Chapter:15
She was impressed with my joint rolling technique, as she should be, but she was funny with the dog thing. I haven't laughed like that in forever. I felt a lot less anxious around her after the weed kicked in, and let my walls down just a little.
When she asked about our parents and why we looked so different, it caught me off guard. No one ever had made observations like that, and if they did, they never had the nerve to ask. Jasper explained that I looked like my mom. It sent a shot of anger through me, because I knew I looked identical to my biological father. I don't know why I admitted that or why I even gave a shit. It was just that I felt maybe credit should be given where it was due. Anyhow, it sort of shocked me that I said it when I did. This girl was already unraveling all my control.
Then Jazz asked her why she moved here, and my ears shot up like a hunting dog hearing a rabbit scurry in the woods. Her answer was about as vague as the answer I would give about my own reason for moving to Forks. I watched as her pretty brown eyes filled with unmistakable sadness while she fumbled to answer indirectly. She was obviously hurt by a guy and left California because she couldn't handle the heartfail. It was clear that she became uncomfortable and fidgety talking about it. My curiosity was definitely piqued. I had to fight back the urge to ask her to elaborate, but I decided quickly that there was absolutely no point in extending any effort to get to know her. Especially since Jasper already seemed to have a definite hard on for her. If she was going to hang out with us, then we would get high or whatever and I would have to be a dick to her. I had no choice…it was just easier that way.
Jasper would end up screwing her, maybe even dating her, and before he got bored I would have to endure a few family dinners with her present at the table. Then she'd be history, and he'd move on to someone else, as would she.
There was nothing I could do about any of that. As far as I was concerned she was a pretty thing to look at, whether sitting next to me in Biology or from afar as I peered into her window at night. And since Jasper seemed to have taken a liking to her, then good for him, he could have her. He deserved a nice girl in his life, and I certainly owed him one. If I could live vicariously through my brother's conquests, then so be it.
When we departed the tree house at dinner time, we all squeezed drops of Visine in our eyes and made our way back through the overgrown path toward home. I was feeling conflicted and shitty and I knew it was going to be one of those nights that I would obsess and torture myself with thoughts.
Mom and Dad were in the kitchen, clearly not expecting our arrival, as he had her pressed against the stove in a loving embrace. She shrugged him off, giggling, but he continued to nuzzle his face in her neck as she stirred the pot of organic tree bark and freshly cut grass clippings or whatever the fuck she had concocted for us to eat.
I felt a potent surge of envy at the sight of their embrace. Not for their relationship, though it was definitely one to be modeled after, but because sometimes it was extremely difficult to watch other people give and receive so much affection. My mother was clearly uncomfortable in their display with us present, so she swatted him with a kitchen towel until he dismounted her to greet us.
From the outside, we were the perfect family- doctor dad that was home every night by six, mom who was loving and nurturing even if she couldn't cook for shit. There was the prodigal eldest child, proficient at sports and academics, with good looks and charm to boot. There was Jasper, the middle child who was just as good looking, great at lacrosse and basketball and who got good grades without trying. And then there was little Edward, the black sheep of the family, obsessive compulsive freak who failed at life and punished everyone in his family for his indiscretions.
I remained quiet during dinner, picking at the twigs and berries Esme called sustenance, as Jasper prattled on incessantly about school and about Bella. Emmett came in from practice a little later, sweaty and streaked with dirt as he spewed out details of his fucking fantastic quarterback skills and all the girls who stood soaking in the rain to watch the team. It irked me to no end that he could sit there and eat marinating in his own filth like that, but I kept my mouth shut. No one even noticed that I hadn't said a word. Not that I was ever so talkative at mealtime, or ever really, but I always felt like sort of an afterthought; slightly invisible, like the elderly grandma that got placed in the corner on Thanksgiving and ignored.
I helped with the dishes as Emmett headed upstairs for a much needed shower and Dad and Jasper disappeared into the basement. My mom gave me a meek smile, which I returned as I set the dinner plates on the counter. She knew me well, and as she put a hand on my back, she said softly, "Tough day?"
I shrugged. "No more than usual."
Shutting the door to the dishwasher, she turned to me. "Do you want to talk? It seems like something is on your mind."
I shook my head no, conflicted as to whether to share my angst with her even though I knew she would undoubtedly understand. She always understood. But I simply wasn't in the mood to feel.
"Come here," she said, wrapping her arms around my back to draw me into her chest, giving me no choice in the matter. I buried my head in her shoulder, sighing and reverently taking in the soothing movements of her hands rubbing circles on my back. I hadn't realized how much I had craved affection from her- and not in a creepy I love when my mother touches me-Oedipus Complex-greatest wet dream ever kind of way. It was just really nice to be touched by another human.
She understood. And it was funny because when I was little everything could be fixed with a hug from my mom. At sixteen, my problems were much bigger than a scrape on the playground or a fight with my brothers, but still, her hugs were the perfect temporary fix.
"Did you talk to Charlie's daughter today?"
"A little. She's beautiful, mom, and funny. She was lost and I helped her find her class... but…I think Jazz likes her, so.…" I trailed off, shrugging my shoulders as I pulled away from her, cringing at how much of a girl I sounded like. My mother made some of my walls crumble effortlessly, and she knew I didn't like that she had that effect on me.
She stood almost a head shorter than I, her fine feminine features so unlike my own. She and I had the same shade of deep reddish brown hair, and the same long fingers, but that was all that I took from her gene pool. The rest of me was from a man in New York with my old name, who sent her a fat ass court-ordered check once a year in minimal recognition and obligation of his paternity.
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