Chapter 2 : A Rare Day

I look down at my biology book with distraught thoughts. Bloody hell, I bet that I can’t understand half the textbook without using a medical dictionary. I still can’t believe how I can pass my biology tests without a biology-equipped brain.

One thing for sure, I’m never going to be a doctor.

“Mac, Maggie. Dinner time,” mum calls out. Today is one of the rare days that my mum actually cooked dinner. Most of the rare days ended up with me leaving the table early and pissed. The rare of those rare days consists of silence in the dining table except for the clinging sounds of the silverware hitting the plates or even the sound of chewing.

Yes, it is that bad. Normal days are the days I make something simple just to fill in my stomach when it starts growling.

It’s just such a rotten luck that Ellie’s mother grounded her; I would have stayed at her house for three months without worrying whether today is a rare day or not.

I do not answer, only continuing to finish writing down notes on cells or whatever I’ve been trying to learn in the past two hours.

“Mac and Maggie Eriksson, if you’re not down in five, I’m going to drag you two down here by your ears,” mum threatens.

I gulp in protest. Mum does drag us by the ear if she completes her counting and we’re not in the dining room. It happened a few times even when we’re in public, and God, it was painful and embarrassing.

“Four.”

I scribble down the last sentence before shooting up from my seat and run out of my room. At that very moment, my brother comes out of his room, looking as if a herd of flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz is chasing him.

The two of us nearly bump into each other as we exchange looks of worry.

Mac and I don’t look alike, other than our red hair. He is half a head taller than me although he is four years younger than me; I hate puberty for that. Mac also has a built body and some muscles that make the girls his age swoon over him.

Other than the sporty look and personality – he plays football in school – he is also a computer geek that no one from school knows. Mac loves playing computer games and even has his own game published. My family and I are the only people who know that Mac wears glasses since he wears contacts when he is at school.

“Three.”

With that, my brother and I race down the stairs, determined to reach the dining table first. Unfortunately for me, I have shorter legs compared to him so he surpasses me when we reach the bottom.

“Two.”

Mac is the first to be seated in the dining table with dad at the very end of the table, and mum at the opposite end. I sit in front of Mac, who is sticking out his tongue as though to say ‘Ha! I won, loser!’ which I glare back at him.

Mum doesn’t cast a glance at either of us as she cuts the chicken into pieces and putting it into our plates.

My brother and I inherit our thick frizzy hair from mum since she was from Scotland. Her thick Scottish accent doesn’t seem to go away after nineteen years of marriage to my father. In fact, I have Scottish accent leaking out of my voice if I yell at anyone in anger or frustration, which is a annoying every time Ellie keeps pointing out the Scottish side of me. My mum is a fashion designer who creates odd clothes and wears them. Once she wore this weird neon dress with a hat that looks like a dragon’s nest to a party and a kid called her Lady Gaga.

One thing about my mum; never criticize her out of the world sense of fashion.  

“Tuna!” mum calls out. Almost immediately, I hear the jingle of the bell on Tuna’s collar from a distance is getting louder. Within minutes, my cat strolls in gracefully with recently groomed orange fur.

Mum leans down to put the plate of fish on the floor for Tuna. Tuna meows in gratitude and digs in.

After saying our grace, the four of us eat in silence. Tuna is the first to leave the dining table with a full belly. The silence at the table is thick with tension, which I’m used to after many years. What worries me is when someone opens their mouth –

“Your cousin Juliet is coming to stay with us for the summer,” mum blurts out.

I choke on my cherry tomato. Really? Why did she have to say it when I happen to be eating?

“What?” I cry out in disbelief, turning to look at my father for confirmation.

“This must be a misunderstanding!” I try to deny the fact that my so-called perfect cousin is coming over. To my disappointment, he shakes his head in disagreement.

“Your Uncle Joseph and Aunt Madeline are going to Paris for a holiday together so your mother and I offered to take care of Juliet,” dad explains, putting a piece of his chicken into his mouth. I can hear a hint of jealousy coating in his voice. You would be jealous too if your older brother enjoys his life with his wife in the most romantic place on Earth while you’re stuck in little old Evenfield with a workaholic wife, disappointing daughter, and a son who practically lives in the cyber world.

My father has always been his older brother’s shadow. He always expects me to live up to his expectation: to have better grades than my all-A cousin Juliet. Sometimes he would rant about her achievements every time my uncle calls my dad and tells me how I should do the same. I hate it eventhough this has been going on all my life.

