My Sunflower [h.s]

t w o

(photo: this is who I picture as Grayson.)

"How was your day?" Dad asks the moment I walk through the door. I slide my backpack straps down my arms and set it in a chair. I stretch my back and when it cracks, I groan loudly.

"Grayson, your mom is sleeping, honey. Try to be a little quieter. And you never answered my question."

"I was going to. I just needed a little stretch break." I walk to the refrigerator and get a water bottle. "Anyway, my day was good. Nothing out of the norm."

Taking a sip, my eyes close when I feel the cold water sliding down my throat. I swallow and quickly bring the bottle back to my lips for more.

"Oh, yeah? Any compliments?" he prods.

To be honest, I got a few compliments today while I was at school. One from my art teacher, another from a group of girls that I don't really know. Even the popular baseball player, Tanner Lee, told me that I looked nice today. It was a great feeling, and it gave my self esteem a buzz.

Instead of explaining that to my dad, I just nod. He raises an eyebrow.

"You gonna start dressing up more for school? Because, Grayson, if you're dressing up to impress someone, that's okay. But if someone is picking on you for your clothing choices-"

"No, Dad. It's nothing like that," I assure him. "I just woke up this morning and I wanted to try something new. I don't think it's gonna be an everyday thing anyway. It's just not really me, you know?"

And honestly, this whole makeup thing, it isn't me at all. I do like how my eyes look with mascara, but the powder stuff I put on my face, I am not a fan of. Every time I touched my face, I could feel it rubbing onto my fingers. I was scared to touch anything in fear that it would rub off and leave marks. I don't see how some girls do it everyday. Maybe II just wasn't doing it the right way.

Dad accepts my response so I dig through the cabinet and find a few granola bars, grab my bag, and retreat to my bedroom. Before I start my homework, though, I take my makeup off. It's such a distraction, and I don't think I will wear the foundation-- or whatever it is-- anymore.

I scrub it off my face and gladly watch the tan water wash down the drain. While dabbing my face dry with a towel, I hear someone come up behind me. My mom.

"Dad told me that you dressed up a little today." Her tone is almost accusatory. She wears a weak smile on her face anyway.

"Yes, I did. Well, sort of. I put on some of that makeup Aunt Mariah got me for my birthday and I wore a pretty shirt," I explain.

She nods and comes into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. "Is it for a boy?" she asks curiously.

I look around uncomfortably. I can't believe she's trying to have this conversation with me. Is it wrong that I wanted to spruce myself up a little because I felt confident?

"No, Mom. There's no boy."

"Are you sure? Because if there was, Grayson, you could tell me."

Even if there was a boy, I probably wouldn't tell her. I understand that she has an important job at a factory and she makes good money for what she does, but I barely know this woman anymore. She may live here, and she may have given birth to me, but she has grown so distant in the past couple of years that its unbearable.

"I know, Ma. What time is it? Why are you awake anyhow?" I snap. I didn't actually mean to snap at her, but my thoughts continued to build up and I just lost it. Hopefully, though, she's still foggy in the head and doesn't catch it.

"I heard you and Dad talking, and I never see you anymore. I'm always so tired from work and all. I figured I should get up a little early and come say hello."

I put the hand towel back on it's holder and turn away from my mom, grabbing the door handle.

"Well, Solana should be home in a little while. You should wait up for her. She'd love to see you," I tell her before leaving her alone in the bathroom.

•••••

Sure enough, minutes after the brief encounter with my mom, I hear Solana's scratchy voice telling mom about her day at school. I put my headphones in and play music quietly so that I can focus on my physics homework.

I finish quickly and put my books into my bag so that I don't forget them in the morning. I fall back onto my bed, stretching out and slowly dozing off.

Hearing my sister yelling through the house is what wakes me up. I check my phone and see that I've been asleep for maybe an hour. Dinner must be ready. I run my fingers over my hair a few times to tame any knots and come out of my room. I smell something spicy and hope that my dad has cooked him town-famous chili.

Ever since I was little, Dad has worked at a restaurant here in town called Lester's. The name can sort of be misleading, but the food is amazing. There is almost anything on the menu. From Italian food to Jamaican delicacies, Lester's has a master chef that can cook it right up. It sounds kind of strange that my dad, a short, slowly balding man with dark blue eyes would be a chef in a small town restaurant. My mom is about ten years younger than my dad, and right before they met, my dad had been traveling through South America to learn their ways of cooking.

I'm in luck when I see the big pot steaming on the stove. "Mmm, it smells so good!" Dad and Solana are already sitting at the table, patiently waiting on me. I apologize for making them wait and make my bowl as quickly as I can.

•••••

The day slowly ended, and Solana went to bed. I tell Dad about my encounter with Mom while washing the dishes, and he tells me not to be so hard on her. I tell him that he's right, and if I see her, I will apologize.

I go to my room and pull up Tumblr on my phone, like I do every night. I scroll and scroll, giving a like here and a reblog there. I click on my blog to make sure that everything stays neat and nothing inappropriate was accidentally shared. Once again, there is a little '1' in the corner of the message box.