chapter ten

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

chapter ten

MOM MADE BROWNIES. We used to bake them together all the time when I was a kid, but now I could hardly look at them. Dad ate the slice of cake, and I used that as an excuse to not eat any brownies. I was cutting back on junk. I had some cake earlier. I might eat a brownie later or tomorrow. I'd for sure take one with me tomorrow.

Lies were becoming more apparent to me. I could sense them on the tip of my tongue before they even fully formed. It made me feel awful. My mom was a sweet woman, my dad was a hard worker; neither of whom desired to be deceived. They raised me right, but somewhere down the road I strayed away from the path. Why had I done that? I shouldn't be so confused in my head. They raised me right.

I wasn't the only one lying, though. That's not how it worked. Mom lied, too, when she told me I looked good. Dad lied when he said I got prettier every day. But parents had to lie, didn't they? Support their children and boost their confidence. However, I'd seen through their lies on many occasions. They didn't fool me anymore.

I was feeling weird. There was a churning in my stomach and my head hurt. I couldn't look at the television because it intensified the throbbing. I think the room was spinning. I closed my eyes, kept them that way for a few minutes, then opened them. Everything was straight. Everything was right.

Except me.

The eerie feeling kept coursing through me over and over again, persistent in making me as uncomfortable as possible.

We had dinner a short while later. Mom asked what I'd been up to, careful to tread lightly on the breakup situation. I told her I got a personal trainer. Dad looked suspicious. He asked if I had a male, and when I said I did, he asked if I thought he were handsome. Mom elbowed him. I shrugged my shoulders. Harry was no doubt handsome, but I felt wrong for admitting it. Justin just left me. I should still be weeping, not thinking about another boy's dimples or his bright eyes.

Shoot, I was just doing it again.

"So is this trainer guy... decent?" asked Dad.

I nodded. "Oh, yeah. Harry is a really nice guy."

"Too nice?"

"Too generous, would be better wording."

Mom smiled. "I'll have to meet him some time to thank him for taking care of you."

"It's his job," I reminded her. "Kind of the point."

"Oh, just eat your spaghetti."

I twisted my hands in my lap. Mom knew spaghetti was my absolute favorite, so of course she'd made it. It smelled delicious, too, but every time I looked down at it, I could see my stomach getting closer and closer to the table. This spaghetti would blow me up like a blimp. I couldn't risk that. Not after achieving the little success I did.

What had Harry said? Forty pounds?

That simply wasn't enough. I could still see the fat stretching the fabric of my shirt. I could still feel it weighing me down wherever I went. I needed to get rid of all of it. I couldn't take it anymore. Was there any way to speed up the process? I'd really like to eat some spaghetti. I'd really like to throw the bowl against the wall. I was indecisive. A constant battle. I never could tell whether I was winning or losing. And which was which? Was starving winning since I lost pounds? Was starving losing because I wanted food even more? I think it'd be a win. A minor victory, if anything. The more pounds shed, the better.

"Are you feeling okay, sweetie?" inquired Mom, who was giving me that knowing motherly look. The look that let you know you wouldn't get away with being secretive. Not for long.

"Not really," I said, only a partial lie. "Could we watch a movie when you're both finished?"

Dad beamed. "Movie night with both my girls? Sounds too good to be true."

From a different perspective, it was.

***

Harry was acting weird. He wasn't speaking as much as usual and he kept giving me side glances, hidden looks I couldn't depict. I blamed myself. Why wouldn't I? I had screwed things up before. With Justin, with Harry, with my parents, and even with random strangers that pass through the mall or the grocery store. It was likely I had given them all a reason to act secretive. I wasn't trustworthy, was I?

That funny feeling from the day before grew to be more suffocating. I had to ask Harry if we could stretch and such under the shade of the trees, and for our run, I hugged the edge of the sidewalk where the trees dipped over. It didn't work too well. I felt really tired, yet questionably overwhelmed.

When we sat at the table under the oak for a rest, the overwhelming sensation grew. Eyes. Eyes were on me from every angle of every shade. The little girl with her dog, the dark-skinned man with the big glasses reading a paper, two college girls giggling to each other, no doubt about me. I could feel it all. Even the teenagers skipping school with cigarettes dangling from the corner of their mouths were shaming me.

