In all honestly, I didn't look like I belonged in this family. I could almost understand why I didn't look like Sarah; different mothers and all. But I didn't bare any resemblance to Toby or our mother. There was no denying Sarah and Toby belonged to this family, but I just came completely out of left field. This was a thought that always crossed my mind when we were all together, how little I looked like them. Toby had mother's nose and father's shoulders. Sarah had father's cheekbones. What did I have; nothing.
My nose was more round; my lips more full and defined. My eyes were far more wide than any of theirs, and my eyelashes were naturally so thick and long. My jaw was a tad wider and my cheeks a little more full. I was by far the shortest of them, too short for my young age to even be an explanation any more. It would seem the only similarity between myself and my siblings was that we all managed to have the same shade of fern green eyes, like our father.
We went out to dinner for father's birthday and I was certain that if everyone in this town didn't know our family so well they'd assume I was adopted. Father was something of a celebrity in this small area as one of the most successful contractors in town. If you needed a building for your business, whether it is small time or a franchise, his company could build it. Mother was also well known as a former Broadway golden girl. Well, golden girl might not have been the proper term for it; she had one starring role ages ago, other than that she mostly had smaller roles before turning to the life of a director. She ran the local theatre here in Nyack now. It was obvious my siblings and I all got our love from the stage from our mother.
Sarah had pursued an acting career and had made a fairly suitable name for herself before she turned to the life of a teacher, installing a love for theater in the minds of young students at rather popular performing arts school half way across the country. Toby's talents was more in writing and directing, and his works were rather popular out in Austin where he based his career. Father didn't entirely understand why we'd all pursue such "wishy washy" careers, as he called them. The kind of lives that could end at any given moment. He didn't believe in passion.
Still, at dinner he pretended to care as he listened to us all raving about our lives and such. Sarah told stories about her students forgetting the lines during their big performances in class. Toby gave us hints about his latest screenplay he planned to start casting for within the next few months. I boosted about my grades at school and how I would headline the spring recital. Mother glowed with pride; we were her legacy.
The small local steakhouse father insisted we go for his celebration gifted the table one of their best glasses of wine. They all shared while I sipped my water in silence and envy at their legal drinking ages. As we all toasted to father, the large clock that hung in the restaurant dining room began to chime out at nine. I saw Sarah jump a bit in her seat and I couldn't help but follow her stare to the clock. It was odd but for a moment as I looked at it, it almost looked like it had thirteen numbers on it instead of just twelve. I looked back to Sarah who now was looking at me with such a blank expression it almost concerned me.
As we were leaving a few men my father had worked with stopped us to wish him a happy birthday. We stood outside as he exchanged pleasantries with the men; all bundled up to keep warm and wishing he'd hurry up so we could retreat to the warmth of the car. I heard something that caught my attention, an owl's hoot. I turned to look for it, but couldn't anything in the darkened night sky. "Avery, you alright?" Toby asked me after he noticed me searching the darkness for something unknown.
"Yeah…" I commented flatly, looking back to my family and noticing Sarah once more staring at me with her blank expression I couldn't understand.
It was always somewhat of a tradition for my siblings and myself to stay up late on our first night home. We would light up the fireplace in the den, drink hot chocolate, and share stories of the latest adventures in our lives. Sarah always went first:
"I was out at a local theatre production a few weeks ago, they were doing some avant garde style of Shakespeare Twelfth Night. They modernized the dialogue, of course because no one wants to see original Shakespeare anymore. The stage was completely bare, not so much as one chair the entire play. The costumes were all rather outrageous, but not historical accurate to the time period. It honestly looked like they put Lady Gaga in charge of the wardrobe, and you know what? At the after party, the director said that was her inspiration. Lady Gaga was her inspiration for a Shakespeare play. Can you believe that? She correlated the timeless accuracy of Shakespeare to a woman who hides behind outlandish outfits and unacceptable behavior to make up for her true lack of talent. You'd think Shakespeare would be all the inspiration you need to truly pull of a Shakespeare production. Honestly, I was heartbroken at the concept that his work wasn't enough anymore to bring success to a play; that you need someone like Lady Gaga to really catch someone's attention. Really, what is the world of theatre coming to these days?"
Toby always followed Sarah:
"My friends and are were all at this private event to promote another friend's new art show. My friend Joanna's little sister was in town so naturally she brought her sister with her. Her sister, Jill, had just turned nineteen. Now, I guess whoever was hosting the event just assumed everyone in attendance was at least over the age of twenty one because they just left the wine out for anybody to help themselves to. Jill was avoiding it until finally Joanna and myself convinced her to just try some. After a while some colleagues and I decided the event was really losing its momentum and wanted to go down to the W Lounge about a block away. We invited Joanna and Jill, but the lounge is only twenty one and up so we devised a plan to sneak Jill in. Luckily there was another in our group, Addison, who bore a rather awkward resemblance to Jill so we figured after Addison went into the lounge, we'd have someone come out to smoke a cigarette and give Jill Addison's id. We thought it was a brilliant plan but I could tell Jill was nervous about getting caught. Well, we get there and no one was even carding at the door. We sit down and all put in our drink orders and Jill just asks for a water. We urged her to order something different because it looked suspicious that she was the only one with water. Joanna ordered her sister some mixed drink that Jill never took so much as one sip from. I was impressed by her, and actually disappointed in myself for trying to encourage this nineteen year old girl to drink. About an hour later Jill came to me, Joanna was drunk and Jill was too unfamiliar with the city to get back to their car, much less drive back to Joanna's apartment, so I took them both home with me. Tonight was the first time I've had any sort of alcohol since then."
I debated for a while what I should share with them. What story would fit. Should I talk about school, and how well I was excelling? I had already done that at dinner. One of the parties I attended with my classmates? Too boring to tell, really. My summer plans to go to Vegas with a few friends? Nothing much to tell there. I looked up at Sarah as the flames from the fireplace dimly lit her face to my eyes. Something about the way she was looking at me, had been looking at me all night in fact, made me want to talk about my nightmares.
"I don't know what they're supposed to mean, my nightmares. They're the only thing I've only dreamt of as long as I can remember. The only thing that ever seems to change is me, I get older in the dreams. I remember a little at a time, but mostly the owl. I thought I would have stopped having them, like you two said you did when you had similar nightmares, but I haven't. They didn't use to happen every night, but recently they have. I sleep just fine after I wake up in the middle of the night, so it's not like I need to see a doctor for any sort of sleeping problem. And I don't feel like I need to go talk to any professional about it. Still, I wish I knew why I was having these nightmares. It feels weird to call them that really, nightmares, it's not like I'm being chased by some sort of homicidal monster. Still, I always wake up feeling frightened, like it really was a monster, but it's not. It's just an owl, it's always been that owl."