Текст книги "Fading"

Автор книги: E. K. Blair

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 25 страниц)

"When do you guys get back?"

"Late Sunday afternoon."

I roll onto my side and ask Ryan what his plans are for Thanksgiving.

"I'm going to go spend a few days with my family down in Cannon Beach in Oregon. My aunts and uncles always come to my mother's house with my cousins for a big dinner."

"Will you be there for the weekend?" I ask.

"Nah, I'll come back home that night. My mom and her sisters spend the day plotting for Black Friday, so I always come back home and just lay low."

"Sounds like you have a big family," Jase says.

"Yeah, man, five cousins and between them they have seven little kids. I love them, but shit they're loud," he says, laughing.

"Must be nice though. I'm an only child with no cousins. Small family," I say.

I wish I knew what it was like to have a family like that. I had always wished I had a brother or sister growing up. I always felt lonely. My father worked constantly and my mother was never around. Always too busy attending all of her charity functions to pay attention to me. I know now that I will never have that close family that I had always dreamed of.

I grab my last pair of shoes to put in my suitcase before driving to my parents for Thanksgiving. Kimber left Monday to go stay with her parents who live in Redmond, and Jase and Mark left Tuesday to fly to Mark's parent's house in Ohio. Everyone seemed excited for the break before they left while I have been dreading it.

I try to avoid my parents for the most part. Growing up with them wasn't easy. My mother is a social bee and is concerned more about herself and her family's image than happiness. She is a very stern and critical woman, and to please her is nearly impossible. Everything in her world has to be simply perfect so that others will envy her.

My father, being an orthopedic surgeon, was never around much. Both of my parents are influential and well-respected. But they were always so busy that I was left alone for the most part. When my mother was around, all we ever seemed to do was fight. We still do. It has always bothered her that I never participated much in her endeavors. She is involved in many charities, fundraisers, and other social events around town. I know she dreams of a daughter that would follow in her footsteps among her friends and be more concerned about my, as she puts it, 'social standing in the community.'

So now I am making the short twenty-minute drive to Shoreline to spend Thanksgiving with my parents. I plan to leave Saturday morning so that I can have a little down time before classes start back up on Monday.

As I enter through the gates of The Highlands, I make the slow winding drive that leads to the house I grew up in. Pulling up the drive to the two-story coastal house that is reminiscent of a Hampton beach house, I park, grab my suitcase, and walk up to the front door.

When I walk in, I can hear my mother talking on the phone, and I follow her voice to the kitchen to let her know I'm here. She stands there, leaning her hip against the center granite island, in her houndstooth pencil skirt, cashmere sweater, and black pumps. She acknowledges me with a slight nod before picking up her glass of wine and walking to the living room to continue her conversation.

I drag my suitcase to my bedroom, flop my purse onto the floor, and lie down on my bed. I turn my head to look through the French doors that look out over the Sound. I have always loved this view, even as a little girl. I used to spend hours sitting up here and staring out this very window wondering what my life would turn out like.

"Candace, dear," my mother calls from downstairs, and I am snapped out of my reverie.

Making my way downstairs, I meet her in the kitchen as she is refilling her glass of wine.

"Candace, there you are. How was your drive?"

"Not too bad," I say as I take a seat at the kitchen table.

"Did your friends already leave to go home?"

"Kimber did. Jase is actually spending Thanksgiving with his boyfriend's family."

"Candace, you know how I feel about that boy," she says in her judgmental tone.

Looking at her, not wanting to begin arguing with her ten minutes into my visit, I brush it off. "Yes, Mother."

"Well, then, your father got called into the hospital, so it's just us for the afternoon. I thought we could go over to Bellevue and do a little shopping."

"Yeah, that sounds great, Mom," I say as I stand up and walk to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. If there is one thing my mother is good at, it's shopping.

Standing in front of the three-way mirror in the fitting room, I slip on a beautiful lace and tweed Karen Millen shift dress. I smooth down the pencil skirt with my hands and admire the detailing.

"How does the dress fit, darling?" my mother asks from outside my fitting room.

"It's perfect." The one thing, possibly the only thing, my mother and I have in common is our love for fashion. I have always admired my mother's elegance and flair, and thankfully, it has always been something we have agreed upon.

