I like to think that everything happens for a reason.
But when it comes to little brothers, man, I have to draw the line.
"What are you doing?!" I yell as I walk into the bathroom and find Jeffrey dangling out of the window, with only his legs in the room. He screams in reply and almost falls out of the window. I grab his legs and pull him back into the room, wondering, why me? "Oh...nothing. Sorry," he says, glancing back at the window. I stare at him for a moment before shaking my head and heading toward the door. "Oh, Venice!" he says as I head down the hallway. I walk back toward the doorway, "What?"
"Someone called for you."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"What, you didn't even ask who was calling?"
"I think it was a guy." I roll my eyes and head back down the hallway. I pick up the phone from the hook and press menu, looking at the caller id. It reads Whiteley, Robert. I recognize Russel's last name and press redial, walking into my room and falling back onto my bed, pulling a licorice rope out of the Red Vines packet that my brother thinks is still in his room, and listen to the phone ring. "Hello?"
"Is Russel there? It's Venice."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Seems to me like you're capable of it."
"Do I know you well enough to invite you somewhere?" he asks, with a grin in his voice. I sit up, "Depends where this 'somewhere' is."
"My family's lake house."
"That's a little personal."
"It's just that everyone in my family is allowed to bring someone, and seeing as I'm new here and apparently not as capable as my talented siblings at friend-making, I didn't really know who else to ask. And I really don't want to go spend a weekend watching my siblings laugh with their friends as I soak in my lonely misery." I laugh, "I'll have to ask my parents, and I'm not sure my dad will be cool with it, but I'm up for it."
"Cool. You know, you don't have to say you're just going 'cause of me. You're sort of friends with Amber, right?"
"First of all, I've met her once, and second of all, I'm not going for you, I'm going for the lake." He laughs, "Good enough for me. As long as I don't look like the only loner in the family."
I expect my dad to give me a look like I'm insane, holler, "NO!" at the top of his lungs and ground me for three months for even asking such a thing, but he shocks me. "I don't know," he says, a much better start than I even dreamed of, "I wouldn't want you to be a burden to their family." My eyes widen and my mouth drops open. This is his objection?! "He said that every kid is allowed to invite a friend," I say quickly. My dad chews his lip and as I watch him I realize I'm leaning slightly forward, my eyes peeled and my ears perked, as if I'm waiting to see if the murderer killed the heroine after she tried to save her little brother from his chain saw. "Well," he begins, drawing the word out, and I almost snicker at myself as I lean farther forward, "I guess you can." I sit back, utterly shocked that the murderer didn't kill the girl after he had clearly showed that he was quite capable of killing without guilt and had been working so hard to get his vengeance on her. His next comment makes me gape as if the murderer has suddenly wrapped his arms around the heroine-Penelope- around Penelope's waist and admitted his unconditional love for her. "It's good that you're being social. I feel like you haven't gone anywhere with friends in a long time." I am definitely gaping. "It's a boy, you know," I remind him, not sure if he heard me correct when I asked for his permission. He raises an eyebrow at me, like, "Are you feeling Ok?" and he says, "Yes...but his family will be there?" He says this in a tone so that it ends with a question mark but is clearly a statement. As if he's saying what he means but also asking me, "Your point?" I gape at him for a little while longer and his eyebrow remains raised at me. "I'm...uh...k, well, I'm gonna go pack, I guess."
"You should make sure your mother washes the appropriate clothes for a lake house. The weather will probably be different there. And you'll probably need a bathing suit." I nod and wonder if it's possible to permanently mess up your jaw from gaping too much. My dad just reminded me that I'll probably need a bathing suit for my trip to a boy he's never met's lake house. I walk up the stairs as if I am walking out of the Twilight Zone.
"Heyyy!" Russel calls out to me as he jogs up to my lunch table. I can't help but smile at his
messy wet brown hair, causing little water droplet stains to cover the top of light blue t-shirt. "Hey. How come you just got here?" Russel sighs dramatically, "Sheesh, we were packing all morning. I don't understand girls' purpose for bringing enough clothes to keep them wearing three different outfits a day for 6 months with them anytime they go anywhere. Especially Isobel! I thought maybe now that she has her own family, she would realize that taking up extra space with needless clothes excess is stupid. But no! It seems she's just gotten worse! And oy, her kids are adorable, but the are so loud! Georgie wouldn't stop pulling on my jeans and screaming, "Uncle Russel, Uncle Russel, can I use your music box? Can I use your music box, Uncle Russel?" I laugh at Russel's mock imitation of a small child. "He was referring to my iPod," Russel informs me with a smile. I laugh, "I didn't know your older sister was coming! And her family, too! I love kids!"
