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“So, how’s Wesley?”
I shrug. “The same, I guess.”
“Taking care of you?”
“Dad, I’m twenty-six. I can take care of myself.”
“I know that,” he states with a half-smile. “You’ve always been independent just like your mother. I meant… is he treating you well?”
“Yes, Dad. I wouldn’t marry someone who’s not treating me well.”
Just like I had predicted, George eating Wes’ shoes had left Wes in a foul mood. To top the night off, we got into another fight as the car service pulled up to the apartment. Wes was stepping out of the door while informing me of a party where he was scheduled to make an appearance. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but then he told me who’d be attending and I was quick to voice my concerns. The group of actors who will be there are nothing short of trouble, dragging everyone’s name through the mud along with them. We left off shouting nasty words to each other and haven’t spoken since.
Poor George—he witnessed the whole thing.
“And the wedding. Has the program set a date yet?” Dad asks, veering right as he exits the freeway.
“Not yet. They want to make sure it falls at the right time. The largest viewing numbers are during winter when people are stuck at home. So, maybe a winter wedding. Personally, I like the summertime.”
Dad remains quiet, I know he isn’t a fan of what I’m doing with my life. In fact, he’s the first person to tell me I shouldn’t be part of such trivial and mindless television. Of course, he’d say that—Ash’s his favorite.
When I signed the dotted line to appear on the reality show, we didn’t speak for weeks until I cried over the phone and told him that I loved him and needed him to support me. That moment defined our relationship. He admitted he wanted only the best and would support me as long as I was happy.
The problem now—I’m not happy.
But I keep it to myself, playing the part of the happy fiancée because I don’t know any different, and because the web I’ve weaved for myself seems so intricate and impossible to untangle.
We drive through the leafy town of Green Meadows—a place which has been home since the moment I left my mother’s womb. It’s a gorgeous day—blue skies with a small array of clouds clustered in the east. The air outside is warm, so I open the window to feel the warmth against my cool skin.
Every place in Green Meadows has a memory. The corner shop where I would ride my bike and buy candy with money I stole from Ash’s room, to the large oak tree which sits in the middle of the town square shading the playground equipment.
Resting in the seat, I watch the familiar places as we drive by and head toward home. Turning the corner, the streets become wider and the houses grander until I see our home in full view. It still takes my breath away. The two-story red brick dwelling is partially covered with vines. When I was younger, it looked like a mansion. It’s funny how as we grow our perception changes.
Dad drives the car along the driveway until we’re parked adjacent to the front doors. He exits and begins unloading my belongings.
The door opens, and I see Mom peeking her head out. “Emmy!” Running out the door with a joyous smile, she impatiently waits for me to get out of the car. I quickly do so and jump straight into her arms, burying my head on her shoulder like I did when I was a kid. She still smells the same—lavender mixed with strawberries and vanilla. The same fruity, flowery perfume my grandmother used to always wear.
With my face buried in her long black hair, tears fall down my cheeks as the reality of being home sinks in. This is just what I need—my family. Life has been so hectic over the past year that I ignored my desperate need to be here. A place that means so much more to me than brick and mortar.
Mom pulls me back, studying my face with her palms pressed against my tear-streaked cheeks. “Hey kid, why the tears?”
“Just... I...” I stammer on my words while trying to control my emotions. “I missed you.”
“Gee, I didn’t get a greeting like that,” Dad mumbles under his breath as he walks past, carrying the bags inside and disappearing up the large staircase.
“Don’t mind him,” Mom says softly. “C’mon, I’ve made your favorite cake.”
“The rainbow cake vomiting the M&M’s?”
Mom laughs, closing the door behind her. “You make it sound so… appetizing. Go get settled in your room and come down when you’re ready. And while you’re up there check to see if your sister is alive. I haven’t seen her all day.”
I lean across the countertop, my hands moving toward the cake with delight. It’s just how I remember it—four colorful layers with cream filling in between. When you slice the middle open, the M&M’s pour out displaying its yummy goodness.
***
I’ve showered and changed into a casual sundress with no plans to go anywhere tonight. And just like Mom asked, I stopped by my sister Tayla’s room but was ignored. As usual. Apparently, she’s going through that teen attitude stage.
At sixteen, she’s the baby of the family. Mom admitted to me one day, she was the result of a weekend away in Vegas with a bottle of Moscato.
