Eliza

February 19th, 2009, Whistler, BC

"Eliza, honey," Mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. "Can you come down here for a minute, please? Your father and I need to talk to you."

I roll my eyes and set my hairbrush down. I can't believe my parents are asking me to come downstairs when they know I have plans for tonight. Plans that require me to get ready and look presentable. I also don't want to deal with their drama anymore. For months, they've been fighting and trying to get me to pick sides. Normally, I just bail on my parents and go to Leon or Tenille's house when shit like this happens. I'm assuming that's exactly what I'm going to have to do tonight.

"Eliza!"

I sigh. Clearly, I'm not getting out of this one. Before I leave the bathroom, I apply a thin layer of sparkly lip gloss and then grab my coat and purse, slinging both of them over my shoulder. Whatever's going on downstairs, I'm not looking forward to being pulled into the drama. I never asked for this kind of drama. All I want to do is spend time with my friends.

"What is it?" I ask once I get to the bottom of the stairs. "I'm going to be late for the movies with Leon, Tenille, and Talbot."

"Honey," Mom says. She rests a hand on my shoulder and guides me to the kitchen. Dad is sitting at the island, a glass of nothing but melting ice and residue sitting in front of him. "Your father and I need to talk to you."

"I know," I drawl, rolling my eyes. "You already said that." I know I'm being disrespectful to my mom, but I'm so tired of all of this. I'm tired of being pulled into the middle and forced to make a decision between something they can't agree on. I also don't understand why they think they have the right to uproot my plans. But I guess that's what happens when you're a teenager – your parents increase their selfishness to the max; they always need to know what you're doing and where you're going at all time. It's ridiculously unfair.

"Liza," Dad says softly. I can tell he's unhappy with my tone of voice by the look in his eyes despite the softness of his voice. "Please, just sit down."

Although I'm not very happy about sitting down and wasting my time with the two of them, I sit down on a stool beside him and slouch against the island, resting my chin on my crossed arms. What they're making me do is absolutely ridiculous. It's probably just another strict talking to about not doing the dishes on time or forgetting to make my bed in the morning. Just because they keep telling me these things over and over again doesn't mean I'm going to start doing it. I have better things to do. Like spend time with Leon and the rest of my friends.

For several long seconds, all my parents do is stare at me as if they're analyzing me. I begin to tap my finger against the granite, glancing at anything but my parents. When I look at the clock on the stove, my annoyance spikes. We wanted to get to the movies early in order to get good seats. Feeling flustered, I level my gaze with my dad's and say, "Spit it out already! What the hell do you want? I have places to be and people to hang out with."

Again, my voice is filled with a potent dose of venom. But who am I to care? All my parents have been doing lately is fighting. In the later hours of the night, I can hear them yell and scream at each other. I can hear things breaking against the wall. They think I'm asleep when all this is happening. The truth is, I'm hiding under my comforter and wishing Leon were with me.

My parents exchange an uneasy glance.

"Honey," Mom says.

I hate that she calls me that – it makes my hair stand on end.

"Your father and I have come to the conclusion that we need to get a divorce."

In the first moment, my blood runs cold. It feels as though my whole world has been tipped off of its axis, sending everything to the wayside. I feel like I'm hanging onto the edge of a sinking ship and I don't know whether or not I'm going to drown or survive.

In the next moment, I feel the pain hit me like a gunshot to the heart. Even after all the stuff that's been happening between my parents, I thought that they would find a way to make things better and bring our family back together.

With tears pooling in my eyes, I abruptly stand up and stare both of them down as they sit there. Both of them are avoiding eye contact with me, which only causes the tears to come faster and harder and dot the island. How could they do this to me? Where am I supposed to live? I could never decide between my parents. And, on top of that, I've heard stories about parents that divorce. I've heard that they try to turn you against the other parent by bribing you with expensive things. I've heard that sometimes one parent will completely ignore their own child, leaving them behind for a new family.

And, the scariest part of it all is that I've experienced some of this already. My parents have tried to bribe me on multiple occasions. I'm worried it's going to get worse. I can't handle being stuck in this forced love triangle. 

"I hate you two," I whisper.

And then I turn around and rush out of the kitchen with my purse and jacket. In the background, I hear chairs scrape against the hardwood. I hear my name being called, but I don't stop. I shove the front door open and run down the stairs to the porch, only slowing down when I'm at the top of the driveway.

"Meghan!" Dad calls. "Let her go! She needs some time. Let her go to Leon's house."

I squeeze my eyes shut as I jog down the driveway, hating that they know me well enough to know that I'm going to Leon's house. Whenever I need someone to vent to, to talk to, I always go to Leon. No matter what, even if it's something we disagree on, he always listens to me. He's been the buoy that's kept me afloat through all of this and I need him now more than ever.

Leon lives two houses down from me, on the corner of the highway just off of one of the side roads. His house is ginormous compared to mine, complete with dark-green siding and wooden beams that emphasize the structure of the house. He even has a pool in the backyard. I've always loved his house but right now, in the pouring rain, it looks as depleted as I feel. Worthless. Dreary.

