by K. Weikel
“Hey, Barbie,” I hear behind me.
My brain starts to panic as the memory of what she had said after dinner that night spins in my head. ‘Well, at least I know why you’re plastic now.’ What did she even mean by that? Does she know something?
I say a quick prayer in my head before turning around and smiling.
“Hello, Dahlia,” I smile politely. “I didn’t know you went to church.”
“Why? Because I have purple in my hair?” She snaps.
“No—no, I… I just didn’t know—”
“Uh-huh. Well. Just wanted to say hi.” Her eyes scan the crowd. “Where’s your brother?”
“He’s sick,” I say, knowing it’s the truth.
“Ah,” she smiles and nods, her eyes filled with a knowledge I don’t understand. “Whelp, see you around Barbie.”
With that, she disappears into the crowd. I’d felt something ignite inside of me as she said the name. Barbie.
I take a breath and shake my head. I’m not going to lose my composure now. I’ve held it for so long… why lose it now?
My parents are waiting for me outside, standing close together but not touching. Not touching at all, if you ask me. Last night broke them. It shows in partially in their faces as I walk up to them, but it fades away as quickly as a car passing by. It’s like it wasn’t even there at all.
“Ready to go, Amabel?” My dad smiles as he gives me a one-armed hug. Does he not realize what he’s doing to this family? What he’s doing to my mom? Does he know what my brother does when he’s all alone in the house?
“Your father and I want to go out to eat,” My mother chimes in. Does she know what she’s like when she’s drunk? Does she remember all the bruises she’s given Tobiah and me? Can she smell the weed on his clothes underneath all of his cologne?
“Okay,” I say and clear my throat. “Where are we going?”
Do they not see what they’re doing to me?
“Roadhouse. I’m feeling up for some steak right about now,” My dad chuckles.
I nod and follow behind them slowly to the car as they walk an inch from each other and don’t make any eye contact.
This is my life…
~
The Roadhouse was good. I had a salad and ate half a hamburger. It’s more than I normally eat, but I needed something for comfort, and food was right there to fill my gaping wound of a life.
I guess it’s time to confess aloud that I don’t eat very much. I don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s because I want my parents to notice what I’m doing or what’s going on inside of me, or if it’s because I’m afraid of being fat (no offence to anyone, I just don’t think I’d look good), or if it’s just because I hate food. I don’t know… I didn’t really start to think about it until Dahlia noticed it that night. I guess I might have a problem, but at least it’s not as bad as it could get, you know? I mean, I don’t hate food, I guess…
I text John throughout the day as I plan my week. Prom committee, Spanish club, whatever else… I have no time in the week. Good. That means I won’t think about today, about yesterday, the day before, the past four months and more… My brain can’t handle it.
The next day is Monday, of course. It’s a school day, and Dahlia doesn’t stop me at the door again. Not until Friday.
“Hey Barbie.”
“Dahlia, I have to get to class.”
“I know,” She says, keeping her arm stretched to the other side of the doorway. “I wanted to ask you something.”
“What is it?” I say, trying my best not to look exasperated and to be as polite as humanly possible.
“Dinner at my house.”
“What? Why?” I ask, hoping I didn’t sound too harsh.
“Because I want to show you how a real family works.”
“My family is a real family, Dahlia.”
“Right,” She says sarcastically and takes her hand down. “Are you going to come?”
It’s like she knows I’m going to say yes, which, of course I will. It’s how I was raised. Be polite and give people what they want—to certain extents.
“Sure,” I sigh and smile to cover up my attitude.
“Great,” She draws out the word with a smile on her face. She definitely knows something. “Here’s my address. Be there before seven.”
I nod and take the ripped piece of paper. She knew I was going to say yes.
On the way to Dahlia’s house, I try to suppress any feelings toward my family so they won’t show and so she won’t know any more than she’s supposed to.
Her house is small. She has a small front porch with two rocking chairs on it, a brown door centered on the wall behind it. It’s only one-story and four cars sit outside on the driveway.
I pull up against the curb and get out, looking at the piece of paper to make sure it’s the right house for about the seventeenth time.
Why would she invite me to dinner? I didn’t know anyone else did that these days besides my family.
There are sounds of laughter and conversation coming from inside the house as I reach the steps of the porch. The windows are glowing with light from behind the curtains.
I press the button for the doorbell and hear three chimes. Dahlia answers the door and a cat rushes out.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s an inside-outside cat. Come in.”
Her house is warm and smells of food fill the air. A lot of the furniture seems old and warn and there are pictures of her and her family everywhere.
The dark-skinned boy that went to church that Sunday walks up to Dahlia and she throws an arm around his shoulders.
“This is Tyrice, my brother.”
The boy laughs and messes up her hair. He looks to be about sixteen, and nothing like Dahlia does.
“I’m adopted,” He laughs and looks at me. “Come on. We set a place for you at the table.”
I smile and follow them to the dining room, just past the living room.
A long table sits in the middle of the room, six chairs around it. Three of them are already taken at the far side of the room with a girl about thirteen with dark hair and tan skin, a woman with long brown hair, and a man with skin that looks like tanned leather. They stand up and smile at me.
