Daily Dilema Chapter 1

I breathed in, then out. I stared at the glow in the dark stars I’d stuck on my ceiling when I was younger. They were so old now, they didn’t even glow, they just stayed there, like the tacky decorations that they were. I sighed again.

It was a funny, breathing. I could inhale as deeply as I wanted. I could suck in all the air and really fill my lungs. I could let it all out in one gust, or even a steady stream. However, to recognize this, that was the problem. I felt like I was suffocating. Pain pulsed in time with my heart, paralyzing me to my bed and keeping my eyes fixated on those stupid little stars.

I could almost smell the fresh stack of papers my parents’ lawyers were printing downstairs. I could hear the scratching of their pens’ first marks on the forms. The forms that granted them the privilege of having ex before their names. The forms that let them rip our family apart. I felt sick.

I’d always resorted to vomiting when I was upset. It wasn’t something new. My stomach couldn’t handle the stress, so it just gave up. I heaved another sigh. I wanted so badly to get up, to do something, anything. My body seemed to be overly lethargic just to counteract the over analysis of my mind.

I’d been at this for days. The thinking, calculating, bargaining. I wanted so badly for this to go away. I wanted to wake up one day and my mom would have fresh blueberry pancakes on the table, like she used to when I was in grade school. My dad would come down the stairs, smile at me, maybe even ruffle my hair. He’d laugh. He’d smile. They both used to.

What hit me the hardest was that I was too oblivious to even see the cracks in their relationship; his inability to compromise, her over sensitiveness. I knew they weren’t perfect—I wasn’t that naïve. I’d just hoped they could at least work it out enough to tolerate each other. Look at how well that turned out, they were getting divorced.

I willed myself to get up. My body felt like a bag of rocks, clumsily shifting positions. I wanted to go downstairs, but I didn’t want to run into them. I wiped my eyes, and last night’s tears. It was ridiculous how I felt like a guest in my own house. I was hiding from the owners, staying in my room. I was suddenly a prisoner in a place that was once warm and loving.

I peeled myself off the bed. Slowly, I trudged to the bathroom, my body feeling ten thousand times heavier than when I’d fallen asleep last night. My arms were lead blocks tied together with the thinnest of thread. My brain ached from the dark hours it spent awake, wondering about the future. It loved to keep me up with stupid thoughts. What would happen to everything I’d grown up with? Where would I go on holidays? What if they get remarried? I splashed my face with water from the sink and tried to cool my burning face.

A quick glance in the mirror told me that I looked like shit. My hair was a cornucopia of chaos that matched my raccoon eyes caused by falling asleep with makeup on. I lifted by bangs. Sure enough, the stress had manifested onto my face in the form of four mountains across my T-zone.

To say today was not my day, would be the largest of understatements. I got dressed anyways and went down the stairs, hoping to suddenly turn invisible before my parents or their lawyers could ask if I was doing well. By the time I was in the kitchen, I could hear them discussing the division of some assets. God, my parents talked so loud. I drowned them out pouring a bowl of Fruit Loops and then the milk. Sitting down, I closed my eyes and attempted to focus on anything but the deals being cut a couple rooms away.

I could hear myself chew my Fruit Loops. I slowed the bites and still felt uneasy. The clacking of heels intervened, and the added noise was welcome. It was a break from my thoughts. I looked up to see Jesse, my mother’s lawyer, grabbing some random mug from the cabinet and pouring herself a cup of coffee. Only it wasn’t some random mug to me at all.

It had to be the mug my dad had bought on our family trip to Hawaii. My sister told him that it was tacky, with the ugly yellow flowers and the half-naked hula dancer, but Dad insisted on purchasing the souvenir. My mother had rolled her eyes and put her hand on Dad’s shoulder and said, “Girls, you know your father…Once he makes his mind up, there’s no changing it.” We had all laughed at the joke then. It didn’t seem so funny now. 

“Hey Kiddo,” Jesse said after a long swig of coffee. I hated looking in her pistol blue eyes. They always felt cold like the first snow during the winter, or the shock after jumping into a shower too early. Instead, I casually opted for the grass skirt of the hula dancer inches from her face. “What are you up to this Saturday morning?” she smiled.

