I looked at myself in the mirror one final time before heading downstairs. I'd decide to go with a very 80's look with an oversized sweater and short skirt. My thick curly hair would've done me pretty well in that time period. I had on a bit of blush and some brown eyeliner, just going with a natural look. My dirty, white high tops made the look a bit more casual than it had to be, but it's not like I had any other type of shoes, anyways. Just flip-flops and sneakers. I quickly ran downstairs to see my mom pulling the baked ziti out of the oven.
"Well, don't you look cute?" She said, sprinkling olive oil on top. I rushed past her to start setting the table.
"Is the food all ready?" I asked.
"Wow. Thanks for the compliment, Mom," she remarked sarcastically.
"Thank you, mom," I sighed, rolling my eyes. She chuckled lightly.
"Yes, everything's ready." Just then, Callie walked out of her room. She shot Mom a dirty look as she walked by, sporting a tight, cropped tank top and tiny shorts. I scowled as she walked by.
"Seriously?" I commented, "Does 'somewhat decent' mean anything to you?" She just plugged her ear buds in and sat in a chair, propping her feet up on the dinner table. I walked over to her and pushed them off. She looked at me angrily, her blue eyes flickering.
"I'm sorry our definition of 'somewhat decent' isn't the same," she spat. My mom, obviously aggravated walked over to her, pulling her head phones out. Callie looked up at her and glared.
"Either you change right now or you're not eating dinner tonight," she said, holding the ear bud between her fingers. After a few seconds of silence, Callie pried the ear bud from my her fingers and stormed into her room. I continued setting up the utensils and cups as my mom put the finishing touches on the meal.
"Please tell me I wasn't that difficult in 8th grade," I said, laying down napkins.
"My god, you're a blessing of a teenager," she said comically, "Literally. I have heard horror stories of teenage girls. You're probably the easiest one out there." I laughed, knowing it was true. Well, compared to my sister. "Would you check on her? Make sure she's getting ready?" I nodded and walked to my sisters door. I looked back at my mom and saw a tear roll down her cheek. I was about to go back, when I noticed what she was looking at. It was the plate at Dad's chair. We hadn't set a place for him in over a year now. I decided I'd let her be for a bit while I checked on Callie. I knocked gently on her door and said her name, but she didn't answer. After she didn't answer a second time, I walked in. She was sitting on her stool by the mirror, putting mascara on. Thank god, she'd changed into a casual, pink dress.
"Need help zipping?" I asked. She looked at me for a second.
"Sure," she finally responded. I zipped her dress to the top.
"What're you doing with your hair?" I asked. She shrugged. "You gonna put it up?" She shook her head. I looked at her in the mirror, putting on lip gloss.
"You look so much like Dad," I said quietly. She froze for a second and looked at me. A pang of sadness surged through her clear, blue eyes, but it whisked away almost immediately and was replaced by a defensive look.
"It's really odd how you never ended up looking like him," she remarked briskly, standing up. I furrowed my brows for a second, wondering what that was supposed to mean. She walked outside, as I stood there wondering where her sharp tongue came from. She'd been acting really weird like this with my mom, lately. I've wanted to mention it, but it's probably a really long grudge against my mom for taking her phone away or something. So for the hundredth time, I just brushed it off and forgot about it.
I looked at myself in the mirror one last time before returning to the dining room. Everything was ready. We just had to wait for Julian to arrive. I sat on the couch and at one point, considered texting him. But he wasn't late, so I decided not to bother. A few minutes later, I heard a knock at the door. I instantly got up to open it, but Callie seemed to beat me to it. She opened the door, only to have a a shocked look on her face at the first sight of him. Her mouth gaped slightly as she eyed him head-to-toe. I caught his gaze and laughed a bit. He returned with a quick smile.
"Hey," he said to Callie, holding out his hand. She took it delicately, a feeling of discomfort clouding over her. "I'm Julian."
"Yeah," Callie breathed out. She realized she was blocking the doorway and immediately moved to the side, her cheeks flushing red. "Sorry," she mumbled shyly.
"It's fine," he responded with a dapper smile. My mother saw him and rushed over, apron still on.
"Oh, Julian! It's so nice to finally meet you!" Her Italian ways taking over, my mom did a quick hug and kiss on each cheek. He smiled and awkwardly hugged back, obviously unsure of what to do in the situation. "I've heard so much about you! She never mentioned how handsome you are." She looked back at me as I blushed quietly.
"It's really a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Shapiro. Thank you so much for letting me join you for dinner." My mom smiled.
"Well, don't thank me. It's a joy for us to have you!" All I could think was that Julian took a year's worth of English class before getting here, because he sounds pretty good. In literally one sentence he's managed to impress me. I walked over to him and gave him a hug.
