I Swear I'm Not a Hopeless Case

"How was therapy?"
I delayed placing my purple plastic headphones in my ears to exert a sarcastic remark at my step-mother, LeAnne. "Everything I've dreamed of."

She scoffed, putting the car into reverse and pulling out of the office building complex.

My mother died when I was seven. She was what you would call the perfect woman. Beautiful, smart, motivated, and the most caring person you could ever meet. I was lucky to have been able to know her, but at the same time, the memories make me even more depressed than I already am. My older brother had it harder, because he was three years older than me, making him ten when she passed. He was more of a momma's boy than any other prepubescent boy should be. They were incredibly close. Ever since her death, my brother grew distant from my father and myself, creating unbelievable tension in the household. He was a hard person to understand, but I still loved him. After all, you can't choose your family.

Unless of course, like in my father's situation, you re-marry. My father popped the question to LeAnne three years ago, and they then married six months after. I was fourteen. It was bittersweet for me.

Partiallly, I was happy he could move on, but at the same time, I couldn't help but feel as if LeAnne was replacing my mother- a thought that I forbade, and attempted to expel from my mind.
After the wedding, the transition into being a family was- interesting. LeAnne already had a son and daughter, Patricia and Marcus. Patricia was only a year younger than me, yet her attitude, especially towards me, made her seem twelve.

Marcus was two at the time of the wedding, and now at five, he was the only sibling of mine I could have a semi-normal relationship with.

I tapped my fingers to the music now fluidly reverberating itself through my skull, calming me. I sighed- probably louder than I had originally anticipated; my music was always up to the loudest volume. Drowning out the world and the pathetic people in it was one of my many talents- and with my inability to bite my tongue and hold back my fist, many people were appreciative of it.

At the corner of my eye, I saw Leanne talking on her cell phone rather animatedly. I rolled my eyes, and leaned my head against the window's glass. I inhaled lightly and exhaled slowly, creating a film of opaque fog on the spot near my mouth. I lifted my arm, and drew a heart with my pointer finger. I immediately drew an 'x' over it. I was never one for sentimental bullshit. Except with Greg. I shuddered and exorcised the thought from my mind. I watched the condensation drip, and the fog begin to fade away.

In the midst of entertaining myself with childish games, one of the earplugs were yanked out of my ear. "Liv! Don't do that to the window! What are you, five?!" I rolled my eyes once more at LeAnne, as she continued on with her extremely pointless phone conversation about the newest sets of coasters at Pier One or some ludicrous garbage like that.

I shoved the earbud back into my ear and watched the pine trees lining the road blur into one big, green blob. The heat in the beat-up old Camaro we borrowed from my brother barely worked, and the scarf I was wearing was extremely itchy. But, due to the lack of warmth, I wouldn't take it off.

I groaned and put on a song that had a tropical feel to it, hoping to present the illusion of being somewhere sandy and warm. It only made me colder and more cognizant of the freezing Colorado terrain around me.

I felt the car slow down, even though we weren't anywhere near our house. I pulled out my headphones to hear my step mother using rather abrasive language. "Damn it! Patrick said he fixed the transmission!"

I threw my ipod in my messenger bag and clapped my hands together, which created a hushed sound due to the gloves stretched upon them. "Well, this is fan-fucking-tastic!"

"Language, Olivia!" LeAnne's stern and cold eyes matched her tone, her jaw jutted out, which only happened when she was extremely angry. She pushed a wad of her blonde hair behind her ear, sticking the key into the ignition, only to hear a stomach-wrenching screeching noise. She yanked her hand away from the key, and cussed angrily. She took out her phone to call my dad.

She screamed into the phone for over ten minutes, until she was finally satisfied. She shoved her cell phone in her tote and placed her head in her hands. "This is great!"