"You won't by the end of the weekend. She has four so far, terrible-two-year-old-triplets, and a four year old. That's Georgie. Combine them with six-year old Kenny, his classmate Phil, Lellin, who just reached the screaming stage, and it should be a very... loud weekend. Not to mention Stacy is bringing her obnoxious boyfriend, Amber is bringing her friend Grayson, who is thankfully on the quiet side, and Jameson is bringing his almost-but-never-quite girlfriend, who's bringing her older brother." By now, my eyebrows have literally shot off my face in shock, "I-I-I...I didn't know there would be so many people!" I manage. Russel laughs, "Yea, it'll be a regular old camp, but the lake house is huge-normous, so don't worry, you won't be stepped on or anything." He smiles genuinely and I manage a small smile back, but I'm just imagining spending the weekend with Russel and his huge family and their friends of which I have met one of one time. "I should tell you now; Kelly, Jameson's almost-girlfriend, her older brother is mentally retarded. He's really sweet though, I think you'll like him." I smile easier now. 'Special Ed' kids have always had a special spot in my heart, and the thought of having someone I'll be able to talk to freely without worrying about my words at this lake house calms me. The thing is, they're such great listeners. People treat them differently because they don't respond like most people... but they listen better than a teddy bear.
"Six hours?" I ask, gaping at Russel as he leads me down a gorgeous path to his house. He smiles at me, and I once again feel bad that he's lugging my suitcase along with his backpack and skateboard, though I did at least pack light. "Don't worry, we'll just be in Jameson's truck. Just me, you, Kelly, and Ryan. Jameson's taking my jeep, strangely enough. It's a complicated situation, please don't ask." I laugh. Ryan, I had learned, was Kelly's brother. Also, Stacy's boyfriend was Justin, Isobel's husband was Stefan, and the triplets were Harrison, Helena, and Heather. Isobel, along with her pregnancy cravings for whipped cream on pineapple with caramel dripped over it, (which Russel had apparently discovered was actually delicious, though now that Isobel's stomach is normal-sized, she thinks it's nasty,) she had also become obsessed with the letter H and the number 3. She had insisted on having three slices of ham every morning and had searched every Barnes and Noble until she finally found three good books beginning with the letter H. So, of course, when the lump turned out to be triplets, she insisted that it was destiny and they must all have names beginning with the letter H. Stefan had tried to talk her out of it, but she threw here whipped-cream-and-caramel-covered pineapple at his face and yelled repeatedly that he didn't love her until he finally gave in. Russel had told me this story and warned me that I would hear it again, multiple times, as everyone loved telling it, especially Isobel. I reviewed all the names of the faces I would be spending the weekend with in my head: Isobel, Stefan, Heather, Harrison, Helena, Georgie, Jameson, Kelly, Ryan, Stacy, Justin, Amber, Grayson, Kenny, Phil, Lellin, and Russel. I had refused to learn his parents names and insisted that I would just call them Mr. and Mrs. Whiteley, but with all the names I have to remember, I doubt that I will even remember that. "That many people fit in his truck?" I ask half-heartedly, still thinking about all those names. Russel laughs, "Well, not exactly, but Ryan loves sitting in the very back. Pick-up truck full experience, I guess." I smile, not only at the thought, but also at how Russel's eyes seem to light up every time he mentions Ryan. "Still, though, six hours in a pick-up truck?" I say after a short pause. "That should be interesting." Russel laughs, "Don't worry, we'll hook up the music box and have a grand old time." He winks and I laugh, just as we step off the path and onto Russel's yard. I gape at the huge house in the distance. I have a pretty large house, along with everyone else in this town, or so it seems, but Russel's house is enormous. I suppose it makes sense, with his family being so large. I smile as Russel takes in a long sigh and we walk toward the huge crowd of extremely loud people running around outside of the house.