"Thanks for coming," I whispered in his ear, "you're doing great."
"Am I?" He responded. I smiled and nodded. He gave me a quick peck on the lips.
Everything was going great during the dinner. He ate an entire plate of the baked ziti, which just thrilled my mom. Callie snapped out of her shyness once the topic of soccer was brought up. He answered all the questions nicely and was a real gentleman. And for a brief moment, I thought we could finally get through a single dinner with a boy that ended well.
"Would you grab the plates, Cal?" Mom asked as we finished. She threw a glare at her. "Please?" My mom added.
"Fuck your please," she snapped, "You can do it yourself." She began to storm back into her room.
"Cal!" I yelled, surprised at her triggered temper.
"Excuse me?" My mother said, her voice rising.
"You're always asking so much of me! I can't keep this secret any more!" She turned back around and slammed her door. I just glared at the door in shock. What is she even talking about? What secret?
"What has gotten into her lately?" I looked back at my mom, who just stared sadly at the door. "Mom?" Julian stood up in his seat and pushed his chair in, beginning to grab the plates.
"No, no, I've got it," I said, taking them from his hand.
"Let me," he replied, taking them back, "it's the least I could do." I stared at his sweet face in admiration. I really don't deserve him. He picked up my sisters plate and brought them to the sink in our tiny kitchen. He turned the faucet on, which is where I stopped him.
"No. I'll do it later," I said, turning it off. He stared deeply into my eyes, as if trying to search for so something. I look into his constantly changing hazel eyes. Green, then blue, then brown...
"Hey, I've gotta check on my sister," I said, breaking our eye contact. "Thanks so much for coming the last minute."
"Well, thank you for being available at the last minute," he replied with a smile.
"For the record, I think they loved you," I whispered. He gave me a long kiss and then pulled back.
"Well, that's what I was going for in the first place. Mission accomplished." I walked with him to my car, several times offering to give him a ride home. Just cause we're in the same neighborhood, doesn't mean we're very close. Our houses are on opposite ends. Apparently, he just wanted to walk. Finally, I gave in. He wasn't the type to be scared walking home here in the dark. He's probably the type people are scared of. We shared a few kisses and he was on his way. I honestly didn't wanna go back into the house. I didn't wanna have to confront my sister, and talk her through her boy problems. But I'm the big sister, and consider it my duty. I have to.
My mom hadn't moved an inch. She was still sitting in the chair. Staring at the wall. I couldn't seem to get her attention so I decided to deal with my sister first. Ugh, how is my family so messed up?
"You have some explaining to do," I said as I opened Callie's door. She was curled up tightly in her bed with one ear plug in.
"I'll pass," she mumbled, her cheek smushed against her pillow. I sat down at the foot of her bed and laid my hand on her leg.
"So, is it a boy? Or is there someone in your class I should teach a lesson? You know girls can be jeal-"
"My problem has nothing to do with anyone from school," she interrupted, flipping over to face the wall.
"Well, would you at least talk to me about it?" I tried soothingly.
"That'd work great if it wasn't more your problem than mine," she replied bluntly. I furrowed my brows as I pulled her over.
"Cal, what are you not telling me?" She grunted and tried to turn herself back over. "Cal," I repeated sternly.
"If you really want to know just ask my mom!" She snapped angrily, turning towards the wall again. I opened my mouth to reply but she stuck her plug in her other ear. I sighed and stood up, leaving the room with less information than I started with. Mom had now began cleaning the dishes, that sad look plastered on her face. I walked over to her and leaned against the counter.
"Mom?" I said quietly. No answer. "Mom!" I said louder, startling her.
"Oh! Oh, sweetie. Sorry. I was- I...um. What is it?" She looked at me with an almost scared look on her face.
"Can you tell me what's going on? You and Callie both seem to be dealing with different types of depression and I know you aren't telling me something."
She picked up a towel and dried the last pot, moving across the kitchen to put it away. "Everything's fine, Eden. I think it's time to go to bed, though. " I followed her, becoming aggravated.
"Why the hell are you avoiding me?" I shouted, grabbing her arm, "What are you afraid of?"
"Ow! You're hurting me!" She had a pained look in her eyes as I let go.
"Please! Stop keeping me in the dark about these things! Just tell me!" Tears began welling at the rims of her eyes. She put her hand on my cheek gently.
"Oh, sweetie. You know I love you so much," she said in a soft voice. I pulled her hand harshly off my cheek, my anger billowing.
"Tell me, goddamnit! Just tell me!" She began to break down and melted into the corner of the counter until she was sitting on the floor, face in her hands. Her sobs moved her whole body.
