My Living Nightmare

“Are you sure you don’t want help setting the table, Mrs. Rivera?” I asked Christine, standing uncomfortably as she and Tory set the table. Jamie had gone upstairs to change out of his suit.

“It’s fine, dear, and I told you, call me Christine.”

I watched them set the table for six feeling extremely out of place.

I wasn’t looking forward to dinner. It was sure to be awkward. I may have been getting on with almost everyone, but they were a family and I was, well, an outsider. An outsider who wanted to be anywhere but here, going through this.

By the time Jamie, Sean and their father had slid into their seats at the table, I had an effortless plan. I was going to eat quickly, avoid conversation and avert my eyes from Sean’s. Okay, it wasn’t exactly effortless, but it was simple.

“So,” Christine said, taking her seat next to her husband. “How was Samantha’s party?”

“Awful-” Jamie began to say before yelping and trying to disguise it as a cough. Tory must have kicked him under the table. What do you know; she might be good enough to be my protégé.

“Sorry. Awfully pleasant,” he said, visibly frowning at the word pleasant.

Lucky for him his mother was dishing her food and didn’t see the look pass his face.

“Yeah, the place was amazing,” Tory added. Jamie wasn’t happy with her cheek.

“Too bad Tory left before the real fun began-oof! I mean, she had to leave early to meet Alex.”
Forget might, she was good enough to be my protégé.

Aside from the extravagance of Phil’s job title, the Rivera’s were a normal family. They didn’t have maids galore, or butlers, or even gardeners. Christine was a stay at home mom. She did the laundry, she cleaned the house and she cooked. Apart from the housekeeper, who came around once a week, and the chores Jamie, Sean and Tory had, she pretty much did everything herself.

“Alexandria, how do feel about living here?” Phil asked. Again with Phil’s clueless questions. You’d think he’d have learnt his lesson from the last time, but…

Everyone’s eyes were on me. So maybe my plan wasn’t as fool-proof as I thought.

I sighed, and then answered, choosing the easy way out.

“As good as can be expected,” I said, pushing back my chair, leaving my uneaten plate of food on the table. “Please excuse me,” I said, walking out of the dining room.

“Hey Nick, its Alexandria,” I spoke into my phone.

“Alex? It’s been so long! How are you?”

“Terrible. Listen, I need your help. Are you up to it?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“Well, it’s kind of a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“Okay, it’s like this…”

Ten minutes later I walked back into the dining room. All was quiet.

“Sorry for that,” I said, taking my seat.

“It’s nothing, dear,” Christine said.

I sat, chewing thoughtfully. We ate in silence. That is, until Tory opened her mouth.

“Daddy?” she asked sweetly.

“Uh-oh,” Sean and Jamie said in unison.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Phil said, looking up from his plate of food.

“Can I get a motorcycle?” Tory went on to say.

At that both boys cracked up laughing.

“Of course you ca-what? Absolutely not!”

“But Sean has a car! And Jamie! Why can’t I have a motorcycle?” she whined, pouting her lips.

“Because you’re fourteen, Tory!” Christine said firmly.

“Daddy? Please?”

“I’m sorry honey, your mother’s right.”

“But Samantha-”

“Tory, Samantha is a spoilt brat,” Jamie spluttered.

“And besides, you can’t even drive a go-cart,” Sean said, laughing.

“I can too!”

“Remember the last incident? You drove off the track, through the hay and chased an old lady in a wheelchair!” Sean announced.

“That’s all in the past!”

“That was last month!”

“So? I say let bygones be bygones. Let’s not dwell in the past, but look forward to the future!” she ended grandly.

By this time I was giggling uncontrollably. This dinner thing was actually fun.

“Tory, you’re not getting a motorcycle, not even a bike-” Christine was cut off by Tory herself.

“I already have a bicycle,” she said.

“That’s beside the point. You’re a danger to society, and if it were up to me I would ban you from ever getting your license,” Christine said, resolutely. “Scratch that, from ever leaving this house.”

