiet or dead and boring depending on your personal tastes and preferences. When it became too dead and boring for our taste we went to Glenville, to hang out in the mall, to the cinema sometimes, or watching some band play at the youth café. There wasn't much to do if you didn't have a fake ID. Or if you had one, but was bored with what you could do with it too. There was a half-descent record store still alive close to the mall, and I'd go hang out there, while Trish and Kat tried on millions of outfits. The strangest thing that they seemed to have fun doing it. The last time I went shopping I'd had a nightmare trying to find what I wanted. Just a basic black zip-up hoodie, not too long, not too short, with pockets and without colored zippers or patterned lining or any of that wimpy emo shit. The two afternoons it had taken me had been like the most boring of my life.
The high school was on the other side of the center, a ten minute walk from home and when I got there the large clock in the hallway told me that I as usual was in time, and as usual, at least for the last two months, I went to find Lisa. She was standing by her locker, searching for something in her bag. If anyone would be asked to describe Lisa with one word, that word would be nice. Everything about her, from her long brown hair to her pastel pink skirt and the way she smiled and the tone of her voice was nice. She was very cute too, in a nice, not very edgy way, with her full lips and big brown eyes. I walked up to her and she smiled when she noticed me.
"Hi." I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. I'd never been into any kind of public display of affection and neither was she, but during the two months that we'd been going out this had already become a little routine of ours, to meet first thing in the morning before we headed off to our separate classes. Trish thought it was romantic, Adam called it dead cheesy. I actually agreed more with Adam on that one, but it seemed to make Lisa happy. She squeezed my hand eagerly, looked up at me expectantly. "Will I see you tonight?" I nodded and smiled and kissed her cheek again. I really wasn't very good at handling people's expectations.
First period of the day. Entering the class room I passed new kid Allen packing two of the books we'd already studied into his bag. Poor looser, having to catch up. There was still something unsettling about him, just seeing his red hair in the corner of my eye made me antsy. Whatever. We only shared three classes, Government, English, and a math class that probably had an official name like pre-pre calc, but was known as the math class for seniors that still sucked at math. I didn't suck that bad, but you can only retake so many tests during summer school. I pulled out a worn paperback out of my bag, placed it on my desk. Brave new world. English Literature was the only class I almost excelled at. The only class in which always sat on the first row. Because then people couldn't turn to look at you if you said something, and during that class I strangely enough often had things to say. It was also one of the few I didn't share with any of my friends. Maybe those two things were related.
During free period I went looking for Trish and found her at the usual spot in the library. I sat down next to her in the dusty couch, hidden in the section with dictionaries, encyclopedias and world maps, where no one ever went anymore. It had become our secret hangout, or not so secret maybe, but it was ours, and secluded enough for private conversations.
"How's the day been? Good, bad, average? Could've been worse?" She listed in her usual super speed way of talking. What normal people said in five minutes, Trish said in three. She made up for it by talking a lot of crap though. I had learned when to zone out.
"Could've been worse" I sank down deep in the couch so I could lean my head on her shoulder.
"So it could've been better too," she leaned her head against mine.
"Nah, for an ordinary day, it's as good as it gets." Trish was an excellent crap-talker granted, but she was also an excellent friend. She knew me, she knew about me, and such an ordinary question as how the day had been so far was a sign of that. That she knew, and that she cared.
She did her daily rant about Adam which could be summed up with the words: Blah, blah, Adam love, blah blah Adam hate, blah blah. I zoned out, humming at the right places. Her head soon heavy on mine and I sat up, making her lean her head on my shoulder instead. Dipped my nose into her hair. It smelled of apple and lemon. Lovely. It was Trish's hair that had first caught my attention when I met her, perfect light golden brown, silky and slightly wavy, down to her shoulder blades. She had a round flat face, no chin, her nose a button, soft cheeks with deep dimples that I still secretly loved to kiss. Sparkling hazel eyes that matched her personality. Sometimes I thought that Trish was the most beautiful person that grazed the surface of the earth, too beautiful for people to really see it. Sometimes I just thought she looked odd.
"You're coming tonight, right?" she asked finally, done with her ranting.
"Yeah. I need to go To Brandon McCall's first though."
