Landfill

The next morning, I got up thanks to Jimmy purring, hopping off my stomach and off somewhere. I made my way downstairs to the kitchen after stretching and rubbing my eyes. My mom was cooking breakfast, my dad was sitting, drinking coffee. When my mom saw me, she grinned, "Merry Christmas, Darling. I'm making eggs."

The forced smile came through, "Merry Christmas."

My dad looked over at me, "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty well," I sat across from him at the large table. "What's the plan tonight? Are you guys attending or throwing a Christmas party?"

"Attending," my mom said, making her way over, "You're welcomed. We're going to the Candie's, you remember Doug Candie, don't you?"

"Vaguely." I replied.

My mom came over to the table and set two plates down; one for me, one for my dad. "Anyway, would you like to come?"

"I don't have anything nice to wear." I took the fork set on the table, and began to poke my eggs and bacon.

"You can borrow one of my dresses." My mom leaned forward towards me, smiling sweetly.

"Sure." I murmured.

My mom gave a short nod before heading back to the kitchen. I ate silently, my dad following suit, and then he looked at me, gaining my attention; "You're up to coming with us?"

"I have nothing better to do."

"I'm glad you're coming with us," he added, "You'll have fun."

I could only nod, continuing to eat. I didn't want to have fun, I wanted to be busy.


My mom spun me in front of her full length mirror, modeling me in different dresses. I hated each one, I was never able to wear dresses and be comfortable. I haven't worn one since junior prom.

"How do you like the red one?" My mom asked as she held it up on a hanger.

I looked at it; I was in my bra and underwear, "Uh, I guess so." I answered. "I... I like the color."

My mom smiled, continuously as she played dress up on me. She helped me into the dress; a deep red number that ended just below my finger tips, and the neckline swooped, the arms were laced, along the hems, too. I actually liked it on me, it fit a bit small, but it fit for the night.

"I got flats to go with this." I told her, "Thanks, mom."

She patted my back, "You're welcome, Darling." She placed a kiss on my cheek and let me return to my bedroom to do my hair and makeup.

I didn't do much; just my hair up, straightened and some light makeup. I wasn't going to be dolled up, I just needed to escape for the night, not find a husband.

My single thought as I brushed my hair and applied eyeliner; I wondered what Ryan would think of me. He's probably be amazed; I never looked like this when we were together. Maybe he wouldn't even recognize me.

I couldn't keep thinking this way.

"Nicole?" My dad knocked on my bedroom door, "Are you ready?"

The door opened as I stood up from my vanity, "Yep."

My dad's jaw slacked, "Wow."

I raised a brow, "Wow?"

"You look beautiful, Nicole."

I blushed, "Thanks, dad."

"Come on," he lent out his hand and I took it.

My mom squealed as soon as she saw me. I shook my head at her; "No more squeals, it's just a dress."

She pulled me into a tight hug, squeezing me, "You look beautiful."

"I know." I breathed.

She let me go and looked me over, "You're beautiful, darling."

I thanked her again, and then followed them downstairs and out to the car. The air was kind of chilly; it always gets that way at night here in the desert. I wore a sweater, but it didn't help much and I focused on that as my dad drove.

The ride was a long one, which surprised me. The roads were clear, and the neighborhood we had gotten to had houses built like castles. I instantly remembered the Candie's; I used to come with my mom sometimes to visit Kim Candie. I only remember that I read a lot of their old first edition of Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises and stealing it. They never noticed it was gone; but that's all I really remember.

We finally got there, the Candie's had valet parking. Parking! At their home! Especially on fucking Christmas. It's ridiculous.

Anyway, I followed my parents into the large home, memories of this place filled my head. Kim Candie greeted us with her husband, Ron; "We're so happy you could make it, Maddie, Emilio. And you brought Nicole! How wonderful!"

I grimaced at her voice, but hid it as best as I could. I waved nicely, exchanging hellos with them. Kim started talking to my mom as she took our coats and then led us to the large living room, or whatever it was; there was a couch and an obnoxiously large Christmas tree, decorated to the top to the fucking bottom. Fake presents were scattered beneath the lights and the ornaments; you could tell they were fake. There were a lot of people, dressed up just like the tree, fake breast and Botox were their faux presents for decoration. There was food, lots of it, on fancy dishes, wines and champagnes. All of these probably cost more than my apartment.

"Nicole," Kim broke my thoughts, her delicate hand landed gently on my arm, "Would you like a drink?"

I nodded, "Yes, please."

I stood mostly alone, watching everyone, getting ideas for stories. Short stories, about bad business, botched surgeries, and quiet affairs. Women loved to air their dirty laundry out in the bathroom; no shame whatsoever. As much as I was infatuated with these fake women, I was disgusted. They weren't who I could ever get along with, they'd never have any real experiences.

I wallowed myself in the foyer downing champagne, spilling a bit on my dress. I was tipsy within an hour, and I went outside to sit by myself. I had no idea where my parents had gone, nor did I care; the alcohol made me feel. I didn't want to feel, but I did; I felt sad and hurt and tired and lonely.

I missed the hard shell I used to have.

And it's all because of Ryan. Stupid Ryan and stupid me. Stupid us. Stupid love. Dumb luck. A shit hand he was dealt. A shit, naive woman I am.

I shouldn't even be classified as a woman. No woman is as idiotic as me. Even the fake women inside are smarter than me; shallow as they maybe. Those women know how to play the game of life and love.

I rubbed my blurry eyes, feeling the cold chill, looking at the hot tub feet from me. The lights on, the water rippled, and I wanted to go in. It was the alcohol fucking with me; I needed to go home.

"Hey, Nick," I turned my head and saw my dad. "Drunk?"

I shrugged, "Tipsy."

He sat beside me on the iron bench, setting his hands in his lap; "You're upset, aren't you?"

"Yep. Yes, sir." My voice slurred.

"About Ryan?"

"Dad," I exasperated, "I need to tell you a secret. Can you keep it to yourself, not tell mom. Madeline can't know."

My dad exhaled a small chuckle, "Yes."

"Promise me, daddy. Please, don't tell anyone," I emphasized every word. "Please." My bore into his.

My dad looked a by worried. He licked over his lips; "Nicole, are you pregnant?"

"No, dad, no." I exhaled, "It's Ryan. Ryan... Goddammit." I sputtered, feeling tears.

My dad wrapped his arm around my shoulders, "Did he hurt you? Put his hands on you?"

"No." I muttered, "He isn't cheating on me. He isn't doing what you'd expect from a 24 year old idiot like him."

I hung my head, my dad patted my arm; "Then what is it, Nick?"

"Please don't tell."

"I won't, you have my word."

I looked at my dad now, "Ryan's... He's selling drugs."

My dad grew stiff for a moment. He exhaled; "How did you find out?"

I furrowed my brows. There was this way to his tone... This tone that made me pull away. My dad, he knew. He knew all along.