"Is everything okay?"
We were a private family, things that happened in the house weren't discussed outside of it. One year Angelica and I thought we could avoid the sadness of her birthday by going out to eat without our father. He was not happy when we got home to say the least.
"Yes." I answered, leaning my hand on the armrest, attempting to calm my rapidly beating heart.
Didn't work.
Droplets of rain began to fall, a slight drizzle soon turning into a windy downfall.
It was raining the day Angelica was born.
Despite me thinking Eros and I made quite a bit of progress today, I knew it'd still be a while before he completely opened up to me, and me to him, so when he spoke again, I was more than surprised.
"I'm walking you to the door," Eros announced, as my house came into view, a wide array of brightly colored balloons that hung on the porch, next to my tall father that stood there, leaning up against the doorway of the front door, a glass of brandy in a hand.
Why was he standing out here?
Hell, I took three deep breaths, I had to calm myself, I could not appear this way in front of him. Even when the car was parked, my hands struggled to unclip my belt.
But Eros was out of the car and opening my door before I even grabbed my bag. "Is that your father?" He grabbed my forearm, roughly pulling me out of the car and slammed his car door, tugging me to follow him to the house, pulling me through the wet world, a safety in the chaos.
Eros didn't know about my father- no one really did. They all just assumed he had struggled with his girls, they didn't know what happened behind the closed doors.
"That's my father Eros," I affirmed, coming to stop in front of him, where Eros extended his ringless hand with a cheerful smile.
"Hello Mr. Black, my name is Eros, I'm one of Alice's-" Eros' eyes flickered over me momentarily, "friends."
He said it with permanent displeasure, obviously only saying it for the sake of my father.
My father didn't take Eros hand, instead, eyed it warily. "I didn't know Alice had friends- more than one that is," he turned his attention to me. "You already have one in the kitchen."
I made a face. "I only have one friend," I felt Eros' steely gaze, "and I know for a fact-" I faltered.
Would my friend- my only friend, Ryder freaking Thompson invade my privacy the one time I minded he did? Would he think that this was a kindness, and not a pain in my behind? Could he be that pure?
"Who's here?" I asked, shifting from foot to foot, scrutinizing my father's, unexpected well-groomed appearance, from his neatly parted hair down to his freshly polished dress shoes.
"Ryder," my father beamed, "didn't know you guys were fucking."
My jaw- dropped. "We aren't fucking," I spluttered, the word sour in my mouth. "I'm not dating anyone Dad, nor am I fucking anyone!"
My father crossed his arms and peered down at me with accusing eyes. "Well if you guys aren't fucking, get rid of him."
Gritting my teeth, I moved past my father into our lonely home, not very surprised to see banners strung across the walls leading to the kitchen, blue and green, Angelica's favorite colors.
I could've spotted his mess of curly dark brown hair anywhere. He was hunched over a lovely cake, placing a few stray candles on the top. "Ryder," I groaned, titling my head as he turned to face me, a sheepish grin pulling at his lips.
"You're late," he waggled his finger at me, "You too Eros," he addressed the boy behind me. "What were you guys doing anyways," he winked. "Are my best friends hooking up?"
I ignored this, as did Eros too, "Why are you here Ryder?" My voice was hushed, as if I was afraid my father would hear me.
He didn't.
"It's Angelica's birthday, you honestly thought I'd leave her to struggle with your lame attempts to celebrate?"
My father came walking into the kitchen leaning on the fridge and crossing his arms.
"Both of you should go," I slapped at Ryder's hands as he finished lighting the candles on top of the cake, "Thanks for your help Ryder, but we like to celebrate this things with only family."
He gave me a puzzled expression, "Alice, your sister tells me she hasn't had a good birthday in four years- I'm giving her this."
I stared at him in stunned silence; how he got Angelica to tell him all this was beyond me, but Ryder was so much of a kind person, of a good friend, he wanted to help my sister have a good birthday.
She came through the doorway, a picture of beauty and grace, tainted with the sadness that always seemed to come with this day. She smiled cooly at me, and her golden eyes flickered to Ryder, and the smile on her face became true and bright.
I loved this girl with all my heart, and it tore me to shreds to see that it was not I that brought her this unexpected amount of happiness, it was my best friend.
Ryder would never be able to understand how grateful I was for him.
There was a pause in the room, a silence, a period of unsure thoughts and shifts, that was broken by my father, "Well let's sing."
My eyebrows quirked up at this. He was being nicer than usual, he wasn't visibly drinking, nor was he breaking everything in the room. He started the song, singing gently, almost tenderly, something rare for him.
