never really existed, I had somehow imagined that I had these above average, almost above-human parents (especially father). I was so afraid to sleep that I would stay up most nights. Eventually those thoughts passed, but I don’t think the fear ever really did. At this moment though, staring at Glenda’s teary eyes, I was astonished that no tears formed at the mention of my parents.
I didn’t say anything when Glenda mentioned my parents, but the thoughts stayed with me even later when everyone had retired to sleep. I tossed and turned repeatedly and my insomnia started to kick in. Andres seemed to be sleeping extra hard that night, the result of exhaustion from extensive football practice and the stagnant air conditioning, snoring louder it seemed than even humanly possible. It wasn’t the snoring though that kept me from sleeping that night. It was the “fear.” It had returned just from the mere mention of my parents by Glenda earlier that day. It was on that day that I promised myself I would somehow make my parents proud of me. I would—how I didn’t know—carry on the Rose name in a manner that my father would be proud of. I would somehow make our name respected like it had once been when they were alive, and not like now, where they were just thought of as a memory and not as real living human beings with a physical presence. After counting about a billion sheep, I finally drifted off to sleep, but not before pulling out the pictures of my parents from beneath my mattress and crying what seemed like a million silent tears.
Glenda was sure to wake me up early the next day to prepare for Eve’s birthday party, which started at noon. Andres was already up, sitting at the kitchen table buttering his bagel and humming mumbled tunes to himself. Christian had gotten up early that morning to help Pastor Adamson clean the church lawn with another group of young boys.
Glenda presented me with the offering of the newly washed and pressed green khakis she had me try on the day before. They smelled of cheap laundry detergent, three sprays of starch, and the lingering burning tang of the iron. I took the khakis and went to take a shower and get dressed. Andres must have noticed that the khakis were green and Ralph Lauren (something he did not see the day before). He was lying on the top bunk when I emerged from the bathroom; the pants that I had strategically laid out on my bunk were now on the floor in a crumpled pile. I didn’t say anything, just picked them up, and placed them back on my bed. I was not going to comment on Andres’s rudeness but he forced me to by bringing it up.
“Nice pants dude.” He was such an ass sometimes.
“I know,” was my reply. I was also an ass at times.
“No, I’m serious. Ralph Lauren.” He said this like I knew who that was and really cared. I just smiled and picked them up with the dress shirt and went to the bathroom to change. I came out about ten minutes later, impressed even with myself when I glanced in the cracked oval mirror above the bathroom sink. I could see the resemblance between my father and myself. I could also see my mother in me, her nose, and lips. This was only a split second though of introspection because Glenda was already knocking on the bathroom door asking me if I was ready to go. I turned and looked at myself one last time before I left.
When we arrived at the Newmont’s home, I remembered visiting here before with my father. Eve lived on the lake—large custom-built homes with manicured palm trees accented by hired landscapers, who trimmed and pruned, twice weekly. Her neighbors all like her, most students of the various prep schools in the area. This was a neighborhood were good southern boys wore deeply pressed khakis with Izod shirts and girls wore vibrant Lily Pulitzer sundresses. All the homes in the subdivision shared a common color scheme, and the rows of houses blended together as we drove down the connecting maze of streets. When Glenda had finally found 1619 Hastings Lane, I was surprised since the house looked like the other 100 houses that we had passed with the exception of the large “CONGRATS EVE” sign on the front lawn. I also noticed the small replica of a frog on the lawn that sprinkled water, Glenda had a similar one (from dollar general), but this seemed out of place on the Newmont’s immaculately kept lawn.
Other families were arriving with children in tow carrying large boxes wrapped in exotic colored gift-wrap. Glenda had purchased a gift for Eve at the dollar general store, but I hadn’t seen it yet. It was wrapped in plain white paper. Glenda parked the car behind the row of other attendees cars and walked with me to the door, carrying the modest-looking gift.
Mrs. Newmont was already standing at the front entrance greeting those that arrived so there wasn’t a need for bell ringing. She noticed my attire right away and commented on it. Glenda beamed, obviously satisfied with her selections. “You’re such a handsome young man, Jeremy. Glenda, you do so well with the boys,” she said while pointing me in the direction of the kitchen where the other kids were. I turned as I walked away, watching Glenda chat with Mrs. Newmont at the front door before waving a goodbye to me and leaving.
I saw Eve sitting at the kitchen table dressed in a white and blue striped sundress with matching white ankle length socks with bows and patent leather dress shoes. She was sitting alone while the other kids milled about around her, a spectator at her own birthday party. It was strange that she wasn’t talking to the other kids. Glenda had told me that I should personally thank Eve for the invitation so I walked over to her. Her face lit up with approval as she noticed me walking toward her.
“You look like my brothers. Like the outfit,” she said when I was within hearing range. I nodded my head knowing that was the look Glenda was after. Obviously it had worked.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I said. She didn’t comment, just grabbed the seat next to her extending an unspoken offer for me to sit with her. I sat down. We sat in silence observing the comings and goings of other party attendees but not actively participating. After about twenty minutes of sitting in silence, the only communication being random children approaching Eve to thank her for the invitation, she turned to me and spoke, “My dad really liked your dad.” She paused and then continued, “He likes that we are friends.” I wanted to say that we never really “talked”. Eve dominated most conversations and even now at her own birthday party I was silent. The words didn’t come, so Eve kept on talking.
“So what are you going to do with your summer?” I hadn’t really thought of it, but it was now May and we would be getting out of school soon for the summer.
“I don’t know, haven’t thought about it,” I replied.
“I’m going to soccer camp for two months,” Eve said.
“Good.” I dangled my legs from the chair nervously. I was not yet tall enough for my feet to touch the floor.
“Maybe you should come to soccer camp too. My dad would pay for it.” Why Eve thought I would want to come to soccer camp was beyond me, and why her dad would pay for me was even stranger.
“Why?” I asked.
Eve was obviously taken aback by my question, her approval changing to an obvious look of disapproval. “Dad says all boys should play sports. He thinks your dad would have wanted you to play soccer. They were friends, you know.”
Yeah, like Eve and I were friends. I knew that Mr. Newmont and my father had spent time together outside of the church, but them being friends was a stretch. I didn’t say anything in response, and Eve continued talking as if ignoring my silence.
“Dad will probably ask your aunt about it.” I knew that Glenda was not open to what she would consider charity, and I so highly doubted that she would even mention the offer of soccer camp by the Newmont’s. I knew that this was how it would turn out because other children and adults had offered “courtesies” to me since my parents died. My parents hadn’t been rich, but we were better off financially then Glenda was since Ralph (her ex husband) left. Other church members, supposed friends of my parents, felt that I should have more “opportunities” than what Glenda was providing. Glenda was a proud woman and would decline most of these offers. She would often say that because she was a single parent people thought us boys were deprived in some way.
The birthday party did end up being semi fun. We played several group games and toward the end of the party, Eve’s parents presented her with a large birthday ice cream cake decorated in pink and white. Eve wore a bright smile on her face and seemed to soak in her