Monrovia

The tension in the family car couldn’t be ignored as they passed the grassy island hedges that greeted them into their new town. Staring out her mom’s backseat sedan window, Kate sighed deeply in unease, she couldn’t believe her ‘luck’. Her hair flew past her face, beating her face with stings. But she barely cared. That was nothing compared to the pain that would be, of course, waiting for her in her new ‘home’. Like what her Mom had told her and her older and younger brothers two weeks earlier, on the same trip as they were on now

 “"Monrovia isn’t that bad a town, really, guys, its perfect place to start a new. No skyscrapers, for a first. I’ve checked the schools out, and they seem absolutely perfect, you’ll all start a couple days after we settle in, that’s Monday, so--” She had been interrupted by her younger son,  Asher, with his question concerning play parks, the newly divorced Marianne Lowry gave a satisfied laugh. “Of course there are play parks, Asher baby, and they’re a lot better than the ones in Vanes, because Monrovia is located somewhere near the ocean, would you believe that? A beach! After living so long in the city, a change like this would be great. The air is always fresh, the trees grow so big and green, the parks are actually real parks; not a cemented block of fountains and hotdog stands--” This time she had been cut off by her only daughter’s demand to ‘just get to the point.’ And so she did. She had explained the details Kate knew too well, about how perfect the job offer as some company’s franchise director will be, how the pay is just right, how the new house will be exactly how they need/want it to be, how the town will distract them all, though only temporarily, from all the troubles . . . the memories.

    Kate’s parents have always struggled to keep their marriage real and alive. But that struggle has always been in vain. Always about ‘responsibility’. Always about how they ‘should do it for the kids, at least,’ as her Father always said, since he was, actually, the more desperate one in their relationship. Willing to do anything to save it. Or, at least, he used to. The three Lowry children have heard that line countless times. A line that’s been hissed back between the couple all the time.  Silent tears . . . Muffled fights . . . Struggles . . . that was really all that filled the trying marriage. It wasn’t like that since the beginning, of course, Kate and her older brother, Bill, still remember the ‘old days’. Days when they would all eat out for no occasion, when they had picnics in their small handkerchief of a backyard and flew kites with their dad, when Dad would take Mom out for dinner, and would come home laughing and smiling. . . and they’d always bring them some goodies for gifts.

Slowly, though, the joy turned into impatience, and the impatience turned into antagonism. Right before Kate’s eyes she watched as her parents argued in whispers over the slightest things, be it in their own room at night, in the mall, or even while dinner. Whispers. Always in whispers. Sometimes Kate just wanted them to yell it out, instead of attempting to make it look like there’s nothing wrong. But if Kate was going to be honest with herself, in all her sixteen years, she never saw once, her Mother and Father do more than hug. Then Asher came, and their world was completely turned upside down. 

No one ever said that it was his fault. But Kate always felt that there was some connection. Deep inside she knew why, in spite of the obviously flimsy façade of a marriage, they tried so hard. For her. And Bill. But not for Asher. If they wanted to try for Asher, they’d have stayed together longer, Kate thought bitterly every time she reminisced about the topic, but no, he left when Asher was only a little baby, didn’t even bother to stay and watch him grow up. He left because he didn’t care.   

She had been ten years old when her Father, Christopher Lowry, moved out of their two-storey townhouse; the one where she had lived her whole life in, and into his own Father’s house, on the other side of Vanes city. Bill was twelve and Asher was only two years old.

They weren’t technically divorced when he moved out, mainly due to the reason that Marianne and he both believed that they only needed a few days--maybe weeks--space. But gradually, days flew by as weeks, and weeks passed as months, and before they knew it, years had passed. Both comfortable by the sovereignty, the independence, getting back together never crossed their minds again.

Christopher was free to visit them “anytime, any day” that was exactly how Marianne told her. “Your father won’t be living with us anymore; we’re not sure how long, though.” She said, “But I want you to remember, just because he won’t be with us all the time doesn’t mean you won’t be able to do things with him. He’ll always be your Daddy, no matter what happened between me and him. Dad and I will always love you. He can see you anytime, any day. I promise you that.”