Just watching my family fall apart. You know…the usual. “Oh, nothing really…I’m probably going to go to the movies later.” I forced a callous smile. I’d become an expert at hiding feelings. If anything positive came out of this entire situation, it would be my increase in acting abilities.

“Well have fun. I’ve got to get back to work.” She trotted off with the mug, a perky smile on her face the entire way down the hall. I poured the rest of the milk from my cereal in the sink and proceeded to wash the dish, scrubbing a little too hard.

“She sounds like a real bitch.” Carrie said as we left the theater. I rolled my eyes. She was about to start a rant. “I mean, who helps end marriages for a living?” The straw from her super-sized Diet Pepsi plunged into her mouth and she slurped it up for a couple seconds. “I mean, only an awful person would do such a thing.”

“It’s not her fault they’re getting divorced.” I said. “It’s their own.” I fell onto a nearby bench, throwing my popcorn bag into the trash on the way down. “She’s just doing her job.”

“I swear,” she looked at me with utter disgust, “you are just too nice sometimes. Where’s the fire? Where’s the fight?” she pantomimed some fist fighting, which made me chuckle.

“Okay…okay…settle down Mike Tyson.” I slid over and let her claim her share of the bench. Carrie placed her thin arm around me and let out a sympathetic smile.

“It sucks.” The two words fell from her mouth so casually it took me a moment to really let them sink in.

It did suck. A lot. More than she could ever imagine. And the worst part of this whole divorce thing is that I kept replaying happy moments in my head. My fifth birthday, when my parents surprised me with a trip to Disneyland. Taylor’s graduation, when my dad refused to let us leave the football field until we got a perfect picture of the family. I felt the uncomfortable lump in my throat form. I swallowed it.

“Yeah.” I breathed before getting up. “Let’s just go get something to eat, I’m starving.”

We walked to Tony’s Pizza Joint, located a couple blocks from the movie theater. As I opened the heavy metal door, the rush of freshly conditioned air kissed my face. The familiar faces of our town, Mrs. Grayson and her daughter, our high school’s sub-par soccer team, and even my former physics teacher greeted Carrie and me. But I held my breath, waiting for one face in particular.

Will Davis. He was tall, with short brown hair and shiny olive green eyes. He worked after school at the pizza place, since his uncle owned it, and was the most handsome dough kneader I had ever laid eyes on.  Unfortunately, while I knew him as the man of my dreams, he knew me as the girl he sat next to in chemistry.

Carrie elbowed me in the shoulder, “He’s here…” she sang. A smile spread across my face and I willed the blood in my body to go anywhere but my cheeks. I felt the warm feeling of embarrassment on face and looked down. We walked up to the counter, where a blonde girl that was in my Spanish class last year took our orders. We took our number and sat at our usual table. My heart was thumping as we waited for our order to arrive.

In about fifteen minutes Will came out, flour on his cheek and his hair tucked under a baseball cap. As he handed us our slices, he looked at me. “Hey, you’re Jamie right?” he smiled. His teeth were white and nearly straight, but one of his front teeth were slightly crooked, but in an endearing way.

I stared for what seemed like hours too long before Carrie poked me in the ribs.  “Uh…n-no, my name is…is…” I blinked, “Samantha—Sam. Call me Sam.” The words flew out like rockets as I spoke like an idiot. “Or you know, some people call me Sammy, but not too many, but what you call me is totally up to you.” I place my hand over my mouth to prevent more bright ideas for conversation to spill out like toxic waste.

“Okay,” he smiled. “Sam it is. Enjoy your pizzas.” He turned around and I tried to inconspicuously watch him walk into the kitchen. Carrie giggled.

“Undress him with your eyes why don’t you?” she was a tiny girl, but her voice carried. A couple people glanced in our direction and I jabbed my best friend in the shoulder.

“Shut up!” I murmured. “He’ll hear you!”

“All the way from the kitchen?”

“Stranger things have happened.” I shrugged before taking the first bite of my pizza. “You don’t always have to be so obnoxious.”

Carrie rolled her brown eyes at me. “When will you learn that it’s not a crime to be a little loud every once in awhile?”