Johnny

It was a beautiful, chilling, and snowy January night. My sister, Eleanor and I are riding home with our dad from ballet class. Today was a hard class, our hair matted with sweat and our faces beet red from hard work. All I knew was that I needed to take a shower. I actually felt bad for my dad because of our unbearable stench.

I took the opportunity and yelled, “I call the shower first!”

“That’s not fair!” Eleanor screamed in protest with rage.

No matter how much I love my sister, she can definitely get on my nerves. Little things that she does: comments under her breath, pinching, pulling hair can set me off. It can get aggressive. But, I can’t lie, I get on her nerves too. Since we are so close, only 19 months apart, we know exactly what buttons to press to get each other on edge. I don’t know why we continue to do it, but we do. It is a bad habit that we both need to break.

The settle humming of the car is filling the space of Eleanor and I’s silent argument. The whole way back to our house from ballet, my dad is suspiciously quiet. It almost seems like he is fighting the urge to spill a secret. Whatever it is, I want to know.

“Dad, are you okay?” My conniving self asks, digging for answers.

“Yes sweetie, I am fine! How was dance today?” He calmly replies, showing no sign of consistent lying, a settle act of covering up the fact that he just changed the subject. Just play along Ruth, just play along.

However, I see right through him. His jittering hands, the shine of his forehead, and the way his eyes never stay looking at the same spot for long indicates that he is hiding something from us, and I am determined to find out what it is. As though they are agreeing with me, the trees outside my window are swaying with breeze in approval. There is no way I am going to be able to keep my miraculous plan in, I need to tell Eleanor. Suddenly I realize one problem, Eleanor can’t keep secrets. No matter how much she argues with our accusations, she can never overrule the fact that she has a very hard time keeping secrets. It’s almost like her conscience is reversed; the bad conscience is disguised as the good so she does not know which side to choose. Sure, we’ll just go with that.

We finally get to the place that I call home. Lush green ivy hiding all sorts of furry friends overcrowds my front yard. The front stoop is illuminated with the starry sky, and the fullest moon I have ever seen glimmers so beautifully, it could bring tears to my eyes. So many first day of school pictures were taken in front of this house; my house. And, I can’t believe time has flown past as fast as it did. It seems like yesterday I was picking out my room in front of the wonderful old lady that owned the house. (I was really disappointed when we moved in that the decorations that were there had moved with the woman.) On the contrary, it seems like I’ve lived here for an eternity, even though it’s only been 8 years.

Here, at this very moment, I feel at peace. Everything is right where I want it to be. I have a happy family, a wonderful house, and the greatest life I could ever ask for. I couldn’t imagine my life to be any different, I like it just the way it is.

Boy, if I could see what’s coming next.

We walk inside and I rush up the stairs into my room, my sanctuary. The place where I can relax, do what I want to do, the walls filled with memories and secrets; forbidden to tell a single soul. A thrash my way around the room, dropping my bag by the door, and running to the bathroom, afraid Eleanor will not obey by the rules. I get there first, of course. After the steaming shower, I feel like going into dreamland. The sleep Gods calling my name, pursuing my exhaustion to relieve itself. However, I have to eat. Hunger comes before sleep in my book. We sit down at our assigned seats, ice waters on our table mats. The condensation on the cups trying to give me the answer to the secrets my dad thinks he can keep from me. Breaking my concentration, my mom comes into the kitchen, her face looking flushed and nervous, but masking it with an ear to ear grin. And in her hand, she clutches a Wendy’s bag.

Ever since I was little, my mom has had this “obsession” with diets. She’s not insecure about her weight, but she’s always trying to lose pounds that she’s gained over the years. Our house is secretly stocked with diet books, workout CDs, and gross astronaut food that’s supposed to help her slim down. On the other hand, my dad, along with Eleanor and I, thinks all of this diet stuff is unnecessary. He always tells my mom that all she has to do is eat healthy and exercise. However, my mom does not find that appealing, so she goes her own route. What she doesn’t know is that I think she is beautiful no matter what. All of this information adds to my surprisement and confusion when I see the fast food package on her plate.

“Mom, didn’t you just start a new diet? Why are you eating fast food?”

And being the natural mother that I am, I give her a lesson about how she shouldn’t be taking steps back on her weight-loss journey, Eleanor jumping in at times to back me up. Just when I am at the prime of my speech, I am interrupted by my Moms uncomfortable outburst of laughing. It’s not the laughing where you think something funny, it’s the kind of laughing that students do when they are embarrassed when presenting in front of the class. A laugh that tries to cover up the truth. And not before long, laughter bubbles out of my dad, too.

You would think I got suspicious, but no. I just got incredibly furious.

“You guys aren’t being nice! What is going ONNNNN!” My powerful rage serves as a slap in the face, and their silly attitude immediately comes to a halt. At this very moment, the look they gave me, made me realize that something was wrong.

“Your mom is pregnant.”

Now I’m the funny one. Laughing and pretending it’s not true.

“Nice one guys, you really got me. It’s not even near April, why are you guys tricking us?”

After many more minutes of back and forth uncomfortable conversation, I am convinced that this is not a joke.

My body is overwhelmingly filled with nothing. It is as though my heart has been scared out of my body. I burst down sobbing. My heart takes control of my body, and I break down. Eleanor is crying too. But the difference between our tears is that hers are happy. Mine are not.

“Nooooooo! I just wanted it to be the two of us! Why did this have to happen, why!” Every word is masked by an array of tears and boogers.

Dinner was ended that night with a heartfelt conversation about our family. My dad was crying, telling us how much we light up their lives; how we make them strong. But I didn’t feel strong then, I felt overpowered and useless. I was drowning in my own tears and confusion. Why did this happen to me? I was trying to look at the positive side, but my demons took over.

That night, I couldn’t look at my mom the same way. She and Eleanor watched a movie, and acted like everything was fine. But I couldn’t act normal; there was a baby in my mom. My family was supportive and understood that this was a lot to take in; they gave me my space. But all I really wanted to do was give my mom a hug, and tell her not to worry, that everything would be okay, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I spent the rest of the night with myself, and realizing: my life is never going to be the same.