From the Author
My whole life was a series of "What had I done?" The upcoming year loomed with the same mediocre expectations.New Years was a drag when you waited on your parents for dinner. Being alone was never my thing and, there I was, a divorced adult relying on my parents for my New Year's company. When had I stooped so low? Asking them, their answer would have been something along the lines of, I was born that low.I leaned my chin on my hands, my elbow just barely resting on the edge of the table. My mother had decorated her home with an eye toward class and elegance. Well-polished mahogany furniture filled the lower rooms of their California split-level home. A California style home set in a small nowhere-town in Ohio. I snorted at the thought and pushed a stray piece of grated parmesan cheese back into the bowl.The loud tick-tocking of the grandfather clock by the front door kept track of the time passing more accurately than I could myself.Formal place settings held clear, glass plates filled with steaming chicken Parmigiana smothered in melting mozzarella and parmesan cheeses and buttery, crusty garlic bread. Caesar salad in a China bowl sat beside a pitcher of sparkling lemonade. Less and less steam wafted from the plates with each minute that passed by. The lettuce began to wilt alongside my optimism that my parents and I would be celebrating a fun New Year's Eve together. I wanted so badly for things to be different. Different between them and me, and different for me altogether.Success wasn't a feeling that I was familiar with lately. Everything had fallen around me and my dad's continuous condescension only compounded my internal pain.I picked up my fork at the forty-five-minute mark. A delicious parmigiana should never go to waste. My curves could be attributed to my reliance on food for comfort and the constant need to love others with food.Cutting off a bite, I savored the lukewarm flavors of the marinara-covered chicken just as my mom and dad walked through the door. Guiltily, I wiped my mouth with the cloth napkins I'd set out and folded it again into my lap. "I called for you guys a while ago. Are you okay?" I was genuinely concerned. If anything, Dad wouldn't miss food on purpose."We were talking to your sister." My dad sat down across from me and picked up his fork. He studied his plate, pushing food around like a bully on the playground. He curled his lip, his stubble creating a darker shadow than normal. "Pasta again?"I swallowed the taste of dust that his comment left in my mouth. I hadn't made pasta in over a month.My attempts to apologize were cut off by my mother who cut the food into sections and placed them onto a napkin, probably for the dog. "We're going up to your sister's tonight. We'll be there a week or more. She invited us up since her husband is going out of town."She spoke as if we didn't have plans for two months to spend the night together. I'd come back to their place, depressed that I couldn't make it on my own after my divorce. For the first time in - forever? - she'd wrapped her arms around me and said, "It's okay. Now we can hang out for fun things like New Year's and Christmas morning." Maybe she'd been drinking at the time and confused me with my sister.A glimmer of hope was all she'd given me and I'd survived on that since.Picking at my thumb cuticle under the table, I furrowed my brow. "Tonight? We had planned on spending the evening together. I got some movies and made caramel popcorn." I don't know why I was disappointed. Treating me like that wasn't new for them. It's not like it wasn't something they pulled on me every day for the last twenty-eight years of my life. Some of my friends had come back into town for the holidays and asked me to hang out that night. I'd declined since I'd already had plans.At that point, it would be too late to join the friends I'd ditched for my parents.With my family, I always came last. The last child of three and my family made sure I knew it. I was the accident, the one they didn't want, and they never failed to rub my excess in my face."We can do that anytime. It's not like you're going anywhere. I still can't believe you gave up marriage to Derek. That guy is going somewhere. He already has so much of the town in his pocket. I wouldn't be surprised, if one day he was mayor." My dad shook some pepper and salt onto the salad and scrunched his lips while pushing the soggy croutons to the side of his plate. "It's time for you to get out there and move on. Go to a party or something. Find someone to marry. It'd be nice to have my house back to normal."Dad pointed his fork in Mom's direction and then at his own chest. "When things got tough when we were younger, I didn't run to my mommy's. You shouldn't get to mooch off us just because you can't keep your marriage together. If it was up to me, we would've told you no, when you asked." His pointed glance at my mother brought a blush to her cheeks. "I've worked for what I have. You had it easy with him."He continued his almost-daily diatribe. "You need to face things when they go wrong. Maybe if you had done something different, Derek wouldn't have left you." He arched his eyebrows and twirled a mass of noodles onto his fork which he thrust into his mouth.My stomach hardened and I struggled to hold in my frustration. I'd never be good enough. Not for him. Not for anyone.Mom rolled her eyes, finally taking a bite of the limp salad. "That's enough, Donald. She's already heard it all from us. Harping on it isn't going to change history. I already apologized for not asking you if she could move in. Let's leave it alone, okay?" She wanted him to stop for her, even though she harped on me when it was just her and I in the kitchen or in the living room."I thought my house was empty of children. I thought I could move on, but nope, she's back and disrupting everything." He motioned his fork towards me as if I wasn't in the room.Normally I just sat there and took it, ate my meal and focused on something I would do the next day to find a job or make money to get out of there. The worst thing was I was in a town made of about fifteen-thousand people who pretty much knew everyone else. They all liked Derek and didn't want to chance making him mad by hiring me.A new year and a new me beckoned, though. I spoke rashly while holding my gaze on the plate in front of me. "Well, Dad, maybe this will be your lucky year. Maybe I'll leave the house before you get home."Dad started coughing, laughter and choking making his face red. He finally regained his composure enough to wipe his mouth and answer. "I'm not that lucky, girl.""Rachel, your sister makes the sauce with parsley and basil. You might try that next time." My mom picked up her still-full plate.I knew exactly what they were doing. They would throw it away and not eat the rest of it, making a point to leave it on the counter for me to see. They would probably eat dinner later at my sister's or on the way there to see her and their bratty grandchildren.Suddenly, I couldn't wait for them to leave. I didn't want to be around them.Hadn't I seen somewhere that family should rely on each other? I think it was an insurance commercial. The slogan was, "You should be there for your family, let us help," or something like that.Why did I always feel like I was a burden to my family? How could a commercial for life insurance get a pretty standard value, and I was left feeling like I was the only one that understood it? I had stopped crying about the way they made me feel a long time ago, but that didn't mean my feelings weren't raw.