My mother pulls back the heavy curtain to my dressing room, holding a pair of black platform pumps. Handing them to me, she says, "Here, try these on."

I slide on the shoes and turn to her to see her approval of my outfit.

"Stunning," she says and then turns to walk back out into the store.

I carry the outfit, along with a few tops and several pairs of pants, to the register and set everything on top of my mother's selections. As the sales clerk begins to ring up our items, my mother asks, "So, did you hear about Olivia's engagement?"

Keeping my eyes focused on our clothes, I respond, "No, I didn't hear."

"Yes, to William Lewis. He just partnered with his father's law firm. And she is heading up the new division for the Children's Foundation."

I am trying hard to keep myself in check. I know exactly what my mother is doing, but I am determined to let it go. I know my mother wishes I were more like the Olivias of the world.

"That's great," I say as I grab our bags and start heading toward the exit.

"Before we leave, let's go to Neiman's for a little while. Maybe we can indulge in a glass of wine at Mariposa as well."

"Sounds great, Mom." I could really use a glass to help with the nerves that she is beginning to pinch.

While shopping through the racks, my mother continues, "I spoke with Sheila the other day, and she told me that her daughter was accepted into Columbia's graduate program for Museum Anthropology."

"Mom," I say as I eye her over the rack of clothes.

Shrugging her shoulders as if she is clueless, she says, "What, dear?"

I tilt my head to the side and give her a knowing smirk.

"Fiiine," she surrenders.

We finish up, purchasing more clothing than necessary, and go find a seat at Mariposa. Aiming to keep the focus off of me, I ask her about how the planning is coming along for the annual Christmas party at the Seattle Golf and Country Club that she heads every year. She begins to ramble on and on about it for the next hour before we decide to drive home.

"Bunny!" my dad exclaims as I walk into the house. He has called me 'Bunny' for as long as I can remember. When he pulls me in for a hug, I inhale his familiar scent. Since I was a little girl, he has always worn the same clean-scented cologne. I oddly find comfort in that smell. Although my father and I are far from having a close relationship, we never fight like my mother and I. Even though my father won't go against what my mother says and will always make excuses for her, I think that on some level, he might actually understand me.

"Hi, Dad," I say with my arms wrapped around him.

When he pulls away, he takes the bags from my hands, carries them into the kitchen, and sets them on the center island. He turns to kiss my mother on her cheek and says, "So, I see you ladies had fun spending my money today."

My mother laughs at him, and retorts, "Lots of fun, honey."

"Well, I am sorry that I had to work so late. We had a few emergency cases come in, but I have all of tomorrow off to spend with you," he says as he walks up to me and kisses me on my forehead. "Come on. Let's go have a drink before heading out to dinner." He takes my hand and leads me to the living room.

We all sit down, and I instantly become invisible as my parents begin to talk about anything and everything concerning them. I sip on my wine and tune them out as I pull out my cell and text Jase.

How's your trip so far?

I only have to wait a minute before he responds.

Good. Mark's family is oddly great!

LOL! What's that like? : )

Take it you're not having a good time.

It actually hasn't been too bad. Went shopping with mom, all the while bragging about how great her friend's children are doing. As if I'm slumming it at UW.

Sorry. Just a couple more days.

I really miss you. I'm so happy for you though!

Thanks. I miss you too. Text if you need me.

"Well Bunny, are you ready to go get something to eat?" my dad asks me.

Looking up at him, I grin and say, "Yeah, let me go freshen up really fast."

I quickly shoot Jase one last text before heading up to my room.

I will. Love you!

Love you too.

Dinner last night was surprisingly pleasant, although my parents continued to talk all throughout dinner as though I wasn't even sitting there. I have learned, with them, that sometimes it is better to be invisible than not.

I am finishing getting ready for our four o'clock reservation at the club. I have been keeping to myself most of the day with a run first thing this morning and then studying in my room. No one has said anything about my avoidance, but that's nothing new.

Wearing the dress dress that I got yesterday while shopping with my mother, I slide on the black pumps and put in a pair of pearl earrings. I take one last look in the mirror before grabbing my wool coat and going downstairs.

My parents are sitting in the library having a drink when I walk in.

"Don't you look lovely."

