I wake up at noon. My first morning after my first party. I remember seeing Adrian in the morning after parties. She was usually in a bitchy mood, with a pretty bad hangover. I feet like the exact opposite. While my mood isn't quite happy yet, I am feeling okay, which compared to yesterday morning, is a step up. I look at my phone, mostly out of habit than interest, and I'm surprised to see ten new unread texts, all from the same number.
Lindsey
Lindsey
Lindsey wake up.
Lindsey, wake up! We have to go somewhere today!
The sun is up and We're wasting precious time!
Lindsey wake up
Lindsey
Wake
up
!
The texts are all from Elliot, and they had only come five minutes ago. I imagine his face right now, probably annoyed that I'm not answering him, and a smile creeps onto my face. I answer his text.
Hey. Stop spamming me. You're going to break my phone.
He responds almost instantaneously.
bout time you got up sleeping beauty.
oh, and from what i remember, you're in need of a new phone anyways. you have a sliding keyboard.
I laugh. My mom has actually been offering to buy me a new phone, but I've always declined, since mine isn't broken yet. I think back to last night and try to remember what kind of phone Elliot had. I'm pretty sure it wasn't much better than mine. Still a cheap android.
what do u want?
suddenly my phone starts to ring, and Elliot's name is flashing on the screen.
"hello?" I answer, which if you think about it, is kind of a stupid way to answer the phone. Especially if you have callers ID.
" I'm picking you up in an hour, so get ready." And before I can say anything, let alone protest, he hangs up.
My phone chimes again,
P.S. Don't eat breakfast.
I don't bother replying, because I doubt Elliot will listen to my objections. Instead I start to change out of my pyjamas, and put on some jeans and a hoodie. I run down stairs and take in the smell of coffee in the air. I love that smell. I find it comforting, like I know I woke up in my own house.
As I walk into the kitchen, I can't help the surprise that I feel in the pit of my stomach, as the kitchen table comes into view. Empty. I've gotten so used to seeing dad there every morning, drinking his coffee, and reading the paper. Sometimes he'd be on his phone, but he was always sitting at that table in the morning, waiting to greet us, as we all came down the stairs in our various groggy morning states.
I suppress the tears that threaten to flood my eyes. This is the hardest part of the day for me. It has been for the past five weeks since dad's left us. I can tell it's henry's ( my eight year old brother) hardest time of the day too. He's pretty good at holding back his tears by now, but they still manage to leak out sometimes. I can't be certain, since Adrian has learned to keep a sort of emotionless mask on her face throughout her years in this house, but I think the hardest time for her is Dinner. Dad and her would always debate over some new TV show they both watching. As for mom, I really don't think she had a hardest time of day. Her sadness just stays with her, following her like an unwanted shadow on a sunny day. No matter how fast she runs, she'll never loose it. Even on rainy dark days, it's still there, hiding.
I step into the kitchen, and I'm about to grab the milk out of the fridge for my cereal, but then I remember Elliot's text.
P.S. Don't eat breakfast.
I think about the various possibilities of why someone would deprive me from eating my favourite meal of the day. My eyes, linger on the toast that lies un-eaten on the still empty, kitchen table. It's like it's taunting me. I sigh, and pour myself some coffee instead. I drink my coffee black. I don't enjoy it very much but dad always drank his black. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know it's stupid to drink something I don't like everyday, but sometimes I feel like doing little things like this somehow bring me closer.
I take my mug upstairs and do my hair and make-up. I think about the people who actually shower in the morning, then spend hours on the their hair and make-up, then tell you about how they 'save time' in the morning by picking out their outfit the night before. I laugh to myself, remembering that some of the most important people in my life, do those things on a regular basis. Just as I'm gathering my dark auburn hair into a ponytail, the doorbell rings. I finish up as quickly as I can, applying my lip gloss lazily then running down the stairs to get the door.
I swing the door open with a little too much enthusiasm, making Elliot flinch before a smile takes over his face.
" excited to see me?" He asks jokingly.
