FicWad

Dad, Mrs. Way, Mikey, Geetard, one bell boy, our gazillion suitcases and I managed to squeeze into the elevator. Mom and her lover stayed down to organize their group or some shit, I wasn't listening, I was too busy wishing one of them will trip and fall.

"So on what floor is room 567?," I asked casually, staring directly at Geetard who mouthed 'fuck you' to me.
Smiling, I scratched my nose with my middle finger.

"Why?," my dad scrunched his face.

"My lucky number so I wanna know how far we are"

"Since when it's your lucky number?," dad looked down at me, shifting the baseball hat on his head.

"It's always has been", I traced the row of elevator buttons with my hand, "And you call yourself a dad"

"Well this hotel has 600 rooms and 15 floors," Mikey squinted, "If we assume the first two are the kitchen, lobby and the hall then that leaves us with 13 floors," he shifted his narrow eyes from right to left in the attempt to calculate this in his mind, "so if there's about 30 rooms on each floor mmm...Then room 567 will be in the upper 4"

"And you're failing math why?," I teased him.

The bell boy shifted behind the trolleys before answering, "Room 567 is on the 14th floor, miss"

I thanked him and smirked at Geetard again, he avoided my gaze, my dad however watched us intently and with interest so I punched a few buttons instead.

"Viola!," they exclaimed in unison.

"What?," I shrugged indifferently
After the elevator stopped on every single floor I punched the number to, it finally pinged our floor.

"Suite 345, the Ways," the bell boy announced in a bored tone to his voice, opening the wooden door with the card and handing it to Mrs. Way.
Dad and I hung back at the door way while the guy unloaded their luggage and gave them general direction about the hotel.
"Follow me please," he grabbed our trolley and rolled it a bit further down the hall to room 350, announcing it in the same bored tone he used before while opening the door to our peachy colored suite.
"You can call room service from every phone in the suite at any time at night or day, house keeper will arrive every day at 1 o'clock and leave at 1.30, breakfast is served in 10 AM, lunch in one o'clock and dinner at seven, the pool closes at 11 pm,"", he unloaded the luggage with swift moves, "After that you need a special permission from the manager, as guests of our hotel you're welcomed to enjoy our spa and gym," he finished with the suitcases and stood by the door waiting for a tip.
My dad pulled his black leather wallet out of his back pocket and tipped him generously, "Enjoy your stay"

I stretched my arms and sighed before dumping myself on the soft peachy sofa, "So do we have any plans for tonight?"
"Dinner with the Ways," dad wheeled his and mom's luggage to the closet and started to unpack her shit.
Groaning, I felt for the remote control under my ass, "Why we have to always hang with the Ways? The Ways that, the Ways this, fuck the Ways, lets do something just the three of us"

"First, watch your language," I rolled my eyes, like he never swore, "Second, the Ways are our close friends and third I thought you're getting along with Gerard and Mikey"

Failing to find the remote control I walked over to help him with the unpacking, "Mikey and Mrs. Way are OK but I don't like the rest of the family"

Dad stopped what he was doing and focused his attention on me, "That's a first"

"Seriously," I hung up his suit blazer next to mom's red dress, "I just don't like them"

He hummed, his face hidden behind the baseball cap as he bent down to organize the shoes in their proper places, "Any particular reason?"

I shook my head," I just don't like them"

He sighed, "Just be civil and stop calling him Geetard"

Yeah right! He has Geetard written all over his face.

After helping him unpack, I dragged my suitcases to the attached room, it was too peachy with a dreamy king sized bed, a TV set, a cream colored sofa and a big window facing the central park.
I stood by the window for the longest time, it seems like I'm always standing by the window these days, waiting for something behind the glass, observing people I didn't even know.
I couldn't even observe the New Yorkers rushing down the street below my window, they looked tiny from my position by the window and I couldn't properly analyze their faces.
A sudden panic waves crushed me under their tide, the street looked busy and buzzed with excitement and life yet up in my room everything was still and only an echo of the life I saw was heard, it was like I went deaf and it scared me so I reached for the pill bottle I always kept close to me and shut my eyes, leaning my forehead on the cold glass.
Feeling my muscles relax I finished unpacking my things into the cream wardrobe and headed for a long steamy shower, after which I crawled into the bed and the soft sensation of the sinking mattress under my body, the blankets wrapped every inch of me with warm and airy kindness, I fell asleep only to be woken up by mother, she was already dressed and her hair was done high on her head, "Honey get ready it's dinner time"
I yawned and covered my head with the blanket, "Velvet, get up sweetie"

"Fine! I'm getting up," I exclaimed in annoyance, "You don't have to repeat it 30940 times"

"God Viola," she puffed and I heard the door shut behind her.

I stretched again but finally crawled out of bed to the wardrobe, I couldn't decide what to wear since I had cuts and bruises all over my body to remind me of the event, the Diana on my stomach still glowed in red.
I looked myself over in the full length mirror by the wardrobe, I looked rather good in my tight clothes, they flattered my figure, the deep V neck might have been too deep, in fact it was so deep my black lacey bra kept making an appearance but I looked hot if I might say so myself.

"What the hell?!," was dad's first comment the minute I set my high heeled foot outside my room.

"What?," I looked down on myself, instantly alarmed that he spotted some of my cuts despite the fact I spent eternity disguising them, most of my make up was on my chest and collar bone instead of on my face, a sad thought altogether, no one should have to go through that, I mused to myself when I was about to smash that bottle as well.

