Camilla squeezed the front door open, slowly peering her head into the living room. Everything seemed as it usually did. There was her sofa, standing in front of the TV that she watched on lazy afternoon weekends. There was her carpet in the middle of the room that her and her mother had picked out together at the furniture store. There were her framed pictures, hanging on the other side of the wall, with pictures of her and her mom on vacation. No one had turned the lights on in the living room yet, so the whole room was being bathed in the dark oranges from the setting sun outside. It was empty and quiet, but it was still her own living room.
Aside from the streaks of waning sun beaming in through the windows, there was one other source of light in the room. On the other side of the living room a bright light radiated out of an open doorway, like an arch into a heavenly place. Camilla could hear voices pouring out of it.
“Cammy?,” Camilla heard someone call. “Is that you?”
The shadow of the voice’s owner showed up on the wall as they came forward. Appearing in the doorway was an older woman with a dish rag in her hands. She looked down at Camilla through her glasses with loving brown eyes that matched her own. Her bushy, mess of onyx hair caressed her shoulders, landing over the straps of the jean overalls she wore. She stood tall and gangly, but still had a full and friendly, pear shape; just as many mothers like her did. She stood there with her hand on her hip waiting for Camilla to reply.
“Hey mo-”
“Camilla!” screamed two voices in unison.
Like snakes jumping out of a can, two young girls popped from behind the doorway and hugged the woman’s sides. Camilla’s smile for her mother quickly melted into a frown. The girl that flanked Camilla’s mother’s right side stood just as tall as her and waved a fashion magazine out in her hand. Her straight, flat ironed, brunette hair came right down to her waist. Her teal tank top and bright, white shorts clashed against the older woman’s blue overalls. The girl on Camilla’s mother’s right only made it a bit past the woman’s waist. Her pink t-shirt and jeans matched the summery tone of the older girl, while her own straight, brown hair made it only past her shoulder blades. In Camilla’s eyes neither of them looked right standing next to her mother.
“Hey, Mia. Hey, Jessica,” Camilla tossed out, trying to sound cordial.
“I am so glad you’re here!,” chirped Mia, waving the magazine even more frantically. “I was just telling your mom that she should definitely try a one sleeve dress for the reception. It’s tasteful, but it’s still got an edge to it!”
“No way!,” peeped in Jessica. “The one with the long sleeves is way prettier!”
“Hmmm, I guess. But if we really wanted to try something different we could always go strapless! Show off those great shoulders of yours!”
Camilla’s mom giggled.
“ Honey, I haven’t looked good in anything strapless since high school.”
“Don’t sell yourself so short,” Mia swung her arm around Camilla’s mom’s shoulder and slid the magazine to her like a car salesman going in for the sale. “You’ve got a lot going for you! And besides, we’ve got to consider all our options if we’re going to get the perfect dress for your big day! Now what about a backless dress?”
“Don’t forget to make sure its sparkly!,” advised Jessica.
“Camilla, what do you think?,” Mia inquired.
Camilla rolled her eyes. Camilla’s mother may have been pretty, but she did look terrible in anything strapless. If either of them knew anything, they’d recognize that. Camilla dumped her backpack off near the coat rack by the door and made her way towards the kitchen. Her only response to Mia was an incomprehensible string of ‘yeahs’, ‘sures’, and ‘uh-huhs’ as she walked past the the three of them. Camilla came into the kitchen, fully prepared to head straight for the refrigerator, but she stopped dead in her tracks when she saw him.
He leisurely sat there, sipping a lime soda and scrolling through his phone. A rounded, towering, box of a man, he didn’t seem to notice Camilla at first.
“Oh! Hello, Camilla,” he said when he finally looked up.
Camilla was silent at first. She stared at him, trying not to seem angry, but she could feel her stare coming out as scowl. She decided to answer just to prevent herself from dragging the stare out any longer.
“Hey… Vincent”.
“Dad!,” Mia yelled from the living room. “You get in here and tell me this mermaid dress is not to die for!”