“Hello, you must be Amabel,” The man reaches out for me to shake his hand. “I am the head of the household. My name is Jake.”
I smile.
“We were so glad to hear that Dahlia invited someone over for dinner. No one really does that anymore,” The woman says, making her way around the table. “I’m Cierra.”
She hugs me, and I return it, surprised.
“I hope you enjoy what I cooked tonight,” She laughs as Mr. Jake shakes his head dramatically.
“You’ll hate it.”
He smiles at her as he walks up and she smiles back as he leans down to kiss her. I look down at my feet.
Why can’t my parents be that way?
Right. Because one’s a drunk and the other is cheating.
I shake my head and discreetly try to wipe away the tears forming in my eyes as I’m directed to sit down at the opposite of the table as Mr. Jake.
I watch as they bring out the food and set it on the table, not caring if it leaves stains on the old wood. They say a prayer and the room erupts with noise and words and talking. I can feel the hole inside of me start to fill. They talk to each other and to me as if I’m not a stranger, but instead as if they’ve known me my whole life.
I learn that the thirteen year old girl’s name is Marcy and she was adopted when she was only two years old. Tyrice is, in fact, sixteen, and he was adopted when he was ten.
Mr. Jake and Mrs. Cierra had one child, and that was Dahlia. After her, they weren’t able to have any more kids, but they wanted more than one. So they started to adopt.
They’ve been married for twenty years, and they don’t seem like they’re going to break apart anytime soo
n. The way they look at each other is a look that I haven’t seen in my own parents’ eyes in years.
“So, Amabel,” Mrs. Cierra asks from the left side of the table, down at the end by Mr. Jake. “What’s your family like?”
The table goes quiet and they all look at me as they chew.
Nice things. I have to say nice things.
“Well…” I clear my throat and place the fork down on my plate, suddenly losing my appetite. “My dad’s a doctor.”
“Oh, wow,” Mr. Jake smiles. “You know, I wanted to be a doctor. Now here I am as a dentist. They’re somewhat related, you know.”
I chuckle as Mrs. Cierra tells him to stop talking and listen.
“Well, yeah. He works all of the time. My mom owns a bakery called Doll’s Kitchen. And then my brother, Tobiah, he’s going to get a full scholarship to some college for football.”
“That’s great, Amabel!” Mrs. Cierra smiles. “Well, what about you? What are your plans for the future?”
I look down at my plate and see that I’ve eaten most of my food without realizing it. I never thought about what I’d be in the future.
“She’s like head of everything in our school, mom,” Dahlia says with a mouthful of potatoes. “She could be anything she wanted.”
“Wow, I wish that I was as determined and focused in high school as you are, Amabel,” Her mom smiles.
“I’m in the drama club at school,” Marcy chimes in and takes a bite of a roll. “Are you in that?”
I smile slightly at her as I look up from my food. “Yeah. I’m actually in a play.”
Her eyes widen and a smile slips across her face. “Me too! It’s going on next weekend. I’m so excited. You should come!”
I laugh and nod, picking my fork back up.
“As long as you come to mine in three weeks.”
The night goes on like this, a mixture of questions toward me and questions at each other. I laugh until I cry.
“It’s getting late,” I say, looking at my phone and chuckling from a joke that was told and had me rolling. “I should get home.”
“Oh, alright,” Mr. Jake says as he stands up to take the plates to the kitchen. “It was nice meeting you, Amabel.”
“Very nice indeed,” Mrs. Cierra says as she makes her way over to hug me. She walks me to the door, the posse of children following behind her.
“Do you go to church, Amabel?” She asks as we all step outside into the coolish night.
I nod in response as I dig for the keys to my car in my pocket.
“Great. I would love to meet your parents.”
I drop the keys onto the ground as she says that, my brain jumping for a second.
“Um…” I mumble. “Yeah, sure, of course. We sit in the middle of the, um… the room.”
She smiles and nods, giving me another hug.
“Well, we’ll see you around then, dear.”
I nod and walk to my car, turning back to give a shy wave to the family, the unbroken family, the perfect family. They wave back and call out some goodbyes.
~
Nobody is home when I pull into the drive. All of the cars are gone. I text my mom to ask where they all were, but she doesn’t answer, of course.
I walk slowly up the stairs to my room, thoughts weighing on my mind. For the moments I spent over at Dahlia’s house, the hole had been filled. I wasn’t empty.
But here it is again, and it feels bigger than ever. What if it never fills?
8. Car Radio
Another Saturday makes its way to me as I stare up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. I’d turned on some music to soothe me into sleep, but that didn’t work either. So instead, I count the eyes on the wood above me. If this house could talk, I wonder what it would say. Would it yell at my parents and brother, or would it tell me to keep my mouth shut? Would it be mad at me for not telling anyone what’s going on?
I roll over and look at the time. It’s eight o’clock. My mom has already left and my dad is no longer home either. Tobiah is probably asleep, dreaming of cannabis and smoke. Or maybe he’s having a nightmare that he ran out of money and can’t supply his addiction and he’s going insane because of it.
I sit up and place my feet on the cool floor.
