Chapter 10

I stick my fork through another tortellini. My mother's going on and on about me and everything. And Aber is sitting politely ripping apart a roll viciously. I'm assuming in her eyes it's my mothers head. But her voice keeps going. Rising and falling as her bracelet clinks her glass of water and she pauses to take a sip.

"But Dave is a wonderful boy. You've met him once right?"

"That really cocky kid with the loud voice?" Amber shoots at my mother. She's pissed.

"Amber!" My mother says her eyebrows going down in dissaproval. "Apologize to Elisa."

"It's fine." I say. I don't blame Amber. She's jsut irratated. "Really."

"Okay, mum, go on." Amber says.

"Well, he and his band play at the club downtown. Every other Friday and they're good I hear." My mother goes on and on abotu Dave. How he's such a nice kid. I lean onto my arm. My hand over the side of my neck even though my hair is down and it covers the mark. He gave me a hickey which is disgusting and uncomfortable to know it's there. I feel like dirt. A slut. I take my glass of water and sip it. Feeling the skin where it is. I listen to what my mother is saying and try and forget about the Dave that gave this to me.

Amber watches me. She's older looking now. She looks like she goes to college. Her second year. I look down at the puddle of sauce with the rings of tortellini buried inside. I'm not that hungry. I sit back a little and make my hair cover my neck while I reach into my pocket to text Dave again. My mother's too wrapped up in bragging about me to my only sister making a relationship long dead get shot even more and more.

"Elisa? Why aren't you eating?" I look up and see my mother looking at me. Amber sips her water. Watching me with both of her golden eyes. I blink and then slide my cell phone into my pocket again as I slide my chair in a little more.

"I'm not hungry." I said. "I had a big lunch." I barely ate lunch. I just sort of sat there and listened to Dave tell a story that left the whole table alive and in hysterics and I was jsut there. But I really am not very hungry. I alreadt forced down a roll and about half of the plat sitting in front of me.

"Do you feel sick? You look pale." My mother leans forward to feel my forehead.

"I'm fine. Don't worry." I say.

Then silence slips over the table. I fiddle with my knife while Amber spins her spaghetti and my mother watches both of us. This is what we've become. The silent wars still raging within all of us. The thing that's really bothering me is the empty seat. They sat us at a table for four. It's more than uncomfortable seeing that seat who could have belonged to my dad, had things stayed "okay" like my parents had said they always were.

We were in the parking lot when my mother got a call. She walked off. And Amber and I stood there outside of the restaurant awkwardly in the rectangle of diagonal yellow lines painted on the driveway. It was cool out. And the stars were visile under the layer of invisible clouds the weather caster reported right before we left.

"Sorry about what I said about Dave." She said shoving her hands into the pockets of her thin coat. I looked at her. She was much taller than me. She was so much prettier than me. And perfect.

I smield a little. "It's fine."

"I only met him once, I shoulnd't have judged him." She said. "I know what it felt like when I brought home boys and you and mum didn't think they were good enough. Dave sounds like a good kid. I'll try and meet him again this weekend."

I nodded. "Yeah," I said. "Sure."

My mother came back. "Sorry," Her cheeks were flushed and she had just been bickering into the phone. "I have to go to the office for an hour or so. I'm so sorry Amb."

"It's okay." Amber said crossing her arms. She looked at me. "Let's go home, weren't you supposed to be going out tonight or something?" She checked her watch. "There's still time for you to go out-"

"No," My mom said. "Elisa's staying in tonight."

"Okay," Amber said. "Bye mum."

And my mom was off. Her heels skuffing the pavement as she took of briskly to her car where she left right when we got into Amber's jeep. "So, mum was pleasent tonight." Amber said sarcastically fixing the rearview mirror as I buckled my seatbelt. Even if we have a little tension Amber still offers a little friendliness towards me.

I nod. "Yeah," I said. "She's never that bad."

"You aren't me, kid." She said backing out of her parking space. That statement hangs in the air. I hear it all the ride home. Even when she makes me choose a radio-channel. And she tells me about the cool college one she listens to a lot. I just nod and say the appropriate one-worded replys. She says she plays some music there sometimes for this station.

I didn't know she even liked music. I just nod too then and hear it over and over again. You aren't me, kid. I understand it slightly knowing Amber's sneaking out her slipping into the house stumbling and her laughter in the living room when she had a boy over and how it silenced suddenly for tens of minutes. I'm not her. But that doesn't mean my mother loves Amber less.

When we were little in our neighborhood when there were no kids our ages we played together. We fought once about who mum and dad loved more. Back when they were "mum and dad" and we were just Lisa and Amb. We would go right to the source. "We love you equally." They'd say. We never believed them. But now when I'm this old I do. Even though my father left and my mother's overworked. She hsould love us the same. She should just love us differently.

I say nothing. And jsut let You aren't me, kid swallow me over the indie music Amber is tapping her fingers on the steering wheel to.

We got to our street but someone is standing on the dar corner right before it. Amber waves for them to pass. And as they pass the headlights I study the figure with shock and silence. He waves to us. But his eyes glue to me. A sweet brown. From his hand dangles a guitar in a nice leater case as he hurries pass. I watch Bennett Williams disappear into the darkness on the other side. Right as he passes through the shower of the street-light located on the inside of the sidewalk.

"Whose that?" Amber asks.

"Bennett Williams."

"Whose that?" She repeats.

"Bennett Williams." Is all I can say. And we drive in silence Amber accepting it. Bennett Williams. What more is there to say?