do you mean you'll actually do it at the party, or just want to be someone who could?
Chapter 6: Cold water to forget
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The vehicle took barely five minutes to arrive, but standing on the deserted sidewalk, it felt like an eternity to me. I got into the back seat, offering a greeting in a voice so faint the driver…
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do you mean you'll actually do it at the party, or just want to be someone who could?
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The vehicle took barely five minutes to arrive, but standing on the deserted sidewalk, it felt like an eternity to me. I got into the back seat, offering a greeting in a voice so faint the driver could barely hear it. Halfway there, my phone vibrated; it was a message from my mom: "I'm going out with your dad to pick up a few things; lock the door when you get home, okay?" I replied that I would. Then, I asked the driver the fare and paid him. I asked him to turn the corner and pull up to the second house. I got out, thanked him, and closed the door. I unlocked the front door, stepped inside, and locked it behind me. I went upstairs and started running a bath. While it filled, I went to the kitchen to make a fruit salad, grabbed a yogurt, and headed back upstairs. I put on some Alec Benjamin music, locked my bedroom door, undressed, and got ready to shower. I stepped into the tub, set up the small side table I keep there for my strawberries and yogurt, and submerged myself in the cold water to forget the day.
A few minutes have passed, and the cold water is starting to numb my skin, but it’s exactly the pause my mind needed. I reach out toward the small table, pick up a strawberry, and slowly take a bite. Its sweetness contrasts with the bitterness I feel inside. As I chew, I stare at the ceiling, processing every second of what happened today and picking the problem apart in my mind while Alec Benjamin’s melancholic voice fills the bathroom. The yogurt and fruit restore some of my strength, but the heaviness in my chest remains.
Suddenly, I hear a knock on the door downstairs and startle. I carefully step out of the tub, wrap myself in a towel, and go to see who it is. I hear my mom’s voice on the other side:
"Celeste, open up." I open the door; she walks in, and I lock it again.
How was your day?" she asks.
"Everything went well at work," I reply. "I was late because I put in some overtime."
She nods and says:
"Finish getting dressed and come down for dinner, okay?" Mom heads to the kitchen. I go back to the bathroom to drain the tub, grab the remaining strawberries to eat, and tidy everything up. I go to my room to change; I put on a light blue floral pajama set one of my brothers gave me recently and brush my hair. When I go downstairs, I head straight to the kitchen to help Mom set the table. I ask about Dad, and she tells me he’s in his office. We finish setting up, and she goes to call him. I ask Dad for his blessing, and the three of us sit down to eat. Mom made lasagna—our favorite—and a strawberry milkshake.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" Dad asks.
"I don't think I have any plans; since it's the weekend, I don't have to work," I tell him.
"Do you want to come with me to work around ten in the morning?"
"Sure, that works for me."
"Can I come with you guys?" Mom interjects. "Yes, of course—that way you won't be all alone at home," he replies with a smile.
I take the opportunity to ask them a favor:
"Would you let me go to a party with Samanta tomorrow at eight in the evening? It's near her house." Dad agrees but sets some conditions:
"All right, but you only have four hours."
That’s enough for me, since I’m not exactly a big partygoer. Mom warns me about alcohol, worried I might drink too much, even though I’ve never really been a heavy drinker. In the end, she says it’s fine. When we finish, I ask them to let me clear the table and wash the dishes so they can rest. She agrees, and I watch her go upstairs with my dad. I finish tidying up the last few things, close everything up, and head to the front door to make sure it’s locked.
I went up to my room and set an early alarm—for 6:00 a.m.—to make a surprise breakfast for my parents, since it’s their anniversary. It’s amazing that they’ve already been together for three years; even though he isn’t my biological father, I love him as if he were and respect him deeply. Having had an absent father makes me truly value his presence. I check my phone to see if there’s a message from Samanta asking if I got permission. I reply that I did, and she tells me she’ll pick me up tomorrow at 8:00 p.m. I’d like to tell her what happened today, but I haven’t even processed it myself yet. I feel a strange desire to get involved in her world—one I don’t even understand myself. Maybe it’s because I’ve always been the perfect girl who never breaks the rules, and this time, deep down, I want to know what it feels like to cross the line.
Thoughts
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why do you think you need to become someone else to process this? what's stopping you from telling samanta the truth?
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you're lying to your mom, asking your stepdad for blessing, fantasizing about breaking rules. the simplest read: you're normal. the pressure is the problem.
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Alec Benjamin, is there a reason he's the one playing while you process, or is that just what was on when you needed it?
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something was heavy enough that cold numbness felt like mercy. you don't say what, which i respect. but that's the thing, the chapter isn't the day, it's the distance you're making from it.
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do you mean you'll actually do it at the party, or just want to be someone who could?
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the line about stepping into cold water to forget the day. i'm going to think about that one for a while.
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there's something very nineteen here. the good daughter follows every rule, asks dad for his blessing, but already feels the itch to breach the frame. the party isn't really about the party.
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so what actually happened at work? you're not going to tell us, are you.
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Você escreve bem vai ter a parte dois dessa série?
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I hope you enjoy this chapter