Lonely Hearts Club

Lonely Hearts Club Chapter 3

            I took another sip of hot chocolate before looking at my sister again, “What was that Bridget?”

            Her poorly died black hair was tied up as usual. Her black jeans were skin tight, and her outfit was something she might regard as a fashion style, and was in huge contrast to my boots and flannel shirt. But the most prominent thing about my sister was the signature look on her face, always downcast in a cross between disappointment and confusion.

            “I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of-” Before Bridget could finish her sentence our door bell cut her off she gave me one last glare, and checked her hair in the mirror before going to the door.

            “Hello Mr. and Mrs. Abrams,” from my seat at the kitchen counter I could see her leaning in dramatically to hug them, “Hi sweetie.” She greeted her boyfriend, Kevin.

            While Kevin’s parents went on about something or another, Bridget led them inside. I stood up to check on the spaghetti, and watched them from behind the pot. What a great way to spend my Saturday night.

            “Hi Ivy,” said Mr. Abrams sitting at the counter facing me. His dingy blonde hair matched his khaki pants, his face lit up in a smile.

            “Hey Steven.”

            “Ivy!” Bridget scolded across the room pausing from her conversation with Mrs. Abrams.

            “Oh, hello Leslie, how are you?” I asked, purposely ignoring Bridget’s pleas for me to refer to her boyfriend’s parents for formally.

            “Good thank you.”

            Soon everyone was seated and I had dished out dinner but I was too disgusted by Kevin to eat.

            I seriously hate that douche bag.

            On the outside Bridget and Kevin probably look like a normal couple, maybe even a good one. They’re both slightly good looking and they complement each other’s looks well. Most people think Kevin’s a good kid with a good steady job he’s just a few years older than my sister, who’s in college. He tries to play us all like he’s got some kind of taste and class, with his foreign soft drinks and fancy wines. He dresses well and likes to talk about politics.

            Despite knowing all these things about him when we first met, I knew something was off with him. And I knew my dad would agree. After he and Bridget were going for a while I found out just what it was.

            “Ivy,” Bridget said, calling me into to the conversation.

            “What?”

            “We were just discussing your father,” Leslie answered me from across the table, her voice just a bit too soft.

            I felt a pang of anger.

            “Did he hit you too?” Kevin asked me.

            I felt a pang of fury.

            How long was she going to try to pull this shit? Did she have to continue the charade after he had died? Ever since I could understand she had been threatening him, “If you don’t let me have this I’ll tell everyone you hit me.” And he knew they would believe her. A single father with two daughters wouldn’t that give anyone pause? She ruined everything for us, me and my dad. And now this.