Russel's parents are unbelievably nice. His mom has a baby, (Lellin, I'm guessing,) pressed up against her hip and is running around trying to calm down a bunch of little kids and convince them to get into the biggest car. As I walk up, I just look at her, and I can tell from first glance that she's one of those super-sweet let-me-bake-you-some-cookies-and-make-you-some-sandwiches-even-though-I-need-to-vacuum-and-I'm-late-for-my-full-time-job moms. "Hi!" she says with a big smile, "I'm Russel's mother, but you can call me Roberta." She laughs, and motions to her husband, "And this is Robert! Funny, huh? We still both look up every time someone calls "Rob!" at the Thanksgiving dinner table." She gives me this huge grin and I just crack up laughing like this is the funniest thing I've ever heard because, coming from this woman, it just seems to be hysterical, though, coming from anyone else, I probably would've just smiled or chuckled. (Although it seems to me that chuckling is a mostly-male kind of thing, just in the same way that giggling is a mostly-female thing.) I decide that remembering their names will not be hard. "We'll introduce you to all the kids when things have calmed down a little bit, like, say, once we've reached the lake house, unpacked, and are sitting at the dinner table, but I'll introduce you to the older kids now." She smiles and I laugh genuinely again. Russel smiles at me. Roberta motions to a tall girl with silky red-brown hair that reaches down her back and curls slightly at the tips. She turns and smiles at me, holding a two-year old on either hip and ignoring the third two-year old and slightly older boy, (who I'm guessing is Georgie,) that are pulling on her jeans and yelling. Georgie gives up on getting her attention when a little boy comes up and pulls his hair, clearly asking to be chased. I watch all this with amusement before looking back at the smiling mother. She has beautiful full lips and sparkling green eyes, with a spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks that look like little brown snowflakes that could be removed from her face with a single swipe of her elegant hands. "Hello," she says, in a voice that sounds like what hot chocolate sliding down your throat would sound like if it were a noise. Sweet, warm, and uplifting. I feel like a part of this family already. "Hi, I'm Venice," I say with a smile, hoping my voice sounds at least a fraction of how welcoming hers is. "Isobel," she replies with a warm smile, "I would shake your hand, but I've got a couple of kids in the way." The little girl in her left arm, (Helena, I'm guessing,) giggles at her mother's greeting. It is the most adorable noise I have ever heard, ever. I grin widely at the children as Roberta turns me and motions to a tall boy in the not-so-rare getup of a plaid button-down, jeans, and an easy cowboy hat resting over his messy brown hair, which is almost identical to Russel's, if not quite as clean. Not that Russel's is super-clean, but this boy's just seems to be super-dirty. I choose to ignore this and smile widely at him, observing that his eyes, unlike his brother's, are green, like his sister's. "Hey," he says in a friendly tone that is, like his brother's, slightly British, but has also been effected by the "Southern-talk" of folks 'round these parts. It has the English tint but is slurred in such a way that it's clear he was born to live in Tennessee. "I'm Jameson." I smile widely, "Nice to meet you. Venice." He smiles and looks at Russel, "Yea," he says, "I've heard right 'n plenty 'bout you." I smile at his Southern terms and glance at Russel, wondering what he's said about me. "This is Kelly," he says, bringing forward a beautiful blonde girl who is freckled from head to toe. She smiles, revealing bright blue braces, and it's impossible not to smile back. She's adorable. "Howdy!" she says with a smile, "Sure's nice to be meetin' ya'll! This here's my brother, Ryan. You can call him Ry, if you like, or just Ryan." She smiles and brings forward a boy taller than everyone else here, even Russel's dad, (who's really tall.) I smile widely at the boy. "Hello! I'm Venice." He smiles widely and looks at me before his gaze slips off to the side of me. "Hiya, Venish!" he says, still not looking directly at me. I smile and don't correct him, but his sister obliges, smiling at him and rubbing her thumb on his hand, which she is holding. "So I hear we'll be ridin' with ya'!" Kelly exclaims, practically bouncing up and down, like we are third-graders about to have a big sleepover party where we'll paint our toe nails and talk about our crushes. I smile and nod, and she claps her hands in glee. "I'm Stacy," a girl who looks close in age with me says, stepping forward, "Amber's twin. We're fraternal, if you were wondering." She has hair the same general shade as Russel's but her eyes, like her older brother and sister, are green. She also has plump lips, even plumper than her older sisters, but her face is freckle-free. She has thick mascara on and her lips glint from an obvious overdose of lip gloss. I smile, "Hi, Stacy, I'm-" she stops me and smiles, "I know who you are." Then she pulls forward a guy her age, who's wearing this big t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, obviously trying to show his muscles. He is pretty buff, I'll give him that, but I can't help but to hold in a snicker at this completely typical-looking teenager. He doesn't have a cowboy hat on his head, but he's holding one. At least his shoes are just tennies. "Hey," he says, "Justin." I nod, smiling slightly, "Venice."
