Putting Life on Hold

My sister walked right up to the house, didn’t even bother to knock on the door or ring the bell, because this was a party, after all—not that you could really tell from the outside. The house was nice enough, sort of Victorian-style and painted a light, robin’s egg blue color, with white shutters on every window. The door was deep mahogany with a golden knocker in the middle and the name Santino in golden letters above it. The porch was an off-white color and wrapped around the right side off the house, where it then proceeded to join the back patio. It looked welcoming enough, with a rocking chair and a bench swing and chimes dangling from the overhang, swinging in the slight breeze and creating a harmonious sound in the otherwise quiet front yard. It was beautiful in all of its simplicity, nothing compared to the brick and the dark colors and the all around unwelcoming feeling that my own house gave off.

Natalie was gone by the time I walked into the house, lost in the small crowd of people that had formed around the front door. It wasn't a very large party, nothing like the picture I had built up in my mind. I was used to all the teenage movies, never having been to a real party myself, and this definitely wasn't what I was expecting. I didn’t recognize any of the faces, all of them unfamiliar, although they didn’t look unfriendly. I guess you could say I didn’t get out much.

No one made any moves toward me, all of them keeping their respective distances and merely watching as I walked by. I made it to the middle of the living room before I realized that something was truly off, something that I thought I would never have witnessed at a party full of adults.

The Lion King was playing on the plasma screen above the fireplace. I recognized it immediately, the scenes burned into my memory from all the time I had spent watching it as a child, although to my father’s adamant disapproval—it was the only thing my mother actually had a say in. I grew up on Disney movies; I knew all the words to the songs like I knew my first name, by heart. My face lit up at the people seated around, watching the movie play out as they sat on blankets and pillows on the floor, the couches unoccupied, although they looked to be rather comfortable. Bowls of popcorn were placed on the coffee table and an open bag of M&Ms was being passed around, people taking out fistfuls as they were offered. I wanted to find my sister, to ask her what was going on, but she wasn't in the jumble of people on the carpet.

I knew I must have looked strange, standing in the middle of the room, staring around at everything in amazement. It must have looked like I had never even been out of my house before, with the way I was looking around at everyone, but I was so confused, and severely overdressed, considering the fact that everyone was wearing some form of sleepwear. I felt out of place, which I was, without a doubt, but it didn’t help the situation much. I knew I looked frantic then, my eyes wide as I continued to scan the room, hoping that I had miraculously missed my sister and she was somewhere among the crowd of people. I turned, craning my neck in the hopes of finding her standing against a wall, but I didn’t get much of a chance to look before I felt a cool, liquid substance running down the front of my sweater.

He looked genuinely sorry that he had knocked into me, and I would have taken the time to notice if I wasn't so preoccupied by the red substance that was beginning to soak through the tank I had underneath. I could feel it on my skin, the wetness, and I could almost feel the sticky residue that would be there later if I didn’t get that sweater off, pronto. In that moment I felt overcome with embarrassment, although I would later learn that there were worse things than getting a drink spilled on you, but I was too mortified, too frozen with the thought that I was in a room full of people I didn’t recognize, with what smelled like Kool-Aid soaking through my shirt, to care.

I looked up at the boy, knowing that my eyes were narrowed into slits and that my cheeks were flushed a rosy color, a frown stuck so firmly on my face that, for a moment in the back of my head, I thought it would stay that way. I didn’t take time to observe him as I began to walk away, just barely giving myself time to notice his fiery red hair. I got about five steps further before I realized something:

I didn’t know where the bathroom was.

My cheeks must have burned ten times brighter at the realization, but it wasn't enough to make me turn around and face him, whoever he was. I simply stopped walking, my hands clenched into fists at my sides and my head hung low. I couldn’t feel people’s eyes on me, but I was paranoid, convinced that everyone must have been staring at me, even though I could hear Hakuna Matata playing on the TV in the background; I almost wanted to laugh.

