We All Work To Survive

The doorbell rang just as I finished putting on my mascara. I wasn’t big on makeup all the time. But when there were people seeing me that I wasn’t typically fond of, I tended to want to look as best as I could. I knew my mother was going to have a conniption when she saw the shoes I was wearing. But I didn’t really care. She better be happy that I was wearing a dress. I hated dressed, yet somehow, it was the only thing that I could seem to find that was presentable. So I sucked it up, slipped the dress on, and continued getting ready. Which consisted of me basically swiping a smaller than usual amount of foundation on, running a smoothing serum over my slightly frizzy hair, and putting mascara on. Not like anyone would be able to tell with my glasses on though. It just made me feel better. I jammed my feet into the pink Vans and sprinted down the first flight of stairs. Then I gracefully went down the second flight. Well, as gracefully as I could. Until my foot slipped out from under me and I fell down the last three steps. A quick glance around told me that no one but the dog had seen me fall.

“Oh, sweetheart, I need you to put Sam and Bennett into the mudroom. I don’t want their fur getting all over everyone.” My mother slipped past me to the entryway where Charlie had already greeted the guests. The massive lab mix looked at me with a sad expression. Benny, however just mosied on in there and collapsed onto his bed.

“Hey, I’d trade places with you if I could. Sorry, buddy.” I shut the mudroom door behind me and traipsed into the formal living room. For some godforsaken reason, we had one. There sitting on the couch like he owned the place, was Jackson. Personally, I didn’t have a problem with him. He just liked to pretend that he was the king of wherever he went. And it got a little tiresome sometimes. Whatever. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Wittemore, Jackson.” I gave them all a polite smile and sat in the most uncomfortable chair in the entire house. It was ugly too. An off looking deep red color. I didn’t know why we had it, to be honest. My eyes were focused on the group around the room, but my mind was elsewhere. It floated around, thinking about classes tomorrow, my car, my painting, even my dog. I was anywhere but the conversation that was happening around me. And it went like that the whole night. The adults talking while Jackson and I half-pretended to listen to them. Until it got to dessert. All of a sudden all eyes were on me and I had no idea why.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” I blinked harshly and then forced a smile at my mother.

“Of course, I just spaced out for a minute. So sorry, what was the question?”

“We asked about your classes this year.”

“Oh, right. Of course. Well, I’m enrolled in the AP History class, but I might have to talk to my counselor about that one. Because I have no idea what was going through my mind when I signed up for that. I took advanced biology last year, so this year I’ve moved onto chemistry. Which, also might be a problem because I had Mr. Harris last year and he really wasn’t that fond of me. I’m not entirely sure why.” I took a quick sip of water before continuing. An attempt to remember what I signed myself up for this year. “Well, then I’ve got economics with Coach Finstock. And he just loves me, so that class shouldn’t be too difficult. Let’s see, then I’ve got just the standard English class.”

“And I still don’t know why. This girl has read nearly all the classics. Some even twice. And she keeps up on the newer literature coming out also. I believe she could clean out the class at the advanced level.” My step-dad butted in. He was always so proud that I liked to read. And was able to comprehend even the most interesting of authors writings.

“Really, now?” Mr. Wittemore raised an eyebrow in my direction.

“I don’t really like to toot my own horn, but yeah. I read a lot. And I guess I’m good at it. Well, as good as you can be at reading.” I could feel the heat starting to rise to my cheeks. I really didn’t like being the center of attention. And I especially didn’t like when people sang praises about me. A dry chuckle went around the table, before Mr. Wittemore looked at me again in interest.

“So, who’s your favorite writer?”

“Well, I really like Edgar Allen Poe. But Ernest Hemingway is an extremely close second.” Another sip of water before I continued. “’The Fall of the House of Usher’ is hands down my absolute favorite piece to read.”

“A very mature reader you are indeed.” Mr. Wittemore tipped the rim of his wine glass in my direction before downing the rest of its contents. “Have you read ‘The Cask of Amontillado’? Positively dark, yet brilliant.”

“Oh, absolutely.” I took a chance at taking a bite of the absolutely delicious cake that I’m sure my mother bought, hoping no one else would ask me a question.

“What other classes are you enrolled in?” Damn you, Mrs. Wittemore, why couldn’t you just stay silent? I practically choked on the cake, trying to get it down in a time that wouldn’t be inappropriate.

“Well, then I’m in gym. I’ve got a free period, and an independent study painting class.”

“An independent study painting class?” Everybody reacted that way when I told them. So I was expecting it.

“Yeah, I spend the class hour in the art rooms. Painting whatever I want, or what Mrs. Jay tells me to. I’ve, uh, already taken all the other painting classes that the school offers.”

“Well, I imagine that you’re good at painting if you’re going to be independently studying it.” Oh my god woman. I was strangling her in my brain. Just stop talking and leave me alone. Better yet, decide that it’s time to head home so I can get out of this wretched dress. Thankfully, my mother stepped in to sing my praises some more. Suggesting that they venture back into the sitting room. Afterall, I did paint the picture of the Christ Redeemer statue and surrounding mountainside that was on the wall in there. The women headed for the sitting room. The men headed to the office. And Jackson and I sat at the table like a pair of morons.

“Well, not that this isn’t super fun or anything, but I’m going to find more cake.” I stood up and started for the kitchen, hoping to escape the awkward.

“Are you really sure you should be eating more cake?” He had a smug smirk on his face. He usually did when he was talking to someone he believed he was better than.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be good.” I disappeared into the kitchen. To my absolute joy, there was another half of a cake sitting on the counter. I forgot my manners as I pulled a piece of the chocolately goodness onto my plate and jumped up to sit on the counter. There was no question in my mind that I would be in trouble if I got caught. I was halfway through my second piece of the night when I was.

“Tuesday. What are you doing?” I froze, fork halfway to my mouth.

“Uh, eating some cake.” Charlie only smiled, he was easygoing like that.

“Just get off the counter and come say goodbye. Our guests are leaving.” I must’ve looked as jazzed as I felt because he let out a laugh. My happy mood ended when I was told to go to bed. After all, I did have to go to that awful place tomorrow morning.