"Thanks, Dad," I say as I stand in the doorway. "It's almost time to go. You ready?"

"Yes," my father says. He stands up and takes my mother's hand before helping her up as well.

When my mother walks towards me, she doesn't say a word, and I wonder what's got her strung so tight. I shake it off and follow my parents out to the drive.

"Oh, hey. Do you mind if we take separate cars? I was thinking about visiting Katy after we leave the club. I haven't seen her since summer."

"Of course, darling," my father says as he opens the car door for my mother.

"Great." I walk over to my car and hop in. Katy and I grew up together and we try to see each other when we are both home from college on breaks.

When I pull up to the prestigious Seattle Golf and Country Club, I am greeted by one of the valets. He opens my door and helps me out of the car where I am rejoined with my parents. Walking in, I plaster on a smile as people begin to say hello to my parents and myself. The faces never change, only the occasions.

When we are seated at our table looking out over the immaculate greens, our waiter approaches, and I quickly order a glass of wine. Looking down at the menu card that is placed on the center of my place setting, I let out a sigh of relief that this year they are actually serving turkey instead of the dreadful duck they had last year. But of course, it's not your traditional turkey, not that I even know what that is since I have spent every holiday dinner here in this very room. They are serving a porcini-soy stuffed turkey with shallot-truffle gravy. Nothing can ever be simple.

When the waiter returns with our drinks, my father orders some hors d'oeuvres before our main course. My father lifts his glass and makes a quick toast before we clink and take our sips.

"So, Bunny, how is this school year going for you?"

"It's been really busy, but I am managing to maintain my four point GPA, which should make you proud."

I hear my mother softly chuckle as my dad says, "You know how important grades are to me, and it shows that you care. Of course I'm proud."

"Thanks, Dad."

My mother clears her throat, and I eye her when she says to my father, "She's a dance major, honey. How hard can it be to have a four point?"

Clearly she had one too many cocktails in the library back home, because she is being more bold than usual. I tell myself to let it go so that this doesn't wind up in an argument.

My father doesn't say anything when she continues, "Sorry if that came out rude, but have you given any thought as to what you will do after graduation this spring? Have you applied to any graduate schools yet?"

"Graduate schools?" I ask as I shift my look to my dad and shake my head feeling like this choice of conversation was premeditated.

"Yes, well, your mother and I were concerned about your next step."

"You know I have always planned on dancing. That has never changed."

In a much softer voice, my mother says, "We were assuming that you would be taking a more serious outlook on your future. I mean, we have allowed you these past four years, hoping you would grow out of this little ballerina dream of yours." She says this as if I'm a child with foolish dreams, like when a little girl says she wants to be a fairy princess when she grows up.

I take my time to respond when my father speaks up. "Your mother's right, dear. It's time we start making some serious decisions. Although I have been fine with letting you direct these past four years, it's time to get on track and get focused."

I look at these two people sitting in front of me. My parents. The two people that should know me the best, love me, support me, and encourage me. But they don't know me at all. My stomach twists at the realization that they have never known me. Deep down, I've known this all along, but I guess I've been fooling myself to believe that I was wrong about them. How can they be so oblivious to who I am?

"I thought you guys knew what I wanted. This was never something I have wavered on." I begin to feel my eyes sting, but I refuse to cry. Although I'm aware that they disapprove of my choice of major, I never really thought they would try to step in and change my dreams.

"You can't seriously think that you can make a respectable career out of dancing, do you?"

"Yes, Mom. I do." I snap back.

"Your mother and I just want to help you avoid having regrets."

"About the only thing I regret was believing that you two supported me," I whisper harshly. "How can you do this?"

"Honey, look at yourself. Your choice of friends is a little concerning, you don't participate in any extracurricular activities, you don't have a steady boyfriend, you never call us or visit when we live only a few miles away. I look around and see the girls you graduated high school with and they are either getting married, furthering their education, starting their careers, and I just have to wonder what went wrong?"

"Nothing went wrong!" I say a little louder than I should have. Lowering my voice, I continue, "Is it so hard for you to believe in me? To trust that I am making the best decisions for myself? And as far as my friends go, at least they understand me and love me anyway."

"Bunny, we do love you."

