"So when she was little, she used to run around screaming at us to turn up the music in the car. She was crazy about music. She still is. And yet, we can't get her to do anything with it." My mom says while stirring a pitcher of lemonade.
We're sitting at the kitchen island, waiting for dinner to be finished. I still don't know what we're having for dinner. Mom won't tell me what it is. When she asked Alex if he had liked Italian, he just looked at her like the answer was obvious.
"What do you mean you can't get her to do anything with it?" He asks, taking the glass of lemonade from mom.
"She didn't tell you?" He just shook his head. "She can play al-"
"That's enough about my life. You all talk like I'm not sitting in the room with you. I mean seriously, why do you have to expose me like that?" I look up at mom. Her eyes are raised in silent question. "Oh, come on. You know what you were doing."
She looks at me, "Sei nicht so überrascht. Du weißt, ich mag es, über dich zu schimpfen."
"Englisch Bitte. Wir haben Gäste." I level a look at her. She has a tendency to speak in different languages from time to time. She made sure each of her children learned each one.
"Of course you would say that. Can you believe it Alex? She thinks that I'm the rude one here." She shakes her head in my direction.
"Oh, please. That is not what I said to you and you know it. You're the one who started it." I crossed my arms over my chest. "And for your information, speaking in German when we have guests is actually rude. That time I actually said it."
"Can we not have this argument tonight? I want one night without you two going back and forth like this. And look at poor Alex, you're both making him uncomfortable." Dad said sitting down at the island.
"Believe me sir, this is nothing. I have four sister. Two older, and two younger." He said, taking a sip of his lemonade.
"How are you still alive? I had one sister and it about killed me." My dad said without a trace of regret. Me and mom only looked at him. "What? You two haven't been a joy ride either you know."
Alex sits back in his seat a little more, his grin is not helping.
"Oh you can't say a word. You have two sons. And lest you forget. That was only one sister. This child has four. I'm a woman and I don't think I could handle that." When mom mentions my brothers, I freeze. The moment passes as soon as it came about but Dad noticed it.
"Yes, but when you have even one, you can sympathize." Dad grins for my benefit only. I tried to smile back but it didn't happen.
"Well, enough between all of you. Dinner is ready. May I present, chicken tetrazzini." She set the dish filled with my favorite food in front of us. I went ahead to grab a plate when she slapped my hand. "He goes first. Were you raised in a barn?"
"Yes. Yes I was." I dead-panned and continued to grab my plate. I did so without any regret what so ever.
"I love chicken tetrazzini." Alex said as he was handed a plate my Mom. I just looked over at him, my mouth stuffed full.
"How funny? It's Lily's too." Mom said with a strange wort of smile. I looked her in the eye and gave her a slow shake of the head, disapproving of whatever she was thinking.
We ate dinner while Dad took it upon himself to tell my the most horrendous stories about me he knew. What are Dad's for? They are there to make you feel like their little princess when you're young and then they go and betray you when you get older and tell awful stories about your childhood.
"Well, I better get back home. Thank you for dinner. I'll see you tomorrow." He said as he headed towards the door.
"Bye." We all three said in unison.
"He's a nice kid." My Dad said. I didn't like the look in his eyes when he said it either.
"Yes, he seems like he is. Oh Lily?" I turn in Mom's direction, "Tell him he is welcome here anytime."
"I will. I'm going to bed now. Goodnight." I kissed them both on the forehead.
"Goodnight. Sweet dreams." Dad said as I started up the stairs. I paused at the last thing he said. I recovered quickly and kept going, but not before they noticed my delay.
When I get upstairs, I go into my room. I change into my hoodie and shorts. I wash my face and put my phone on the charger. I lay down and look up at my ceiling. I always look up at my ceiling before I go to sleep. Every night, nothing ever changes. But for some reason, a monologue that I've never heard before reaches my ears.
"Everyday we see the elements. Whether we choose to see them or look completely through them, they're there. We are made up of elements, Carbon, Hydrogen, Potassium. But amongst those discovered by men, are also those that are a mystery. We are all walking and talking mysteries. Whether discover it now or later, we are mysteries.
Everyday we see people that are elements. Elements of mystery. We hold the keys to life in our palms yet no one can figure out the meaning to life. Many have speculated and quite frankly, they are all wrong. The meaning of life can not be discovered by mankind. It is only meant to raise a question.
So why do we live if there is no meaning to life? Why do we exist only to be told we have no point of existing? I don't know. And I don't wish to know because people who know the answers to things get asked a lot of questions. Questions only lead to answers that hurt people who though they asked for it.
Yes, I am very philosophical. And yes, I live inside my thoughts to an extreme that is not healthy in the slightest measure. But what have I learned? Oh, so much more than meats the eye of the average person walking down the streets of Portland, Oregon. So much more.
That's all I want from life, so much more. There is a whole world out there waiting for me, I just have to take that first step. But that step. Oh, that measly little first step. How it creeps up on you. You think you're prepared, but you're not. You never are, and you most certainly won't be by the time you take it. Which begs me to raise the question, why call it a first step, when in all reality it is a first push? It surely isn't a choice. If it were I wouldn't be standing here looking in front of my nightmare.
Have you ever looked your nightmare in the face. For most of you I can already tell you that you haven't. You're too afraid. And I say that with the most non-existent kindness in my heart. I am afraid. You are afraid. Great! We have struck a deal. No? We haven't? You're still making me pursue your future instead of my own? Hmm. Shame really. I could be of some importance in the future should you let me lead my own path but you'd rather me follow your predestined one that involves my own forfeit of dreams. Oh, but don't worry. I would be more than happy to do whatever it may be that you have in store for me.
Did you think I was serious? Absolutely not! I will not set foot inside those doors or so help me I will rip you apart! Too much? So be it, you deserve it. You chose this for yourself as soon as you decided that raising your daughter to be your perfect little angle of society was a good idea.
I choose my place, not you. I choose my husband, if any, not you. I choose my life and what I pursue, not you. Try as you may, but I will not stand for this. I simply will not, can not, and refuse to. I bid you good day Mother and Father. I do. May you live long and happy, grandchildren less lives."