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And when I was six, she and Dad taught me how to ride a bike in front of the house. They were around a lot more back then.
But then I turned seven, and it all went downhill for us. Especially Mitchell. She was harder on him. Demanding. Rough.
Something happened in that year when I was between six and seven years old.
Mom’s smiles had been replaced with frowns and looks of disapproval. It was if she could never be pleased—never satisfied. It was as if someone or something had stolen her happiness right away from her, replacing it with a reverberating chill—a wrath to be cast on anyone that surrounded her.
I sat in my car and wondered what happened. I wondered as I put the transmission in drive and circled the roundabout driveway, seeing Mom standing in the hallway window, watching as I left.
* * *
Once I got to Kylie’s, the air was thick and humid, the skies scattered with gray bundles. Rain was coming.
I walked through her front door, and when she met up to me, she snatched the bottle of aspirin right out of my hands.
She looked just as bad as when I left her. Mangled hair now up in a bun, red eyes with dark circles beneath them that were going to be a bitch to conceal without makeup. Her face was pale, as if she’d still been vomiting the contents from last night.
I felt for her.
When she got to the kitchen and popped open the bottle, she downed the pills, chugged down some apple juice, and before we got down to cleaning, we sat in the living room, letting the medicine kick in before getting to work.
“This spur of the moment party totally ruined the house,” I noted later, as we cleaned.
“Yeah.” Kylie tossed a beer can in the full bin by the door. The glass rattled when the can made its landing, making my ears ring. She winced, as if the sound was sharper for her. I was sure it was. “Never doing this again, I tell you that.”
My smile stretched. We’d gotten most of the living room and kitchen done. All that was left was the front lawn and then the backyard. Unfortunately, it had already started raining. We had to wait.
All that was left inside was the white and red streamers on the floor (our school colors), and the bins that we were going to take to the dump or a recycling plant once we’d recovered a bit more.
Kylie walked to the kitchen and took out two bottles of water. She tossed me one and then sat on the sofa.
I sat with her, gulping from my bottle, the cool water running down my throat.
“So my mom wrote a book about me,” I said.
Kylie frowned. “About you?”
“Well, about a fairy version of myself,” I corrected, pretending to be amused by it.
“Uh… what?”
“Yeah. The fairy’s name is Jenny and apparently all the stories are going to be about how disobedient she is, and how she should always listen to the mama fairy.”
“What a load of bullshit!”
“Right? She was so pissed when I called her out on it at the brunch. I mean, who does that? Why would she name it after me, knowing people would automatically know it was me she’s talking about? She said I was being ridiculous, but if you ask me, that was a total bitch move on her part. So glad you called because I really needed to get away from her.”
“Wow. Ugh.” Kylie waved a hand. “I can’t even. That day I met your mom after cheerleading practice, I seriously wanted to flip. She judged everything I wore, like girls my age are supposed to dress like her, in fucking polyester business suits.” Kylie sat forward. “I’m sorry, Jen, but your mom is a prude. She doesn’t realize how great of a person you are because she’s too busy trying to tell you what to do, what to wear, what to eat, how to fucking breathe.” Kylie stood and went to pick up a few streamers. “I don’t know how you do it, baby love.”
I laughed at the name she called me. “It’s called surviving. In that house you kinda have to. Don’t, and you might… end up like… Mitchell.”
Kylie stopped cleaning for a brief moment. She was halfway down to pick up the red streamer but stopped, adjusting her body upright. I dropped my head before she could meet my eyes.
I heard her sigh, and then she moved forward, picking up my hands and squeezing them as she sat. “Let’s not talk about her anymore, okay? I don’t like when you get upset and it makes you remember your brother in a sad way.”
I nodded.
“So… last night.” Her eyes went all wide and sparkly like they always did when she was ready to gossip. “Drake… the dance. I saw you! I remember! What was that about?”