But he never did. Sure, there were days when he would visit, probably to ask how they were, if they needed, wanted, anything. About once a year, if they were lucky. Sometimes more than a year. It broke Marianne’s heart, to watch Kate wait patiently for her Dad on the curb in front of their house, only to sit there; jumping every time she would see the same dark red Mazda her Father rode and sitting back down when it simply drove past her, for countless hours, and return to the house eventually, crestfallen. Her Father had called to say that he couldn’t come; business problems. When everyone in the family very well knew he had no business of his own.

It didn’t matter to Marianne much. She was a smart woman, finding a job as soon as her husband moved out, got the job in less than an hour. Not wanting to be dependent on anyone but herself. The troubles of raising three children single-handedly barely took a toll on her. To her, it felt so much sweeter than taking care of them without Christopher, the ‘soft-spoken’ leader. She fixed the house in whatever style she pleased, cooked whatever the hell she (and the kids) wanted. But on one snowy night, six months after Chris moved out, Marianne received a letter that almost tore her new perfect life. She was so close, so close. Chris stated quite clearly enough that he would not, would never; sign the divorce papers her lawyers sent him, that he transferred and moved to California, not stating how long he planned to stay there. She knew better than to tell her children that. Marianne didn’t bother getting help whatsoever. She could wait. It wouldn’t matter anyway, it’s just a piece of paper, she thought. In the eyes of the government, of people, she was still married to Christopher Lowry; but she knew in her heart, that they haven’t been for almost three years.

Now, after exactly six years since that letter came, Christopher finally gave in and signed the papers. Whatever his motives may be, she didn’t know nor cared. And though it didn’t mean much to her now than it would have years ago, she still rejoiced. She’s been free for six years, six half happy, half difficult years. As soon as she got the call from her lawyer, she made plans. Plans to leave the city, to start a new. She’s been meaning to do it for years, but never had enough cash. Excitement seeped into her, enthusiasm as well. And the one spot she’s had her eyes on for years was finally coming true. Monrovia. She’s read about the place, seen numerous pictures, watched videos, even visited the town itself a couple of times to find a good house. And two weeks earlier, she took the kids with her. Asher had been enthusiastic as always, energetic like the nine-year old he is; Bill had been optimistic enough, and showed sincere liking for Corner Beach, the town’s most beautiful and fresh beach; and Kathleen. . . Kate was like Kate: kept her emotions in check, never letting anything out. She kept up with the rest of the group with a tired look, coolly asking questions about the town’s government, the school systems, etc., but never even bothered to look up and admire the towns’ beauty, unlike her eager brothers.  

Of course, their separation had been hardest on Kathleen. Daddy’s little girl. Her playmate and confidant. So certain that ‘the terrible storm’ will pass one day, like always. But it never did. The hours Kate spent just figuring out ways to get them together again were innumerable. She never gave up when she was younger, so full of hope, so confident.

Then Christmases, birthdays, school programs, passed by like a blur, without him sending more than greeting cards. Never a visit. Kate eventually accepted it. She began to shun herself from her parents both, resenting her Father a hundred times more than her mother. The anger she felt for her mom was short-lived, after all, her Mother’s the one who stayed for them, supported them, cared for them, and did everything her Father will never do.   

But the drawback of her acceptance was a heavy one. The once cheerful, optimistic, comforting, happy little girl disappeared. And was replaced by a silent, detached and composed young lady. The bright lifting sea green eyes turned into the now-normal impassive. Always impassive. Her neglected golden hair went well with those expressionless eyes.

Her brother, Bill, on the other hand, took all this easier. His determination to stay strong was his way of coping. People often remark how very much he resembles his Mother, both in attitude and looks. Bill inherited, too, her calm, serene appearance. Long light brown hair usually tied up back. And the family sea green eyes, although, unlike Kate’s, are contagiously light they could brighten up a room full of disheartened people.

