Tales from the Garden of Eden (COMPLETED)

Chapter 4

I look down at my boots, knocking them together. That three hundred dollars had gone into these fur lined, sheepskin boots, with the excess hundred dollars I had pitched in and my parents had bought a nice camera for the trip. I hear my father call up to me, signaling dinner was prepared. We were having shrimp scampi, a delicious going away gift for me.

     Sighing, I pull my boots off and padded down the stairs in my blue fuzzy socks, not really sure if I am ready for this. Three weeks in Alaska alone is a lot, no matter how old I am. My father is dishing out buttered-drenched shrimp onto the angel hair pasta, the smell wafting through the open kitchen bombarding my nose with its savory aroma.

     My mother’s eyes are teary, because she never fails to get emotional about her children. “Honey get yourself some water to drink, Adam set the table already so just go ahead and sit down.” She smiles at me through red eyes, and I smile back and give her hand a squeeze as I brush past her.

     “You know mom, I’ve been gone before. And this is a school organized trip, nothing is going to happen because they’re terrified of the possibility of a lawsuit.” I put the glass under the water filter, and push the button. I don’t turn to look at her, instead staring at the cup fill with water.

     “I’m your mother, Eden, I’m going to worry about you no matter what you do.”

     “Yeah, yeah, I know. But don’t worry too much I’m very capable of handling myself.” I turn now, she is leaning over the island, looking at me with those same teary red eyes. Nothing really made me as uncomfortable as my mom crying, and with her eyes on me I fidgeted.

     My dad, noticing my discomfort, stepped in. He puts an arm around my mom and pulls her close, then smiles at me. “We’ll do just fine here, I’ll keep Lorraine from worrying too much.”

     I don’t respond, but smile and walk to the kitchen table, where I see that my brother has in fact laid out the silverware and I set my glass down in my usual seat.

     Adam, my younger brother of three years, chooses this moment to walk in. He greets me with a smile, a sign that he isn’t in a bad mood. “Has mom broken down yet?”

     “Nothing compared to what’s coming tomorrow I’m sure,” We share a knowing glance just as my parents come out of the kitchen, both holding two plates piled high with my favorite dish. They normally let us make our own plates and take them to the table ourselves, but I guess tonight warrants special circumstances. I sit down, my father puts a plate in front of me, and we bow our heads to pray.

     “Dear Father, we thank you for all that you have given us. Please keep Eden safe as she takes this journey and provide her comfort and wisdom in the duration of the trip. We ask that you bless this food in Your holy name, Amen.”

     “Amen,” We all chorus after my father’s prayer, my brother’s and mine strong, but whispered, and my mother’s is barely a squeak. We all look at her and smile, but we know it’s just a matter of time before her emotions become annoying to all of us. She knows it too, and sniffles and opens her eyes wide, apparently trying to apologize without talking.

     I get a few seconds before conversation starts, and use them to try and shovel as much scampi as possible into my mouth. It was perfect, as always, but you would expect nothing less from the owner and chef of the best seafood restaurant in town. I look up, and of course my mother is just looking at me, her napkin clutched to her chest like a talisman to keep her from crying. “If you’re not gonna eat that Mom, I will,” Adam says, his plate already half way empty, and it seemed that in another minute the whole thing will be devoured.