"You're nude!," he walked around my mom, letting the tie she was tying around his neck, slide off.
I smiled in relief, "I'm not nude, dad"

"Where are the rest of our clothes then," he demanded with his arms on his hips and his eyes scanning me.

I swirled around myself, "Right here, dad"

"Can we go guys?," mom came up behind dad and rested her hand on his shoulder, "We don't want keep the Ways waiting"

I ignored her still smiling up at dad, "Your daughter is practically nude"

"Oh Dave," she looked me over and chuckled, "that's what kids wear nowadays"

"this is not acceptable," he glared at me while mom tugged on his arm and forced him to bend over so she can finish tying up his brown tie.

"OK dad," I walked over to mom's vanity and spritzed some perfume down my cleavage.

I felt people's looks on me as we made our way to the table, stares and whispers and disapproving smirks along side hungry gazes up and down my body, I smiled at the attention, bathing in it, feeling invincible instead of transparent.

"Good evening!," my mom called out in her melodic voice.

I glared at Mr. way who jumped up from his seat, his eyes focused on my mom and face glowing with joy. it was disgusting how they were parading their...Their...Whatever you call it nowadays, sickness tighten in my gut and tears clouded my sight, I met Geetards eyes for a split second before he lowered his eyes to the plate, picked his fork and laid it back down.
I couldn't stand seeing how dad was shaking his dirty hand, who knew where it was, I circled the table to occupy the empty seat next to Mikey who stared at me with his jaw hanging quite low, "God Mikey close that mouth of yours"
He hung his head down and grabbed the napkin that was on his plate to fiddle with it frantically, I too followed his example and stared down at my lap until everyone were settled.

I made myself space out during most of the dinner, aware that the looks and the words which are exchanged around the table are the complete opposite from what's boiling underneath the surface, yet not letting myself feel the complete meaning of all of this, instead I listened to Mikey babble on and on about the smashing pumpkins latest CD and comic books and what Frank said in English class and what rude joke he heard on the subway, I nodded along and giggled at the appropriate places, inserting a word or two at the pauses when he chewed but my mind was screaming in agony at the fake act the people I believed to be the closes to me are putting up, for who? For the kids? The kids already know.
For the significant others? What's the point to pretend?
I studied Mikey's features, how he wasn't tainted by the knowledge, he was spared of sleepless night and tormented days, his life was as simple as a teenager life could be, crushing on girls, going to school, goofing around with friends. He wasn't carrying the constant burden of knowing, he was clean of it, he was pure.
I was jealous of it, I wanted to go back to what this used to be, to who I used to be, I wanted to shared with Mikey the life of a 15 year old we were both having, before I felt so dirty...But you can't turn back time, can you? No matter how much you want to undo or redo something, it belongs in the past, how funny it is that everybody says the past is in the past yet the past constantly hunts you down, the ghosts, the memories can take over your present and future.
People are scared of heights, spiders, needles, people. I find myself fearing the past, that one day it's gonna catch up with me and consume me, "Mikey, have you ever noticed...", but before I could drag Mikey down with me into the reality, my dad speaking my name caught my attention,"What?"

"I was just telling everyone how you want to audition for that play," he motioned with his fork around the table.

"What play?," Mikey chuckled, taking a giant bite of his bread stick.

"Oh don't mention it," my voice was barely audible.

"What was it about again?"

"Um just a silly school play," I looked frantically around the table, everybody leaned forward in their chairs to catch what was I saying, polite curiosity spilled on their faces, except for Geetard, he caught my gaze and strained his eyes, "It was about a family," I said meaningfully.

"But there's no play planned," Mikey frowned.

I shot my eyes back to Geetard's, begging for help silently before this entire thing goes to shit, a glimpse of understanding flickered in his face for a second, "Oh yeah that play"

I sighed in relief but Mikey carried on, "What play? I didn't hear about a play"

"It's for seniors only," Geetard said quickly but when he realized what said, he bit down on his lip, "Viola is the only junior they let audition"

I nodded along to everything he said, unaware that I was yet to exhale.

"I didn't even know you're such a good actress," dad rubbed my back gently before turning to the others, "I believed every word she said"

I smiled awkwardly, "Stop dad"

"What can't I brag about my star daughter?," he beamed at me.

"So Gerard, are you gonna try out too?," mom asked, "You were a great Peter Pan"

Geetard blushed, slouching a little back in his chair and shook his head.

I giggled as an image of chubby Geetard in his green tights floated before my eyes, man that was the best night of my life, I was sitting in the back laughing and yelling obscenities until they kicked me out, "Not a penny will I pinch. I will never grow a mustache," I swayed as the old familiar words floated from my mouth, "Or a fraction of an inch. 'Cause growing up is awfuller than all the awful things that ever were"

"Oh fucking stop," he grumbled, throwing his hands over his face.

"I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up," I belted out loudly.

"Who knew he actually meant it," his mom laughed, causing everybody around the table to laugh along but Geetard, he pouted and slided further in his chair.

"I didn't even heard about this play," Mikey insisted once the laughter died out.

"Well maybe if you ditched less,"Geetard smirked when his mom gave Mikey a look that totally meant grounded once he gets home.

"But I didn't," Mikey whined, "They're making this up"

Left without any choice I kicked Mikey under the table, he glared at us and as a sign of protest didn't say a word for the rest of the dinner.