To Asher, it was as though nothing ever happened. And technically, in his life, nothing has. Far too young to even remember how life was with an actual father around, and far too young to care. For Asher, this is how life has been, since the beginning. He held no hard feelings for his father, and is always rather excited during the extremely rare visits he gives (This triggers Kate to roll her eyes like mad). And, parallel to his brother, much like his sister, he bears a significant resemblance to his father. Curly (like his Mom) golden hair, with deep sea green eyes.

Kate knew how much the move meant to her Mom, so as much as she hated it, she agreed with little complain. And Marianne, in return, pestered a lot less than with her sons.

Marianne took a sharp turn and Kate realized that they were finally here. Here, meaning, Monrovia. She was too focused on her IPod, listening to her favourite band. Grudgingly, she lowered the volume, took her headphones off, and tried to keep up with the conversation her Mother and brothers were deeply immersed in. Asher was nearly jumping in the front seat, excitedly asking his question,

“Is it a big house, Mom?”

“Hmm. . . Not very big, but--well--big enough for all of us,” She answered.

“Are there malls?”

“Of course there are, silly,”

“And computers? There’s got to be computers, I can’t stay anywhere with no computers.”

She gave an odd look. “Yes, baby, there are.”

“And TV?” Mom nodded wearily.

“What about schools? Are there schools, too, Mom?” Bill asked, grinning, humouring eager Asher. Asher hadn’t noticed the sarcasm, and lit up.

“Are there? Are there? Are there, Mom? You already told us there would be! Do we have to go? Do I?” Marianne shot Bill a look from the mirror.

“Yes,” She sighed. “You do. Of course, you do.”

     

      “Aw.” He sighed. “How long are we staying, Mom?”

This time Kate paid attention; this was a question even she has been dying to ask, only, she didn’t want to offend her Mother in a way. Marianne chose her words delicately.

“Well,” She took a deep breath, “it depends. If we like it, we’ll stay, if we don’t we’ll leave. But I doubt that of course, Monrovia is a very nice place. What do you think, Kate?”

Like earlier, Kate stared out the window. She had to admit it, it was a nice place. So much different from the big city she grew up in. The car passed by meadows of green and orchid purple. The much-boasted school seemed normal, with normal teenagers, though compared to the crowd she’s ran with, looked too tame. She saw a nice, shabby and dim cafe that looked like a good place to sulk in her free time. Almost in every road they passed, they still obtained a perfect panorama of the beach, the deep blue sea. Late afternoon Friday, the beach was jam-packed with teenagers, who probably just got out of school. Loud heavy-bass music, lights too bright or too colourful, dancing, so much dancing that it almost crushed her. Everywhere she turned, Kate saw laughter, rowdy dances, and teens drinking, and getting wild, -- obviously minors, cops must be soft here, Kate thought, for the love of God, watching them makes fools of themselves, it’s only six-thirty p.m.

“Kate?” Mom repeated.

She started, and looked away from the window, from the irritatingly cool picture. “Mmm?”

“What do you think, honey? It’s not bad, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kate answered sarcastically, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes. “Place’s perfect.” Marianne didn’t say anything, fearing that anything she would say might anger her daughter even more. Bill, as the famed peace-maker of the family, spun to face Kate, and gave her a glare, which Kate pointedly pretended not to see. However, when he nudged her in the arm, she couldn’t pretend anymore.

“What the hell?” She hissed.

“Can’t you at least try to be a bit enthusiastic? You have to admit it, Kate, place’s awesome.”

“That really depends on your perspective of ‘awesome’.” She heard him swear under his breath. She smirked. “Don’t want Mom hearing you say that, angel boy, now do you?” He repeated it.

Asher begun questioning again, about deeper topics, like about Marianne’s job, like the normal weather here, how different the people are, but the most troubling one, was"

“Will Dad come live with us now, Mom?”

Marianne choked. And Kate swore she felt the car stir in a different way for a split second. Ice shot Kate’s chest, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe, but she recovered quickly. And the ice was replaced by fire, bursting in her chest, like every other occasion where her Father is mentioned.

“What do you think, Asher?” Kate snapped. Temper rising. “Come on! How stupid can you get?”

“Kate,” Her Mom said calmly, looking straight ahead. “Kate, stop, please.”

