Tuesday: Chapter 6

It's been a while since I've posted a chapter of this, but hopefully it'll be good.

Chapter 6: Dad’s Arrival

A boring week has passed. Nothing exciting happened. Today, Dad is going to be here.

Mom, Hallie, Haley, and I sit in the car. The girls are in the back, and Mom and I sit in the front.

My cell phone rings. I look at the caller ID to find that it’s not a number I recognize.

“Hello?”

“Hey, EJ,” says a boy’s voice. “This is Jayden Gomez, from next door.”

“I know who you are,” I say, smiling. “So what’s up?”

“Remember how I said that I could do things on Tuesday?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I want to tell you why,” he says, sighing. “Actually, tomorrow I want to tell you why. Since tomorrow is Tuesday,

you know.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I say, hiding my interest.

“No, no,” he says. “I want to, but you may not believe me.”

“Okay,” I answer, nodding. “Um, I gotta go.”

“Bye.”

I flip the phone closed, and Mom looks at me expectantly.

“What was that all about? It sounded to me like you were talking to Jayden.”

“Nothing, it was just…a little conversation.”

We arrive at the airport, saving me from having to make up a lie.

As soon as we park, I hop out as quickly as I can.

“EJ! Would you at least take Haley if you’re going to walk so quickly?” asks Mom.

I roll my eyes, grab Haley, and continue walking.

We finally arrive at the gate, where we wait for Dad.

I hand Haley to Mom, walk over to a vending machine, and buy a bag of Fritos.

“EJ, how can you eat at a time like this?” asks Mom, her face displaying shock.

“Simple. I open the bag and reach in for a Frito.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

It is a few moments before people begin shuffling out of the door.

I try to cover up my anxiety by continuing to eat Fritos patiently. None of the people look like my Dad, or who I remember

him being.

“Liz?”

I jump a bit at the sound of my Mother’s name from the lips of a man.

“Tom?” asks Mom, evidently excited, but trying to stay calm.

He shakes Mom’s hand and then turns to me happily.

“Ellen! You’ve grown so much!” he says, his arms wide open.

I knew this moment was coming, but I didn’t expect it to be so…awkward.

“Hey, Dad,” I say flatly, still chewing on a chip. “’Sup?”

“Well, it’s the first time I’ve seen you in nine years! You’re so tall!”

“Five foot seven I think.”

“Really? You’re almost as tall as your old Dad!”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s get in the car,” says Mom, motioning toward the parking structure. “We can catch up over lunch.”

I walk silently to the car, while my parents chat about life.

I can’t bring myself to be glad about my Dad coming to visit. It’s almost like I almost didn’t want him to come. It would

probably sound bratty to anyone, but I don’t mean for it to at all. I just don’t know if this is a good thing.

We arrive at the car, and all five of us barely fit into the Corolla, with the twins’ huge car seats.

“So, EJ, how’s life?” asks Dad. “Do you play sports, music, anything like that?”

“I’m an artist.”

“Oh,” he says. “What kind of art do you do?”

“I draw. I’m in the art academy at school,” I reply. “I, um, I drew a picture of you, but it doesn’t look much like you.”

I think back to the picture of Dad. He looked so unhappy in the picture, but seeing him now, he looks almost blissful.

“What’s your favorite subject in school?” he asks.

“Art.”

“Well, I figured as much. What do you like to draw?”

“Life.”

“What kind of life?”

“Just realistic things.” I sigh. “Like people, flowers, and scenery—just things of that sort.”

“Ah,” he says, nodding. “I can’t wait to see them!”

“Cool,” I respond flatly as we pull up to the house.

He opens up the door and steps out, surprised by the house’s appearance.

“Oh, you got it painted!”

“Yeah,” she responds, getting out. “I decided the yellow didn’t quite suit me anymore. I liked the grey much better.”

As they keep talking, I open my door. Mom gets out with me.

I start to walk to the porch.

“Oh, EJ, would you take your father’s suitcases for me?”

I walk back silently, grabbing all three of the extremely heavy suitcases. “He’s got arms, doesn’t he?” I mutter once out of earshot.

“Once you get in there, would you heat up some of that Ravioli I made yesterday?” she asks.

Italian food is something we have a lot of at home. My mom’s best friend was Italian, and she taught her how to make a lot of Italian foods. But then she moved and she doesn’t really talk to us anymore.

“Sure,” I respond. “Is that all you need?”

“Yes, thank you.”

I set the tray in the microwave and think as it heats up.

Why does my dad even want to be here? I thought he and my mom swore that they would part ways basically forever. But now he’s back?

I sigh and pull it out. “It’s ready now,” I call to them. “Are you guys ready?”

“Yes.”

They both walk in and sit down. They talk about life, and what they do for fun, not really caring that I’m sitting at the end of the table silently because I feel so uncomfortable.

My mom changed as soon as he stepped off of that plane. And I don’t like it.

So that's it! Feel free to review!