The tall man gave Camilla a faint wave and headed into the living room to tend to his daughters. Camilla didn’t wave back. She eyed him down the whole time he walked out of the room, and then proceeded on her original mission of heading towards the fridge. She tried to do everything like normal; getting out a soda, making a sandwich and finding chips to go with it. Everything seemed normal, if she ignored the strange people in her house. Getting home from school at the end of the day and making a sandwich was the usual for her, but she wondered for how long it would stay like this.
Camilla had gotten her soda and was just reaching for a loaf of bread when her head turned to the corner of the room. Sitting next to the door that lead to the back porch were three cardboard boxes, each filled to the brim and topped with tight covers. Or at least two of the boxes had tight covers. One of the boxes was so filled with items that the contents peeked out from under the lid. Camilla might have ignored them on any other occasion. Her mother liked to donate her own old clothes and such to the local charities at times, so a few stray boxes weren’t so strange to see. But Camilla took a closer look at the box and saw something brown and fuzzy poking out from under the cardboard lid, as if it was waving to her. She walked over from her unprepared snack and began to examine the box. On the front of it were words sketched in bright, red marker. “For Hope Charities: Girl’s Toys, Clothes, Etc.” it read. Camilla hesitantly grabbed the cardboard lid and pulled it away, revealing the box’s contents. Her eyes shrunk when she saw what was inside.
“MOM!,” Camilla shrieked into the living room.
Camilla’s mom reluctantly moved into the kitchen.
“Yes, sweetie,” Camilla’s mom said hesitantly, knowing that whatever conversation was coming next wouldn’t be a pleasant one.
“What is this?!,” Camilla held out the cardboard box by its handles, presenting it to her mother like an officer presenting evidence to the accused. In the box sat an assortment of items; a small pink sweater, a group of notebooks, a ball of yarn, knitting needles, a very small blanket, a box of markers with only a few missing, and a very fuzzy caramel colored bear.
“You-,” Camilla started, so shaken and upset that her words barely came out right. “Y-you were going to give away my stuff without asking me?!”
Her mother released a beleaguered sigh.
“Cammy, you don’t use any of that stuff anymore. I found most of it packed away in the back of your closet.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t still want it! This is still my stuff!”
Camilla started pulling items out of the box to prove her point.
“This is my sweater!”
“That doesn’t fit you anymore.”
“This is my teddy bear!”
“That you haven’t played with in years!”
Camilla dug deeper into the box. She came up a very large, spiral bound, bejeweled book with crisp, white, blank pages.
“My sketchbook!?”
“I haven’t seen you draw in that thing in forever. Most of the pages are still blank.”
Camilla stared at her mother, her face scrunching up with anger that could easily turn into tears. Remorse and sympathy washed over the mother’s face.
“Look, Cammy,” her mom conceded. “You’re right. I should’ve asked you about it first, but I know how you can be about things like this and we have to start getting rid of things before we move.”
The move. Camilla turned away from her mother, not feeling capable of facing her. She’d been using every crumb of her existence to not think about specifically that, and now her mother had pulled it out on her like a gun in a dark alley.
“Look, maybe if you just look through the bo-,” Camilla’s mother started.
“You know-,” Camilla spat out, interrupting her mother. “-this isn’t the first time you’ve done something without talking to me first!”
Camilla could feel it. She didn’t have to turn around to see her mother’s face, she could feel her expression burning into the back of her skull. It was the same look of concealed anger and hurt that her mother always wore when Camilla had said something mean or spiteful.
“Ju… just let me look through it first, okay?”
Camilla held the box close to her and bolted past her mother and back into the living room. She made a break for the stairs, trying to make her way to her room with her rescued possessions.
“Oh, uh, Camilla!” Vincent called.
Camilla snapped her head back, her bushy hair swooshing violently to add accent to the motion. She looked down at the front door and saw the three family members there, apparently on their way out. They all stared up at her with friendly but nervous smiles, sensing the tension. They each gave out an uneasy wave goodbye as Camilla stared down at them.
“We’ll… um… see you tommorrow,” Vincent finished, unassuredly.
Everyone in the living room, Camilla’s mother included, waited for her to respond; but Camilla didn’t respond. Camilla snapped her head away from them as angrily as she had snapped it towards them. She marched up the stairs, letting the pounding sound of the stomps she took accent her anger.
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