Angelica's eyebrows were slightly lifted too, as well as a full blown grin apparent on her face. Ryder promised my sister the best birthday yet, and he achieved what I could not, and I would always be grateful for that.
We finished the song and came again to an awkward silence. "I'll go get your gifts," I told Angelica, sparing Ryder and Eros stern looks that conveyed my need for them to behave, and speeded out of the room, taking the stairs by twos, grabbing the two boxes that were on my desk, and rushing back to them with a breathless smile.
"This is from Grandma," I handed her the box that was wrapped in pink-polka dot paper. She still stood by her cake, but slowly, my father had moved to her side, and I sat in the middle of Ryder and Eros, leaning my head against the cool skin of my arms on the counter.
She beamed at this; Grandma always gave the more sentimental gifts, and we were awfully susceptible to that kind of stuff. Under the wrapping was a brown box, and in the brown box was a yellow sundress.
Not just any yellow sundress- but the yellow sundress. The sundress that my mother had worn on her first day of school at USC, the sundress that created a stark contrast for a glorious photograph that remained in my planner, on my nightstand, anywhere I could put it.
The gasp that I made got caught in my throat, Angelica froze, and my father stepped back, his face suddenly void of the partial joy he had felt moments ago. The boys beside me seemed confused, but I'm sure it was dawning on them.
My father left the room.
He didn't like having reminders of his dead wife in the house, Grandma had all of our mother's things, and sometimes Grandma would send us some things, but never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined she would sent this, a dress we didn't even know existed.
An iconic dress.
"It's Mom's," she whispered, folding the material and hugging it close to her body. Her head ducked and she breathed in the material that was surely pungent with the perfume our mother could've used, once upon a time.
I was unable to form words, to tell her that this was fantastic, or that we should be wary of what our father was doing, so I just stared in awe, awe and silence.
And then Eros asked a very dumb question, in a very gentle voice, "What happened, to your mom?"
"She died," My father's voice was heard through the walls between the kitchen and the living room. He moved into the kitchen, his hand not just holding a glass, but the entire bottle of brandy. "It's obvious isn't it? When Angelica was born their mother suffered major blood loss and died." He laughed, and then hiccuped. Despite him starting to drink only moments ago, his voice was thick with the alcohol, and that only brought me even more anxiety, twisting my hair into tight coils.
I heard a shuffle as Angelica left the room, closely followed by Ryder.
Every year, without fail, our father blamed Mom's death on Angelica.
A hush fell on the group in the room, Eros didn't know what to say and I was too busy boiling over with anger at my father.
"Why'd you have to do that?" I asked him sharply, shooting him a withering glare.
He made a point to swallow a few gulps of the colored liquid before answering, "Because she killed your mother!"
I hardened this and clutched the counter for support.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" The word slipped through my lips before I could think it through, but it was out and I felt Eros' shocked gaze on me.
My father narrowed his eyes at me, carelessly dropping the bottle on the counter, it landed off-balance, tipping over and shattering on the floor.
This had me stepping back cautiously, I wasn't wearing shoes, who did in the house- neither was Eros, but he was sitting. My father was wearing shoes though, and stepped menacingly toward me, his shoes crunching the glass. "Alice, I am still your father and I do not appreciate the vulgarity aimed toward me."
I receded away from him, still angry, but suddenly afraid, "Dad, you know she didn't kill her," I pleaded.
"She did Alice Amelie Black. I lost the fucking love of my life, and then I was constantly reminded of her because your sister could've practically been her twin! Tell me that girl doesn't cause me constant pain!" His eyes were raging now, hate and loathing and feeling overcoming him.
He shouldn't be drinking, he never should be, they didn't pair well with his medications, they never did.
"She's your daughter!" I exclaimed, my attention slightly distracted by Eros leaving the room quickly, squeezing my hand on his way out. "And you might as well be killing her you've caused us so many problems!"
"Problems?" He retorted, "I've given you and her a roof over your head and clothes on your back-"
He was cut off by the sound of my cold laughter, "You're joking. I've been providing for Angelica and I for years Dad- years."
His jaw clenched and unclenched as he paced on the glass, "You both are so fucking ungrateful."
"We have nothing to be grateful for," I said.
He ignored my words, continuing his pace along the kitchen, turning to me finally with saddened eyes, "I try Alice, I fucking try, it's just hard sometimes," he was now pleading with me, but I just wanted him out of the house. I wanted him far from Angelica and I, where perhaps, we could be happy and wouldn't need to fear him.
"Try harder," I advised him.
His back was now turned to me, and he paused in his rapid pace, perhaps thinking this over.
He wasn't. He left the kitchen and I heard the rumble of his car seconds later.