Trish laughed. "You know she just asked you to come over because she wants you to see her in her angel outfit," she dragged out the last word. I nodded. "Yeah, I know."
"They're not that hot though, I mean, if you want to see boobs, I have a lot more on display for you already," she giggled and the boobs mentioned which I for the moment had perfect view of, leaped and bounced together. Trish had a huge rack. That was the second thing I noticed about her. Or maybe the first.
"I haven't seen much of that on display lately, or you know, felt."
"Still no action?"
"You know, padded bra." Those fucking padded bras. It was like feeling up an office chair.
" To imagine you used to hook up with any girl that came your way, and now Matthew O'Neill, manwhore, stopped by a padded bra. Was it pink? Did it have roses or hearts on it?" she said all in one breath. I chose to ignore the manwhore comment, it wasn't me anymore anyways.
"White. With hearts." I answered instead, and Trish awed.
"Are you smelling my hair?" She asked after a while, looking at me suspiciously. "Are you smelling my hair and thinking about your girlfriend's bra? You're sick!"
I told her I wasn't, she replied saying that I was too, and I replied to that by tickling her until she whacked me over the head and I kissed her cheek so she'd forgive me. I loved Trish to bits. A little bit sad and inconvenient though, that I just didn't love her in that boyfriend/girlfriend way.
Adam waiting by my locker after last period. Not alone though. Jason standing next to him, easily recognizable with his neon green hair. Jason, Jason. Who thought he was so infinitely rad with his illegally inked forearm and broken nose and army pants sliding down his ass. Just so fucking cool. Not. There was a difference between being badass and just being an annoying little piece of shit. Me and Ade the former. Jason the latter. But after their break up I was more of a best friend with Trish than Adam, and not that much badass. So I tried to keep my mouth shut about his new BFF's shittiness.
"So what's up for tonight?" Adam asked. He had already asked me a couple of days ago, but I'd been a bit evasive. Knowing that Lisa would want me at Brandon McCall's, knowing Ade would try to convince me to go somewhere else.
"I'm going to Brandon McCall's" I answered, opening my locker.
"To see the angels!" Jason squeaked. Maybe he was trying to be funny.
"Yeah, whatever," I muttered, because I couldn't exactly deny it.
"Come to the Ware later, we're not leaving before 9 maybe."
"I don't know how long I'll be there. And I told Trish I'd go to her place afterwards." She hosted annual screenings of Beetlejuice on Halloween. Projected onto a sheet in her living room. Not high definition, but the popcorn were nice and it was cute with some of her geek friends knowing the lines.
"Dude, that's like the reason I broke up with her," Adam muttered. "You've already seen it, what can be seen of it, so come."
I shook my head. It had only been a couple of months but already the thought of going to the Ware felt so distant. Like it had been a completely different life, a completely different me going there.
"If he doesn't want to, he doesn't want to," Jason said breezily, but Adam still looked at me expectantly if somewhat darkly. I squirmed. People and their expectations.
"It's not that I don't want to, but I promised her," I said quietly into my locker. I'd preferred not having Jason as an audience for this conversation as it once again confirmed me as the boring one.
"Whatever man, your call," Adam muttered, by now he had given up spending more than five minutes trying to convince me. "Later then."
"Yeah, later," I nodded, pretending I still had stuff to put in my bag as they walked away. I knew I would have to come with them sometime, show up at some party, or we wouldn't stay best friends for much longer. But the more time had passed, the more distant it all had become, the easier it became to say no. The opposite of when we had started hanging out and I had said yes to practically anything. But then after having said no to everything it felt good to say yes. Even if was to stupid things.
The Halloween party wasn't going to be a wild event. I knew that already. Not at Brandon McCall's, a party with the A-list kind of high school celebs. They were too busy not making an ass of themselves, too busy looking hot. Or trying to look hot in some cases. There was still a shitload of people already when I walked up to the house, a shitload of candles in glass jars fighting against the wind on the front porch. Plain pumpkins without faces carved into them. I pulled down my hood, pulled my bangs so it wasn't falling in three different directions. With all the people inside it was kinda hot but I decided to keep my leather jacket on. I wasn't going to stay long anyways.
