Noted

Chapter 6

"How's California?" I asked Rebecca, over the phone. We hadn't spoke since her big 18th birthday party in the Hamptons. We were definitely overdue for some serious catching up.

Rebecca's family had moved to California almost right after that memorable summer in the Hamptons, to take on the wine business, and they hadn't been back in Manhattan since.

Rebecca was my oldest friend, we used to be like real sisters. It was just the two of us, every day, whether it was at school, or at the park, or shopping, or watching favourite TV reruns over and over again during our countless sleepovers, were were simply inseparable. Inseparable, that is, until boys and parties entered the picture. Then our friendship started to fade into only quick lunches and the rare and short weekend stay, then into meetings once a month, to eventually seeing each other almost two times a year; if we were lucky. That summer was the last time I was going to have my best friend to myself. After Rebecca moved away, we barely even spoke online. I sensed my "best friend" was slowly becoming an acquaintance to me. Nonetheless, I always tried to stay in touch as much as I could.

"California is just amazing!" exclaimed Rebecca in a tone that made her sound as if she'd just arrived there. "The guys here are so hot, and I even take surfing lessons just so I can spend time with this one guy, Todd. He's a professional surfer and he's moving to Hawaii next year. And he's got this amazing tattoo! I'm so in love with him."

"A surfer named Todd?" I asked, unsure of how to even sound remotely impressed. "How charming," I added with a tone of both genuine concern and obvious sarcasm; neither of which Rebecca had noticed.

"I take lessons with him like almost every day!" said Rebecca.

"That's great..." I replied, my concern mounting. "How long have you two been dating?"

"Oh, we're not dating yet, but don't worry; he'll be mine soon enough." Rebecca laughed.

I could only roll my eyes. "So how's school?" I asked now, desperately needing to change the subject. "Is UCLA anything like the movies?"

"Oh my god, yes!" replied Rebecca with unbridled enthusiasm. "The parties are insane! Last week, there was a crazy party. All I can remember is that I arrived at the scene; I drank a neon yellow drink, and woke up in some old people's swimming pool with ten other people. Oh, and I was missing my bikini top." She burst out in laughter.

I remained silent. I knew she wanted to keep whatever remains of our friendship and I didn't want to say anything offensive, but there was nothing else to say.

"What about you?" Rebecca asked. "Are NYU parties even cool at all, or are they just filled with brainiacs playing chess and Scrabble?"

"I haven't really been to any," I replied. "I'm really focusing on my work right now."

"Uh-huh..." Rebecca barely interjected but didn't seem to really be engaged in the conversation.

"Oh that's what I wanted to tell you," I continued, trying to make real conversation, but also wanting to share my good news. "I might be getting an internship at the Times-"

"You have to come to my Christmas party next month!" Rebecca interrupted, completely cutting me off and diverting the subject back into her own interests.

This was the defining moment when I realized that the one person to who I thought I still held meaningful connection with, (like everybody else from my past) had moved on for good. I suddenly felt so distant from Rebecca.

"I can't go to California," I said firmly. "I have midterms."

"Don't worry about it," replied Rebecca, not even recognizing my tone. "The party's in New York. I'm visiting my grandparents for their anniversary, but we all know I'm actually coming to see what's good since I left." She barely took a moment to breath between words, and added, "You need to come. My parents are having this dull elites-only party on the Upper West Side...but down in the meat packing district, I'll be hosting my own little party; for all my old friends."

I knew what Rebecca meant when she said for all my old friends. She actually meant half of Manhattan.

"You can invite someone, too," Rebecca added.

"I'll think about it," I said.

*

Later that same night, for the first time in a very long time, we were all in the house at the same time, all sound asleep. It seemed that ever since mom had gotten sick, no one wanted to stay in a house filled with memories of her (or who she used to be before her illness) even though she was still alive. I felt in my heart that my mother was going to be okay, but like any rational person, I knew deep down that, anything could happen.

My dad was rarely home, since he was working so much. I imagined his absence was his private way of escaping his pain. I always felt very distant from my home, especially since I was always at school working hard to make my mom proud; now more than ever, in case this was to be the last year she was going to see me shine at something.

Mom also was usually gone for a few days at a time, to undergo progressive new treatments which were available in Canada. She would leave for what felt like forever, then come back, for what felt like a minute, and she'd then leave again. I was always terrified of the thought that the next time she'd leave, she wouldn't come back.

The sound of my parents arguing woke me up from, my beauty sleep. I tossed and turned, trying to block the noise, but the argument got louder by the minute. I eventually had no choice; I was awake. I angrily got out of bed, annoyed that my deep and peaceful slumber was disrupted. I walked down the hall as quietly as I could. I walked on the tips of my toes, as if tiled floors might crack and blow my cover. I came close to the kitchen, eavesdropping on them, trying to understand what they were arguing about.

"You could've told her," mom shouted in an angry, loud, disappointed whisper.

"And make everything worse than it already is?" dad defended himself.

I lent my ear closer to the door. Told me what? What were they keeping from me?

"I won't do it," my mother said and then released a huge sigh, as if she was tired of arguing. "I just don't have the heart–or hell–even the strength, to handle that kind of stress." She supported herself with one hand on the back of a nearby chair, and pointed at him with her other hand and said, "You were supposed to be the strong one here, Philip."

He remained quiet, he was out of words.

I felt bad about eavesdropping and was about to walk away and head back to my room. At that moment, however, my phone –which I forgot was in my bathrobe pocket– buzzed with a Twitter notification, making my undercover eavesdropping not so secret.

"Quinn, are you up, honey?" she called from the kitchen. "We're talking about this later!" she whispered to my dad before walking towards the hall where I was standing.

I quickly darted back halfway down the hall to make it seem as if I had just gotten up.

"Hey, Mom, what's with all the noise?" I asked, eyeing my father in an attempt to maybe find out what they were keeping from me and to emphasize the fact that mom was in no shape to be fighting. "You can't let yourself get stressed...Doc's orders..."

"Oh, we were just discussing what to have for break-fast." she said so easily, as if lying to her daughter was something she was used to doing. "Anything in particular you'd like, sweetheart?"

I felt betrayed and very confused. How could she just lie straight to my face? And why wouldn't anyone tell me what they were keeping from me? My mind went to the darkest place; that perhaps her sickness had progressed and they were hiding it from me. I prayed it wasn't the case, but it was the only thing that had been going seriously wrong in our family, so it must've been that.

"I'll pass on breakfast," I replied. "I'm not feeling too well."  Giving her parents a confused look. I didn't want  my mom to be suspicious of me eavesdropping, but at the same time,  I couldn't help but feel angry at the way they were excluding me from the situation, especially since I was part of the family.