"No. You may think you do, but you just want me to be someone I'm not. I've never been that person. How can you not see that?"

"Candace, calm down."

"No, Mother. What did you expect? That you and Dad could just trap me here and I would willingly let you step in and take control of my future? That's not going to happen. Thank you for paying my way through college, but we're done."

"Your mother and I are not going to stop supporting you, Candace. That's not what we are saying. But this idea of yours...it's just not realistic—"

My father is cut short when my mother interrupts. "I can't deal with you anymore. I simply cannot figure you out and why you can't be more responsible. Do you know how embarrassing it is for me when people ask me what my daughter is studying in college? The looks I get when I tell them you're a dance major, knowing you have no intentions on going to grad school and finally getting a respectable degree. And your attitude is just very unbecoming lately—"

She stops talking when I stand up and throw my napkin down on the table. "What's unbecoming is you, Mother. You are nothing but a self-centered woman who never even put her education to use. You married rich and frolic with all the other housewives, and you justify your lifestyle with your charities, but I see right through you." I look over at my father and quickly apologize for my abrupt departure before turning my back to them and walking out of the dining room.

The tears begin to fall as I feel another part of myself breaking, a part that I have held onto so tightly with hope, hope that my parents, behind all their shit, really loved me. But I just realized that to them, I am nothing more than a tarnished accessory.

I feel lost, like I'm floating around and there is nothing to grab onto to ground me. Today did not go as I thought it would. Sure, I often argue with my mother, but today was more than another fight. Today was my realization, a culmination of everything, finally clear and right in front of my face, staring into my eyes.

After I walked out on my parents, I drove back to the house and grabbed all of my belongings. There's nothing left for me to say, and there's nothing they could say to dull the pain that's shooting through my chest. I finally see that I'm a failure in my mother's eyes and a disappointment in my father's. So, I just left.

Pulling up to my empty house, I sit in my car for a little while and listen to the rain beating against my car. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the headrest. Everyone is probably having a great time, eating dinner, and visiting with family and friends, laughing. And here I am, alone, sitting in my car in the pouring rain. Pathetic.

I step out into the rain, pull my suitcase out of the trunk, and walk slowly to the front door not caring that I am getting soaked. It's dark and quiet when I walk inside. I drag myself to my room and head to the bathroom to shower.

When I am cleaned up and in my pajamas, I unpack my bag and hang up all of my new clothes. While I am sorting through my closet I hear my phone chime. I rush over to my bed to grab my cell when I see a text from a number I don't recognize. Swiping the screen to open the message, it reads:

Got your number from Mark. Wanted to see how your Thanksgiving went. –Ryan

I hold the phone in my hand, staring at the text for a minute before typing my response.

I think we managed to fall into the universal tradition of holiday drama. : )

That bad?

Kinda. Now I'm home with no food.

It takes a while for Ryan to text me back as I continue to hold my phone and stare at the screen. I have never considered Ryan one of my friends, more of just Mark or Jase's friend that I hang out with on occasion. But being able to sit here tonight, when I feel like crap, and text him, feels nice.

Sorry, saying bye to everyone. About to head home myself.

Did you have a good time with your family?

Yeah, I did. Ate way too much. Feel like I need to hibernate.

LOL. Drive safe. Is it pouring where you are?

Not too bad. Try and have a good night.

Thanks.

Before I set my phone down, I store his number into my contacts then hop up to go rummage through the kitchen. I find an old bag of popcorn. No one went grocery shopping since we all were supposed to be gone for the week, and now there is nothing to eat. I decide to heat up the bag, get comfortable on the couch, and turn on the TV.

The chiming of my phone wakes me. Squinting my eyes against the sunlight that is filtering in through the windows, I grab my phone to see that it's almost eight in the morning and that I have a missed text from Ryan. I shift and sit up on the couch, then read his text.

I am heading out for breakfast. Wanna join?

Grocery shopping is the last thing I want to do, so with no food in the house, I type my response.

Sure. Where?

The Dish Café. 9:00?

See you then.

I hop off the couch to take a quick shower and get ready. I wasn't planning on coming back home for a couple days, so it'll be nice to hang out since I have nothing to do otherwise.

