If Love is not Enough Chapter 2

If Love is not Enough

By Angel of Death

Chapter 2

October 3, 2007

The sky had morphed into a purple haze with orange sherbet highlights. In my peripheral vision, the clock blinked, its eyes opening and closing to reveal 7:00 in green numbers. Ever since school started, the days seemed to have been getting shorter and shorter. Time was confined in a hourglass and someone flipped it over so that the seconds could go by without warning. There was silence in the car. As I drove down the road towards my house, I took in the last moments of tranquility. Wednesdays were always hectic, and I knew that once I stepped over the threshold, peace would become a distant memory. Marco would be blasting his rock music while mom would try hard to settle Lucille down. I loved my brother and sister to death, but sometimes I wished they came with an off button.

My house was the small white one at the end of the street. It probably wasn't perfect but we've seen so many years in it. The awnings and the shutters were the same faded blue. There were lush green bushes littered around the perimeter and a huge apple tree. A swing fashioned from a tire and a rope, hung from one of the branches. Parking in the driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door. A waft of cool air smacked my face, combing through the dark curls that sat on my head. From where I stood, I could see a tall slender figure sitting on the bench. It was Warren, my other best friend. He was staring at his hands when I walked towards him. His eyes lit up when he saw me, which made my lips curl up at the corners.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," I replied, sitting beside him.

"Your mom said I could stay for dinner."

"Don't you always stay for dinner?" I asked, confused.

It was true. Warren was here every evening, enduring the craziness of the Harrison house. Unlike me, he liked it. One day he told me that it was like having a real family. Especially since his wasn't that conventional. His mom had left them long ago and his father always worked. He blushed when I didn't take my gaze off of him. Closing his eyes, he stood up and started pacing. The sound of his feet moving across the floor sounded peaceful as the crickets started to chirp.

"Its like this..." he started, sighing.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to ask you something."

"Go ahead. I'm listening." I said, softly.

Though I would never say this to him, I thought Warren was cute when he was frustrated about something. His almond-shaped eyes would slant under his furrowed eyebrows and roses would bloom on his round cherub face. He's always looked like this. Izzy and I would tease him about maturing late for a boy of sixteen. Pulling his wiry arms behind his head, he turned to look at me.

"Its almost Halloween and there's a dance...and I was wondering if you could ask Izzy if she'd go with me?" he asked.

Surprised, my bottom lip dropped and my eyes began to flutter like the wings of a bird. We've been friends for so long and not once had I thought that Warren liked Izzy. They were nothing alike. Isabella was the dramatic, boy obsessed, rebel and he was just...Warren. He liked double-stuffed pizza and random thoughts. The latest video game interested him more than who was staying or going on American Idol. But what did I know? Relationships weren't my thing and Izzy was a guy magnet. I looked away, not wanting Warren to see my cheeks flush. Isabella always got asked out and I was just her boring, geeky friend.

"Well?" he pushed, sitting down.

"I..." I started, turning to look at him.

"I know its weird because we're friends and stuff but..." Weird didn't even explain half of it. If they went out together, I'd be the third wheel. I was always the third wheel. But Warren and Izzy would never go out. Izzy was into popular jocks and not average joes. Warren wasn't and will never be a Brett Forester. He didn't have smooth caramel skin and dark liquid green eyes. His muscles didn't show under his clothes and he wasn't exactly what Izzy called charming. I could still feel him watching me; waiting for an answer that was lodged in between my throat and my heart. There was no way I was going to be the one to tell him that Izzy already had a date. I was happy and somewhat relieved when my mom opened the door and poked her head out. Her tan skin was illuminated by the yellow light from the lamp. She was wearing gray sweats and a T-shirt and her wild red hair was pulled back into a ponytail. That was the usual attire for her.

"Dinners ready."

Warren quickly shuffled to his feet, brushed past me and went into the house. I stayed seated for a moment, my mind absent of thought. The stars were starting to twinkle in the sky, playing amongst dying embers of pink. A low sigh broke free from my lips, and that's when I felt it. My mom had not left her spot in the doorway. When I turned to look at her, her eyes were focused on me. They were cloudy but they glistened in the porch light.

