Her Suicide Note

Chapter Fifteen

Bianca
After we bless the food, multiple conversations erupt in different areas of the table, family members asking each other how they've been since they've seen each other last.
I spot my dad's older brother, Uncle Randy, and my mom's younger sister, Aunt Emily, talking about their respective kids and the sports and clubs they're participating in.
Grandpa Alain asked my cousin Sasha how her grades are this quarter.
I look to my left at Zach who's glaring at something behind my back and follow his gaze to Adrian, he looks extremely nervous.
I slap Zach's thigh. I've been babysitting him ever since his mom, Mrs. Mathews, finally went back to work a few weeks after he was born. He's been like a little brother to me. "It's not nice to glare at people," I scold him.
"But Mr. Trey's doing it."
Sure enough, when I look across the table, Trey's giving Adrian such an intense look, you'd think he's trying to shoot lasers at him. I kick him under the table making him snap his head in my direction.
"Be. Nice!" I mouth at him before picking up my fork.
He grumbles something incoherent before digging into his food.
"So, Adrian, what grade are you in?" Mom asks once her conversation with Ms. Houston ends.
"I'm a junior," Adrian states.
"You thinking about college?" Mom questions.
"Thinking about it, yeah, I'm just not exactly sure where I want to go. Or what I want to major in."
She nods. "How's your year been so far? Grades good?"
Adrian nods. "Yes, ma'am."
Mom seems pleased by his manners. So am I. "Have they been treating my daughter right over there?"
"They're considerate of her," Adrian says vaguely and it's at this moment I want to grab his face and kiss him. Giving an acceptable answer without going into detail, clever.
"How did you and Bianca meet?" Dad questions. I can tell by the eagerness in his eyes that that's the question he's been wanting answered. He doesn't care about his grades in school and he definitely doesn't care about Adrian's college goals. He wants to know how this boy came across his daughter and why.
"It's nothing special," Adrian says. "Just know that she was not happy to see me at first."
Low chuckles float around the room.
"Asked her if she wanted to throw a football around in PE; she shot me down."
"Be thankful she did," mom's older brother, Uncle Josh, laughs with Dante nodding in agreement.
"Chick has an arm," Dante says, his mouth full of the brisket I had made. "She would've put you to shame."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Adrian replies, chuckling as he glances at me.
"You guys think you're so funny," I groan, rolling my eyes away from him to share a long-suffering look with Zach. "Can you believe this guy?"
"I really can't," Zach says with more bitterness than necessary for joking.
"Well, you might find me even more unbelievable once you hear what I have to ask you," Adrian tells me, suddenly serious.
I raise my eyebrows in question. I feel like everyone's leaning forward, waiting.
"Well, you know the Homecoming dance is coming up next Friday, right?"
"Yes," I can't help but answer with a cringe. I hope he's not about to ask what I think he's about to ask.
"I was wondering if you'd be my date." It's the sheepish, shy way he says it that makes my "No," catch in my throat. And that face. Those puppy dog green eyes and that bottom lip jutted out just slightly. How can you just downright reject a face like that?
Letting my sigh out in a small laugh, I smile a little, nodding.
The table erupts with cheers and whistles with Zach letting out an indignant shriek that everyone chooses to ignore.
Brandon, from his spot at the far end in his car seat, starts clapping, letting out a slobbery giggle.
Trey and Sasha, however, look unimpressed, but I shrug them off.
"Aw," Mom gushes. "I remember when I went to my first Homecoming with your dad."
"It was one of the best nights of my life," Dad says, giving Mom a dreamy kiss that Trey and I naturally fake-gag at.

"You are one sly dog," I tell Adrian as we're standing in the front doorway. His mom is talking to Aunt Emily out on the lawn.
He shrugs innocently. "I knew my chances of you accepting would increase if I did it in front of your family."
"Like I said, 'Sly dog'."
He laughs for a moment before sobering up enough to give me a kiss on the forehead. "Happy Thanksgiving, Bianca," he whispers, kissing my temple this time.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Adrian," I reply. "Now go before I change my mind about the dance now that we're alone."
When I close the door, I lean my back on it, shaking my head. "That guy," I huff before padding into the kitchen.
It's empty except for Sasha who's putting some leftovers into the Tupperware she brought from home.
We've always butted heads, Sasha and I. I can't recall a time we've been civil towards each other on the off chances we're alone. She's always been embarrassed about being related to white people.
Despite this setback, she's beautiful. Just the right height for an ninth grader, 5'4, with unblemished bronze skin and almond-shaped brown eyes. Her hair, our hair curls the same way when it's air drying after a shower, falls down to just past her shoulders.
"You know, I'm surprised someone like him would be even remotely interested in someone as damaged as you."
You know what, she's not even that pretty.
"I'm not damaged," I tell her calmly as I walk over to stand beside her in front of the sink.
"Pretty much," she says. "Before he came along you were so upset about Lisa that it was like you weren't even here."
"You know, I would appreciate it if you and Trey would stop talking about me like you know shit," I growl quietly. "He has no right to say anything to you pertaining to me because he's barely here."
"Doesn't keep him from talking," Sasha states. "And he's right. You're just mad that he is."
"No, I'm mad because you're stuck in the past. Yeah, Lisa dying upset me, threw me over the edge even, but I'm not as bad as I used to be. I'm getting better and yeah, I know we'll never see eye-to-eye on things, but I'd appreciate it if both you and Trey would at least act like you're happy for me."
She turns to look at me, giving me a disdain-filled once over. Without another word, she turns to walk away.
"You're gonna need me one of these days," I call out to her. "Hope you don't get too disappointed when you realize I won't be there."
That's when she whirls around angrily. "I don't need you," she hisses through gritted teeth. "I never did. The only thing I have to do is tolerate you. Don't make it seem as if we're closer than we really are."
"We're family," I remind her.
"Yeah, technically. But I don't think of you as that. You're just an embarrassment, an inconvenience. If I could switch families, I'd do it in a heartbeat."
"All because of our skin tones?" I find this ridiculous. For your "friends" to get inside your head so much that you look at your family in disgust. I don't know what goes on at her school and I don't know what those kids are saying, but I do know that when she goes home everyday, it's not her friends giving her a roof over her head and food on the table.
"It's not just that," Sasha mumbles. "Dad compares me to you all the time. 'Why can you get good grades like Bianca?' 'Why can't you be as talented as Bianca?'"
"And you're taking that out on me?" I demand. "The only person you should be getting mad at is Uncle Randy. I have done nothing but try to be the best cousin. I try to be there, but all you can think to do is push me away because my name is on his tongue?"
Her face shifts into a less angry expression, but I can't tell if what I said has dawned on her. "Happy Thanksgiving, Sasha," I mumble, letting her know the conversation has ended and she's let off the hook. "Have a nice life."
"Trust me, I will," she retorts before turning her back on me.