I didn't bother asking Harry why they were all looking at me. The last time I had, he said they weren't. I didn't believe him. How was I supposed to when I could feel their glares? Their utter disgust with me was radiating. Surely Harry could feel it, too. Surely he was choosing to ignore it.

But negligence couldn't hide the truth forever. Avoiding it won't make it go away, it'll only make it worse. No one would face the truth, though. They chose to lie to cover it up, sweep it under the rug.

These thoughts surfaced a question. "You haven't lied to me, right, Harry?" I asked, barely lifting my head from the table.

He was laying on the bench opposite me. All I heard was his voice. "I've never lied to you, Delilah."

"So many other people have."

"Unfortunately, lying is a human habit."

"I don't lie. And you said you haven't lied."

Harry sat up to look at me. "I said I haven't lied to you. I do my best not to lie, but let's be realistic. Even if you say something just to make someone else happy, you're lying. To yourself at least, right?"

I frowned. "I guess."

"For instance, Gemma used to tell Desiree every night that she was okay. Des would go to sleep comforted by the thought, then Gemma would go right back to her abusive ex. So, even though she did it for the sake of her daughter, Gemma lied." Harry seemed to be on edge now, running a hand through his hair and biting his lip. "You used to tell me you were fine. Then you came to lunch with a bruise on your cheek. People lie. It's inevitable."

Taking all of this in, my eyebrows knitted together. "So what have you lied about?"

"Nothing recent. Not out loud, anyways." He moved his eyes away from me and laid back down. "Why such a random question?"

"About what you've lied about?"

"No, about if I've lied to you in general."

"Just thinking."

"Well, don't think that way."

I laughed humorlessly. "I can't help it." I rubbed my arms self-consciously, my head swiveling in the direction where I felt the freshest pairs of eyes piercing through me. A group of two boys and three girls were huddled together, pointing at me. I huffed in annoyance but felt myself crumbling. "How do you not notice that?"

Harry sat up again, this time confused. "Notice what?"

I leaned over the table to him, subtly nodding my head in the group's direction. "They're pointing at me, Harry. Everyone here has been staring at me, but they're laughing."

He pursed his lips and turned in their direction, trying to be discrete. But then his confusion was replaced by concern. He had finally seen them. He was going to admit that they were talking rudely about me. He looked like he was about to stand up. Would he confront them? I didn't want a fight. I just wanted to be accepted.

He didn't stand, though. He turned back to me and lowered his voice, eyes searching mine in what almost appeared to be fear. "Delilah, there's no one over there."

I gaped at him. I couldn't believe it. He was calling me a liar. He couldn't be on their side, could he? He's been so nice to me. Then again, I had had my suspicions of his kindness beforehand. I should've held onto those. Instead, I let him fool me.

"They're right there!" I nearly yelled, not even caring anymore as I jabbed my finger in their direction. I dared to take a look. One of the boys was on the ground from laughing so hard.

"Delilah, I'm telling you--"

"No, don't you do it! I can see them, Harry! There's two boys and three girls, and they're all laughing and pointing and whispering."

Harry was standing, but then I realized that I had shot to my feet first. I started walking away from the table, but planted myself on the grass, my back to them. God, their eyes felt like lasers. My back was burning just from them staring at me. No one was saying anything to them. We were in public, for Pete's sake. But why would anyone say anything when they all agreed?

Harry kneeled in front of me, looking over at the group. He still looked confused, like he was trying to make sense of it. Did he think they were being friendly? How could me being the object of their joke be friendly?

"There's no one there, Delilah," he whispered. "I've never lied to you, remember?"

How were they in my head now? Their laughs were louder than ever. It wasn't fair. I didn't do anything to deserve this. Yet their hysterics told me otherwise. It was fair. I did everything to deserve this.

I bit my lip, blinked quickly.

Harry changed the subject. "You know, I've seen you cry more than I've seen you smile."

I swallowed. "So?"

"So..." He sat in front of me, legs crossed like mine. Our knees were touching. "Tell me how to make you smile."