I had called Lisa telling her I was on my way and she was waiting in the hallway, almost the only one dressed in white. She looked down, suddenly shy as she noticed me approaching her, bit her lip. If Lisa wouldn't have been Lisa I would've kissed her a lot less lightly, because she looked amazing. She was wearing a flowy dress and had feathered wings tied to her shoulders. A tiara in her curled hair, her shoulders and arms all skimmery and iridescent like a dragonfly wing. She had more make-up than usual, false lashes fluttering. White crystals in the corners of her eyes. Trish was right about the choir girls not being very sexy, but it didn't matter much to me. I didn't find 'sexy' very sexy after all.
"You're so pretty," I murmured tracing her arm from her shoulder to her elbow with light light fingertips. Sometimes it felt like a tenth of our conversation was me telling Lisa she was pretty. Because it was so easy to say and it was so obvious, she was so pretty. And wasn't that what girls wanted to hear anyways, she never complained. Not this time either, she smiled and blushed as usual and intertwined her fingers with mine, her eyes glittering. "Come with me."
I fleetingly saw our image in the hallway mirror as we passed, one dressed in all white, one in all black. Mel's Romeo and Juliet comment surfaced in my mind and made me snort a little. Yeah, of course in the beginning people had talked like they do. Why would a choirgirl date a looser who'd just barely made it through sophomore year? Why would someone like me date a prim religious girl? Even date? But after the first two weeks without any major drama (Adam whining didn't really count) people got used to seeing used together and I tried to get used to morning kisses and movie dates and handholding in the hallway.
There must have been some kind of showdown in historic time, because as all the choir girls were dressed as angels, among all the other girls, cheerleaders especially, the no. 1 choice of costume was devil. The slutty version. A hundred devils against 25 angels. The angels didn't seem to mind though, and why would they, it only made them seem even more special, made them stand out in the crowd of dancing and drinking people who currently filled the McCall house.
Lisa led me to the kitchen, which was a bit calmer than the rest of the place. People sitting around the kitchen table, leaning in clusters against the counters. The Bradford's, the football team, the girls soccer team. I nodded to Leonora wearing a short red dress and matching horns. But the majority wore halos and tiaras. The refuge of angels. And devil in disguise Claire, who was dressed similarly to Lisa, but with gold sparkles, since she was somewhat of the queen bee. She instantly came to meet us, strangely enough, since I was pretty sure she wasn't very pleased with Lisa dating me. At least she'd made it obvious that she hated me.
"Matthew, so you went as an emo kid again, isn't that a little last year?" She smiled, with that fucking head tilt of hers, like a tic, trying to make her bitchiness seem cutesy.
"Nice outfit, Claire. How did you cover the horns?" Lisa giggled in my arms, but Claire's smiled turned into a thin line, and she spun around and left, a swirl of glitter around her.
"You shouldn't have said that. Do you think she was offended?" Lisa's voice immediately troubled. I tried to keep her close, but she twisted herself free and went after Claire with a mumbled 'I'll just check to see if she's ok'. Fucking great. Maybe alluding to Claire being the devil in disguise out loud wasn't the smartest thing to do. I brushed glitter of my t-shirt, The Clash and sparkles didn't exactly match.
I looked over to where Lenora was still standing with some of hers and Kat's teammates. If Lisa caring for Claire's bruised ego would take a lot of time, I'd go over to them I decided. Not that me and Leonora were tight or anything, but standing by myself at a party was strangely claustrophobic when I wasn't drunk or had someone clinging to me. Someone that didn't qualify as actual company. Before Lisa, before Trish, there had been too many of those.
A vaguely familiar voice standing out against the background noise of bland music and I turned to see Allen next to me, smiling like when I'd said 'see you' I'd actually meant it. Well, they all had like Obsessive Social Compulsive Disorder, so of course he had to come talk to me. Still fucking unnerving.
"What's up?" I said and crossed my arms and pulled my hair and shoved my hands in my jeans pockets and failed because the jeans I was wearing tonight was too tight for such a maneuver.
"Nothing much. I mean, I'm good. And you? I mean, are you good?" He asked awkwardly, looking at me so intently with his bluer than blue eyes, like he actually wanted to know. Man, he was so fucking weird.
"Yeah I'm good." I leaned against the counter filled with plastic cups casually, hoping that if I acted unfazed, I would feel unfazed. Learning by doing or some shit like that. Maybe it would work with the whole 'be nice' thing too. Allen also leaned against the counter, supporting himself on his elbow, because it was those high kind of counters with bar stools kicked in underneath.
