Chapter 11
May 7
6:23p.m.
‘Dear diary,’
I scribbled the date in my big, loopy letters with a smile.
‘Last night’s dream was amazing. Matt was there. He was with me! I finally had a dream about him and he was so wonderful. I feel like I should tell you all about him but I don’t want to get this description wrong because I’m terrified that that’ll be the only dream I ever have of him. His hair was the same colour as mine and was a mess onto of his sharply featured face. He had brown eyes like me that looked purple under the sun. He had a lip ring too and a slightly crooked nose that bent where his eyes met. He was tall, shorter than Ryan, but still tall. And everything in the way he spoke, stood, walked – everything – showed his affection for me. It was amazing.
In the dream, it was me and him on our vacation to Mexico over March break. I don’t remember seeing mom and dad there so I think it was just us. I looked about 15 so that means he was about 17.
Anyways, we were laying on one of those pool chairs when these really attractive guys walked by (they weren’t as good looking as Ryan though but still really hot). Matt caught me watching them by accident and he pushed my shoulder, knocking my glasses off my nose and we both laughed. The guys looked over but whatever. All I really cared about was being with Matt again.
I was blushing and then Matt started joking about how I should go over there and talk to them. I know it’s crazy! Imagine me walking over to strangers and flirting with them! That’s what I thought before too. But then he was telling me how I should purse my lips and stick out my chest and walk away slowly and stuff... I’m pretty sure he was just joking but then he dared me to do it so I did anyways.
I got two of their numbers and was heading back to where Matt was sitting and smirking, but I don’t know what happened next. That’s when my alarm clock for school woke me up.
It’s funny: I already miss Matt even though I’ve only gone half a day without remembering him. He was an amazing brother. Even just being in that dream, I knew that he would do anything for me and that I would do anything for him. I think we just had that kind of relationship. I miss him so much.’
“Chloe!” My mother’s voice bounced up the steps and into my bedroom, “Dinner!”
I peeked at the door and then back to the cracked spine of my journal.
‘Chloe Roberts.’
I signed my name and threw the book aside as I hopped off the messy sheets and past the threshold. My feet jogged down the stairs, my right hand sliding down the oak banister as I attempted to keep my balance.
“Coming,” I returned, jumping off the second bottom step and to the landing. Black edged into my vision so I paused and then continued on when it left.
My mother and father were already sitting across from each other at the dark wooden table. A decorated chandelier hung from the ceiling over their heads, lighting their greying hair with a halo-like glow. My parents were really sweet people. Anna, my mother, was beautiful even in her old age. My father, David, carried himself with strength. Even when he peeked at my mom with that gentle look in his fading blue eyes, there was a certain intelligence that he carried from beyond his years. It was truly inspiring.
“Hi,” I greeted. I eased onto my seat and pressed into the back of the chair, “It smells delicious.”
The faint aroma of dinner wafted through the dining room and I licked my lips. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until now.
My mother hinted a smile as she watched me although she didn’t speak. My father uncrossed his hands from the table and waved over the kitchen staff with a dry expression.
Once the food dressed the table, I picked up my fork and dug into my dinner. Ever since the accident, I noticed that I was regaining my hunger. The first day that I got out of the hospital, I couldn’t hold more than a spoonful of soup broth in my stomach. Now I found that I was able to eat more than a regular adolescent girl should. I think it was because of how skinny I was that my body couldn’t take enough to regain some of the muscle I didn’t have.
Tonight, the staff served chicken breast and some stir-fry vegetables. I gobbled up the food like it would be my last meal, which I learned, it could actually be.
If I gained anything from the accident – other than a lion’s share of confusion and my scar – it was that you had to live while you could. Because any moment could be your last.
My parents watched me as they picked up their forks with a certain confidence that I myself did not possess. My mother brought a bite up to her lips and chewed, slowly, carefully, elegantly almost. Her food gradually vanished from her plate while mine evaporated in the blink of an eye.
“So, Chloe,” my father put down his fork and knife and knotted his hands together, “How are you?” he asked.
I chewed the remaining food in my mouth before responding. There was something about my father that was intimidating. The way his eyes followed my actions was different from the way Ryan used to. Ryan was always worried that I would fall and waited by my side to catch me. With my father, it was like he didn’t trust me. It was as if he was waiting for me to screw up.
“I’m fine,” I gulped with a smile as if trying to prove my honesty.
“You were hungry,” he remarked.
I nodded, “The food was delicious.”
My mother beamed at me as she took another bite, “It’s your grandmother’s old recipe.” She paused, “You don’t remember but once when I cooked this when you were younger, you and Matt thought it would be really good to dip the vegetables in chocolate milk. You could only eat one piece before you ran to the washroom!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw my father grin too with the memory.
“Anyways, neither of you would eat vegetables for a week,” she tittered, her winkled hand covering her mouth.
I laughed along with her even though I couldn’t remember doing such a silly thing. Matt and I must have been some adventurous kids. As hard as it was on me to lose my brother and be in that accident, it must have been even worse for my parents to lose a son and then almost lose the daughter as well.
I hadn’t realized that I was fixated on the rim of my plate until my mother reached for my hand. I jumped.
“Are you all right, honey?” she asked, her tone light and soothing. Like a mother’s should be.
“Yeah, sorry,” I laughed.
After a moment of pause, my father stole our attention once again, “And how’s school?”
