"Pandora's Box"

“Fine,” I sigh and bring my empty plate to the sink. Pandora’s Box would eventually see the light. “So when do we leave?



“Thanksgiving—we get to spend all of the Thanksgiving vacation with Grandma and Grandpa!” Jack sings and claps his hands several times.


“I’m going to be at Deidra’s, you know that, right?” I ask and help myself to a thin slice of apple pie. Spending the afternoon with Meeka’s waif-like body has taken its toll on my ogre-sized self.


“Well, honey, Grandma and Grandpa expect to spend time with you and—”


“You can do whatever you want to,” Jack interrupts in another stage whisper. “Mom’s not going to be there. It’s just the two of us, Amelia!”


“Where are you going to be?” I ask. The once delicious dessert suddenly sits in my mouth like rocky sand.


I already know the answer. It’s Mr. McGee, and he’s sitting beside our mother in an outfit that looks more appropriate for Batman’s nemesis: the Joker. He and my mother are staring at me—two kids eager for prom night sans parental supervision.


My eyes catch Seth’s. His dark eyebrows are raised, pleading with me to let our parents fly off to…Mexico…together…alone. I am thinking of my parents and how they never went anywhere alone outside of Texas. If it involved a plane, it was a given that Jack and I would be on board with them. Seth cannot understand our Before because he was a baby when his mother disappeared. It is much easier for him to accept the newness of Sam Fluchter with his father when there are no other women for his heart and brain to sort through. Jack can’t understand either. Nine years old is too little to comprehend the loss of our father beyond a few backward glances and sniffles.


Everyone seems to be moving on except me. I’m all alone on an emotional highway riddled with bumps and sharp turns I’ve no control over. It stinks!


My mother is telling us all about their upcoming trip to Puerto Vallarta with a speed that can only come from guilt. She is trying so hard I want to cry.


“You can call Deidra tonight and tell her you’re coming. I’m sure she’ll be excited,” she says, leaning forward.


Deidra is the carrot my mother’s purposely dangling before my eyes. It is not an easy thing for her to tempt me with the very person she cannot stand. I’m sold.


“Thanks,” I say and a flood of exhales sound off. I feel mean, having this much power. “It’ll be good for you guys to get away, give Jack and me a break,” I add. It is the closest to a Bon Voyage my heart is willing to give.


When mom squeezes my hand I look down at my apple pie, too scared to share the tears suspended in my eyes.


“Yeah, you’re right, Shorty. We can get pretty annoying sometimes,” Mr. McGee says and smacks his lips. “Thanks…for putting up with us.”


There’s a rise in my chest, and at first I can’t decipher it. It’s too foreign for me to articulate. But when Jack jumps up from his seat to give Mr. McGee and our mother hugs, I immediately recognize the long-missed sensation: happiness.