Friday, January 19, 2018

What Happened on Mom's Birthday (1/3)

Eva held the bottle of Vicodin in her hand, weighing her options. She could not take the pills, and pretend everything was okay like she had been for the past few years. Or, she could take them, and get on with it. The thing about committing suicide is that when you’ve decided death is the best way out it’s hard to change your mind. She opened the bottle of her mother’s medicine.
            “I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered. “Hopefully, you’ll forgive me.”
            Eva poured a handful of pills into her hand and stuffed them in her mouth. Taking several hard gulps with a glass of water she thought ‘This is how they do it, right? At least in the movies. Maybe I should have taken them one by one?
            “That should be enough. Well, more than enough.”
            Closing the medicine cabinet, Eva looked into the mirror noticing the puffy, red areas around her eyes. Obvious evidence that she’d been crying. She Splashed cold water onto her face a few times trying to decrease the swelling. If anyone asked, she would just say she had allergies. That sounded stupid, even to Eva, but who cared? She wouldn’t have to keep up the charade for too long.
            ‘Now for part two…’
            There was a knock at the door, and then the doorbell rung throughout the house. It had to be her sister Natasha. ‘Impatient as ever,’ Eva thought as the doorbell rang again before she could even make it down the hallway.
            “It’s about time!” Natasha said excitedly. “We have to set up for the party!”
            Looking around the house, Natasha noticed that there were no decorations, no cake, and something seemed wrong with Eva.
            “Well, it’s not like setting up for a party will take too much time, if it’s the both of us,” Natasha smiled brightly.
            Eva was suddenly reminded of a song by her favorite band, Paramore:
                        ‘If I smile with my teeth, I’ll bet they believe me
                        If I smile with my teeth, I think I believe me
            She thought it was amazing how they can make an album that seemed mostly about depression sound so upbeat. But maybe that was the point.
            “What’s wrong with your eyes, Hun?” Natasha asked reaching up to touch her sisters still slightly puffy eyes. Eva swatted her sister’s hand away saying “I think it’s just allergies. They’ve been like this all day.”
            “You’ve never had allergies, but if you say so,” Natasha watched as Eva walked over the wine cabinet and poured herself a glass. “You’ve never been much of a wine drinker, either.”
            “Maybe I want to take a break from appletini’s…?” Eva said with a hint of annoyance.
            “Are you sure you’re alright? You’re moving kind of slow, today.”
            “Yeah, I’m fine. I just took some allergy medicine. Maybe they’re making me a little drowsy.”
            “Should you be drinking after taking them?” Natasha asked suddenly feeling alarmed at her sister’s lack of concern.
            “I’ll be fine,” Eva smiled for the first time that day. ‘Vicodin and alcohol are normally a bad match, but I’m not planning on not waking up.’
            Natasha was almost positive that something was wrong, but didn’t want to push the issue and make it worse. She’d done that in the past with other people who ended up not talking to her for days at a time. “Okay. Well, I’m going to start on the cake. D’you think you’re alert enough to put up—”
            “Yeah, I got it.”
            Natasha rolled her eyes as she turned away from Eva. “Thanks…” She decided to bring up her sister’s strange attitude up with their father when she got home. ‘No sense in making their mother worry on her birthday.’
            It had been a few minutes and Eva was feeling really tired. ‘Must be working,’ She thought as she hung up the string of letter that spelled out Happy Birthday. ‘I should have done this the first time.’
            As Eva was unsteadily attempting to pin the Happy Birthday sign on the wall, she noticed that someone was in their back yard. Thinking it was one of the neighbor’s kids trying to retrieve their football—for the twenty-seventh time that week—she was shocked to see an adult standing there, so still.
            Staring at her.
            The combination of the drugs and alcohol must have been really kicking in now. Eva was unable to recognize any distinguishing features about the person. They seemed to be wearing all-black winter clothing, which would make sense as it was snowing outside. However, Eva was unable to see their face properly. All she could see was a blur. But then she realized, the person’s face was the only thing that was blurry. The rest of them—their clothes, even the small logo on their hat—was still clearly visible. And they looked familiar.
            “Hey, Tasha!” Eva tried to sound nonchalant about this bizarre person on the other side of the window. “When are Mom and Dad getting home?”
            “They should be here in about thirty minutes with Benji. Why?”
            “Just wanted to know if I was making good time.”
            Natasha walked into the living room, wiping her hands with a paper towel. “The ‘Happy’ side is lower than the ‘Birthday’ side. Could you…who is that?”
            “You see them, too?”
            “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious that they’re there when they wear all black in the snow.” Natasha’s temper was beginning to rise faster than the temperature in the oven. Not being one to mess with, she went to the back door and opened it wide, yelling “I don’t care who you are, if you don’t leave, I’m getting my dad’s shotgun! I’ll call the police when you’re dead!”
            Normally, that would scare people away. Really, Natasha’s yelling could have caused most people to grow a tail and run away with it between their legs. But not this time. They start slowly walking towards the door, one step at a time, as if they were only now learning how to walk.
            Natasha closed the door and locked it, “I’m going upstairs to get Dad’s gun! I need you to make sure all of the doors and windows ar—”

            CRASH

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