After smearing on some lip-gloss, I slide on my leopard rain boots under my boot-cut jeans. I clasp on my watch and make my way out into the rain to get into my car.

When I walk into The Dish, a small dive café, I see Ryan is already sitting at one of the tables. He looks up from his menu as I approach the table.

"Hey," he says.

Shrugging off my coat and draping it over the back of the chair, I sit down and say, "Hi, thanks for inviting me. I literally have no food at the house."

"So, what did you wind up doing last night?"

"I ate an old bag of popcorn and passed out on the couch."

Laughing at me, he says, "That's pathetic."

"My thoughts exactly," I say grinning.

"I ordered you a hot tea."

Surprised that he remembered that I like hot tea, I say, "Oh, thanks."

I pick up the menu and quickly decide on the blueberry pancakes. When I set my menu down and look up, Ryan is staring at me. I know the obvious question that must be lingering in his head is what happened yesterday that made me come home early. Before giving him an opportunity to speak, I quickly turn the focus on him and ask, "So, how was your Thanksgiving?"

"It was good. We did the typical family thing like we do every year. Mom and her sisters being loud and gossipy, cooking all day. I hung out with the guys and watched football while the kids ran around screaming and playing. My head was pounding by the end of the night."

"That actually sounds nice."

"Yeah, it is. It's not too often that everyone can get together, so when it does happen, it's fun. Crazy, but fun," he says then picks up his cup of coffee to take a sip.

When the waiter stops at our table, I tell him I want the blueberry pancakes, and Ryan orders the heuvos verdes.

"So how many nieces and nephews do you have?" I ask as I sip my tea.

"Three nieces and four nephews all under the age of five. I'm not lying when I say it's loud and crazy!" I can see by the smile on his face that he loves the kids regardless of his comments.

"So, you're an only child?" Ryan asks.

"Yeah. I have a pretty small family. My grandparents on my father's side died when I was in high school, and I have never met my mother's parents or her sister. My father is an only child as well, so it's just the three of us."

"Quiet."

"Hmmm..." I don't even want to begin to explain my family's dysfunction, so I ask, "Is your mother out with the crazy Black Friday crowd today?"

"God, you have no idea. She and my aunts go bat-shit over the sales."

The waiter comes and drops off our food. I let out a pleased sigh when he sets down my pancakes that are bigger than the plate they are served on. I pick up my fork and knife and look up at Ryan as he says, "That's a shitload of food. You gonna be able to eat all that?"

Putting all manners aside, I cut a chunk of pancake that is obscenely large, shove it into my mouth, and chew while nodding my head at him in response. His smile broadens and he laughs out loud at my gesture.

We continue to chat as we indulge in our food. Ryan is a really easy person to talk to, even without the company of either Jase or Mark. We talk mostly about his family, and I do pretty well with keeping the focus off of myself. When I can't eat another bite, I lean back in my seat and groan with the discomfort of being entirely too full. I close my eyes when I hear Ryan laughing at me and saying, "I can't believe you ate all that. You sound like you're about to die."

"You have no idea."

"You gonna be able to walk, or will I have to carry you?"

I open my eyes to look at him, when I say, "Honestly, I really need to walk this off."

"Come on, let's get outta here." Ryan stands up, throws some cash on the table, and reaches his hand out to me. We walk out into the rain, and he nods his head towards a four-door black Rubicon.

"What?" I ask as I wonder what he's thinking.

"I know you don't have shit to do today, so come on." He walks over to the large jeep that sits high on its wheels and opens the passenger door. "Come on."

I stand where I am and ask, "Where are we going?"

"I'll figure that shit out when you get in."

I can't help but laugh at his apparent love for the word 'shit.' Walking over to him, he takes my hand again to help me into the seat and closes the door behind me. When he gets in, I shake my head at him as he begins to pull out of the parking lot. He turns onto the main road and asks, "You like Thirty Seconds to Mars?"

"Love them."

He smirks at me and questions, "Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You just don't strike me as the type of girl who would like that kind of music."

He turns on the stereo and 'Northern Lights' begins to play when I ask, "And what type of girl is that?"

"First impression I got was that you're really quiet. I thought you were just shy, but the more we hang out, it seems like not much embarrasses you. When I look at you, I see this tiny little ballerina, so I figure you sit around and listen to Mozart and shit."