I rolled my eyes at the mumbles coming from her lips and looked out the window. I furrowed my eyebrows and narrowed my eyes. About twenty feet away from the road, beyond a couple of leaveless oak trees, stood a young man with blue eyes and red hair. I pressed my hand against the window's glass and let my eyes expand. 'G-Greg?"

Honk! I jumped, startled, and turned to see LeAnne lightly banging her head against the horn button on the steering wheel.
"LeAnne, stop being such a drama queen!"

Once she occupied herself with ranting on the phone to her best friend, Sandy, I turned back around to the forest. He was gone. I felt a chill engulfing me that had naught to do with the weather.

It was a good hour or so of consistent bitching and moaning before my father pulled up in front of us in his rusted electric blue pick-up truck. It had a hook on the back, which was used for towing. They happened a lot.
We lived in the small town of Willow Springs, Colorado. The summers were hot and humid, with bright blue skies and emerald plantations. We always had weather extremes. In the winter, we were subjected to icy cold temperatures, and extreme snowfalls, usually leaving many people on the side of the road with car troubles.

But, if you were handy and creative, you could be like my father. He used his surroundings for profit. He had a job at a local bank, Monday to Friday, eight am to five pm. He would sit behind a desk, punching numbers for other people's financial stability. But, on the side, he towed cars for extra money, which usually landed in my brother and I's college funds.

He was a tall and scruffy man, with honey brown hair and a round nose, which added more joy to his already blissful aura. He wore a dress shirt and slacks to work, but as soon as he got home, he changed into his torn old jeans, accompanied by his lumberjack-flannel shirt. He was a modest man, who everybody loved and went to if they needed help. He was too good for Willow Springs, and too good for the people who occupied it; including my family.

My step-mother was pretty- she knew it too. A week couldn't go by without her running to the salon to get her hair re-highlighted, or her
nails re-manicured. Along with that, she was a secretary for one as well.
Every time I saw my father working, I felt so proud. He had literally come from nothing, to being a successful man with a family, a house, and a steady job; the American dream. It makes me wonder how someone so motivated and successful would marry someone as superficial and shallow as LeAnne. She was his polar opposite.
This was a question that ate at me everyday, but I knew I could never ask.
My father came to the window and kissed my step-mother on the cheek.
"Hey Paulie!" LeAnne's shrill screech cut into my eardrums like a rusted steak knife. "Thanks for being our hero once again."
My father looked over to me and smiled. "How ya doing, honey?"

I slowly got out of the passenger seat. "Just dandy."

He shook his head and smirked, while opening the door for LeAnne. She took his hand and stepped out, placing one on his cheek in the process. Her bright blonde highlights were almost as white as the snow covering the town. She weakly shut the door and began walking to the truck, her hand in my father's. He opened the door for her and helped her in. I rolled my eyes, crawling into the passenger seat beside her. What, could she not open the door on her own? Or was it the five inch heels? Maybe the extreme overuse of mascara was blinding her?

I adjusted the car's vent on the dashboard, so the heat was blowing directly at me. I rubbed my hands together, and watched my dad work his towing magic from the rear-view mirror.
"Livie, you're hogging all the heat!"

The fake sweetness in her voice made me want to throw-up. She only ever called me 'Livie' when my father was able to hear. I cringed whenever it escaped her lips, only because that's what my mother called me. It was evident she was trying her best to be a matronly figure to me, but I thought I was making it evident that I didn't want a four-dollar hooker as mine.

I pushed the vent button, redirecting the heat in her direction. She sighed, satisfied. I let my head fall back against the seat, replaying the image I had seen in the forest. It looked exactly like Greg. I could have sworn it was him, but that wasn't possible. It was just my mind playing tricks on me, like Dr. Milton said- it was normal to see things after a traumatic event.

My dad climbed into the driver's seat, causing LeAnne to scoot over closer to me. I did my best to move as close to the window as possible, only to realize I'd never get far enough away.
My dad put the key in the ignition, started the car, and we were off to the place I hated the most- Home.