Her Suicide Note

Chapter Fourteen

Adrian
I have to drag my mom out of the house at 4:45.
"I should've gone with the slacks and blouse!" Mom shouts. "I should've gone with the slacks and blouse!"
I hook a couple of fingers around the thick straps of her sundress and lift her up, slamming the front door closed. I don't let go until we're halfway down the sidewalk. It's unseasonably warm for late November which makes me question why Mom wants the alternative outfit.
"I should've at least put on stockings. Do you know if any of her family members are Jewish or Muslim?" Mom asks. "Will they be offended if I showed my legs?"
I roll my eyes. "Mom, they're regular people that wear regular clothes." I think. She may have that one cousin that'll be covered from head to toe.
We've covered a few squares of sidewalk when Mom muses aloud. "I wonder how your father's Thanksgiving is going."
I try to keep my face impassive. Dad hasn't called to invite me to Thanksgiving dinner like I had thought. In fact, he hasn't called since three months after his divorce with Mom was final.
We finally make it to the door, a leaf wreath and a banner that says "Give Thanks" decorating the door.
"I wonder if they're big holiday decorators," Mom says as I ring the doorbell.
Chatter spills out as Bianca opens it. I choke on my breath a little. She's wearing a bright red long sleeved dress covered in lace that stops just above her knees. Her beautifully wild curls are tamed straight with two thin braids circling her head and disappearing toward the back. She's wearing her black rimmed glasses and her full lips shine with a sheen of lip gloss, her bare feet sporting fire engine red toenails.
"Happy Thanksgiving," my mom greets her, giving her a hug as Bianca pushes the glass door open.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Ms. Houston," Bianca replies, squeezing her.
When they break away, Bianca turns to me and gives me the brightest smile I think I've ever seen on her face. "Hey, Adrian," she says, surprising me with a hug. She smells like peaches and I wonder if it's the soap she's used or the lip gloss. "Come in."
Papier-mâché turkeys in oranges, reds, and yellows adorn the ceiling, the banister of the staircase strung up all the way to the top with fake leaves.
"Ms. Houston, the women are in the kitchen," Bianca informs my mom before grabbing my hand. "The guys are in the living room watching football."
All I can do is nod. She's holding my hand. She's holding my hand!
I try to quiet my thoughts as she leads me into the packed living room with males of all ages. The kids are sitting on the floor, the grandfathers and great uncles are sitting on the couch and single recliners and everyone else is standing.
Despite the differences of skin tones, they're all touching shoulders and joking with each other. I've never seen family members this happy around each other. Not even Mason's and his family seems perfect, but I think that's the problem: they're trying too hard.
"I didn't know you were half black," I whisper in her ear.
"Yep," Bianca says before looking at me with a raised, challenging eyebrow. "Problem?"
I straighten. "Of course not."
"Oh, okay," she mutters giving me one last look before sticking her fingers in her mouth, letting out a clear, sharp whistle. When everyone turns to her, their eyes immediately slide to me. I feel my hand, damp with sweat, slip from her grasp a little. "Guys, this is a friend of mine, Adrian LaMont," Bianca introduces.
"You look like a football player," a man says, coming up to us. He's as dark as fudge and his hair is shaved close to his head. What he lacks in height, he makes up for in muscle making it seem as if he does double doses of steroids.
"Yes, sir," I answer.
"Cool!" A little boy with blonde hair and green eyes exclaims, the other boys around him nodding in agreement. "Could you pick all of us up at the same time?"
There are five of them, I doubt it unless balancing at least two of them on my legs count.
"Let's not test that question, okay, Alex?" Bianca says, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Man, you're tall." This coming from a teenage boy gifted in the height department himself. He can't be more than 14-maybe about to hit 15-and is already kissing six feet.
"How tall are you, young man?" an elderly man asks sitting in the middle of the three cushioned couch, keeping a brown cane situated in front of him.
"6'7, sir," I answer, receiving low, impressed whistles from seemingly everyone in the room. Even the baby boy on the coffee table in the car seat looks shocked if his O-shaped mouth is any indication.
"Alright, I'm in the kitchen if anyone needs me," Bianca says, her hand slipping completely from mine. I grab her wrist.
"Who are all these people?" I whisper, panicked.
"Ask and find out," she says. "I would introduce them, but there's too many." She shrugs as if to say, What can ya do? and disappears into the kitchen.
"Hi, I'm Alexander and I'm eight," "Alex", the green-eyed blonde boy greets as I sit down next to him on the floor. He sticks his hand out for a shake. It feels extremely small in mine. "And this is my best friend, Zach. His parents are stuck in New York so he's having Thanksgiving with us." He points over his shoulder to a boy sitting next to him, watching the TV. Alex leans in close to me as if about to share a secret. "He has a huge crush on Anca, so be careful: he's a biter."
I nod before leaning in a bit more and whispering back, "I'll keep that in mind."
As if hearing Alex's warning and wondering if I'll abide by it, the boy named Zach gets up and stands in front of me, arms crossed like he's a dad about to give his son a lecture.
