My Wish Upon A Star

Chapter 7 - What Came Out of Your Vagina

Chapter 7

What Came Out of Your Vagina

I didn’t lock the doors of my rental car, as I stepped out of it, slightly glaring at the house I was parked in front.

No one was going to try to steal the box of steal. No one was stupid enough to come close to this house. The reputation of my parents followed them.

Sighing, I dragged my grumpy self to the front door and knocked loudly.

I hated coming here but I was too much of a hypocrite bitch to not visit now and then. Unlike most other Americans household, I hadn’t had to come for Christmas to see them, since they weren’t celebrating it and all, but it was almost the month of February now and I hadn’t come to see them since… October. Damn, it felt like yesterday for all I cared. Sure, I called them and they called me, but going there, actually seeing them… ugh.

Fuck I hate coming here.

            The front door opened to reveal my father. I put on my best fake smile. “Hello Dougie.”

            “Danika, Sweetheart,” he greeted and embraced me, grinning widely. I tapped his back lightly and almost said “there, there” like Sheldon Cooper, but kept myself in check. 

            “Danika! You’re here,” my mother squealed and rushed towards me. My father let go of me and I was in my mother’s arms the next second.

            “Sharon, nice to see you,” I uttered and did the tap on the back thing with her too.

            She laughed when I said her full name. My parents always thought it was funny that I called them by their first name. I don’t think they realized I did it because I couldn’t bear actually stating we were related.

            Stan and Carole were standing a few feet away, smiling at me. I smiled at them. It was more genuine than the smile I gave Melinda who was holding her three months old baby, standing beside them.

            Ugh.

            Let’s pause and analyse the nice picture.

Growing up with polygamist parents was so complicated when it came to presentations. The house was always full of people. My parents, they had boyfriends and girlfriends over boyfriends and girlfriends. It was a continuous stream of new genitals to take out for a spin. There was a lot of people coming and going out of the house. When I was in fourth grade though, Stan and Carole did the coming but not the going. It wasn’t such a bad thing. They were older than my parents—right now my parents were in their early forties and Stan and Carole were in their early fifties—so strangely they felt more like parent figures than my own parents ever had.

And, when I was eighteen and left the house—thank god I wasn’t there to see this—Melinda was the new addition. A thirty year old bimbo. Let’s just say I didn’t exactly like her.

            And now, Melinda had a kid. When she got pregnant, I didn’t ask who the father was. Honestly, I just didn’t want to know. And part of me thought that maybe she didn’t even know.

            “Come on in, Sweetheart,” my mother pressed, dragging me by the arm.

            Why had I come here again? Because I was too much of a hypocrite to tell them how I really felt and how hard it was for me to see them. Of course, they were my parents, so I had to see them, I had to love them. That’s what made this so much harder.