"Ugh, I look so big in this dress."
I turned to my right to see my Aunt Becky frustratedly step out of the dressing room, looking down at her body in disgust. Her dress was the color of red wine, adorned with several rhinestones at the hem. The dress was beautiful, and it looked so, so flattering on her. I couldn't understand for a second why she would think she looked "ugly" in it. My Aunt Becky was always so beautiful, but she never seemed to notice that about herself.
"I think you look lovely," I replied, giving her a reassuring glance, "I think it's the best one you've tried on so far."
Instead of nodding or giving me a word of thanks, all I got in return was a scoff. She stepped back into the dressing room, slamming the creaky door behind her. A few stray tags on the floor hit my face from the impact, and I just sat there in confusion. However, I did understand her feelings. We all had something we were insecure about. For me, it was my teeth. They weren't perfect, that's for sure. My canines were sharper than others, and my two front teeth were long and crooked. My parents never took me to the dentist to get braces because they were always "too busy". I just had to learn to accept it. That's how I always viewed insecurities. You get them, and they either stick or eventually go away.
After several minutes, Aunt Becky stomped out of the dressing room with no dresses in her hands. She didn't want to buy any of them…
"C'mon, Valentina. Let's go," she called out to me, forcefully grabbing my wrist, "I don't want to look at myself in these pesky mirrors any longer."
I winced at the use of my full name, flashing a quick look of disgust. I always hated that name. Too girly. Too feminine. I've preferred the shortening of the name to Valen much better. I never understood why all my relatives flashed me dirty looks at the change, it wasn't that odd, wasn't it? Luckily my adoptive father didn't mind my decision, welcoming it with open arms. He said that it was normal for people to have nicknames, especially kids. His kind words always made me smile. Since I came up with my nickname at ten, it's just been the default for people to call me Valen instead. So whenever someone does call me Valentina, I wince. I flinch.
And I could tell Aunt Becky noticed.
"Ugh, don't tell me you expect me to call you by that boyish 'nickname' of yours. It's honestly so stupid," she rolled her eyes, "How about Tina? That's much more pretty and feminine."
I suddenly felt my face heating up and my feelings bubbling up inside my chest. That was the thing. I didn't want my name to be pretty or feminine. Whenever somebody called me that, it always made me so, so uncomfortable. And Aunt Becky knew that! Either she was extremely ignorant or an asshole. Or both.
Honestly, now I'm glad she's too fat to fit into that dress.
We walked out the store towards her silver BMW. She rummaged through her purse for a few seconds before taking out the car keys. I waited for the click, and sat down in the passenger seat. However, right when I was sure Aunt Becky would start the engine, I heard her tongue click.
"Uh uh. In the back," she scoffed.
"What?"
"I said, in the back, you fucking brat!" she snapped, ready to burst my eardrums open with that shrill voice of hers.
Sighing, I got my butt out of the car and opened up the back door, sliding back into the seat. The seats in the back were not as comfortable, and I was pretty sure there was a cockroach back there, not that I would tell her. I'm still waiting for the day that she discovers that on her own. I'm not even afraid of bugs, I'm just dying to see her reaction once it crawls up to the front. For now, the roach is coming along for the ride.
The engine started, and Aunt Becky placed her long, elegant fingers onto the wheel. I felt the car back out of the parking lot, and we were off, back to my dad's house. Good riddance. I was sick of her already. I do really wish dad would stop inviting her over already. He thinks that I deserve a female "role model" in my life, since I never had one due to my dad dating a man. Which is a great idea, don't get me wrong, but I would appreciate an actual mother figure instead of Aunt Becky. Like, what about a woman like Dolly Parton or Serena Williams? They're amazing in my opinion. Like, get me a woman like them in my life. I want someone I can look up to, not pity whenever I look them in the eyes.