I felt a hand clasp around my upper arm, turning my head far enough to look up at Natalie. She had a deep frown on her lips, one that probably looked identical to the frown on my own lips, but I could see the amusement in her eyes. She thought it was funny, she wanted to laugh. I felt the opposite-- I wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there for a long time, but I knew that it wasn't possible; if it was, I would have already done it.

It was only when I almost fell flat on my face that I realized she was dragging me upstairs. I risked a glance behind me, only to see the brightly lit kitchen, void of any faces, curious as to what we were doing. I was thankful there was no one else around, but if I was being honest, I didn’t want to be with my sister much, either.

We got to the top of the steps and took a left, our feet shuffling across the hardwood flooring. The hallway we turned down only had three doors, and after passing the first two, we got to the last one on the left. Natalie pulled the door open and pushed me inside, my hands going out to grasp the wall so I could keep my standing position. The bathroom lights were bright, nearly blinding as they reflected upon the mirror on the right wall. I looked even worse than I had imagined, my reflection showing the red stain forming on my sweater, the flush high on my cheeks from embarrassment. My sister looked perfect, as always. I envied her calm demeanor.

“Jesus, Monroe, the first five minutes and you’ve already made a fool of yourself?” The question was rhetorical, I knew, but I couldn’t help the glare that settled on my face and the words that left my lips as she pushed me over towards the marble counter that supported the stainless steel sink.

“Well maybe if you hadn’t deserted me, this wouldn’t have happened!” I told her, my voice rising in the slightest. I was already embarrassed; her snide comments weren’t helping the matter much, if at all. All I wanted to do was forget this had ever happened, but I knew the stain on my shirt would be a constant reminder for the rest of the night.

Natalie rolled her eyes as she pushed me aside, grabbing a hand towel from the shelf on the right and turning the silver knobs on the sink, hot water immediately rushing from the spout. She dipped the navy blue towel underneath the stream, ringing it out before pushing the wet fabric to my chest and rubbing frantically. Her eyebrows knitted in irritation as the spot only seemed to spread further, a long sigh escaping her lips as she soon pulled her hand away.

“It’s not working,” she told me. Despite my position, I let out a laugh. Natalie had always held a knack for pointing out the obvious; I had missed that. “You’re going to need a different shirt, or a jacket or something.” Although her solution sounded simple, it wasn't. It’s not like I had planned for this to happen, I didn’t have an extra shirt or a jacket.

Seeing the puzzled look on my face, Natalie grabbed by the arm once again, tossing the towel onto the counter and turning off the water before tugging me from the room. We went back down the hall, past the steps, and continued straight until we came to another hall, this time with only two doors. She opened the one on the right and pulled me in behind her. The room was dark, the black curtains pulled closed on the large windows situated behind the full bed on the opposite wall. A corner desk sat over to the left, papers half-crumpled and torn littering the mahogany surface. There was an odd scent lingering in the air, and an assortment of books stacked in the left corner closest to the door, with titles ranging from Shakespeare to Twilight. A smile found its way onto my lips, but was immediately wiped clean off my face when my sister walked into the middle of the room, avoiding the multiple articles of clothing on the floor, and picked up a blue sweatshirt, outstretching her hand as if to give it to me. She huffed out a sigh before stepping closer, shoving the material into my face too fast for me to have time to duck away.

“It doesn’t smell or anything and it probably hasn’t even been worn. Just put it on, okay?”

I stared at it as she pulled her hand away, holding it up to her frame with an encouraging smile. The front read ‘BRAINTREE HIGH SCHOOL’ in bold, white lettering and when Natalie turned it around, in the same lettering read the name ‘SANTINO.’ I knew my eyebrows were knit together in mild irritation, but I had no other option, and so I reached out my hand, letting out a sigh once my fingers grasped the light material.

“Are you sure this person won’t mind?” I asked after I had pulled the sweatshirt over my head. Natalie looked up from the papers she was snooping over on the desk and turned to me, her eyebrows raised and a sheepish smile on her lips.

“Have a little faith in me, will ya?”

I nodded my head, but in reality, there weren’t enough words in the dictionary that could express how little faith I actually held in my older sister.