"He was such a wonderful father," she managed in breaths, "You do know that, don't you?"
"What does he have to do with this?" I yelled. She pulled herself up and steadied her breathing.
"Sweetie," she began sweetly, "promise me you'll hear me out, ok?" I just stared at her until she looked away. "Your father...he...well, he..."
"Just say it already!" I screamed, my frustration with her meeting its limit. She looked down shamefully.
"He wasn't your...I mean he was great. He loved you a lot, but..." It dawned on me as she said this. I stared blankly at my hand, which had unconsciously grabbed her wrist. I let go gently and took a step back. My eyes met hers as tears slipped down my cheeks.
"No..." I said shakily. "That's not true..." She tried to step forward and comfort me, her body still convulsing slightly from her sobbing. I stepped away, looking at her as if she was a stranger.
"Tell me this isn't true," I said with a low, angry tone. "Tell me it isn't!" I yelled.
"Sweetie, I couldn't tell you-"
"Why?" I screamed, tears streaming. "Why would you keep this from me my entire life!"
"Please just let me ex-"
"What could you possibly think was a good reason to keep this from me? What?"
"Because I knew you would go looking for your real father!" She yelled abruptly.
"What would that matter? Is he dead or something? Is there something wrong with him?"
"No, honey. There's nothing wrong with him. It's just...I can't tell you right now..."
"You have got to be kidding me," I said calmly, with an angry undertone. "You just kept this secret from my entire life and now you won't tell me who he is? My god! Did Dad-did Adam even know he wasn't my father?" She looked down and nodded. I stared at her while catching my breath, my mind in a complete mess.
"Great. My family is a bunch of liars..." Mom looked up at me through her moist tears.
"Look we did it for the best, honey," she said.
"Don't you "honey" me right now! You should've told me the minute I was old enough to understand! Instead you decided to make me feel like a fucking idiot for not seeing the signs!"
"Please don't say that word," she said softly. My anger just broke. I felt every emotion left in my body burst as I slid my arm abruptly across the counter, knocking off all the dry cups and plates. My mom cowered in the corner as they shattered against the tile floor.
"Don't you dare do tell me what you don't want me to say! DON'T YOU DARE!" I breathed heavily as I looked around me. Glass was spread all around me as my mother cowered and sobbed in the corner. I had to get out of here. I ran towards the door, looking quickly at the picture of me and my dad on the coffee table. I picked it up and threw it at the wall, not watching as it smashed to the ground.
I ran down the street until I could no longer see the lighted windows of my house. Once I got to the railroad track, I sat down and let it out, my emotions running at an all time high. I kicked a soda can and stomped on it repeatedly. Eventually, I'd kicked and crushed just about everything around me. I had a hard time catching my breath. I laid down on the tracks and looked at the stars, the only things being true to me right now. Tears streamed down my face as memories flashed through my head.
"Adam" holding me in the air as a baby, throwing me up and catching me, my trust placed all in him. Our late night park runs as a kid, being pushed on the swings at 12:00 because I couldn't sleep. Trying to balance each other while walking along the rim of the tracks and holding ice cream. Him holding me tight and whispering comforting words after my first heartbreak in freshman year. I remembered going to the hospital with him when he first found out about the chronic disease, shigella, he had contracted from service in Afghanistan. He hadn't been diagnosed with it until 15 years after. The doctors had said how unusual it was. How the disease should've took him at least ten years ago. None of that had mattered to me. The fact that it ever had to kill him was hard enough for me. A year later, he was gone. No more memories. Not a single one. I cried heavily as I thought about it. The man I'd looked up to my entire life, who'd had the guts to serve our country, who'd had the guts to keep his pride as he was dying, didn't have the guts to tell me the truth. And that hurt.
I resided in the middle of the track for about 20 minutes, clearing my head of thoughts and just trying to relax. I was too tired to think of how stupid of an idea that was. As I moved my head to the side, I heard a noise. It was loud but it seemed to come from pretty far away. I heard it coming closer, but didn't feel the urge to move. I suddenly snapped out of my trance and opened my eyes, fear beginning to overwhelm my body. A train was coming. I was about to roll off, when all of the sudden, my mind shut down. What if I just stayed? Didn't move. Let every last miserable piece of me be crushed. Tears started running down my cheeks as I though about this. I could see the head lights coming closer. My breath became short and rushed.
Breath, I kept telling myself, You don't have to worry anymore. I tried to calm down but panic took over. I can't do this. My body shuddered but refused to move. The lights were coming closer. Faster. I was hysterical, sobbing as the train inched closer. 30 feet. 20 feet. 10 feet.
"Eden!" A voice screamed. I could now clearly see the train right in front of me. I closed my eyes as the world blurred away.