Page 3 of Eleanor & Grey
It had been two months since her cancer diagnosis, and I loved whenever she was painting. As long as she was painting,I felt like things were OK. As long as she was still herself, every day was easier.
And for the most part, she was herself. Sometimes she was tired, but still, she was Mom. She just took a few more naps than normal.
I narrowed my eyes, looking up from my novel. “You can’t ground people from their bedroom.”
“Yes, you actually can. Your father and I talked it over, and we are grounding you from these four walls. It’s summer vacation! You need to hang out with your friends.”
My eyes darted from her to the book, then back to her. “What exactly do you think I’m doing?” I loved my mother to death. Out of all mothers, she was top of the line, but that afternoon she was being completely inconsiderate. It wasn’t just any summer day, after all. It was June22, 2003, the day I’d been counting down to for the past three years.
Three. Long. Painful. Years.
She was truly acting as if she didn’t recall thatWesley Peters and the Marked Beasthad released that day. The fact that she even had the nerve to speak about anything other than Wesley, Hannah, and Sofia was mind-blowing.
“Eleanor, it’s your summer vacation, and you haven’t even left your bedroom yet.”
“That’s because I had to reread the first fourWesley Petersbooks in order to prepare for this one.” Truly, she should’ve understood. It was like back in her day if a new Black Sabbath album came out and, instead of letting her listen to it, Grandma told her to go pick up milk from the corner store.
Totally uncool.
Black Sabbath > milk.
Wesley Peters> social life.
“Shay said there’s a party happening tonight,” Mom commented, plopping down on my bed. “There will probably be pot and alcohol,” she joked, nudging my arm.
“Oh, joy,” I mocked. “How could I pass up such a grand time?”
“OK, I know you’re not the party animal yours truly was as a teenager, but I feel like every sixteen-year-old should go to an unsupervised party at least once in their life.”
“Why would I want to do that? Why wouldyouwant me to do that?”
“We haven’t had sex since summer break began,” Dad said matter-of-factly, joining the conversation.
“Daddd,” I groaned, covering my ears. “Come on!”
He walked into the room, sat down on the bed behind Mom, and wrapped his arms around her. “Ah, come on, Ellie. We all know sexual intercourse is a beautiful, natural act, one we should all celebrate when it is had in a consensual, respectable fashion.”
“Oh my gosh, please stop talking. Seriously. Stop.” I tightened my grip on my ears, and they laughed.
“He’s just teasing you, but wewerehoping to have a horror movie marathon, and I know how you hate horror movies,” Mom said, and I was actually thankful for the heads-up.
One time when I was a kid, I’d walked in on them watchingChild’s Play, and for weeks I was convinced my dolls were out to get me. I got rid of every stuffed animal I owned. You never really notice how creepy Cabbage Patch Kids are until you envision them with butcher knives in their hands.
Don’t even get me started on the time Dad thought I was old enough to watchThe Shining.
Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.
Ever since then, when they had a horror movie night, I made sure to go to Shay’s house. I would’ve been fine with it, too, if it hadn’t been that night of all nights.
“Can’t you guys just wait a few days?” I asked.
“We would, but seeing how it’s our anniversary...” Mom’s words trailed off, obviously thinking that would be enough to convince me.
Spoiler alert: It wasn’t.
“Oh, man, that’s today?” I asked. “Didn’t that just happen last year?”
Dad smirked. “It’s insane—you can remember book release dates but not your own parents’ anniversary.”
