When it rains in the desert

Little White Lies

We got out of the car and she began fiddling with her hands as I reached for them. "Ceils? are you nervous?" She looked up at me and let out a deep breath.

"Only a little" She said laughing a nervous laugh. I clenched her hand in my own and began pulling her towards the front door. She stopped "Oh wait a second" and grabbed something from the trunk. They were purple roses.

I tried to suppress my smile and failed ,she brought my parents flowers. She took her place next to me and re positioned her hand in mine, I knocked on the door and within 5 seconds my mother had opened the door. "Jacob! Hi sweetie" She pulled me in for a hug that almost lasted forever before she let go and realized Celia was standing behind us.

I turned back, placing my hand on the small of her back to move her forward and said " Mom, this is Celia" She smiled at my mom before my mom pulled her into a hug too. I could see by the way Celia stilled at my mothers touch that she hadn't expected it and as I walked behind  my mother to see Celia's face I saw her mouth "Red Picket Fence"

I smiled and stepped further into the house I grew up in. I could hear my Mom asking Celia how the drive was and Celia saying it wasn't too bad and that she had good company.

I looked around and noticed small changes my Mom had made since i'd been gone, the couch had been moved in front of the patio and they had gotten a new coffee table. I slowly ran my hand along the white walls and the photos that stood at the coffee table.

"You like the new table? Your pops chose it" She said walking into the living room with Celia in her hands.

"It's great Ma" I looked back at Celia and the roses in her hands. "Oh, Mrs Mendoza, these are for you" Celia said, handing my mom the roses. Another smile tugged at my lips as I watched her give the flowers. It was such a simple thing, to give someone flowers but I knew to my mother, it would be so much more. When I think about it, Celia is exactly the kind of daughter my mother would've loved. It made me sad to think she never got it.

"Now I've heard of these, Jacob told me about them after your first date" Celia looked at me with what looked like pride, her eyes were saying ha, you told your mom about me. My eyes were trying to tell her not to get big headed. I clapped my hands together and said"right, well i'm going to go and get our bags from the car"

"Yeah, i'll help" Celia offered but my mom grabbed her arm before she could move and said " Oh no, Jacob can do that on his own, I on the other hand need to hear more of that adorable little accent, and please, call me Maria"

As I walked away I could hear my mother bombard Celia with questions. "So where in England are you from exactly?" and then " Gosh is it always raining in England?" God she wasn't even giving her time to answer. 

I walked up the stairs to my room and dropped the bags on my old bed. I slowly took in the sight of my room . Everything was exactly how i'd left it. The bed was just below the window, my desk across from the window with all the books and CDs I had left. I could tell it had been cleaned since I'd been gone but everything else was untouched. I opened my empty wardrobe and saw the few clothes I had left and threw our bags inside.

When I walked downstairs my mom and Celia were sat at the kitchen counter, my mom was still butchering her about England. I looked over her, prepared to see her uncomfortable but she seemed to be in her element.

"So, what do your parents do dear?" I immediately flinched but Celia answered without faltering.

"Well, My father used to teach history at our local high school and before me and my brother were born, my mother used to work for a news station" I stared at her from the other side of the kitchen, astonished at how fast she came up with a story. she looked at me and I saw the crack in her mask when she made eye contact. " They're still in London right now with my brother" She looked back at her hands as my mother carried on butchering her.

" Oh you have a brother, that must be nice?"

"Yeah, my twin" she said putting her armor back in place. This information excited my mother. "Oh wow, Jacob never told me you had a twin, that must've been fun growing up."

"Oh yeah, it was like having a built in best friend." She smiled and i'm sure it was because this was the only thing she had said that wasn't a lie. I wasn't mad she was lying to my mother, I was mad that she had to lie. I was mad that her childhood was that messed up that she couldn't risk telling the truth. I was mad that her story was so well rehearsed that she told a lie with such truthfulness.

My mom decided to show her around the house, through the living room and then the dining room where all the pictures were hung on the wall. Celia touched her finger over a few of the frames and I noticed that she lingered on the one in the middle. Our family photo. The photo that my mother insisted on keeping up. I looked at the tattered, brown frame. It was chipped and the paint was flaking off and yet she refused to replace it. My mother looked so young in the picture, so alive. I took a glance at her now, noticed how she never left her hair untied anymore, how there were bags under her eyes and the tired lines across her face. They told the stories of her heart break. Her smiles seemed sad and I wanted to pluck the world of all it's happiness and serve it to my mother but then again, what else can you expect from a mother who lost her child?

It's time to introduce you to another member of the story. Natalia Mendoza. My little sister. I hope you'll forgive me for not introducing her sooner but it's a touchy subject for us. There's no easy way to say it except for just saying it. When Lia was 12 she went missing. We didn't know where she'd gone. One minute I was watching her skate on the street and the next she was gone. We never found her and she's been presumed dead for a long time. But I don't buy it. They haven't found her body and until they do I will not believe she's dead.

My parents accepted she wasn't coming back a long time ago and I think it secretly killed them that I wouldn't let it go but i was 15. I was 15 years old and I was supposed to protect my little sister. I don't tell people about Lia, the only person who knows is Aaron and that's because we were friends at the time.

I braced myself for the question that was about to come, for the awkward pause as my mother tried to explain to Celia who she was and what had happened. But it never came. She never asked who it was and I thought it was because she didn't want to pry. I was too grateful to question it at the time. I shouldn't have been, but I was.