I sprint up the front steps to his house and knock on the door. I've managed to gain control of my tears, but my eyes are beginning to burn again. I need Leon. I need him to help me make sense of everything that's just happened. I don't know what I'm going to do now that my parents are officially getting a divorce. What if they try to make me move away from Leon and the rest of my friends? What if I don't like my future stepsiblings or stepparents?

Mrs. Saint-Laurent is the one to open the door. "Eliza," she says, sounding surprised. "You're early. Leon said you weren't supposed to be here until – "

I cut her off with a sob. "I...I need to talk to Leon," I sob. "Please."

The lines in Mrs. Saint-Laurent's face soften as the tears continue to slide down my cheeks. "Come in, sweetheart," she says, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "I'll go get Leon and then make you a nice hot cup of tea. Does that sound good?"

Wiping my tears away, I nod.

She takes me to the living room and sits me down on the couch. Instantly, I curl into myself, resting my head on the decorative pillow. I drop my bag and jacket to the floor and close my eyes. I can't believe this is actually happening. "Give me a couple of minutes to find him," Mrs. Saint-Laurent says. "But, before I go, is there anything you need?"

I shake my head. I need my parents to stay together. I need things to get better between them. I need them to love me as much as they used to. But all those things I want are things that Mrs. Saint-Laurent can't give me.

"Okay," she replies, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I'll be right back."

About three minutes have passed by the time Mrs. Saint-Laurent comes downstairs with Leon right behind her. Tonight, he's dressed in dark jeans and a baby-blue T-shirt. His hair is damp and his face is dotted with the acne he's been battling for the past couple of months. To me, though, he still looks as handsome as ever.

"Liz?" he asks, stepping out from behind his mom. When they're standing next to each other, I begin to realize just how much he's grown. I'm still taller than him by a couple of inches, but he's almost taller than his mom. At this rate, he's going to be taller than me by the end of the year.

He sits down beside me and draws me into his arms. At first, it's a little awkward. The last time he hugged me like this, I didn't have boobs that flattened against his chest and he didn't have the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. "What happened?" he asks.

I sniffle, wondering how I'm supposed to convert my confusing thoughts to words. "My p-parents," I stutter. "They're g-getting a d-divorce. I thought they were going to t-try and work things out, Leon."

For a long while, Leon doesn't say anything. All he does is hold me as I sob into his shoulder. I feel ridiculous – I'm fifteen and I most definitely shouldn't be crying. But it hurts. It hurts so damn much that this is the only way I can let the pain loose. By crying.

"I'm so sorry, Liz," he whispers. "I wish there was more I could say, but that's all I have."

"It's okay," I reply, breathing in his scent. He smells faintly of cedarwood and citrus.

"No," he replies. "It's not. You don't deserve this. No kid does."

I'm not sure how much time has passed by the time Mrs. Saint-Laurent returns with a tray of scones and steaming tea, but I'm assuming it's been a while. Leon helps me sit up and we watch as she sets the tray down on the coffee table before us. There are slices of lemon on the rims of each mug. The scones are raspberry-lemon and there's a small dish of butter next to them.

"I called Tenille and told her and Talbot to go on without you two," Mrs. Saint-Laurent says.

"Thank you," I whisper, wiping at my streaked face.

Beside me, Leon reaches for one of the mugs and hands it to me. I hold the mug close to my face and breathe in the steam. When I have a little more control over my emotions, I ask, "What happens if they make me move? I can't leave Whistler. This place is my home."

Leon stares at me like he can't possibly understand what I've just said. He's looking at me as if I'm insane. He blinks a couple of times and then turns to his mom. "We can adopt her, right? There's no law against that."

His mom chuckles, setting down her own mug of tea. "Sweetheart, of course we can adopt her."

I begin to laugh. I don't care if she's only saying that to make me feel better. She's trying to make me happier and that's all that matters. I laugh until my stomach is hurting and I'm clutching Leon's shoulder so hard he's cringing.

"Eliza," Mrs. Saint-Laurent says. "I know it's hard to watch your parents' relationship fall apart. If you ever feel like things are overwhelming at home, you are always welcome to stay here." She glances at Leon. "We will not be able to adopt you, but we do have an extra room and a spare key."

Sniffling, I nod. "Thank you."

She flashes me a weak smile and sets her mug down. "I'm going to go and call your parents so they know where you are. If you're okay with that, that is."

I only nod because my parents already know where I am. Maybe Mrs. Saint-Laurent will be able to put into words what I can't. Maybe she'll be able to tell my parents that this news has hurt me badly. That I need to be away from them for a little bit in order to sort my thoughts out.

When Mrs. Saint-Laurent has left the room, I rest my head on Leon's shoulder. His arm tightens around me and he presses a kiss to my temple. A hot rush of blood finds its way into my cheeks and my stomach does a funny flip. Leon's been kissing me like this a lot, be it on my knuckles or the side of my cheek, he finds a way to do it.

"You're gonna be okay, Liz," he promises. "I'm here for you."

I snuggle closer to him. With everything that's happened within the past hour, Leon is the only thing that's preventing me from having a full-on breakdown. I can't thank him enough for being here for me.

I exhale deeply.

Without Leon, I don't know what I'd do.