"Nice to meet ya'."
"Same to you."
"And..." Amber says, popping up suddenly and drawing out the word, "You know me!" She smiles, "I feel so superior, being the only one to have met Russel's potential-girlfriend." I blink, "Oh, um, I'm not his girlfriend." She laughs and winks at me as she says, "Not yet you aren't. But you will be, soon enough. It's hard for girls not to fall at his feet after a while." I blush and she laughs, "But hey, maybe I'm wrong. Russel's only had two actual girlfriends, after all, and one was in middle school. But plenty of girls have liked him," she steps closer, as if she's going to tell me a secret, "He just hasn't liked plenty of girls." She giggles. "Amber!" Russel hisses, but I just laugh, slightly nervously. "This is Grayson," Amber says, pulling forward a small girl with dirty-blonde hair and blue eyes. "Hello," I say with a smile. She smiles shyly and looks longingly at one of the cars, clearly wanting us to leave already. "Well then, shall we go?" Russel's dad asks in a booming voice as he locks the front door and walks toward us, carrying the last suitcase. "Yes, let's!" Roberta says in an excited tone. We oblige, dispersing into the four cars sitting in the driveway.
"What are we listening to, exactly?"
"Punk-rock-techno, I believe."
"Why, exactly?"
"'Cause that's what came on after the last song we were listening to."
"Why, exactly, do you have this music on your iPod at all?" Russel shrugs and tries to hide a slight smile as we drive down the seemingly endless dirty road. "I don't know. I have a lot of siblings, and sometimes we accidently add music to whoever's iTunes we're logged into when we click the icon." I scrunch up my nose, "That must be annoying."
"Sorta, I guess. But we usually pay each other back. Or steal each other's money in response." I laugh and glance over at Kelly, who is staring intently at the ipod as she scrolls through the music, attempting to find a playlist with a reasonable amount of good music on it. "Ooh! You have the Across the Universe album!" she exclaims, "I love that movie!" She practically squeals, drawing out the word 'love'. She clicks on the album and turns up the volume as the song "Girl", performed in this case by Jim Sturgess and immediately breaks into a soft, deep singing voice. The words spill out of her mouth like warm milk seeping through the pages of a book-soft and swift, but out of place. Russel and I crack up laughing as she continues to sing, though, really, she has a beautiful voice, but it's so completely out of context singing this male song that it's hilarious. Also, her facial expression alone is enough to make me double over in laughter. We've been driving for about three hours now, and already I feel like I've known this girl for years. Her brother, too, who frequently sticks his head in the open back window to comment on something he overheard or saw, seems now like someone I've known for a long time.
We pull into the parking lot of Vons and Ryan jumps out of the truck, jumping and clapping and screaming. Kelly, almost as excited as her brother, grabs his hands and bounces with him as she laughs and Russel and I watch with wide smiles. "Come on, gang, let's get some snacks," Russel says, motioning for us to follow him into the large grocery store. I smile, being reminded of Fred from Scooby Doo, and imagining Russel with blonde hair and a blue sweater-vest saying, "Come on, gang, let's split up and look for clues." I laugh outright at this picture and Russel raises an eyebrow at me but just shakes his head with a smile and doesn't ask.
"How many gummy worms do we need?"
"LOTS! LOTS OF GUMMY WORMS!" Ryan yells, jumping. Kelly smiles and subtly quiets her brother, but agrees, "Yup. Lots and lots of gummy worms. Ya'll should know that ya' can ne'er have too much o' them critters." She smiles and I can't help but smile back, her bouncy, bright-blue-spotted smile making my heart melt in the same way her brother's excited shouts do: in that sense of "I'm holding a baby". (Though, really, both Kelly and Ryan are older than me.)