What will happen today?
I make my way downstairs and prepare some oatmeal for myself. Halfway through the bowl, I hear someone on the steps. Tobiah sticks his head out from behind the wall that leads to the dining room to look at me.
“Morning,” he smiles sheepishly.
I nod and look down at my breakfast, my appetite gone.
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for the other day,” he says, stepping out into the dining room.
“Like you’ve done for the past week,” I mutter, standing up to take my unfinished bowl to the kitchen. “I’m fine, Tobiah.”
“No you’re not,” he says, looking at a nasty bruise on my arm. “And I’m sorry.”
“Tobiah—”
“No, I am. And I want to make it up to you. Today.”
I sigh and turn around to face him.
“I said I’m fine.”
“My friends and I are going out bowling today. I want you to come.”
“Tobiah—”
“Nope. You’re coming. Go get ready or whatever because we’re going. My treat.”
I sigh as he looks at me with hopeful eyes. He really wants me to go doesn’t he?
“Okay. Fine.” I nod. “What time are we leaving?”
“Noon.”
I finish getting ready and send a handful of texts to John, who is about to go help with a carwash for his soccer fundraiser. He’s been on the soccer team since seventh grade, and he’s really good at it. He loves it. It’s so much fun to watch him play because he puts all of his heart into it, and with him it’s all or nothing, win or lose.
Three knocks on my door.
“Ready Amabel?” I hear my brother call through the hatch that I call a door.
“Yeah. Be right down.”
I’m not wearing anything fancy. It’s just bowling, after all. I have on dark jeans and a yellow t-shirt, with my hair tied back in a braid and minimal makeup on.
I wonder who all is going to be at the bowling alley. Are there going to be any girls to talk to, or is it going to be all boys and then me?
I shove my wallet into my pocket and lift up the hatch that leads to the stairs.
It’s warm outside and the sun is shining down happily as I step out into it. There are no clouds to be seen and the wind blows gently against my skin, as if trying to embrace me in a hug.
We get into the car and he starts it, pop music playing softly through the speakers. He lets the wind fill his car as he keeps the windows down, and I’m glad my hair is up in a braid.
Tobiah parks just in front of the bowling alley and we get out. I can hear the thumping of the music through the walls and the laughter of the people inside as the door opens.
Lights flash everywhere and the sounds of the bowling balls hitting the wooden alleyways click through the air sporadically, and I smile at the smell of pizza and food wafting from the concession stand. It’s been so long since I’ve stepped foot into a bowling alley. I’ve just never had the time.
Tobiah leads me to the group of his friends, and I recognize them all as football players. He introduces me, and they all tell me hello or hey and that they know who I am. I smile and laugh and we start the game, which I learn that I’m pretty good at. I’m ahead of them all.
They playfully tease me about it and I laugh and tease back. For once in my life, I’m completely at ease. I’m happy.
And then I see my brother handing money to one of the guys and receiving a bag with green stuff in it.
~
We head home after bowling one game. I don’t talk to him; I don’t even look at him.
The only words that
come out of my mouth are ‘thank’ and ‘you’ before I head up to my room.
Not long after flopping on my bed, I hear the front door open and close twice. My dad’s off early. My mom’s home.
I decide not to move, and to let the comforter hold me in place. One day I’ll have to talk to them. One day, but not today.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and open up my calendar app. I set a reminder to go off every day at four o’clock in the afternoon, which is the time I get off of school. In the title area, I type in Tell Family Everything.
I hear steps coming up to my room and soft knocking before the hatch opens. My mom pokes her head through.
“Amabel?”
I grumble into the bed.
“Are you okay, hunny?” I hear her step up a few more steps.
“Yeah, mom.” I sigh and sit up. “I’m fine.”
“Okay, well dinner will be ready soon.”
I nod and she goes back out, shutting the little door behind her.
I text John, who is now finished with the fundraiser. He calls me and tells me all about it and how much fun it is, and for a moment I’m okay and not bursting at the seams.
I tell him about the bowling alley, minus the part about the drug hand-off between my brother and his friend. He tells me we should go bowling and I like the idea, aside from today souring my taste for the activity.
At the dinner table, my parents shift nervously in their seats, and Tobiah’s eyes are glassy.
How do they not see that? I ask myself.
“Kids, we have something to tell you,” my mother says, glancing quickly at my father.
My dad clears his throat and looks each of us in the eye. “Your mother and I have decided on getting into a divorce.”
“What?” I cry, standing up. My stomach twists in knots and I feel tears starting to fill my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“Amabel, honey, calm down,” my dad breathes.
“No, I will not calm down, honey,” I shout in a mocking tone. “You don’t even believe in divorce!”
“Amabel, it’s for the best—”
“For who, mom? For you? For dad? For me? For Tobiah?”
Tobiah looks up at his name, his eyes glassy and wet with tears. Does he understand what’s going on? Does he see what’s happening?
“For all of us, hunny,” my mom says calmly.
How can she be so calm?!
“Why? What’s your reasoning behind the divorce? Why are you doing this to yourselves—to us? Don’t you care about your kids?”
“Amabel stop it right now or—”