"Not dressed up or out, how do you say?" He pronounced it 'opp or euwth', like he was Canadian or something. But then, maybe he was.
"No," I snorted, trying for the jeans pockets again and failing again.
"It's just you have a star on your cheek." He pointed to it and for a terrifying second I thought he was actually going to touch my face and flinched like crazy. He quickly pulled back his hand, apologizing. "Sorry, I didn't mean, um, maybe it's from your girlfriend, I saw they're all sparkly, you know, or maybe it supposed to be like that," he stuttered, maybe thinking he'd offended me, maybe thinking it was some kind of subculture fashion statement. I brushed my cheekbone. Lisa and her stupid glitter getting stuck fucking everywhere.
"It's not. And she's not my girlfriend," I muttered. Way to scare him off. "I mean we're dating." I added darkly, maybe a little bit too darkly to be considered nice. Whatever.
"Ok, I just, yeah..." he trailed off helplessly and we stood there much like the time before, treading water as everyone else seemed to be forming little islands of social success and party happiness around us.
Glancing at him he wasn't dressed up or out either. We pretty much looked the same as when we first had met. He was wearing his uniform, I was wearing mine. What the fuck was he doing talking to me again? I tossed my hair a little, looked away from him at the people passing the kitchen entrance. No Lisa in sight to save me. Well, it usually didn't take much to make his kind uncomfortable, just staying quiet was often enough. Refusing to participate in the shallow small talking. Refusing to pretend we all got along.
"Well, I just wanted to say hi, so..." Allen said apprehensively, shifting beside me. Score. Except it was like a paper cut hearing the uncertainty in his voice, and before I knew it I had asked. "You find your way around yet?"
"Sorry?" He turned, already a couple of steps away and I had to lean forward and repeat what I said. Fucking embarrassing. Especially since it escaped me why I was doing it. My mind working in mysterious messed up ways.
"Almost," He smiled brightly, taking two long steps returning to my side. "But it still doesn't make much sense to me, so you know, if I'm late all the time that's why."
"Yeah, it's because D-hallway's numbered the opposite of C-hallway. Fucking stupid system actually." I stopped myself from ranting on about how I hadn't found my way in freshman year, because why would he want to hear about that and why would I want to talk about freshman year ever?
"I'll try to remember that." He nodded smiling, curls falling onto his forehead. His hair really was unbelievingly red. "I saw you in English, when you talked about the symbolism with the names and all that, I haven't read it yet, I'll have to do this paper, anyways, what you said, I thought it was very interesting."
I glanced at him, felt the smile flashing on my face, wide and unexpected. And unwanted. What I said in English was like private, he really had no business talking about it.
"Like it seems very relevant," he continued, "in my old school it was a lot about the classics, like the real old ones, you know, not that they're not-"
"Where did you go to school before?" I interrupted just to change the subject, keeping my eyes on the magnets haphazardly strewn over the steel-gray fridge opposite. An apple, a dog, a stamp with the Eiffel tower. The letters R Q and J. No sign of Lisa still.
"New Hampshire," Allen said to my left. Yeah, whatever. It still didn't explain that odd accent. I would have to ask. Annoying. "Are you Canadian?"
He laughed. "No, I'm from Minnesota." He pronounced it like it was bubble gum in his mouth. Mnehsoda.
"Like uhm, Minneapolis?" I only remembered the city because sounded almost the same as the state.
"Yeah. Or my parents have been living in the cities the last years, but I'm originally from the north, so I know I have a bit of an accent, because that's why you asked right?" A bit of an accent? I nodded. "But since I started high school I've mostly been in New Hampshire, because it was a boarding school, you know, so..." I nodded again, looked over to the doorway again. Where the fuck was Lisa? I came to see her, not to listen to the long story about where the new kid had lived and why.
"I think we're in the same Math class," Allen said, like it was somehow related.
"Yeah, I know," I nodded, biting my tongue the moment I'd said it because it sounded like I was keeping tabs on him. But c'mon, with that hair? I would have been blind not noticing him really.
