Chapter 5

The front door opened and I heard my mother's voice coming up the stairs along with her flat business woman shoes. "Elisa! I'm home." She comes to my room tapping lightly peaking through the crack I left in my door knowing she would be coming home. We follow the same routine. I jump up trying to act cheek-pinchingly happy. I love my mom. I think it's only because I have to though. I feel guilty about it but she's never around enough for me to ever miss her or love her more than I have to.

I open my door for her and she comes in. I remember when I was little and I used to run downstairs when she just came home from work squealing and attaching myself to her taking in the smell of this perfume she stopped wearing. What happened?

We sort of just stand awkardly in my room. I go over to my bed and busy myself taking out a math book as she fiddles with a ceramic turtle Cass gave me in 8th grade on my dresser. "How was you trip?" I asked.

"Fine," She said. "It was incredibly warm..." I tune her out momentarily. It's natural for me. It's like when your sleepy and trying to read and all you read are words on a page and you forget what just happened. You absorb nothing. I was listening though, I just didn't absorb a single word after 'incredibly warm.' "...how was your weekend so far?"

"Good," I say turning to her and wlaking towards my computer.

"How is Dave?"

I smile. "Great," I say. "His band had a show last night and this other really good band opened for them." I feel more comfortable talkign about Dave to my mother and people like her. I don't really like the attention. In fact I prefer talking about other people over myself in any situation. I don't like too much attention at all.

"That's good." My mother says not really understanding anything about music. "Is the other band in high school too?"

"Yeah," I say putting my math book at my computer desk. "They are from Coolen, the one across town."

"Well, that's good." She says awkwardly. You can tell my mother's a business woman. It's the way she doesn't seem "cool" or "hip." I'm not saying she's lame or I'm stuck in 1979, but she's just a dull business type person to begin with. She used to have color and wear sundresses and pick out cool outfits when her, Amber and I went shopping but when my dad left she went grey. Woman's business suits and black-rimmed glasses instead of contacts. "Did you eat yet?"

"No, I was waiting for you to get home." I say. I don't hate my mother I just don't love her more than just a mother. I care about her. And I'm just trying to be a good daughter. Knowing she might love me the same as me.

"I'll order chinese or something," She says taking polite steps out of my room. "Is that alright with you?"

"That's fine." I say nodding.

Then my mother slips out of my room. And I'm alone in the quiet. I walk over to my stereo and crank it up. She doesn't yell. My room barely lets any sound escape from it. Amber used that more to her advantage than I do. But I just like it because I can make it as loud as I want it and nobody will be bothered by anything.


Dave picked me up at seven. We went over Peter's house. Everyone is in the basement and talking. Oddly enough Thomas Welker- the lead singer of they band Caustic is there. We all sit around and drink and talk. I don't drink much. In fact, I don't drink at all. Dave has one or two. Him and Thomas are in deep discussion about what's happening each all-ages night now.

"That club-owner-guy..." Thomas said.

"Deb..." Dave adds for him.

"Yeah him! Said we had the half hour set before you guys."

And they talk about music. The funny thing is neither of them listen to anything good at all. I'm waiting for someone to say they listen to Sunday Drive my favorite band or at least The Get Up Kids. But they just talk about radio stuff and cheesy metal. I sit and listen politely. Not prepared to jump into any discussions about which Slipknot record is better- I don't even like Slipknot, they're a joke to me. And they talk about The Who and U2 and Third Eye Blind. I don't say anything. I never do.

"What are you talking about? They're 2002 release just kills their 2000!"

"Shut the fuck up! Are you kidding?"

"No! God, what kind of garbage do you listen to anyway?"

When it comes to music Dave and I are on two different platforms. But nobody ever said you need to have everything in common with someone to care about them. Dave and I just generally like music. We can listen to one or two recrds together and not both cringe. But other than that we don't need anything like music to have good conversations. I stay away from touchy subjects. Like my dad leaving.

Dave's parents are the trophy husband and wife. His father is the newsreporter for Sports on the local news. It's a pretty big deal and everyone knows him. Dave takes after him most. His hair and height and eyes. They look identical. And Dave's mother is the newsreporter who smiles and gawks about weather and traffic and news stories. And sports! If I could depict a perfect cookie-cutter husband and wife it's Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain are it. I think Mrs. Chamberlain is actually very nice. It's Dave's dad I'm always a little scared of. He's so loud and newsreporter-esque in search of a better word.

I don't know. If I go on about the mess with my Dad leaving and all Dave might get creeped out and just say he doesn't understand. All he's known is his perfect parents in his nice house and tuning into the 6 o' clock news. I just know my mother working and me sitting in my quietness.

Of all the little knick-knacks in my life I think that turtle Cass gave me and I have most in common. I remind myself of a turtle. I always inch into my shell when I'm unsure about people. I find myself doing that less around Dave and Cass. But with people I don't know well I'm deep inside peeking out of my shell. I'd trust Dave or Cass with my life. Not so much anybody else.

"Elisa!" I snap out of it. Dave is looking at me sitting foreward about to get up. "Hey, do you want me to get you a drink?"

I shake my head. "No, thanks though." I said.

"Are you cool chilling here for a quick second?"

"I'm fine." I find myself using 'fine' a lot in my responses to those types of questions. It's a squeaky clean word. Shiny and fake. But Dave kisses my lightly on my temple and gets up to get another beer. I sti alone because Charon and Mindy don't like me very much. And Other than that there isn't many people here I can just walk up to and smile and say Hello. I wish I wasn't so shy when I'm sitting alone on a couch not drinking and waiting for Dave to come back.

Whenever I think about Dave and I breaking up i realize how dependent I am on him. Without him I'm nothing. But I hope that never happens.

Eventually he comes back with nothing to drink. He has his keys though and he swings them around on his finger. "Hey, uh, instead do you want to go grab a quick cup of coffee?" He asks.

"Sure," I get up and we go out to his car. There's a coffeeshop five minutes away. He can drive that far it isn't much of a drive at all. And we sit and drink coffee and he talks about how he likes Thomas Welker and how he and the guys should hang out with them more. I smile and nod and sya he seemed nice. And then we talk about school and how we both like this year so far.

He reaches his hand across the table and covers my hand with his. "I think this year is going to be special for us both." He says softly. My heart races in my chest and he leans over the tiny square of a table and kisses me softly.

I feel so warm inside. Like I'm smiling and can't stop on a sunny August afternoon.