“Well, if you won’t buy me a motorcycle, I’ll just have to get a boyfriend with one,” Tory proclaimed.
Unfortunately for Phillip, he had decided to take a sip from his glass at that moment.

“What!” he spluttered, spitting water all over the table and his wife. Christine sprang up, trying to dry herself off with a ton of paper towels and managing to knock her plate over and onto the floor. It shattered with a bang and broke into several shards of china and spilling its contents all over the floor. It amazed me how Tory was able to keep a straight face through all this. I had to bite my lip in order to not fall over laughing. The boys had no restraint though, they were laughing unashamedly.

“No! No, no, no! There will be absolutely no boyfriends! Not even a boy who happens to be your friend! If I ever hear or see you with a boy I’m locking you up till you’re thirty!” Phil yelled, getting up from his seat. His wife dragged him with her up the stairs. Just before they were out of sight she called, “Kids, clean up this mess.”

The second they disappeared up the stairs I erupted into full blown laughter.

“He spat water-! You! Boyfriend with motorbike! All over your mother!” I said, struggling to breathe and wiping tears from the corners of my eyes.

“I don’t really want a motorcycle,” Tory said, chuckling lightly.

“Then why’d you-why’d you asked for one,” I managed to gasp out.

“Dinner was too boring; I had to spice it up. Besides, I already have a boyfriend.”

It turned out that was the wrong thing to say. Jamie and Sean automatically sobered up and stared at her.

“Er… Kidding?” she said nervously.

“Who is he?” Jamie demanded.

“And where does he live?” Sean inquired, a hard glint in his eyes.

“How old is he?” Jamie continued the onslaught.

“Uhm…” she mumbled. She turned to me and mouthed the words ‘Help me!’

“Guys, lighten up. What is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” I said lightly, coming to Tory’s aide.

Sean turned his eyes to me and glared.

“This has nothing to do with you,” he said rudely.

“Neither has it anything to do with you,” I said, just as curtly.

Honestly, first I had to explain this to Craig, and now the Rivera brothers. Boys…

“Oh excuse me, but I don’t understand how this has nothing to do with me seeing as how Tory’s my sister,” he said harshly.

“Well, seeing as you fail to understand most things, this doesn’t really come as a surprise.”

“She’s my little sister; she shouldn’t be going out with boys!”

“Erm, here’s a newsflash, it’s her life! You can’t tell me you never went out with anyone before! You can’t tell me that you only found out about dating when you turned sixteen!”

“That’s different!”

“Oh really, why’s it different? Because you’re a guy? You’re being sexist!”

“I am not! She can’t take care of herself!”

“She’s a freaking junior black belt, I think she can.”

He was pissing me off.

“I don’t expect you to understand. You’re easy.”

“So now you’re calling me a slut?”

At first it looked like he was going to deny it. I was really hoping that he was going to.

“Maybe.”

I gripped the table tightly. It took everything in me not to throw my fork at him. If he doesn’t stop patronizing me soon I will be the youngest woman on trial for killing her husband.

“That was way out of line, Sean,” Jamie said harshly. I actually forgot that he and Tory were still in the room.

“You know, yesterday was bad enough, what with you calling me, and I quote, “an ugly and sarcastic bitch” and a “scared little girl with loads of insecurities pretending to be little Miss Perfect”, but I accepted your apology. I thought we could come to some kind compromise, since neither of us was happy with this situation, but no, you decide today to become bipolar-like fool. It makes me really wish that what happened earlier on was serious, that way I wouldn’t have had to listen to you call me a slut. I know I’m not the prettiest girl around, and I know I’m not the friendliest either, but one thing I am not is a slut. I would’ve thought that its guys like you that you would try to protect your sister from,” I said softly.

I pushed out from my chair, took Tory’s arm and walked out of the dining room.

“Thanks,” she said, a little stunned by my argument with her brother.

“You owe me,” I said.

“Sean didn’t mean that,” she continued softly.

I didn’t reply.

Jamie’s raised voice could be heard. Harsh words were carrying up the stairs. I blocked them out; Sean was an idiot. End of story.