It was my turn to look confused. "I... I don't know."

"I don't want to see you cry, Delilah," he said. "What can I do to make you smile?"

I ran my hands through my hair. "I don't know."

"Okay, do you like jokes?"

"Are they funny?"

"Good point." He licked his lips and I almost laughed at the fact that he admitted his jokes weren't funny. "What about movies? We could go see a comedy."

"You don't have to do that. I'm fine."

Harry gave me a look. "How about a deal? I'll take you to a movie if you promise you won't lie to me anymore. I haven't lied to you, so it's only fair, right?"

I opened my mouth to argue that I've yet to lie, but realized I'd be lying. Ironic. "Deal," I said. "Only because I really want to see a movie right now."

He smiled. "I was thinking tomorrow."

I looked at him curiously. "It's barely noon. We have time for one today."

He acted as if he were contemplating the options, then said, "True, but if we saw a movie today, I wouldn't have an excuse to see you tomorrow."

My face was hot, so I turned away with hopes he hadn't noticed. Suddenly letting him fool me over and over again didn't sound so bad. "Tomorrow it is."

***

Mom scrambled eggs, fried bacon, and cooked grits on the stove. I could smell the delicacies from down the hall, even with my bedroom door closed. When I walked into the kitchen, she had a grin on her face and Dad was shaking his head. She already had a plate fixed and set in front of the chair I always sat in.

"Why so giddy?" I asked, taking my seat though not touching the food.

She shrugged, but kept smiling. "I haven't cooked in a while, that's all."

"I can't imagine Dad going without your roast beef every once and awhile."

Dad perked up at this, glancing over his shoulder back at his wife. "Speaking of, how about that for dinner tonight?"

Mom put her hand holding a spatula on her hip. "We just had it last Thursday."

"That's two days from being a week ago," he remarked.

I couldn't deny the fact that I was beaming. Hearing their banter made me feel all warm inside, despite the conflicted knots from days before. They still remained, but being with my parents drowned them out. I felt at ease, peaceful. Family time was exactly what I needed, I decided. It was definitely distracting me, at the very least.

To prevent red flags being raised, I ate a piece of bacon and precisely two bites of scrambled eggs. Even then, I fibbed and told Mom that I had a stomach bug not too long ago, thus me being wary of what I eat. She hadn't seemed utterly convinced, but she let the subject drop, which was good enough for me.

About an hour of playful bickering and loud reminisces of past events later, the doorbell rang. At first I thought it was Harry. However, he didn't know where my parents lived and we agreed yesterday that I'd meet him at the theater. I looked to Mom and Dad for answers, but they were acting if they hadn't even heard it. Yet they both appeared to be hiding smiles.

Eyebrows furrowing, I muttered that I would get it, concluding they had no intention of standing and the person outside was growing impatient. I pulled my sweater sleeves over my hands and folded my arms, taking a peek through the peephole. My heart stopped then fluttered with glee, and I threw open the door.

"Nathan!"

I threw my arms around my brother, embracing him tighter than imaginable. I was too excited for tears, but felt as if I would shed them later on. When his arms encircled me, I was close to crying. I hadn't seen him in so long, even longer than I hadn't seen my parents.

"Don't act like you missed me or anything," he joked, pulling back to squeeze my shoulder.

I pushed him. "For a minute, I thought I was the reason Mom was so happy this morning but it was just you."

He pouted. "Aw, someone's jealous."

I smiled and hugged him again.

Nathan was a military man, stationed in and out of the Middle East constantly. The last time I saw him was my fifteenth birthday, and that was only for two days. He sent letters here and there, and I got a card when I graduated and for every birthday, but those didn't make up for his absence. Having him real, alive, and in front of me was more than I could've hoped for.

Mom and Dad received their fair share of hugs and kisses, then we were all sitting at the table. Mom piled Nathan's plate, and he certainly didn't argue. I wondered when was the last time he had a decent meal. A homemade meal. He was on his second plate before I even processed how full the first was.

Conversation for us was easy. Nat always had stories to tell and Dad always had his own from when he was in the Marine Corps. They never shared the upsetting ones, of course. But you'd be surprised how many practical jokes those men played on each other. Dad constantly emphasized the importance of bonding with the men who'll have your back in combat. A no-brainer, in my opinion.