"Is there something the matter, sweetheart?" she asked, stepping outside and closing the door.

"No, I'm fine." Those words always seemed to touch my tongue as my voice formed around them. It wasn't something I said to be rude or dismissive. It was just something I said, and mom understood that. She nodded her head and several scarlet tendrils fell out of place.

"Did you and Isabella get all of your work done?" For some reason, I immediately thought of Mr. Gardner and his book club. His note was still folded up in my pocket. Scratching my nose, I stood up and shrugged.

"We got all that we needed."

"Oh, that's good." mom replied, smiling. I watched her thin lines struggle to pull up. They were like weak bridges struggling to carry a ton of cars. Anyone who didn't know her better would say that she was happy, but I could see that she wasn't. Ever since Dad died, everything just fell apart. Before, she stayed locked up in her room and only came out when it was time to go to work. After she received the inheritance from Dad, she stopped going to work all together and she became this dark void. A living time bomb that would go off at the sight of pictures or things that belonged to him. But then, somehow she pulled herself together and I hid my feelings deep down in my soul, so that she wouldn't have another breakdown. I didn't know my father well, so I wasn't as sorry as I should've been. He worked all the time, and when he was home, Marco was given all of his attention. It was if I didn't exist.

"The food is probably getting cold..." she said, opening the door. Music and baby squeals poured out, making a sharp pain ignite in my head. Inside, smells of bread and fried chicken tickled my nose. My stomach growled. I hadn't realized how hungry I was.

*

If our family was an exhibit we'd look weird to the viewers. We weren't as conventional as Warren thought we were and once we sat around the kitchen table, that fact was proved to be true. Marco, as always, was into his I-pod, browsing each and every song carefully. The light was bleeding against his eyes, making them look blue. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pursed, as if searching for what to listen to next was a tough job. He must have felt my gaze on him because he looked up at me and stared. I wanted to turn away but I couldn't. Marco wasn't the same person anymore. He used to be this optimistic boy who had a girlfriend and wanted to go to college and now he hated going outside and the only people's voices who mattered were those of Patrick Strump or Brendon Urie. Dad's death hurt him the most but he just didn't want to admit it. A lock of his usually messy brown hair fell over his eye, which broke me from my gaze. I turned away and stared at my plate, cheeks burning.

"Teresa aren't you hungry?" mom asked, softly.

"Yeah, sure." I replied, looking up at her. I forced a smile on my face and then ate a forkful of the mashed potatoes. They were hot and tasted like butter and gravy. It felt good as it slipped down my throat. Soon, the hunger that was raging in my stomach calmed. Dinner used to be so different. In those days, we used to laugh and talk. Marco actually turned his I-pod off and join in the conversation. Even the kitchen was different. It used to look like something out of a magazine. The napkins we never were allowed to use to wipe our hands off on, rested next to my mother's finest china and the table was always set. No matter what went on in our family, we'd join up at the kitchen table and eat. Then slowly we'd start to talk, forgetting everything that made us angry. When Dad died, he took all of that with him. He took the laughs and the neatly decorated table and the conversations that started each evening. Marco started listening to his music, never eating his food and silence became our invisible bond. It was like that now, except Warren was here. He was looking at me as if I was the one person who could break the ice.

"So, there's this thing at the library." I started, taking a sip of my water.

Mom looked up, wiping her mouth with a napkin. Her eyes were wide and bright but somewhat confused.

"I'm sorry honey, what did you say?"

"There's this book club at the library. Mr. Gardner...er...the librarian is starting one and he was wondering if Izzy and I wanted to join."

"Well do you?"

"I don't know." And that was the truth.

"I think you should join. It will get you a chance to do something other than homework."