I glanced at the GPS on my phone and sighed. Fifteen minutes until we got back to my dad's house. Might as well pull my headphones out and listen to some of that grunge music that always burned my aunt's ears off. I always laugh at the memory of the time I blasted my music through the speakers in the living room while my family was over. My dad loves rock to death, and so does his boyfriend, Nathaniel. But Aunt Becky… ohh Aunt Becky. She hated that shit. She always complained that it was the music of the devil, which only made me like it more. Like, who gives a fuck? The devil's got some pretty sick taste.
After checking the time, I pressed play on my vintage MP3 player I got from the thrift and pressed play. But after only a mere five seconds, the car swerved over to the side of the street and I felt an aggressive tap on my knee. Looking up, I saw aunt Becky giving me the scariest death glare in the world. If looks could kill, my ass would be in the morgue by now.
"What. On. God's. Green. Earth. Are. You. LISTENING TO!?" Aunt Becky screamed.
I paused, "...The Smashing Pumpkins?" I replied with confusion.
"Well turn that blasphemy off before I smash your pumpkin!"
She wasn't referring to a pumpkin.
Sometimes it's hard to decipher what Aunt Becky says, but this time I could understand, loud and clear. If I didn't turn off my grunge… she was going to make me turn it off, one way or another. Still, how the hell did she hear the music if I had… headphones… in…
Crap.
I craned my neck over to where my MP3 player was resting in the backseat. I swore to myself that I had plugged my earbuds in, but clearly that wasn't the case. My personal playlist that I had spent hours working on was blasting at full volume. If anything, I was listening to it at a lower level than Aunt Becky. Even worse, the current song that was on was Disarm, a song my dad always told me not to blast in the house. He said it was "too explicit" for my Aunt Becky's 'fragile little ears' to bear, and I couldn't help but laugh and roll my eyes. It's explicit, yes, but my Aunt's an adult, she can fucking handle it. If I can listen to it without screaming at the top of my lungs, she can too.
Still, I didn't want her to start a traffic jam, so I immediately plugged my earbuds back into the player, and that seemed to calm her down a little bit.
The rest of the ride was pretty uneventful. I leaned back into the backseat, listening to Axl Rose sing about who-knows-what combined with an ear-bursting clash of drums. It was honestly a mood, just relaxing in the back and tuning out of Aunt Becky's "ladies gossip" she had with her friends over the phone. I'm pretty sure that was a safety hazard, but of course I wouldn't bring that up. I wouldn't mind dying in the backseat of a car, listening to Guns N' Roses and whatever else I had on there. It would actually be pretty cool. Getting brain damage in a flaming automobile? Pretty rad if you asked me. Or perhaps I could just be sick in the head. Delusional, or suicidal; how about both?
Before I could finish my rather questionable daydreams, Aunt Becky's BMW pulled up to my house. Great. Now she can leave and I'll finally have some peace. Aunt Becky can get her beautiful ass out of my miserable life for once. I hastily grabbed my MP3 player and opened up the car door, sliding my body out of the velvety leather seats that she always tried so hard to keep clean.
"I'll be nice just this once and not tell your daddy, 'kay?" Aunt Becky grumbled from her slightly rolled-down window.
"Mm."
And just like that, the silver BMW that was parked near my house almost every single day this week was gone. Just like that, I was free from my toxic aunt! Now what shall I do, eat three ice-cream sandwiches without repercussion? Or perhaps should I blast some MSI in the bathroom while I take a well-needed shower? The possibilities are endless!
As I turned the knob of the creaky front door, I was met with the sight of my dad lounging about on the couch, feet high up on the knobbly coffee table. He seemed to be chatting with somebody. And somebody important too, because I could detect his stutters from a mile away. Oh boy, was he going to get laid again? He better not. I have homework that still needs homeworking. I can't be failing my classes while my dad is going hard with another man. That would just be terribly awkward. Could you imagine doing your algebra homework and hearing the worst bed creaking noises of your life, followed by the most ungodly sounds that you only want to hear in those explicit music videos?
Then again, he could just be drunk and be chatting with a friend. I could just be overthinking it. Who knows? Like what that one video game is called, life is strange. You can never predict what could happen next. So just go with the flow, and you'll probably be fine. There you go. Life tip from me, on the fucking platter.
