Cerulean

Aunt Laura was sitting in the kitchen when I got back home. Her eyes followed me, burning holes into the back of my neck, as I passed her by and started up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

"Evan?" She called once I was half way there.

I paused, hoping that she would assume I hadn't heard her and leave whatever it was she had to say alone.

"Evan?" She repeated, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"Yes, Aunt Laura?" I replied.

"Can you come down her for a moment? I need to speak with you."

I'd never been fond of Aunt Laura, primarily because I hardly knew the woman. Staying with her hadn't been my choice. The last time I'd seen her was when I was ten years old and it was only because my great Uncle Ben had passed away. Aunt Laura was a controlling bitch back then as well. Things hadn't changed one bit even nine years later.

When I entered the kitchen the room felt cold. I folded my arms over my chest and tried to smile when Aunt Laura's eyes fell upon me.

"Where did you go this morning?" She questioned.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Running."

She gestured towards my lack of clothing. "Like that? In pajama pants and nothing else? Who runs like that, Evan?"

I closed my eyes, wishing that I could tell her everything I was feeling without risking the chance of getting kicked out. "It was a last minute decision."

She nodded. "Okay, I can see that."

There was a pause where the room was silent in that awkward sort of way where you know you should say something, but can't seem to find the words. Aunt Laura's finger traveled around the rim of her seemingly untouched coffee cup.

"You know I want to help you, right Evan?" She asked, not making eye contact.

I nodded. "Yeah, sure."

Her eyes darted in my direction. "Good. I'm glad you're aware of that. What I think you don't understand is that... I think you're heading in the wrong direction. Everything that has happend, both recent and not recent, has sort of... derailed you, understand?"

I shook my head. "Not really."

Aunt Laura sighed, and brought a manicured hand to her lips. "Your father, the poor man, put you through a lot, and I understand that completely. But, Evan, you can't let that define you. People won't pity you and your situation forever. You have to overcome that and move on with your life. That's why your mother brought you here. So you can do that without worrying about your home life. Do you get what I'm saying?"

I could feel my face heating up and I desperately wanted to tell her that she was wrong. She didn't understand anything. Instead, I nodded, putting on a smile.

"Yeah, Aunt Laura. You're crystal clear."

♣ ♣ ♣

Later on that day, I went to work. A few days prior, Aunt Laura had gotten me a job working for her much younger ex-husband, Mark. He was nearly twenty years younger than her and only a few years older than I was. His father owned a small "99¢ and up store", but had recently become unable to physically run the store himself, so Mark became the new shop manager.

"Hey, Mark," I said as I entered the store.

Mark looked up from a gossip magazine, a bored expression on his face, and lazily waved hello. "Whats up, Evan?"

I shrugged. "Nothing much. How about yourself?"

Mark scoffed. "What do you think? I'm reading Star Magazine."

Laughing, I tossed my jacket behind the front counter and hoisted myself onto the top next to the cash register. "Anything to do around here other than wait for people to come in and buy gum?" I asked.

Mark pointed towards a stack of posters near the door. "You can organize those if you want to. My dad wanted to try and bring younger people in here or something. I'm not sure what he was talking about, he's been speaking gibberish these days. I'm sure teenagers don't listen to Journey anymore."

"Sure... just... put them into piles or something?"

Mark nodded. "Yep. Knock yourself out, Evan."

I hopped down from the counter and walked towards the pile of posters. Looking out the window, I noticed a girl with dark brown hair crossing the street in a subway uniform. "Hey Mark.... who is that? I think I might know her."

Mark joined me at the window just as she was about to walk into the sandwich shop. "Edith? You know her?"

I nodded. "Yeah... I thought that was her. I met her this morning."

Mark crossed his arms, shaking his head. "Edith is something, I'll tell you that; Never what you expect her to be."

I eyed the shop for a few more seconds before looking up at Mark who was still watching. "What do you mean by that?"

He gave me a quick pat on the shoulder before starting back towards his magazine. "Just be careful. Evan. That's all I'm saying."