My Calamity

"What are you doing here?"

Both my parents looked up at me, standing awkwardly in the doorway, as if they had just been caught by a coworker having an affair.

"Penelope where have you been?" my father demanded, setting his eyes, the ones I had inherited, on me. I didn't say anything, I just stared at him. He shook his head in a 'well?' type of way, but I still didn't respond.

"Penelope," my mother said calmly. "This is serious. We were looking all over for you."

I turned to acknowledge my mother, angling my body away from my father. "I was on the beach," I told her honestly. "With Patrick."

"Who is Patrick?" my father asked, his eyebrows set, the only evidence of his anger.

"He's Jeanine and Peter's son," mom answered breezily.

I took a step back, slowly making my way to the steps. "I'm going to bed."

"Alright, goodnight Penelope," mom called as I began jogging to my room. I stopped at the top, crouching down behind the banister, to listen in.

"You're just going to let her off the hook like that?" dad asked.

"I don't see why not."

"Who knows what she was doing with that boy."

"That is the least of my worries, James."

"You're doing a great job raising our daughter, Sue. Letting her stay out at all hours of the night, doing god knows what."

"You left us, James."

There was silence after that. It was a moment I'd give anything to be able to see through walls.

"And I've been paying for it ever since."

"Penelope will come around."

All I could think of was that moment when my dad had announced he was leaving, and how I had stood in the doorway, and watched him go, his bags packed, my mother's heart strewn across the lawn, and the sidewalk and the street.

"NO I WON'T!"

I felt like I was ten again, and my life was being dictated by the rules of adolescence. Back to the time where I was told who I was to love, how I couldn't choose. How I couldn't stop my father from leaving my mother, or from my heart leaving with him.

It was a terrible, terrible feeling, loosing something you loved dearly.

And I never wanted to feel it again.

☼

"Penelope, I want you to think outside the box."

"I am thinking outside the box."

"No, you are inside the box right now. I want you to step outside and look at the box, decide how to change the box."

"Ms. Moore, I really have no idea what you're talking about here."

My art teacher smiled a small, kind smile before gesturing to the clothes line that held all my photographs I'd taken this semester of classes. In front of me, I could see Jane Parker snickering, but I ignored her, angling my body and attention to my teacher.

"Look at all your pictures, and tell me what do they all have in common?"

I looked at them and then looked back at her wondering if this was a trick question. "They're all nature pictures?" I answered unsurely.

"Yes, exactly Penelope, your pictures are all of nature. Look at the picture you produced today. It's a beautiful picture, but it's not Penelope. In order to master photography, you must master yourself first. I want you to think about that for next week."

Or maybe I should just quit photography, I thought indignantly, as I nodded my head, and picked up my bag as the apple rang on her desk signaling the end of our lesson.

I sighed and shook my head in annoyance when I heard the clack-clack of Jane's heels, and then her voice stopping me. "Penelope, can I speak with you for a moment."

Jane was in the closely-knitted clique Marguerite had formulated, though she didn't quite meet the clique-girl stereotype. For one thing, she was far too smart, the smartest of her clique and for another, she partook in some art classes. Though, she did dress the part, even if her parents were more middle class.

I turned around, plastering a fake smile on my face. "Yes?"

"I was just curious; do you enjoy taking all of Marguerite's hand-me-downs, or jus the ones that show some interest in you?"

"Excuse me?"

"As if you don't know."

"Enlighten me, please."

"Going after Logan Jenner and now Patrick O'Connell."

I stared at Jane for what could only possibly be described as the longest moment of my life. "I do not have time for this, goodbye Jane."

I turned on my heel, not waiting for her reply, and pushed out the College's front doors, walking right into someone. I bounced back a bit, my head spinning in a men's cologne.

"Penelope," Patrick greeted with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" I asked eyebrows raised high.

Patrick smiled at me then, this smile that read 'I know something you don't know' and then walked over to his car which was parked conveniently right in front of us, and opened the passenger's door. "Your chariot awaits."

I began walking towards him, my eyes forwarding him question marks. "Why?"

"I'm taking you out."

I began walking backwards, trying to get as far away from the car as possible without looking like I was trying to get as far away from the car as possible. "Like – like…like a…"

"Date? Yeah, that's what people usually call them."

"Alrighty then, I'll just be going that way…" I began making my way towards the sidewalk, masking the panic that was bubbling inside me.

"Penelope," Patrick said sounding oddly close. I whipped around quickly, finding him standing a few inches in front of me. "Get in the car."

That's when I knew I wasn't getting out of this. "How about," I began, thinking of something quickly. "Instead of going out on a – on a, uhm, date, we go back to my place. We can order Chinese, or Thai or…something."

Patrick scrunched his nose and shook his head, which was oddly adorable. I took another step back wondering how fast I'd have to be to get away. I wasn't really the running type; to be honest I wasn't the athlete type period. I preferred not to engage in anything physical.

"I can't do this," I whispered, my throat capturing my words partway through the sentence.

Patrick seemed unfazed. "Yes you can." He hooked his arm through mine and began leading me back to the passenger's side of his car.

"You don't understand…"

"I get it, you're afraid," he answered breezily.

I dug my heels into the pavement, jolting us to a stop, and crossed my arms over my chest stubbornly. "I'm not afraid."

"Oh, is that so? What do you call it then? Chronic distaste towards dates?"

"Yes, that's exactly it," I said moving back slowly. "I'm glad you understand."

Patrick caught me around the wrist, stunting any further attempts to walk away. "You're not getting out of this." I stared at him wondering if I really had to go through with this or not, and decided I had no choice but to go through with this. Defeated, I walked over to the car, and climbed into the seat, waiting for Patrick to join me.

"Where are we going?" I asked when he was seated beside me.

Patrick glanced at me, before buckling his seatbelt and turning the car on. "It's a surprise."

"Come on, the surprise can be the fact you're taking me on a date."

"That actually, shouldn't be a surprise."

"Oh?"

"It’s typical," Patrick answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "A step that is always taken."

"Oh," I said coyly. "So there's like a handbook."

Patrick turned to show me his glare. "Yes, there's a handbook."

"Ohhh," I sang, smiling slightly as he backed out of the parking space. "And tell me about this book."

"Well," Patrick began, looking up in thought. "It's written in steps."

"Of course, of course."

He sent me a look. I laughed. "And…uhm, the first step is a date."

"Obviously," I coughed.

Patrick seemingly ignored my comment. "You know, and then it goes into details on what to do and not to do."

"What's the second step?"

"It also says not to reveal the second step. Guess you'll have to wait till tonight." I glared at whatever was in front of me angrily. "So how was class?"

"Ugh," I mumbled with disgust.

"That bad?"

"Ugh."

"Yeah, definitely that bad. Do you wanna' talk about it?"

"Not really, no."

"You know talking about it usually helps."

"Not with me, it doesn't."

"Well have you ever tried?"

I clenched my jaw, staring straight ahead. The moment ticked by slowly. "My art teacher thinks I'm producing the same stuff every week, and that I need to find me, or something."

"Well, are you producing the same work every week?"

"Well, yeah, but I mean. It's not like they're exactly the same. It's just all nature."

"We're talking about photography here right?" I nodded my head. "Well, have you tried taking pictures of something else?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I like taking pictures of nature."

"Sounds like that's your safe spot."

I looked at him then, wondering why he understood me so well, and if it were a bad thing or not.