She folded her arms, biting her tongue, and looked out the window, the superb view of the perfect sunset didn’t look as amazing as it would’ve five minutes ago. Before she did, however, Kate stole an innocent glance at Asher, sitting in front, face pale, possibly close to tears. And Bill, who looked like he was ready to break her in pieces. No other conversation was made throughout the remainder of the trip, for which Kate was grateful.

It didn’t take long to get to their new house. After a couple more turns, Marianne pulled over by the curb. She turned to face them, smiling, “Well, we’re here.”

Rows of two-storey houses packed the area. Mostly identical, save for the varying colors of peach, sky-blue, cream, pink and green. The one in front of them was a clean shade of cream. With a wide porch, two terraces on the second floor, and an attic. A smooth front lawn welcomed the Lowry family. The windows were cased in purple frames. A clean path of stone was made from the driveway to the simple front door.

Their small moving truck was already parked at the driveway, and items were already strewn on the ground, but the more important furniture’s were all inside now. Everyone but Kate left the car, carrying the bags they had with them, Bill eagerly went inside, but Asher dragged his Mom with him to the backyard to inspect the surroundings. Half-heartedly, Kate flung her backpack on her shoulder, and hopped off the car.

Scrutinizing the exterior with utmost dislike, Kate spun around, and noticed a gang of teenagers, possibly around her age or older, the few girls were wearing cropped tops revealing their stomachs, and had belly-button piercings, wore dark eye-liners and heavy make-up. The guys didn’t look much different, black outfits with pierced ears, noses, and lips, disturbing smiles, long and rowdy hair, etc. . . .  They came striding in her direction, then stopped in a nearby deserted alley between two large empty buildings, they leaned the against the wall, some facing her, some not, and started something like a party, a girl opened the icebox she was carrying and started handing out drinks, another guy started a small yet very noticeable bonfire.

One guy in particular, she noticed, was eying her with great interest. Tall. He had deep black shoulder-length hair, wore a black cropped vest over his thin long-sleeves, and was one of the few who had no pierced anything. A shrewd smile turned on his lips. And for some reason, Kate felt a wee bit uncomfortable. She was no stranger to crowds like these, though she was smart enough never to be one, her so-called friends enjoyed them, of course, going--or sneaking--out at night, coming home at three in the morning, clubs with raucous auras, making out with guys they’ve met for only barely a quarter of an hour or so . . . It all disgusted Kate thoroughly. And adding the fact that she was never really desperate for friends, smart though silent and inscrutable, she ended all ties with them months before the big move.

Rolling her eyes, she walked to the house faster than she normally would, 

Marianne stayed true to her word. The house wasn’t big, nor was it small. The walls were painted peach, which was fading. Kate met the sole flight of stairs as soon as she entered. After the doorway on the right side, there was a small living room, everything fixed and complete, the next room was the kitchen, which was connected to the dining room by a small passageway. Then to the left side of the main hall, a door led to the basement, and one to the garage. Kate heard her brothers upstairs, laughing, and went up herself. Four rooms. One for Marianne, one for her, one for storage or guest room, one to be shared by Bill and Asher. The share would be no trouble on their part; since secretly, they’d rather stay with each other in a room than with Kate. Far from their room, she could already hear their voices.

“--no fair! I want that side!” Asher yelled.

Bill laughed it off. “Fine, selfish little brat. It’s yours,”

Asher rejoiced and thanked him. Kate passed their room with only a small glimpse. Clothes were strewn all over the floor, Asher’s toys scattered from their boxes, and empty moving boxes were pilled untidily in one corner. It was so unlike Bill to be untidy, since he was the clean-freak of the house. Bill caught her eye as she was just about to leave, and grinned. She didn’t grin back, and simply strode to her room.

