Page 6 of All of You

My palm grows sweaty as we approach the house. It’s not the house that makes me nervous. It’s cute and has been loved and is not scary at all. In fact, it’s a place I’d love to call home permanently. The location, the style, all of it is something I’d conjure up in my dreams. It’s mom who’s throwing me off. Making my stomach twist and turn into a knotty mess.

I’ve seen my mother nervous exactly twice in my life and neither time was good. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re walking into something sinister.

She stops on the first porch step and turns to me. “Behave,ok. Best foot forward. You only get one chance to make a first impression.”

I blink back my unease.Behave?First impression?I’ve never heard my mother utter anything more unlike her. She pushes up the steps to the door. I swallow back the lump in my throat.

The door swings open. A man fills the door. He is tall, has white hair and has jean overalls on.

With a stunned expression, he says, “Jennifer? What are you doing here?” His voice breaks as he speaks the last word.

Who’s Jennifer?

“Hi Dad.” Mom says. The air in my lungs ceases to exist. I can neither pull in air or exhale it. I’m frozen in shock. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Mom turns to me,a shy smile tugging at her lips. “Delia, this is Heath, your grandfather. Come say hello.” Her eyes are brimming with tears, and I can plainly see her struggle to keep them from spilling over.

Has there ever been a more awkward moment? I don’t think so. I’m fairly certain my expression is a replica of the man’s standing before me.

Shock and awe. I feel so many things, too much. Humiliation, anger, curiosity, heartbreak, excitement. I’ve been electrocuted with emotions. Mom tugs me up the last step to her side. As a shield. A possession. A prized trophy to show off.

As an offering.

Three

Langdon

“Iswear to Christ, Anderson, if you don’t stop annoying everyone in town, Mom will kill you. Or I will,” I grunt.

Anderson glares at me. “Shit, I didn’t do anything. Vivianna was just being mean.”

I ignore the curse word. He only does it for shock value at this stage. “You broke a pot and managed to destroy her plant.”

Anderson rolls his eyes in a way that only a twelve-year-old boy can manage. “Her whole store is plants! I said I was sorry. It’s not like one plant is going to end the world.” He brushes dirt off his knees as we approach the house. “And really Lang? Mom will kill me? She’s more likely to check every inch of me for a scratch or infection if you tell her.”

I chuckle.

“Language little man.” I ruffle his too-long hair.

“You swear.” He ducks away from my touch and crosses his arms over his bony chest.

I arch a brow at him. “I’m five years older than you.”

Anderson huffs out a breath before taking off in a sprint up the front path. I stop to roll my neck and stretch my shoulders before heading inside.

I glance in the fridge, starving. Mom will be home in twenty minutes but if I can sneak a snack before dinner, I’ll be happy. Unfortunately, tomorrow’s grocery day and the food remnants in the kitchen are unappetizing. A kitchen full of ingredients but no actual food. Eighteen minutes.

I grab an apple and take it up to my room. I’m on a schedule. As always. If anyone deviates from the schedule my mother has a full-on meltdown. She wasn’t always like this. But ever since the accident, she clings to sanity by controlling all of our lives. By knowing where we are and what we are doing at all times. By keeping us all on a schedule. Overbearing? Yeah, definitely.

Annoying? Super fucking annoying.

Do I understand it? Yeah.

And until I graduate and get out of here, I will go along with it to make her happy. Happy might be a stretch—to ease her anxiety is more like it.

I toe off my sneakers, bite the apple between my teeth and fluff my hair as I stomp upstairs to my room. It’s fucking hot today and everything feels matted down and sticky.

Flopping backward onto my bed, I take another chunk out of the apple. It’s tart and crisp. The fan oscillates, the breeze sweeping from my knees upward until it hits my face. I’d give anything for an air conditioner, but my parents don’t believe in them.It’s only hot a couple months out of the year. We don’t need one.That’s all fine and dandy but they work in air-conditioned offices all day and by the time they get home, the heat of the day is finally breaking while Anderson and I suffer the sweltering heat all day.

Ugh.Vivianna.

---