I was quiet for the most part, mainly listening in. I liked that better. Hearing their laughs, their smiles, their ecstatic chatter. It made me smile and it made me feel like I was a little girl again, eating breakfast with her family before school. We'd always gotten along, all four of us. The sporadic family fight here and there, but nothing extravagant. We were close, and that's what made me even more delighted to be here with them.

"Hey, you."

I looked up just as Nat tapped my nose. "Hmm?"

"Why so quiet?"

"Just listening. It's nice to be here with you guys. I've missed it."

Nat smiled. "I think we all have, kiddo."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Being five years older doesn't give you the right to call me 'kiddo.' I'm twenty-two now, thank you."

"Wow, you're getting old."

I kicked him under the table and he laughed. Oh, how nice it was to hear that laugh. I was beginning to forget it. I nearly forgot the way Mom's eyes crinkled when she smiled, or how Dad's eyebrows raised when he was about to say something sarcastic. How could I have gone for so long without seeing them?

Nat took a bite of bacon, glancing over at me. "So how's the other kid?"

I gave him a look. "Justin's a year older than me."

He shrugged, pursing his lips. "He acts like a child."

Mom sighed. "All right, Nathan, cut it out."

I took in a breath, twirling my spoon in my grits. "Actually, we broke up. On Saturday. Our eighth anniversary."

Nat stared at me, his eyes filled with a bundle of emotions. He had never liked Justin. Always said he was too cocky. When Justin and I fought before, it was never physically violent, but sometimes we would go days without speaking because of how much he yelled. He'd always apologize and make up for it. Nathan constantly got angry when he heard we were back together. He called me a pushover once, and the sad thing was, I didn't deny it.

There was a tense silence looming in the kitchen, not even utensils clinking against dishes to fill it. Mom was rubbing her neck, like she always did in tight ordeals, and Dad was glancing back and forth between his children, like he always did during sibling arguments. I couldn't look at Nat, but he was still looking at me.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Delilah, I'm not going to say I'm sorry because I know you don't want to hear it. And truthfully, I'm not sorry. What worries me is you. Are you okay?"

I stood. "I need some air."

Escaping to the front porch bought me little time. Nat was right behind me, but he didn't say anything. He stood beside me, at a generous distance, and just remained quiet. It was his signature move. He knew I'd end up speaking eventually, and he'd be there to listen before providing advice. I couldn't tell if I hated or loved that about him.

"It's funny," I muttered, not wanting to prolong the inevitable. I felt his eyes lock on me. I fiddled with the hem of my shirt. "I miss him, but I probably haven't even crossed his mind."

He was quiet for a moment. "You don't sound like you miss him too much."

I rubbed my forehead, crossed my arms, tried to think of a lie. Maybe it was a good thing that I couldn't. "I do, I just... I kind of knew it was over a long time ago. I never wanted to admit that. We'd been together so long, and I was hoping we'd stay together. But he... he changed and I should've seen it coming.

"But it's okay," I said, nodding to myself. "I'm here with loving parents and an overly protective brother. They're pretty good distractions."

Nat smiled and bumped his shoulder with mine. He looked at me again for a brief moment, then squared my shoulders so I was facing him. "Something else is on your mind, D. You should know by now that you can't hide things from me."

I threw my head back, playfully exasperated. "Do you have to know everything?"

"If it involves someone else as an interest of yours, then yes. Yes, I do."

My eyes widened a little. "Who said I had an 'interest' in anyone?"

He snorted. "Please. You're a lot more obvious than you'd like to think."

I squirmed a little. "I have friends. Not interests."

"Is he an asshole?"

"What? No."

"Has he yelled at you?"

I stammered for a moment. "Would you stop interrogating me?"

He smirked, poking my arm teasingly. "Come on, D. Spill the beans. What's he like? If he's anything like the other kid, we might have a problem."

"He's not like Justin," I admitted, my cheeks growing red.

"How'd you meet him?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, come on! You just admitted that you like someone, and now you won't tell me where you met him? Was it a

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net