Chapter 15
EILEEN
Nine Years Ago, Eileen’s Eighteenth Birthday
I set my pen down on the paper as the teacher says, “Your time is up.” My hand is shaking too much, but I think I got everything right. I inhale a few calming breaths, attempting to calm my nerves.
“It’s over,” I remind myself internally. “Your last AP test ever.”
I pick up the test and hand it over to the teacher as she walks through the desks collecting the tests.
Another teacher barges in, saying, “Eileen McBean, report to the office with your things. Your parents are waiting for you.”
Camilla turns to look at me and frowns. We’re supposed to go to her house after school. Since my parents are busy today, I’m celebrating my birthday with her and her family.
Tomorrow, we’re getting mani-pedis, and then we’re going to prom. At least, that’s the plan. I shrug as I glance at her and grab my things. When I arrive at the principal's office, my parents are waiting for me. What is this?
“What happened?”
“We’ve decided to take a trip to Los Angeles,” my mother says with a tight smile.
I pinch myself. This must be a dream. My parents are usually too busy to celebrate my birthday, let alone take me on a trip.
“You’re kidding? This is really happening?” I say excitedly.
Best surprise birthday present ever!
I throw myself at Mom and hug her tight. “We’re really going on that trip for my birthday just like you promised?”
When I look up at them, I notice that they look at each other slightly confused. But immediately they both say, “Of course, your birthday trip.”
Things start crumbling as soon as we pick up Sam from school. My brother insists we eat at the Shack before we go to the airport, but there’s not enough time for that. Mom promises to grab something before we board the plane.
After going through airport security, we head to one of the restaurants that serves seafood. Sam insists on getting the shrimp and scallops ultimate plate.
“That’s a lot of food for an eleven-year-old boy,” the waitress says. “We have a kids’ menu. How about some popcorn shrimp?”
Mom glares at her. Of course, how dare someone tell her how to raise her children. Mom also is a little passive-aggressive. So instead of saying anything, she asks for not one, but two ultimate plates to go.
“He’s a growing boy,” she says to the cashier.
“I want—”
“You’ll share the food with him,” Mom whispers.
Great. I get to eat seafood over the juicy bacon cheeseburger. The joy of being the middle child. Once we’re on the plane and Mom hands us the food, Sam refuses to eat it.
“It’s cold,” he protests, her shoulders slumping.
He wasn’t really hungry. Brat. I’m not thrilled about it but devour mine.
Regardless, I try to stay strong. My parents never think of me first. I never thought they would actually take me out for my birthday. I spend the entire plane ride listening to the cheesiest glam rock and 80s pop hits, dreaming of a weekend of sun, fun, and maybe even boys?
The rental car isn’t great, but it’ll get the four of us to the beach. I wonder if Charlie’s going to meet us somewhere. She lives here now. I don’t see why she’d miss my birthday if she’s already here.
My parents keep looking over their shoulder every so often as I tell them where I’d like to go. The beach, shopping, Hollywood… everything.
“And will you be staying here for business or pleasure?” The concierge asks during our check-in.
I smile triumphantly, answering for my parents, “Pleasure. It’s my eighteenth birthday.”
I ignore my brother making puking noises next to me, and how Mom sighs quietly next to me. I don’t even think about how my mom whispers, “Great, now we’re going to have to stay the whole weekend,” to my dad as we pass the elevator to our first-floor rooms.
Once we’re settled in the room, my dad says, “You two stay here.”
“Where are you going?” I ask confused.
“We have to check on Charlie,” he admits sheepishly.
Okay, fine, but... “What are we doing later today?”
“Dinner, maybe cake,” my mom responds quickly. “We should walk through Rodeo Drive.”
I’m really excited, but my stomach feels uneasy. Maybe some motion sickness from the landing or maybe it’s the putrid smell of smog. When my parents close the door, the nausea increases, clawing at my throat.
I run toward the bathroom. Chunks of partially digested food spew out of my coughing, choking mouth. My stomach contracts violently, forcing everything up and out. I’m sweating and in tears. I lurch forward and sink to my knees.
When my parents return from visiting my sister, it’s almost midnight. I’m still right next to the toilet.
My dad gives me a worried look as he enters the bathroom. “Are you okay, sweetie?”
“No,” I say, glaring at him.
“She’s been puking all night,” Sam complains, disgusted. “If you were planning on paying her for babysitting, I’d think twice.”
As if they ever pay me.
I watch Dad nodding out of the corner of my eye. “I’ll find you some crackers.”
At the mention of food, I puke again.
Unfortunately, the weekend isn’t any different.
I’m stuck in a hotel room, sick and babysitting my brother.
It isn’t until we were driving through Nevada a few days later—with a cramped car full of Charlie’s shit—that I find out my sister was kicked out of school three months ago and had just run out of money.
They were here to pick her up. Once again, I was a fucking afterthought.
Happy birthday, Eileen.
At least this is better than my not-so-sweet 16.