I Promise

9

I load the bus, and it feels like he's still holding my shoulder. That gesture feels like he knows the mystery of me. I wonder if he would even walk me to the bus stop if he knew what my life at home was like. How can he understand that I live with three other siblings in one room when he has a huge house? He could probably get two rooms to himself without batting an eye. I sigh as the long bus ride awaits. I haven't dreamed of getting my own room since the twins were born. When it was just Peyton and I, it seemed like a possibility. But now that Ashton and JT were born, we'd need at least 5 bedrooms for each family member. My mom and dad would obviously share a room.

Idiot. Dad isn't coming back. Not after what mom did.

I try to make the thoughts escape, but they're stuck, and I know that I need to talk to my mom. But maybe I'd call my dad first.

As the bus stops, I am almost reluctant to get off. What if I just took the bus to the last station from home? How far would I go? I feel a bit weird that I never explored where the bus I take every day could take me if I went further. If I could get a car this year, that would be the first big thing I'd try. I'd drive and drive until maybe, I would find what I was driving for. There has to be some sort of reason, an end where you know you reached the place you didn't know you wanted to reach until you came there.

I get off the bus, feeing the cool beach breeze kiss my face.

As I rummage for my keys, I hear laughter, and lots of it from the apartment. I get a gut-wrenching feeling. If mystery man was there, I'd kick him out in an instant. At least I'd like to think I would. I'd probably end up standing frozen in place with a mustard bottle or murmur something about animal deaths like the last two times something tragic happened.

Before I know it, I'm standing outside the door, not wanting to go in and thinking about Macbeth. The play is a tragedy, is my story a tragedy too? And then a sinking feeling sets in, and I wonder if I wrote the tragedy into my infinite novel without knowing it. Am I responsible for the tragedy that is my life? Matt said our stories are waiting to be filled with words. We are the authors of our lives, but then how the hell did I manage to write myself such a shitty life? Maybe I need to work on my writing.

I unlock the door, wincing at the noise. Or maybe I'm scrunching up my face so that my vision would be blurred and I wouldn't have to look at mystery man.

Only there is no mystery man seated at the dining table as I slump my bag and walk through the halls. It's only my mom, sitting with Ashton and JT. They're baking cookies by the looks of it.

"Rynn!!" the twins squeal and run over to hug me. I hug them back, and they run back to placing the cookies on the baking sheet.

"Hi, sweetie," my mom says.

I look at her, and there is nothing in her eyes. As if yesterday didn't happen. As if her secret was still unknown. I wait until the cookies are baked and the twins run into the living room to watch T.V. I wait until my mom is done with the dishes, and I wait until she realizes I haven't left my spot.

My mom rubs her face and pinches the bridge of her nose, probably not wanting to be in this situation. Clearly, she knows why I was glaring.

"You're going to sit, and you're going to explain. Now," I say. I am almost taken aback at the sound of my voice. It's sharp, cutting all the air in the room in half.

Apparently my mom hears the tone too because she sits down, silent.

For some reason, I am glad right now that I look nothing like her. She has shoulder-length chestnut brown hair, I have long blonde hair. Her hair is straight, mine runs down in waves. The only familiarity I can see is her golden brown eyes. I have golden flecks in mine, but that's about it. We're as different as night and day. You can't get any more opposite.

Mom rests her hand on the dining table, and she begins. Long story short, she has been seeing the mystery man for five fucking months, and everything went to hell when dad found out. Then he left with his bags and never came back.

Somehow my mother has tears in her eyes. I don't understand why she'd cry, because she is the one that caused her own pain. And she managed to cause the whole family pain, too. If you knew that something you were doing was wrong, why would you still do it and cry about it? No one but her chose to cheat on my dad. Yes he gets angry, and yes he gets pissed for the most absurd reasons, but he is family. I like to think that my parents love each other, but in the end their love was one sided. Just like a birthday card that has no heartfelt message inside. On the outside, it looks like whoever gaveit to you cares, but the empty white inside tells you they have to get it only because it is the right thing to do.

"So that's it? You just got bored of dad?" I ask. My voice isn't even on edge anymore, it's just stone cold.

"Rynn, you know I love your father.." she trails off. I get up from the table and slam my hand on the table.

"Oh really? You loooooveee dad so much you decide to hold hands with mystery man?" I yell. Somehow, no waterworks come. I don't know if I'm glad or if I am so damaged I stopped caring.

"His name is Graham," my mom quietly says.

"Do I look like I fucking care what his name is?" I yell. God, it's like she knows that would set me off. Or maybe she is so oblivious to herself and she can't understand why I care for dad.

"Rynn. Stuff like this just happens. If there was another way for me to do this, I would," mom says.

I snort in disgust. "Of course you would. But it's happened, mom. And you don't even have the decency to call dad, ask where he is, or file for a divorce. Because let's face it mom, that's where your marriage was going the moment you decided to go behind the back of a man who loved you."

That seems to hit my mom hard, because she buries her face in her hands. It's like she's playing the victim, when really, it's the rest of us that have become the innocent fatalities because she decided to break our family apart.

So I leave her there, only telling her that she better come clean to nana. She had to know the truth, even if she would be revolted.

And then I grab my long board and go outside, shutting the door behind me. Tears sting my eyes when I realize Ashton, JT, or Peyton don't know dad isn't coming back. None of them know, and they wouldn't guess in a million years. Yesterday my mom was out, so they all assumed she was out with our dad. And today, I guess my mom left early from work because she is home usually later, with dad.

So I skate with the breeze to the beach. I stop and walk to the nearby boardwalk and sit on a bench, breathing in the ocean air.

And then I call my dad.