As we continue our drive and the sky starts to darken, Kelly goes out like a light. One minute she's bouncing in her seat, fixing the music after every song, popping gummy worms into her mouth, and spinning in her seat to point our subtle landmarks to her brother; and the next, she's sitting with her eyes closed, her head leaning against the window, her hands pressed up against her shoulder, and her breathing smooth and even. I laugh and glance back at Ryan, who is not quite asleep yet, but has stopped talking and screaming and singing and is simply staring off at the scenery as it speeds past us. Russel glances at me, "What are you thinking about?" I laugh, "Nothing important, really, just the fact that so many people can fall asleep so easily in cars. I don't know why, but I just can't sleep in cars. I think cars just subconsciously make me nervous, so I'm incapable of completely letting my guard down when I'm in one."
"Why would cars make your subconscious nervous?"
"Oh, well, when my mom was pregnant with me, I was actually a twin. The doctors said my sibling was going to be a girl, but my parents insisted it would be a boy. I tend to believe my parents, seeing as the doctors were also wrong about me." Russel glances over at me, clearly wondering how this story relates to my subconscious fear of automobiles. "Well, anyway, while my mom was pregnant, my dad had to drive her everywhere. Normally, my mom does most of the driving, saying she "Doesn't trust that man behind a wheel"," I laugh subtly at this and continue, "But when her stomach was big enough for every member of Good Charlotte to be in her womb as babies, she couldn't fit behind the wheel. So one day, as my dad was driving my mom to the mall, my dad took his eyes off the road for a moment, glancing at something in the back seat, and next thing he knew, my mom was screaming, "Look out!" and an out-of-control minivan was heading straight toward them." Russel gasps and I pause for a split second before continuing, "Anyway, my twin was killed in the crash. They say it's a miracle that even one of the babies made it, they thought for sure an impact like that would kill both of us. My survival was really more of the freak accident than the accident itself. I was in this strange position in which my brother was in front of me and my head was basically tucked between my legs. I'm not sure how that saved me, exactly, but it did. I still can't believe I came out with four working limbs and an in-place brain." Russel lets out a low whistle. "Wow," he says, "I'm really sorry about that. Geez." I shrug, "It's Ok. Everything happens for a reason, you know? Maybe my brother's death was to make sure that I would be cautious in cars so that someday when I become a school bus driver I can make a ninja-reflex turn, even though I'm in a bus, managing to avoid crashing straight into a red-light-running truck and killing all the poor innocent children. Or maybe my capability of falling asleep in cars would have allowed me to fall asleep while driving and crash into a van full of bombs, causing a nuclear explosion that pretty much reaches the center of Earth and kills us all." I shrug, "Who knows. Maybe God just wanted my brother for himself." Russel is trying desperately not to laugh as he shakes his head again and we continue down the road. I smile and glance out the window. Really, I do think it's sad that my brother was killed before even being born. But, I don't know. It's sad to me in the way the death of any unborn baby in a car accident would be. I feel like it should be more than that to me, but maybe there's nothing wrong with not holding on to grief. Or maybe my subconscious has taken care of that for me.
We pull into In-N-Out at eight thirty PM and blast our music in the parking lot, throwing on our sunglasses and slamming our doors in an oh-so-superior manner. Kelly takes her hair out of her braid and throws it around her shoulders and I pull the one leather jacket I own out of my suitcase, throwing it on quickly. We walk in slick strides with Ryan following tiredly behind us. Russel puts one arm around each of us, so as to complete the effect. Ryan hurries in and selects a table for us to sit in, immediately sliding into it and resting his head on the table-top. We walk up to the counter, still under Russel's arms, and order four burgers, three of them animal style, four fries, three of them animal style, and three shakes, asking if animal style is possible for shakes. The weirded-out employee says, "Uh-uh" so we accept three normal shakes and go sit at the table with Ryan and the receipt telling us our customer number. Kelly and I each take a seat on either side of Russel and he puts his arms around the seats. We sit there, in our sunglasses though it's pitch black outside and acting like we're too-slick-for-these-roads though our outfits clearly state otherwise and try not to burst out laughing at our oh-so-obvious facade. When our number is finally called, we can handle it no longer, and we all double over laughing as we pick up our food and whip our sunglasses off our faces, eating our food and laughing until the food is gone and then exiting the legendary fast-food restaurant, leaving behind us a bunch of customers who can only hope we'll be able to navigate the rest of our trip, what with us appearing so either A. Exhausted or B. Drunk. I am currently neither, simply hyped up on unused energy that has been building itself up as we drive these long hours.
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