“It’s ok,” I mean, apart from my best friends, Natalie, and the overwhelming spotlight, school was actually sort of interesting. It was way better than spending all my time at home alone, watching infomercials and eating soup, “Math is sort of hard but my teacher is pretty helpful. I like English, too. It’s a lot of work though.”
My father’s head bobbed in appraisal, “Good, good.”
“Have you been spending much time with Ryan?” my mother inquired.
Without my permission, my mind thought back to our kiss. I smiled again, “Yes.”
“And what about Chase and Samara?”
I shrugged, struggling to keep my confusion hidden, “I don’t really see them around that much at school. We have different classes,” it was true that we didn’t have any periods together but it was just as rational to say that I was probably avoiding them too.
Neither of my parents said anything as we lapsed back into silence, leaving my mind to wander.
After dinner, I was going to amble up the stairs to take a warm and relaxing shower. First, I would have to work on the assignment that was due on Friday. I needed to try my hardest in school to catch up. While I might not have been the best student before the accident, taking a five-month long vacation certainly hadn’t helped.
“May I be excused?”
My father’s head shot towards me like a ball launched from a cannon.
“What?” he caught his breath. My mother’s forehead creased with frown lines.
That was weird, “Um, can I be excused? Please?” I stuttered.
My father’s eyes didn’t portray a thing as I stood up as if asking for permission.
“Yes, yes,” he struggled, “You may go.”
I frowned, reaching for my plate, fork and knife. In all the time that I spent with my parents, not once had I witnessed my father losing his cool. No matter how I tried to steal a glimpse of panic, I couldn’t find anything but a calm exterior.
I headed towards the kitchen and opened the dishwasher, dropping my empty plate and dirty cutlery into the basket. Then, I walked back out the threshold and into the dining room.
Two pale faces stared back at me, their brows knitted together with their jaws falling onto the table top.
“What did you do?” my mother asked.
My mouth hung open but nothing intelligent came out like I hoped. My lip quivered. Somehow, I would always screw everything up. First with Ryan, and now with my parents.
“I’m sorry,” I gulped and scurried up to my room.
My footsteps quaked the floor just before I entered my room and slammed the door behind me. Why did I always have to screw things up? It felt like I couldn’t do anything right. I pleaded with myself, raking my brain for useful things I’d done recently but came up short. Of course. Because I didn’t do anything but make messes!
I let out a long breath as I fell onto my bed.
I would have to start my homework whether I was feeling sour or not so I grabbed for my backpack and pulled out my pencil case and my binders. I scribbled some notes from the textbook in answer to the questions but I couldn’t focus. My usually bubbly writing was turning into chicken scratches. Of course, I would mess up my own writing too.
I rolled my books away and rolled my eyes. The idea of skipping one day of homework looked pretty appealing at the moment.
There was a knock at my door just before the door swung open to reveal my mother and father standing in the threshold. They wore matching worried expressions, which didn’t suit my father very well. I was so used to his air of calm, so I knew that I did something much worse than I originally thought.
“Can we talk?” my mother implored, her hand outstretched for mine.
I nodded and then both walked into my room. The bed dipped as my mom came to sit beside me and took my hand.
“Chloe,” my father started. He scratched the back of his neck, his frown deepening as he spotted the discarded books on my bed, “How do I put this…”
My mother squeezed my hand, “Look, honey,” she’d never called me that before. Or maybe she had. I couldn’t remember, “What you did back there surprised us.”
I thought back, “You mean putting away the dishes?”
“And asking to be excused,” my father added.
I didn’t understand. And so I told them exactly that, “What do you mean? Was I not supposed to?”
My mother chirped her laughter as her head sloped towards me, “Of course you were,” her thin lips raised into a smile at my confusion. Just like Ryan, she was teasing me, “But it’s just not like you, Chloe.”
“Oh,” of course not. You know, because I used to have everything done for me.
“I don’t really mind,” my words drifted from the room.
And then my father was smiling. Actually smiling. And he wasn’t gazing at my mother. Instead, his eyes were locked on mine with a curious sort of fascination.
“Neither do the maids,” he said. But instead of laughing like I should’ve, I stared impolitely. My father’s lips were curved in a smile. A real smile.
My mother giggled beside me, and dropped my hand, “We’ll let you get back to your homework now.”
My father strolled from the room as I stole one final glance at him. Who knew when I would see him grin like that again?
My mom pulled me in for a hug and patted down my hair. It felt so natural, “Now don’t stay up too late,” she cautioned and then went to stand by my door with her slender hand on the doorknob, “And have pleasant dreams.”
My mouth formed a smile too as she closed the door behind her.
---*---*---* Author's Note ---*---*---
Hey guys!
So, firstly: I really hope that you guys weren't too bored with this chapter. It's not too terribly written but I'll definitely have to review.
Secondly, the hold on my writing is seeming to become a little bit more likely. I'm so sorry. Honestly, I hate that I'll probably have to do it. I have at least 4 more weeks of chapters before I run out. I need to write one chapter a week but it's difficult, especially while trying to do research for English and studying for Chemistry and trying to memorize conjugations in French and doing a Visual Journal in art (I encourage you to look it up on youtube and see how difficult it is.)
Thirdly, I make too many lists.
Fourthy, you guys are awesome. Sorry I'm being such a poopy-head. Hopefully you guys will all forgive me (And maybe ignore that childish word. Haha)
Song of the week: Eyes Wide Open by Gotye
I will try my hardest to write for you guys! I'm so sorry though.
Yours truly,
Hannah-vo