The Summer They Really Lived

Family

Charlie

I'm worried about Delilah. Which, technically, isn't anything new but last time she broke something in the house, it was not pretty. At all. She had frantically driven over to my house at 2 a.m. and broke in, opening my latched window with a knife and crawling in bed with me. She refused to say what had happened, only told me that she was going to be much more careful when she played with tennis balls in the house. She didn't take off her heavy black jacket for two weeks.

I pace back and forth on my bedroom floor, wishing for my own car, careless parents, and knowledge of her whereabouts. I run my hand through my hair, huffing in disgust at the greasy feeling. Shower now, worry later. It's fine, Delilah knows how to take care of herself, maybe even better than an adult.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

After I've showered, gotten dressed, and collapsed onto my bed, I pick up my phone and dial Delilah's number. As my finger hovers about the call button, Mom's musical voice rings out. "Charlie, dinner! Family will be over soon."

I groan and close my phone, tossing it onto my nightstand and putting on my glasses, pushing them up my nose. "Coming!" I check my appearance in the mirror, knowing I'll get chided if I look disheveled in front of them, and I straighten my shirt collar. I take my time leaving my room, walking down the stairs, and crossing through the kitchen to get to the dining room, resting in my regular spot and my mom and dad bring the food out. Joan is already sitting at the table, absentmindedly picking at the decorative tablecloth boasting intricate vines and flowers we only take out for special occasions. If you can count visiting family special, which I guess it is.

Our extended family, which consists of Aunt Laura, Uncle Aiden, and my cousins Jack and Kyle, all live in New York, which I'm sure everyone and their mother knows from how much Delilah talks about her irritation with my relations with them. They visit few times a year, and even fewer unprompted, like this. No special holiday or event, just "Hey, even though we think you don't deserve to hang around us, we're going to drop by and make you cook us food and give us a place to stay." Granted, my parents make good food, we have a large house, and we treat them with the hospitality that we would if God Himself was visiting. Perks of having Christian parents. It's not that I don't like being around them, I do, I just don't think they like being around us.

Mom finishes bringing out the last plate and, as if on queue, the doorbell rings. She ushers me over and I leisurely open the door to Jack, who, ever the oh so affectionate one, grins and gives me a hug, rubbing my back as he does. Kyle only gives me a slight nod and smile, swishing past me as he does. Alright, it's my aunt and uncle I have a problem with.

Laura, gives me a tight lipped smile as she walks past, pushing stray ginger strands back into her pinned up hair and high heels clicking loudly on our polished wood floor. Her makeup is impeccable as always, bright red lipstick with a smokey shadow accenting her hazel eyes. Her hips have always had that slight provocative sway to them when she walks, her long brown dress only slightly skimming the floor.

Aiden is another story. He barley glances my way as he pushes past, muscular arms almost tearing at the shoulders and sleeves of his suit jacket. I swear, he must get them tailored to be slightly to small, because we all know that the Adlers would never buy nice clothes that someone else might owned or, God forbid, touched. Sometimes, I can't believe we share the same last name. A bushy mustache hides his upper lip and his eyebrows are always furrowed, as if he can't stop thinking if the Dow Jones will drop or rise this month. He's the perfect stereotype.

They all settle themselves at the table and I join them again, grabbing the bowl of salad as I take a seat and it begins. "So, did you enjoy the downtown?" The rest is quiet, only hushed greetings and small talk as we gather our food. Almost as soon as Aiden's plate is piled, he turns on me "So, Charlie, are you going to take up any sports in your senior year?"