I nodded, knowing that my mother was right. Everyday when I came home from school, I was either doing homework or talking to Izzy about homework. Even when we went to the mall I couldn't talk about nothing but assignments and how I should be doing them instead of going out and shopping. I was a geek and my whole life was wrapped around school. But then there was books. I loved losing myself in the words of the Bronte sisters or F. Scott Fitzgerald. It was the paradise that only I knew of and sharing it with others would spoil the beauty of it. But Izzy wanted to go and I couldn't say no to her.

"Yeah, maybe you're right." I said.

"Is there a permission slip I need to sign?"

Without giving it any more thought, I handed the folded up piece of paper I had in my pocket to her and the night went on. Some of the moments passed in silence but then Warren decided to fill my mother in on the Halloween 'extravaganza' as he called it. My mom was delighted and immediately started lecturing me on what I was going to wear. I didn't want to tell her that I was thinking about not going so I just told her that Izzy and I were going to the mall, which was true.

For the first time in a while, I saw her really smile. It wasn't one of those mechanical ones, where she had to wind up the gears in her cheeks. It was genuine and made me feel somewhat happy. I hoped that dinner would end on a good note but then mom got up and checked the answering machine, something she always forgot to do. She was always missing calls, especially since she was in and out of the house all day. When she came back into the room, her hands were on her hips and a frown was pasted on her lips.

"Marco," she said.

You could hear the music pouring from Marco's headphones. The bass was loud and drowned out the words, making it sound like someone was gasping for breath. He was bobbing his head, his nose ring shining each time the light hit it.

I didn't think he would be able to hear her through all the noise, but he took out his headphones and looked at her, annoyance burning in his eyes.

"What?" he asked, sighing.

"I need to speak to you."

Shrugging, he stood up and followed mom out of the room. Warren and I grew silent, knowing how everything was going to end. Their words were low and hushed, but they sounded harsh and anger-filled. Then Marco's baritone voice was pounding against mom's shrill one.

"Stop trying to control my life!"

"Honey. I just want you to get the help that you need."

"You're the one who needs help! Dad died because he was tired of you!"

"Marco..."

"Just go to hell!"

We heard the sound of feet stumping up the stairs and then several doors slammed. Mom was at the bottom of the steps, her face lit up like red Christmas lights. She was clutching the wall, as if it were her life support. Warren and I watched her silently, my own cheeks flaming. He was used to Marco and mom's fall-outs but to me, they were embarrassing. And they always argued about the same old thing. Therapy. Marco refused to go see Dr. Linton and in between the stream of profanities that poured out of his lips, we could hear him saying that "That doctor is a quack...there's nothing wrong with me...I don't understand why you won't just leave me alone..." Mom didn't say anything, she couldn't. Her face was engulfed by highways and bridges. They ran across her lips and curled under her eyes. Tears were streaming down, creating a trail of red. Turning away, I got up from my chair, and started towards the livingroom. I couldn't take this any longer.

Kicking a few stray toys out of the way, I bounded around the tan couch that sat in the middle of the room and raced for the door. Outside, I leaned against a column and looked out into the yard, past the houses across the street, and to the streets that spanned out from north to east. Anywhere would be better than here. I'd rather hear car horns and feet pounding the pavement, than the soap opera that was mom and Marco's relationship. Sighing, I closed my eyes and let my anger escape with the wind. A hand fell on my shoulder, and then I remembered that Warren was still here.

He was looking at me, his eyes filled to the brim with pity.

"It's going to be okay, Terry." he said, and then I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. This was awkward and somewhat soothing but it was better than being alone. We were standing like for a while and then Marco bounded out of the house, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushed past us and went down the steps. There was a bag slung over his shoulders and that was about it. Mom didn't bother to look out the window or the door. I could imagine her sitting on the edge of her bed, her face buried in her hands. I needed to be with her.

Somehow sensing that I needed to go, Warren let go of me, and stuck his hands in his pocket.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"No prob, that's what friends are for."

"See ya at school."

"See ya." And then he was gone. I watched after him until he was around the corner. He only lived a couple of blocks away so I didn't have to worry about him getting kidnapped or anything. Marco was nowhere to be found and I had no idea where he went or what street he turned down. Turning around, I opened the door and went back in the house and for once there was, silence.