Through Glass(7)

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice coming out flat from nerves.

Travis sighed and continued to dart his eyes around, the constant movement was making me uncomfortable. Why couldn’t he just look at me?

“Just that, Alexis, some of my friends are making me do something I don’t want to do.”

I sighed heavily and jumped down from the barstool to walk toward him, grateful when his eyes finally stopped their frantic dance to look at me.

“You know they can’t make you do anything, right?” I said, my voice low enough to keep Mom out of any conversation.

I could already tell by the way Travis was fidgeting that he wasn’t interested in eavesdroppers, either. And Mom, as much as I loved her, was a pro in that department.

“Lex…” he began, that irritating whine he has had since he was five back in his voice.

I held one finger up to stop him in his tracks, my eyes narrowing dangerously.

“No, Trav, they can’t. They can’t. You have to make your own decisions, no matter how hard they are. And trust me, sometimes they really, really suck.”

He looked at me intently for one minute as I tried to get my brain to come up with some perfectly worded gem that would take all his worries away, but nothing was coming.

“Yeah,” he said, his shoulders shrugging back into their dejected sag. “It does suck.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came and, before I knew it, the front door banged open; three more sets of feet pounding into the kitchen, giving Travis the opportunity to escape back into his room.

I listened to the boys fight over cookies as I stared at my brother’s door, wishing I could help, but not knowing how. I was also silently hoping any kids I would have would just skip over the teenager angst stage.





“Aunt Jenny? Mom, you can’t be serious?” I whined as I scrolled down the long list of graduation invitations I had left to send out.

Even though graduation was less than a month away, I had now procrastinated enough that some of my relatives may be upset. Or may not come at all, which in the case of Aunt Jenny, was preferable.

“Yes, honey,” my mom sighed, the stress in her voice heavier than usual. “She’s your father’s only sister, it’s required.”

Mom turned from the never ending wind that pounded against the window to glare at me. Her hair almost looking as grey as the wispy clouds outside. The wind hadn’t stopped for the past few days, it had simply gotten louder and angrier, and we weren’t alone, either. All the way up to Montana, crazy winds had been reported, some even triggering two mile wide tornadoes in Kansas. My mom had been staring out the window all day, almost as if she was expecting death and destruction to descend on us at any moment.

“But she smells like cats,” I whined as I pushed the list back toward her.

“I have nothing to say on that front,” she said as dead pan as possible, even though I could see the smile trying to sneak onto her lips.

“At least I know you agree with me.” I leaned back in the high back bar stool I sat in.

“True or not, I wouldn’t actually say that about someone, Alexis, and neither should you.” She looked up at me, her emerald green eyes narrowing dangerously.

The shade of my eyes was the only thing I had inherited from her and, sometimes, having them look back at me was a bit unnerving.

“Sometimes, someone has got to stand up for other people. You can’t let bad things happen to those around you. You can’t always hide in the shadows.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m one to hide in shadows,” I laughed, I may not be miss popularity, but I certainly didn’t hide behind people, either. My mom obviously didn’t think it was funny. She only scowled at me.

“There is always enough time to make yourself a better person, Alexis.”

“A little deep for Aunt Jenny and her cats, don’t you think?” I said, tapping the pen against the yellow laminate countertops as I leaned toward her.

“I wasn’t only talking about Jenny, Alexis. You are growing up; you need to start thinking about these things.”

I rolled my eyes at her in that over-exaggerated teenager way that even I was beginning to find uncomfortable and then went back to writing return addresses on the large pile of cream colored stationary envelopes piled in front of me.

As much as I hated to admit it, my mom was right. She tended to be right, of course, but I would never tell her that. Maybe in ten years, but not now. Besides, I kind of hated that uncomfortable tingle that had moved up my spine at her reprimand.

I knew I needed to be a better person, step out of that teenage world of irresponsible prejudices and choices to become—dare I say it—an adult. It wasn’t right to dislike someone because of their cats or even to say so. The fact that I had even done so made me feel dirty inside.

I opened my mouth to apologize just as a loud crash sounded from the front room, followed by at least three, loud, little boy voices running over each other.

“Oh, for goodness sakes!” Mom practically yelled, dropping her pen and running toward the living room. “If I find one thing out of place, I am cutting off fingers for my little finger collection!”

I laughed and went back to my pile, the yells from the living room only increasing as my mom discovered whatever disaster had taken place.