Before You Go

chapter eighteen

Eliza

February 19th, 2009, Whistler, BC

"Eliza, honey," Mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. "Can you come down here for a minute, please? Your father and I need to talk to you."

I roll my eyes and set my hairbrush down. I can't believe my parents are asking me to come downstairs when they know I have plans for tonight. Plans that require me to get ready and look presentable. I also don't want to deal with their drama anymore. For months, they've been fighting and trying to get me to pick sides. Normally, I just bail on my parents and go to Leon or Tenille's house when shit like this happens. I'm assuming that's exactly what I'm going to have to do tonight.

"Eliza!"

I sigh. Clearly, I'm not getting out of this one. Before I leave the bathroom, I apply a thin layer of sparkly lip gloss and then grab my coat and purse, slinging both of them over my shoulder. Whatever's going on downstairs, I'm not looking forward to being pulled into the drama. I never asked for this kind of drama. All I want to do is spend time with my friends.

"What is it?" I ask once I get to the bottom of the stairs. "I'm going to be late for the movies with Leon, Tenille, and Talbot."

"Honey," Mom says. She rests a hand on my shoulder and guides me to the kitchen. Dad is sitting at the island, a glass of nothing but melting ice and residue sitting in front of him. "Your father and I need to talk to you."

"I know," I drawl, rolling my eyes. "You already said that." I know I'm being disrespectful to my mom, but I'm so tired of all of this. I'm tired of being pulled into the middle and forced to make a decision between something they can't agree on. I also don't understand why they think they have the right to uproot my plans. But I guess that's what happens when you're a teenager – your parents increase their selfishness to the max; they always need to know what you're doing and where you're going at all time. It's ridiculously unfair.

"Liza," Dad says softly. I can tell he's unhappy with my tone of voice by the look in his eyes despite the softness of his voice. "Please, just sit down."

Although I'm not very happy about sitting down and wasting my time with the two of them, I sit down on a stool beside him and slouch against the island, resting my chin on my crossed arms. What they're making me do is absolutely ridiculous. It's probably just another strict talking to about not doing the dishes on time or forgetting to make my bed in the morning. Just because they keep telling me these things over and over again doesn't mean I'm going to start doing it. I have better things to do. Like spend time with Leon and the rest of my friends.

For several long seconds, all my parents do is stare at me as if they're analyzing me. I begin to tap my finger against the granite, glancing at anything but my parents. When I look at the clock on the stove, my annoyance spikes. We wanted to get to the movies early in order to get good seats. Feeling flustered, I level my gaze with my dad's and say, "Spit it out already! What the hell do you want? I have places to be and people to hang out with."