Through Glass(6)

Even if I did turn into a walking, talking watermelon.

“Anyway,” she continued when I obviously was not going to pacify her. “He has some art show he’s got a few paintings in that he was going to take you to anyway. So, now he wants us all to go to it and then we will do dinner after. I was thinking La Sala; the salad there is good…”

I wasn’t listening anymore. Sarah was going into full date planning mode and besides, I was too busy thinking about what she had just said. I was actually going to be attending one of Cohen’s art shows. He had said yes.

For years I had been wondering what beautiful things were in his head. Wondering what his actual paintings looked like. If they were anything like the masterpieces he kept in his sketchbook, I was in for a show. And now, I would finally be able to see them.





I walked through the wooden door of our old farmhouse, the hinges creaking as the old wood swung wide. My parents had bought the old house when I was about three and then just had to make due when the boys joined the family. It was a lot of people in one tiny house, but I still loved it, squeaky door and all.

I walked through the tiny mud room to see my mom reading a book and I couldn’t help the smile it gave me. The house was in that intermittent quiet zone before the boys got home from school. The only noise coming from the quiet “classic rock” my mom had playing on the internet radio and the wind that had suddenly picked up outside. Winds this rough weren’t normally common in our area, but the weather had been weird for a few days. Sarah had lovingly dubbed it El Chupacabra after we woke up to hail this morning.

“Have a good day?” my mom asked as she looked up from her book, her face relaxed for the time being.

“Yeah,” I sighed, not really knowing how to respond. It was just a day after all, nothing good or bad. Just a day. Of course, I could tell her about the million tiny things that popped up; the gossip I had heard, the preparation for the end of the year, the date that the quarterback had asked me on, but my mom and I had never really had that kind of relationship.

I opened my mouth to say something more when the door squeaked again, the wide wooden slab swinging in as my tousled oldest brother walked in.

Travis had turned fourteen only a few weeks ago, but he was already as tall as I was and gaining. Not like that was hard to do. Someone in our family—hundreds of years back—had short genes and somehow I inherited them. I was the dwarf among giants in our family.

“Hey, sweetie,” Mom cooed from the couch, her eyes already moving back to her book. She had our arrival times memorized like business men memorize train schedules.

Travis walked in, head bowed low, his shoulders slumped and dejected. His dark hair had always had a slight curl to it, but now, with his head hung forward, it was a bit more pronounced than I remember it.

“Travis?” I asked, my voice a bit more worried than it probably should be.

His head snapped up, obviously surprised to see me there. His dark brown eyes widening like I had just caught him shoplifting. He didn’t say anything, he just stared at me before slouching back down into his contoured position in an attempt to get away from me.

“There are cookies on the counter for you two,” my mom said without looking up, “I would eat them before the others get home or you won’t be able to get a single chocolate chip.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Travis mumbled before walking past me, his head still dipped down.

Even his voice sounded low and dejected; it was almost the polar opposite of how he usually was. Well, up until a few weeks ago anyway, around his birthday. I guess turning fourteen opened up the door for teenage angst and crabbiness. It probably wasn’t a fair assessment considering I was at the tail end of my teenage angst and crabbiness, but I was going with it anyway.

“Why so glum, chum?” I taunted him as I followed him into the kitchen, draping my arm over his shoulder and ruffling his hair the same way I had done since he had grown hair.

“Why so irritating, Alexis?” he snapped, pushing me away from him a bit as he moved to try to fix the faux hawk he had been attempting to adopt.

“Big sister,” I said simply as I plopped myself onto one of the ancient, high back bar stools. “It’s a requirement.”

I snatched a cookie off the plate and gave him my biggest yes-I’m-trying-to-irritate-you grin, but he only shrugged and moved toward the room he and my brothers shared. He didn’t even bother to grab a cookie.

That wasn’t normal. Travis had always gravitated toward sugar. If it was within a ten foot radius, he could sniff it out like a hound dog. Mom had to put a fridge lock on the refrigerator when he was ten just to keep him from taking the chocolate syrup into his room.

Something was wrong and I was beginning to think it wasn’t an angst issue anymore.

“Trav?” I asked, all humor stripped from my voice. “Is everything all right?”

Travis stopped at my words, the sag in his shoulders tensing a bit before he turned to me.

“Alexis?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah?” My hand dropped as I lowered the cookie away from my mouth.

“Have you ever had to do something you didn’t want to do?” he began, his eyes darting uncomfortably around the kitchen. “Something that you knew was wrong?”

I just stared at him, my nerves reverting to butterflies that jittered through my nervous system. I didn’t like where this was going, this sounded way more serious than “I cheated on my history test”. I wasn’t sure I was qualified to answer this question and help him find a solution. By the look on his face, I could tell that I needed to make myself qualified.