" more like, I haven't sprinted down the stairs like that in months," I say, remembering the times when Adrian and I would race each other to dinner.
" Well I'm glad I gave you some joy in your miserable life. I mean come on! You don't run down the stairs every morning?"
I laugh despite myself, not wanting to spoil the good mood by telling him that my dad had been pretty sick the last few moths and running down the stairs wouldn't have helped him. Instead I say,
"Maybe you can teach me how to live a 'more exciting' life'"
I said it sarcastically, but the expression that floats onto Elliot's face is one that I'm not sure I should laugh at, admire, or run from. His face lit up like a street lamp in the middle of the night, and I almost 'awwwwwe' d at the expression, but I controlled myself.
" Hey! Wow buddy! That was sarcasm!" I say through my laughter
" I didn't even say anything…" he protests.
" I saw it in your eyes."
He laughs before finally telling me where we're going.
" Okay, so first, we're going back to my house because my mom made breakfast and insisted that you come over.
I look at him like he's crazy, but he doesn't notice. Your can say a lot of things about Elliot, but you can't say he's a bad driver. He barely ever takes his eyes off the road.
" How does your mom know about me?" I ask, incredulous.
" She kind of demanded why I was going out so late yesterday, so I told her I was taking someone to a party. Then she asked me who I was taking to a party, so I told her about how I met you on the lawn yesterday. She then only agreed to let me go if I told her everything that happened. Oh and if I was back by two… Which I wasn't."
"Wow, you and your mom seem pretty close." I say.
" Yeah, I'm an only child. Usually it's pretty great, but my mom can be kind of over-protective sometimes."
" I kind of wish my mom was more over-protective sometimes. Like, I love that she trusts me, but sometimes it feels like she could… I don't know, care more I guess."
We arrive at a rainbow painted house. Where a house number should be, instead are the words somewhere written in fancy script.
" wow." I say, because honestly, there's no other way to put it. " it's beautiful, but… Wow."
Elliot laughs. " you should have seen it coming, I mean, My name is Elliot.
" yeah, your right. I should have," and before I can stop it, a giggle, escapes my mouth. A frick'n giggle. Sometimes, I hate myself. Very few people can make me giggle. Lilly is one of them, sor is Henry.
So was dad, A voice in my head says.
Suddenly my car door opens and I turn to see Elliot holding the handle. I was so lost in my own depression that I hadn't notice him get out of the car.
" Thanks" I say blushing.
" No problem." Then, because he's Elliot, he adds, " and women say chivalry is dead."
Elliot leads me up to the front door, and rings the door bell.
" Don't you have keys?" I ask.
" Yeah, of course. If you look the window right here," he gestures to the little window next to the door, " You can see the on that abomination of a table."
I grin. It does look like an abomination of a table. It's once of those half a circle tables that really aren't good at anything except for holding fake flowers, or in this case, keys that shouldn't be there. My parents always taught me to carry my keys around with me everywhere, mostly so I'd learn not to loose things in general.
At that moment the door opens cutting off anything I was about to say about the useless table.
" Hello! I'm Layla. It's so nice to meet you!" A women, apparently Layla, with blonde hair and brown eyes says. She looks like a pleasant middle aged woman, like if I were to see her on the street, she would be giving out homemade cookies to the homeless. ( wow, if you think about that, it sounds kind of cruel…)
Layla sticks out her hand at me. I shake it.
" Mom, dial it down. She's really not used to this much excitement in her life." Elliot says, nudging my arm mockingly.
" Elliot! Be nice! Your are lucky that this girl is talking to you at all!"
Now it was my turn to nudge him, adding in a " Yeah Elliot." in a joking tone.
We all laugh, before Layla ushers us inside. Elliot gives me a tour, while Layla finishes up breakfast.
" your mom seems really nice." I say as we walk up he second set of stairs to the attic.
" Yeah, she's pretty cool."
We near the end of the stairs to meet a single bright yellow painted door.
" Okay Silvera, are you ready for this?" He grins at me. " Prepare to be amazed."
