Pass Through You

Pass Through You - Chapter 1

When my dad died, I was a wreck but then your mother and I learned she was pregnant with you and my luck changed. You saved me, Janie.

                                                                                         ***

I'm the lucky one, at least that's what my father always said and I used to believe him.

When I was little, he made sure I was near him when he played cards with my mother and his mother, Nonna. If he was getting his ass kicked he would pull me onto his lap to change his luck. His arms would curve around mine; his hand of cards forming a wall between us and them. I could stay in that cocoon for hours listening to his laughter and feeling his warm breath in my hair.

From time-to-time, my sister, Jenny, would pop into glare at me, like I had stolen something from her. But we both knew she could never sit still and watch a card game.

Those stupid card games spent it up. Had I known, I would have saved my luck for when it could really matter. But it's too late for that now.

I don't have the energy to dwell on the suck that has become my life. I can't even manage to be difficult, which is how my cousin, Brooke, talks me into going to an end-of-summer party.

"Please! I'll introduce you around so your first day of school won't be so hard."

Brooke's sing-song voice makes everything sound like a perky cheer (an occupational hazard of being captain of the cheerleading squad, I guess). She is always the first to celebrate anything, like life is one big party all the time. I suppose if God had left my life intact, I'd see the world differently. Besides, kicking off my senior year in a new school and a new town isn't really cause for celebration. It's more like something I have to bear.

If I didn't know her, I might hate her guts. But Brooke is one of those rare creatures who is beautiful and kind; except when she has a pair of tweezers in her hand and she is on a mission. Then she's a full-out witch with a capital B, as my mom likes to say.

I've heard the expression "You have to suffer to be beautiful" but whoever thought of ripping out eyebrow hair is seriously touched in the head. And what about emotional suffering? If that counted, I would look like a goddess already.