We both start laughing and I say, "Mozart and shit? I'm not that refined, so you can relax. But I've never been loud and obnoxious, so yeah, I'm quiet."

He quickly glances my way and grins at me before returning his focus to the road.

"So, where are we going?"

"Someplace I haven't been to in a long time," he says then reaches over and turns up the music. I lean back in my seat, and we don't say anything else. We just sit and listen to music. After a few minutes, he turns into a waterfront parking lot, and I am surprised at where we have wound up.

"The aquarium? I haven't been here since I was a little girl."

"Me neither."

"Why are we here?"

"To have a little fun. Come on," he says as he gets out of the car.

When we go inside, the place is full of kids and their parents. I feel as if we are the only adults that are here by our own free will because this place is a madhouse. We walk up to a huge underwater viewing window that greets you as you walk in. I go right up to the window and press my hand against the cool glass and watch as the fish swim by. I remember coming here on a field trip once before when I was in the fifth or sixth grade. Even though I grew up here, I never really did many touristy things unless it was through school. My parents rarely ever took me out to explore the city.

I look down to my side at a little boy, maybe around six years old, who is looking up at me. He has his hand on the glass just as I do.

"Hi."

"You're pretty," he says, and I smile down at him and respond, "Thank you. You're not so bad yourself."

His face lights up with a huge smile when Ryan walks up from behind us and asks the little boy, "Do you think I can steal your girlfriend away from you, buddy?"

The boy looks up at him and laughs. I can tell he is embarrassed as he nods his head.

I say 'bye' to my new friend and follow Ryan as he navigates us all the way to the touch pool. I hesitate as he starts to walk up to the exhibit.

"Come on."

I slowly walk up to the edge of the tank.

"You scared?" he asks.

"Kind of, yeah"

Pulling me up to the tank next to him, he dips his hand into the water and starts touching the orange and purple starfish.

"They're not going to attack you, Candace," he says with a smile.

"No way."

"We aren't leaving until you touch something in this tank," he teases me.

I look around, and kids that are elbows deep in the water surround us. Pushing up my sleeve, I very slowly start to move my hand toward the water, but when I see a hermit crab crawling in the tank where I was just about to put my hand, I jump back and squeal. Several of the kids start laughing at me, and Ryan joins in.

"Really nice!"

"What?" he says through his laughter.

"You're making fun of me."

"You're such a baby. Come here," he says and takes ahold of my hand to pull me back up to the tank. He shifts his hand to grip the top of mine and I shout, "Wait a second!" when my hand almost hits the water.

I don't look at him, but I hear him laughing at me.

"Relax."

He moves our hands down to the top of the water, and I nervously start to shift my weight between both of my feet when I feel the cold water on my fingertips. I know I am bouncing up and down like a scared little girl, but I don't care. I am terrified of these little sea creatures, especially the spiky sea urchins. The few kids that are near us are giggling at me, and when I finally feel the course, rough texture of the starfish on my fingers, one of the little boys claps and screams, "You did it!"

I look up at Ryan, and he is laughing along with me at the excitement of the little kid.

"See, not too scary," he says as he takes his hand off of mine and goes to grab some paper towels to dry our hands.

We take our time exploring the aquarium and all the exhibits while laughing and having a fun time. After an hour or so, we head downstairs to the underwater dome. We walk through the small tunnel that leads into the concrete and glass enclosure. The room is a little dark because of the weather outside; the sun isn't out today to filter its light through the water. We find an open seat along the perimeter of the dome that faces the windows and sit down. I lean back and prop my feet up on the concrete ledge and watch the schools of fish swim by. This day has turned out to be really fun. I never go out like this with my friends, and I'm starting to wonder why. Being here has kept my mind free from the way I left things with my parents yesterday.

"What are you thinking about?" Ryan asks.

"Nothing really."

He doesn't say anything; he just sits back with me and stares out into the water. When we finally decide to leave, we stop and grab a coffee at the café before heading out to the car. It's a pretty cold day, so I basically use the coffee to keep my hands warm as we walk to Ryan's jeep. Again, he helps me step up inside the car, and I set the coffee down in the cup holder and shove my hands into my coat pockets.