He looks too little to be eight with a mop of dark curls on his head and brown eyes that are sharp and seem to have seen too much for his age. He taps his foot.
"I saw Ms. Bianca first," he states simply. "Have you known her your whole life?"
I shake my head. "No, I haven't."
This seems to please him. "Didn't think so. And I know she likes me back, so she's off limits."
"Zach, she's too old for you," Alex says tiredly as if they've had this conversation a million times before. "How are you guys going to manage a relationship when she goes off to college?" Zach shrugs. "But people do it all the time." He turns a cool gaze on me. "Stay away."
To put more emphasis on the statement, he kicks me in the shin and I try to keep the "Shit!" from leaving my mouth as he goes to sit back down.
"Hey, Zach, that wasn't nice," the elderly man scolds.
"Tell him, Grandpa Alain, tell him Bianca's mine," Zach says.
Mr. Alain smiles at him before turning to me and shaking his head as if to scoff, Kids.
When Bianca comes back in, Zach gravitates towards her like she's a magnet, the hearts in his eyes hard to miss. "Alright, men, dinner's ready."
Next thing you know, Zach latches onto her, his arms unbreakable around her waist. "Are you hungry, Zach?" Bianca questions, picking him up.
"Very," Zach replies enthusiastically.
Just not for the food, I think bitterly before shaking my head. I can't believe I'm competing with a second grader.
When Bianca turns away, Zach still in her arms, he glares over her shoulder at me, shaking his fist threateningly. This is war! he mouths before they disappear around the corner to the dining room.
"Don't sweat, Zach." I turn around as I'm getting up to see the tall teenage boy who commented about my height earlier. "He's been crazy about Bianca since forever." He sticks his hand out, gives mine a firm shake. "I'm Dante, cousin of Bianca's on the dad's side."
I nod as we walk beside each other. "Are you a freshmen, too?" I ask.
"Sophomore, actually," he states. "But because I haven't lost the baby fat in my cheeks, a lot of people think I'm younger than I really am. So you like my little cousin?"
I shrug. "Yeah," I answer shyly. "But she's really hard to win over."
"She's always been like that," Dante assures. "That's why all the boy don't come near her, she's not easy and they don't feel like doing the work."
"She's never had a boyfriend?" I question, finding this hard to believe. Her looks alone can make any guy coming crawling to her.
"Nope," Dante replies. "If you manage to win her over, you're gonna have to go through Trey next."
"Who's Trey?"
"I'm Trey." Dante and I stop cold and look up. It's the same guy I saw peeking at Bianca and I yesterday when we were on the back patio. His skin's the color of slightly burned caramel and his eyes are blue, though not as bright as Bianca's. His dreadlocks are a dark brown except for the tips and he stands a little past my shoulders. The way he's standing-feet shoulder width apart, arms hanging loosely at his sides-you'd think he was getting ready to fight someone, more specifically, me.
"Adrian," Dante says. "Meet Trey, Bianca's older brother."
"Does he, by chance, wrestle?" I whisper, trying to move my lips as little as possible as I keep my eyes on Big Brother.
"No, he's on the football team in college so he knows a thing or two about knocking someone off their feet," Dante explains before patting my shoulder as if he's saying goodbye. "Good luck." Then he scurries off.
"Punk," I mutter, grumpily before clearing my throat and smiling at Trey. "Hi, I'm Adrian."
"Didn't ask," Trey replies. I see where Bianca gets her sweet first impressions from.
"Right," I say awkwardly. "I hear you're in college, that's cool. What's your major?"
"What do you want from my sister, man?" Trey asks, completely ignoring my question.
"I don't want anything from-"
"She's not these other girls you're used to," Trey interrupts. "She's a lady and will be treated as such. So if you think you're just gonna sleep with her and then bail, you have another thing coming."
"Look-"
"If I hear even the smallest bad thing about you," Trey pushes on, "I will break every last bone in your body. Do you understand?"
I give a small inaudible sigh. "I understand."
"Trey." We both turn toward the wide entryway leading into the huge dining room. Bianca's standing there with a smirk on her face, arms crossed, hip jutted out to one side. "If anyone's breaking his bones, it's me," she says. "I don't need you fighting any of my battles."
She comes over to stand beside me. "Besides, it's Thanksgiving. My guest didn't come here to be threatened, he came here to eat and have a good time. Something you should be doing. Go."
Reluctantly, Trey shuffles into the dining room but not before shooting me one last warning look over his shoulder.
"He always this intense?" I ask, trying to laugh off the scare he gave me.
"Nope, you're the first guy I've gotten involved with, let alone brought home," Bianca explains. "He's just being the protective big brother."
"Please don't sit me beside him," I beg.
Bianca laughs quietly into her hand. "Don't worry, I saved a seat for you beside me."
She takes my hand and leads me into the dining room. Everyone's sitting down, all the seats occupied except two that stand between Alex and....Zach. Lovely.