"Haha, see you then," My dad laughed in an oddly immature way, followed by the beep of him hanging up the call. He slowly turned to face me, a bit of shock plastered on his tired face.
"Hey dad," I replied in monotone, still standing where I had walked in.
"Hey, bunny," he sighed, lightly pinching the bridge of his hooked nose, "Didn't see you there. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," I replied with a shrug.
My dad sighed. He softly patted the spot next to him on the couch, beckoning me to sit down. Hmm. Whenever he did that, I knew there was at least a ten-minute talk that was heading my way. I mean, what else could that be? A really long staring contest? I would lose that instantly. Heck, I couldn't even last thirty seconds. So I'm a hundred percent positive that we're gonna have one of those talks again. And judging by the look on my pop's face, it's really not looking that great.
But instead of whining like I usually did whenever we had to talk about something serious, I sat down on the silken couch, no questions asked. I could tell my dad was a bit surprised by my obedience, but he didn't comment. He took in one last deep breath before speaking.
"So…"
I raised one of my thin eyebrows. "...so?"
"I'm having Nathaniel over."
A loud groan echoed throughout the room. Not Nathaniel. Out of all the men my old man brought over, I dreaded no one more than him. He was kind of like my enemy in a way. Ever since I had laid my eyes on him, I knew he wasn't the man for my dad. But since my dad's a horny idiot, he hasn't let go of Nathaniel yet. (Which absolutely sucks, by the way!) One time when I was thirteen, I overheard the man tell my dad that if he didn't have sex with him that day, he would leave him. It was right after my grandmother's funeral. Oh, and did I mention that he likes to flirt with other men at family dinners? Yeah, he always got heart-eyes for the cute waiter at Timothy's Diner. The fucking playboy gave that dude a 50% tip! Did I make my point clear ENOUGH?? My dad is the most ignorant man on planet Earth, and nobody can prove me wrong. One time he actually believed all tomatoes were actually just rotten cherries, but I digress…
"Why? What're gonna do?" I asked, my voice slightly cracking.
He went silent for a hot second before slowly pressing his lips together. I only got more suspicious. My dad rarely ever kept secrets. My suspicions only grew when I saw him gently grab my hand with a burnt out expression practically glued to his face.
"Just the usual, bunny." He replied, his hands shaking in mine.
"Dad…"
"No trying to convince me otherwise," My dad sighed, loosening his grip, "It's just a few hours."
"Do you really want this?" I asked him.
He let out the fakest-sounding chuckle I've ever heard. "Sweetie, I'm a gay man. Why wouldn't I want this?"
"You sure sound like you don't."
I didn't get an answer from him for several moments. It was almost as if he had temporarily left the room, lost in his own thoughts. I looked down to notice his thin, scrawny wrists. Has my father been having enough to eat? He looked like he wasn't feeling so hot, which made me want to pity him. But I was pretty sure he brought this upon himself, so I didn't. Why waste pity on someone not worth helping?
At last, my dad spoke. "You should go to bed. You have school tomorrow."
Huh. That's it? That's all you had to say? After at least a minute of thinking, that's all you could come up with? Come on, that's like dry texting in real life! Whatever. It's not worth arguing about that to your father. And it was getting pretty late anyway. Tomorrow, there will apparently be a new student in my class. Not like I give a fuck though. Best case scenario, it's a smoking hot girl who knows what real music is. Worst case scenario, it's another boring hockey guy. Realistic scenario, it's a homeschooled multi-allergy kid who has zero social skills. They usually run out of there crying within a week. Natural selection, I guess.
Anyway, I walked up the fragile steps the average video streamer could break, and got my sorry ass into bed. It was a hot summer night, so after 'bout thirty seconds I had to throw off my favorite jacket to stay comfortable, which was always tragic. But I had to sleep, y'know? Sacrifices are absolutely key for survival. I buried my face deep into the pillow, and relaxed my exhausted body. Hopefully school will be alright tomorrow. And the new kid would be the new hottest chick in high school.
A girl can only wish, and I gladly will.