“Ian,” She breathed as soon as she entered her room, located at the far end of the hall. A tall man with flaxen hair and gray eyes welcomed her to her room. Kate had almost forgotten, due to the apprehension of the move itself that her closest friend, one of her only friends, actually: Ian Stewart, for reasons unknown, had volunteered to help with the moving. She actually smiled. “I almost forgot,”

 Ian fixed one of the boxes which contained all her prized books on top of the desk. The whole room seemed perfectly fixed, except there were still a few unopened boxes. A small bed with gray and white covers, a bedside table with her favourite lamp on it, a dresser, the double-cabinet that’s been with her for as long as she can remember, and her small, worn-out beanbag.

“Hello, princess,” Kate blushed. ‘Princess’ has been her pet name since she was a little girl, christened by her Father. Ian had been one of her Fathers good friends, before her parents’ separation, that is. It barely took him a second to take Marianne’s side, pointing out that he left her, not the other way around, which he was spreading at that time. Ian gave a good-natured grunt, lifting yet another box and placing it on her bed. “You seem surprised,” He remarked.

“Well,” She smiled broadly, “I did just say that I almost forgot you came,”

He chuckled. “It’s a good place, you know.” Wiping his hands on his pants. “Looks peaceful enough.” Kate snorted.

“Maybe in your eyes, look out the window,” And he did, the sight of a teenage bonfire party made him smile, “What do you think now?”

“Aw, bonfires are completely acceptable . . . enough.”

“But, to be honest,” Kate said in a small voice, moving beside him, staring out. “Monrovia’s not bad at all. I just wish . . .”

“What?”

“I wish you could stay . . . here . . . with us,” she finally admitted.

“And where, little girl, do you expect me to move then? Here? With you and your Mom?”

 With both of them laughing, he put his arm around her shoulder. Kate felt that bubbly sensation, one that she feels every time she and Ian have these conversations, “We have an extra room there, a ‘guest room’. I’m sure you won’t mind all the boxes and rats and dirt--”

“--it’ll be like a mansion room compared to my apartment, I know,”

“I was not going to say that, Ian!” She exclaimed, amused yet outraged all at once.

“I don’t think Chris would like that idea very much, though,”

Kate stiffened, and her face hardened. Ian sensed the change, and realized what a stupid thing that was to say. “He doesn’t matter. He has no right at all. We’ll do whatever we want, whether he likes it or not.” She sighed later on, wanting to forget what he just said and change the subject. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

His face saddened. “Me too, I’ll miss all of you.”

“But you’ll miss me the most, right?”

“The least, actually,” She stared at him, hurt. He took delight watching Kate, usually so pokerfaced, now filled with the dismay of the thought of him not missing her. “Just kidding,” She nudged him with her elbow, after, though, inexpressive once more. Kate rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. Only to find herself stunned, because when she opened them later on, a black starry blanket replaced the fiery red sky. A choking sensation filled her chest. She watched as the moving men piled inside the van they used coming here, and she knew their time was up.

“Time to go, Ian,” Kate drew away from his hold, face emotionless and voice blank as usual.  “I think they’re waiting for you.”

He took a deep breath, nodding grudgingly. “I guess it is,” They both made to leave the room, walking slowly, dreading every single step. Barely a footstep out the doorway, Ian stopped walking and faced Kate, a forced smile on his face. He gripped her shoulders meaningfully. “It would be better if you don’t come down, I think,” Kate’s eyes fell down. Ian knew her all too well, if she were to come downstairs, watch Ian’s retreating car, she doubted whether she had it in her not to cry. And she hated crying, as she barely ever does. So with lots of force, Kate nodded wordlessly.  “Don’t give me that look, princess, it’s not like we’ll never see each other again.”

“Will you visit?” She asked in a small, child-like voice. An absurd question, of course. After all, they were the ones who moved, not him. Nevertheless, Ian chuckled.

“Of course, I can’t stand being away from Marianne for too long,” He winked, she stomped on his foot. Kate, and possibly only Kate, knew Ian’s profound affection towards her mother. And as much as she likes Ian, and adores him more than she ever will with her Father, Kate wasn’t exactly sure if she wanted them together. “Things will work out, Katie; just stop being such a pessimist for once.” After he gave her a hug, and a quick kiss on top of her head, he headed down. Kate watched him miserably.

Author's Note

first chapter of my family drama story! Feedbacks?