Feather in my cap
Let me tell you one thing: The first night in a new house, everything is not how it should be. The family is overly cheery, the dinner is overly done, the rooms are overly clean, nothing is normal. One would think that when welcoming someone into their homes, they would also welcome them into their mess, but that never happens. Everything is so neat that it's like entering an open house, when someone is selling their house. Nothing is familiar; not even for the original family.
No one fights. Which is probably a good thing, not scaring the newcomer out of the house before he or she has even touched the door sill. But sibling arguments, banter that us orphans by all means are well used to, they also seize to exist, and I don't know about others, but in my case, that's something I wish was present. Even though I've entered a new house, with new people, and I'm dying of nervousness, I would still like for them to be able to act normal.
Right in this particular moment, after all these musings, I'm sitting at the Carlin dinner table. At first, I didn't know where to sit, but it became apparent that they had already determined a place for me to sit; right next to the 'sister'. So now I'm trying to eat as properly as possible, which is becoming a hard task, since we're eating pasta. I can never manage to eat that properly. I desperately try to swirl the spaghetti around the fork, and it looks like I've succeeded until I put it up to my mouth. That's when the spaghetti releases itself from its current torture, and in a wild attempt to break free from it's destined doom, it slides down into my lap, creating a mess of me.
As if on cue, Glen, the 'brother', starts laughing, and I internally hug him, knowing he broke some of the tension; both in me and the others.
Arthur joins Glen in his laughter, and I look toward Paula. How is she going to react? Oh no, don't be mad, don't be mad, don't send me back!
Apparently, I needn't have worried, because the good-looking blond 'mom' of mine burst out laughing, and if that isn't enough, she has her mouth bursting with water, which effectively gets sprayed all over the girl next to me.
Mouth agape, my new 'sister' doesn't join in on the festivities, and instead turn toward me with an ice cold glare, before sliding backwards on her chair, standing up, and stomping out of the room.
I silently curse myself. The family seemed to like me, and I liked them, and then I go and do something like this, surely destroying every chance of a bond with these people; now they're going to send me back.
«Spence, you're such a baby!», Paula shouts after her, before turning her head towards me. I still have the spaghetti in my lap, my fork still hanging off my hand in mid-air. I don't dare to move, afraid any movement will shatter the moment. Cause this sure is a moment for me. The enveloping feeling of someone laughing at my mistakes instead of shouting, the warmth of Paula's eyes as she looks apologetically at me, with an underlying smirk threatening to appear.
I think I can get used to this.
I can't believe it's been a month. A whole month and it feels like years, still I'm amazed that it's already been 30 days since I entered this house of joy. The world of contradictions again crossing my path.
Glen has been my savior, really. He's been exceptionally nice to me, introducing me to his friends, kept me company at home, taught me how to play basketball, I seriously believe it would have taken me years to get me this comfortable if it hadn't been for him.
Arthur, the master chef, is the one who apparently 'found me'. He's a social worker, deciding to take his job with him home by taking in a 'child in need'. Normally, I wouldn't like the prospect of someone trying to save me, but when it comes to Arthur, he can save me any time. Ugh, that sounded like I'm crushing on him or something, I'm not, he's just the dad I always wanted, and suddenly got. I remember a week after I got there, he called me down into the kitchen and my whole body went rigid, absolutely dead sure I had done something wrong and now I would get punished. However, when I got into the room, he welcomed me with an apron. And not just any apron, but one with my name on it. That happened three weeks ago, but I still get chills just thinking about it. Someone actually made me something with my name on it. That jest alone almost made me cry. Every Carlin in the house has one with their respective names on, and suddenly now I got my own. It suddenly felt like I had family.
Paula, Paula, Paula. She's like the walking contradiction itself, and it
kinda makes me uneasy. She's fun-loving, warm, polite, care-taking, but I think she's pulled between two sets of how to be. One being what I just described, the other... Well, the other is a whole other story. Her other self consists of God-fearing, self-denying bigotry, which in my book doesn't really make a good person. Still, she's the mother I've always dreamed of, and whatever bigotry that lies within her, it's not rooted in her being but more in her Christian uprising. I know she's a good person, she just seems a bit narrow minded from time to time. Her other sides make up for it though, and whatever she doesn't approve of, I don't approve of, because there's no way in hell I'm getting on her bad side; cause I just love the good side way too much.
Last Carlin in the bunch: Spencer. I wish I could just jump over this description, but at the same time, she's the easiest to come up with adjectives about. Self-absorbed. Self-centered. Self-conceited. Self-glorificating. Self-complacent. Self-aggrandizing. All in all, just plain self-delusional.
I guess it's too much to ask for when you wish for everyone in a family to be supreme. It's just that, the way Spencer is, it's just so different than the others and it doesn't make sense. How can such a wonderful family breed something so grotesque? Not that she's bad looking or anything, she's quite the looker actually, but it sure doesn't shine through in her being. Maybe I'm biased, because all I've known in life have been either good or bad; there hasn't been many shades of gray crossing my path. Maybe she's a very loving person deep down in her soul... but I highly doubt it. Maybe some people are just destined to lack sympathy. Destined to be horrible.