Suddenly a hand in mine. Lisa had returned to my side, somehow I'd missed her coming back to the kitchen, and I saved myself from more Allen-induced awkwardness by turning to her and the angels surrounding her including Claire, who now was back to smiling.
"Allen," one of the heavenly creatures with false eyelashes exclaimed, smiling and somewhat awkwardly blinking. "Take a picture of us!" Not until then I noticed the small bag hanging of his shoulder. Old and crackled, more matte grey than shiny black. He unpacked a close to antique camera from it, the kind that required film rolls and darkrooms. Trish had gotten one of those a couple of months ago. That was kinda cool to be honest. People not being complete slaves to digital technology. Especially if their parents were directors of IT-companies. I stepped away from the scene and the girls arranged themselves, lined up. Five sets of feathery wings, five sets of bright smiles and glittery curls. I looked on from a safe distance as Allen backed up against the fridge, and somewhat redundantly told them all to smile.
I wasn't sure asking about him had given me many answers. Nothing he'd said made sense. I couldn't figure out what he was doing at Oakland High. Even if his parents had moved to be closer to the epicenter of power, why would he come with them, instead of staying in New Hampshire at a school where they probably not only wore polo shirts, they probably played polo as well. Maryland was a lot closer than Minnesota after all.
The girls scattered done posing, their white wings mixing with the darker shoulders of ordinary humans. I swayed, feeling unsure if I really wanted to follow Lisa, meet more people I didn't want to talk to.
"How do we look? Let me see!" Claire squealed jumping to Allen's side to peek at the camera because in addition to being bitchy she was also somewhat dense.
"You'll have to wait, I'll have to develop it first," he said nicely, and also very nicely ignoring a perfect opportunity to make her feel stupid.
She tilted her head. "Wow, like in old times! That's like so retro!" Hard to tell whether she was being enthusiastic, ironic or just plain bitchy as usual.
"I'm kind of a retro type of guy, you know," Allen shrugged, seemingly more interested in putting back the lens cover and packing his camera than consorting than the queen bee. So she turned around, and tilted her head to someone more attentive and deserving. Allen slinged the camera bag over his shoulder and folded his arms. He snorted softly looking to me. "Like so retro," he imitated Claire spot on, rolling his eyes a little. The smile on my face again, not as wide this time, since I felt it coming and did my best to hide it, but still so unexpected. He smiled back, looking like he was going to ask me something, but then the awkwardly blinking angel from before was suddenly standing in front of us, and I finally made use of the moment and fled.
Lisa found me standing in the hallway a couple of minutes later. "Why are you standing there sulking?" she scolded me like I was a five-year-old not playing with the other kids. I didn't like it much. Hell, I'd been that five-year-old. I wasn't sulking, I was just being me, and for me participating was hard sometimes. Especially if I was sober. But then she took my hand again, and led me to the circle of angels and they all smiled and sparkled. The side of her stomach was warm underneath her dress and her lips warm against mine when she kissed me goodbye some hour later. And she was very very pretty, and wasn't that what all guys wanted in a girlfriend anyways?
Coming home from Trish I knocked on the doorway to the study, where my mom was sitting. It had originally been the hall closet, but now besides boxes of out of season clothes, it housed a small desk, endless shelves and a scanner. The air was dry, the light dim, I would get claustrophobic in there, but mom didn't seem to mind. And it wasn't like she could keep her papers floating around the kitchen either.
"Mischa," she said surprised, looking up at me from the laptop she borrowed and brought from work. "You're home early. Did you have a nice time?" She had interrogated me as usual about where I would be going before at dinner.
"Yeah, it was nice." I smiled reassuringly, leaning against the doorframe. When it came to me my mom needed a lot of reassurance. She seemed convinced, putting back her glasses, turning to the computer screen again. "I've invited some people for tomorrow, just the usual ones, but then you know."
I nodded. "Ok. Trish might come over, maybe we'll go to Glen, dunno."
"If you want to eat here, she's welcome as always," my mom smiled. Her and Trish always found something engaging to discuss with loud voices, making Trish the perfect dinner guest in my mom's opinion.
"I know. Goodnight," I said in Russian, the words at once familiar and unfamiliar in my mouth.
"Spokoynov notche," she replied, smiling, It was such a small thing, so easy (well, at least for me) to do, and still, me speaking my mom's second language always made her happy.