Illicit (H.S)

02

Lucy Greene

In seventh grade math class, my teacher wrote down on the whiteboard the rules for multiplying with negative numbers: two negative numbers multiplied together becomes a positive number, while a positive and a negative number multiplied together become negative.

I always thought of my parents in these terms. My mom is the subtraction sign, and my dad is the plus sign. They don't go well together. They are the complete opposite. Even though the saying goes "opposites attract", I think it only holds true to a certain extent. My mom is hot-tempered and tends to see the wrong in everything. My dad is reserved and tries to see the good in everything– though it is nearly impossible when my mom has him wrapped around her finger.

I sit across from my parents at the dining table. My mom called me downstairs for some reason, and now she's going on about something I've tuned out.

"...That's why we invited the Turners," she says.

"Wait, what? Why?" I ask, confused on where the conversation is heading.

My mom sighs. "John, a little help please," she says, turning to my father, who sits with his hands clasped together.

He stutters before finally completing his sentence. "We thought maybe you and William could possibly become something. He's a respectful man, and he'd be perfect for the mayoral title," he explains.

As much as what he says about William is true, I could never see myself with him, let alone marry him and have him become my husband.

I think part of the reason my mom finds fault with me all the time is because– well, I am the problem. She didn't have a son who could carry on the Greene mayor legacy of our town.

"No," I bluntly state.

"What do you mean 'no'?" My mom spits out, she sounds frustrated and distressed.

"No, I will not ruin my friendship with William to fulfill your dream of being the mother-in-law of a mayor. Isn't being the wife of one enough?"

My dad's head sinks into his hands. Eventually, he stands up and prepares to leave. "I told you, Vivianne, she's not going to accept any of our ideas." He leaves the dining area, and I'm left alone with my mother.

"Why can't you just cooperate for once?" My mom abruptly stands up, and the chair scratches on the floor. "You are so selfish."

At this point her words barely affect me. I stand up and walk towards the entrance of our home. As I reach for the door handle, ready to go outside, I feel the weight of my mother's gaze on my back. I'm tired of being her chess piece. Why can't she see that I'm not just a piece in her grand plan?

I open the door, stepping out into the cool evening air. I walk down Rowe Street, analyzing my surroundings. I know this street by heart, every single detail is engraved into my mind. Mr. and Mrs. Brooks' two black bins are in the exact same spot as they were seventeen years ago. The brass colored, lion paw door knocker on Mrs. Brown's door has been there for as long as I can remember. And the further I get down Rowe Street, the more view I have of the lake.

The lake is the main attraction in our town. It is huge with two different harbors, although the one furthest from Rowe and Norman Street is kind of abandoned. I eventually leave Rowe Streets gated community and reach the harbor. There is one boat that sticks out from the others. Next to all of the different kinds of sailing boats sits a yacht, gently swinging from side to side thanks to the waves.

The sun has just begun to set, and it seems like the late mid-July climate has people sitting outside to soak in the last bit of the sun. No other than him. I see the same brown curly hair that I saw last night. He sits at the front of the boat, all alone. Before he can notice me I pick up my pace and turn back to Rowe Street. I don't know what made me go back to Rowe Street so quickly but I am soon met with the familiarity again. The neatly trimmed hedges, the pristine lawns and the elegant houses offer a sort of comfort.