Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114467 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 572(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
“Your eyes, they are almost back to when you were …” She tries to come up with the word to describe my eyes.
“You mean when I wasn’t high,” I tell her, and she looks up now. “It’s okay to say it, Mom. I’m a recovering addict.”
“I don’t mean to push you or anything,” she says, and at that moment, it’s almost like an elephant in the room trying not to walk on eggshells.
“It’s okay to talk about it,” I tell her. “It’s healthy to talk about it.”
She sits down in the chair and looks at me. “I was so scared that you were going to die,” she says to me and then looks out the bay window to blink away her tears. “I would pray every single night.”
I reach out and hold her hand in mine. “I’m …” I start to say, and my father comes into the room.
“What’s all this?” he asks, looking at us.
“We were talking about how good he looks,” my mother says, smiling at me. “Dinner will be ready as soon as Natalia returns.” My father nods at her and doesn’t say a word to me. “He worries about you too.”
“I bet he does,” I say, getting up. “What else can I do?” I help my mother prepare the plates. She tells me all these little cooking tips, and I’m about to laugh since I don’t even know when I would ever cook all these foods. My mind goes straight to Zoe, and I wonder how her Christmas is going.
When Natalia comes back, my mother declares Christmas Eve dinner ready. She lights the two red candles in the middle of the table, and we say a little prayer before digging in and eating. Natalia fills the awkward silence by telling me about all her trips she’s taken this year for modeling.
“Wait a second, have you met Zara Stone? She has this Zara’s Closet online,” my sister asks me after cutting into her piece of apple pie.
I nod at her. “Zara Richards now.” Smiling at her. “Yeah, she’s the captain’s wife.”
“I am dying to get on her list. Do you think …?” She smiles at me and bats her eyes.
“I’ll see if she is taking anyone new,” I tell her, and when I leave the house a couple of hours later, I realize I have never been more uncomfortable in my skin. The night is awful, and sleep doesn’t even come. I walk around the strange house, trying to keep my heart from beating out of my chest. I take two showers since I keep sweating through my shirt.
When I drive back to my parents’ the next day, my father is the one who answers the door. “Merry Christmas,” I say to him, and he steps back to let me in the house. I give him a hug, and he grumbles something and then takes off up the stairs.
“Merry Christmas,” my mother says, coming out of the kitchen and wiping her hands on her white apron. “I’m just putting the bacon in the oven.”
Walking into the kitchen, I see that she has already started cooking. “Go sit and watch television,” she says to me, and I walk into the family room and sit down on the chair. This is supposed to be my home, yet I feel like a stranger. I take the remote and turn the television on, but then I get up and walk to the wall of hanging pictures. My father is in all of them in his coach’s uniform with different players.
I stop at the one in the middle of me and him. It was taken right after we won the state championship. “You were one of the best,” my father says from the entrance of the living room.
“Some people would say I’m better now,” I tell him, turning.
“Well, you definitely are much better this year.” He steps into room, and I shake my head and laugh. “This is funny to you?”
My eyes snap to his. “Nothing about this is funny to me.”
“Did you use your drugs last night?” he asks me, and I look at him, hoping he sees the hatred in my eyes. “You come over today eyes all dark like you didn’t sleep. Your hair all over the place and the scruff on your beard.”
“You think I used last night?” I ask him, my voice raising in pitch. “Do you think if I used drugs, I would even be here?” I put my hands on my hips and shake my head. “Jesus, I don’t even know why I try.” My voice gets just a touch louder, and now my mother comes into the room with Natalia next to her.
“Watch your voice in my house,” he says.
“Yes, heaven forbid I have a voice,” I tell him. I wasn’t coming here for this, but the opportunity is right in front of me. “Do you know what it was like growing up?”