Unlike my mum, my dad is particular of everything like the same colour shirt and pants he wears to work every morning (He’s a chemist and there are times he likes to wear the typical white coat), the habit he has to always compare me to Juliet, how he always check the expiry dates before buying anything. You can say my parents are complete opposites but they share a few common traits such as enjoying watching the evening news, having a cup of coffee every morning and pestering me to do extraordinary well so they can show me off to my uncle and his family.

There should be bold words of 'Welcome to Maggie's miserable life' tattooed on my forehead.

I glare at my father and then my mother. Mac continues to eat as if this does not affect his life. It is true; it won’t change anything in his life, it will change mine.

For a short while, hopefully.

“How long is she going to stay with us?” I ask. My hand that is holding the fork tightens while my other free hand balls into a fist. I’m pretty sure my face is burning red with anger.

“Three months,” mum chirps. “Isn’t this exciting? You can finally spend some time with your cousin whom you have not seen for – how long ago was it?”

“Four years,” dad butts in.

“When is she arriving?” I try to calm myself down, but the anger is starting to take control of me and drive me insane.

“Tomorrow, so I expect the two of you to be at the best of performance and – ”

“Are you kidding me?” I cry as I jump to my feet. The force is so strong that the chair screeches backwards until it hits the dull white kitchen wall.

“Maggie Eriksson! Do not use that tone with me, young lady,” mum warns with a dangerous glint in her eyes. Her red hair looks brighter as though they are set on fire.

I snort loudly. “I’m sick and tired of this! I’m going to bed.”

“You’re not retired for the evening just yet, Maggie. Apologize to your mother and sit down,” my dad tells me.

“Mum, can you pass me the sauce?” Mac asks, ignoring the family drama that happening live in front of him.

“What do I need to apologize for? I did not do anything,” I say stubbornly like a spoilt kid. “You are the ones at fault! You ought to tell me earlier!”

Dad frowns. “Aren’t you excited that your favourite cousin is coming over?”

I glare at him when the word ‘favourite’ slips out of his mouth. Something in me snaps. Do I look like I’m anticipating my cousin’s arrival? That shows how blind my parents are.

“Favourite?” I repeat, pointing my fork at dad’s direction. Dad stares at the fork in horror like it is a knife instead.

“Maggie, stop pointing that fork at your father like that. Have you not learned any manners at all from me?” mum fires.

“Mum, the sauce please,” Mac says again with boredom.

I feel like gauging the fork that is still in my hand into his eyeball. In my head, I can see the silver utensil will be splattered with the vitreous liquid as I twist the fork slowly yet deeper through the cornea and into the eye, making sure he can feel the pain.

At that very thought, I now realized why I can pass my biology tests. My method of remembering biology facts are extremely violent.

Mum hands him a bottle of Heinz. “Here, honey.”

I groan out loud. Out of million other families, why was I born into this one?

“I did not learn anything from you! You weren’t home less than nine hours a day and it’s because of eight hours of sleep and one hour of watching the evening news! That’s what you’ve been doing the last eighteen years!” I shout at her.

“Quit shouting at your mother at once, young lady, or you are grounded,” dad threatens, pointing his second finger at me.

“Why are you acting this way, Maggie? Is it attention that you want? Or more allowance?” mum asks, looking as if she’s going to cry anytime soon. As if to add effects, she takes out a colouful handkerchief and pretends to wipe the edge of her eyes so it wouldn't ruin her perfect makeup.

I stab the fork down at the dining table, making legs of the fork dig deep into the wood and the tail standing perpendicular to the table. That makes everyone flinch in surprise. My mum even let out a small shriek. All of them looked as if I’m a serial killer. Heck, even I’m surprised at my sudden strength.

“I’m going to bed now,” I announce in a low voice, as if taunting them to challenge me. They should know by now what I want. How ignorant of them they act towards me. Can they not compare me to my so-called perfect cousin Juliet every time I receive my exam results? Can they not notice my lack of friends and my problem of conversing? Can they not notice that I’m suffering in the inside?

Of course not. They think I have a problem and they blame it on puberty for making me rebellious.

Just like any other rare days, no one says anything. Mum and dad have the same terrified look on their faces and my brother keeps eating his dinner without paying us mind.

Without wasting any more time, I stomp my way away from them and into my room upstairs. I heard Mac saying, “Mum, can you pass me the bottle of thousand island please?” which makes me roll my eyes.

Once I enter my room, I jump into my bed and cry out my frustration into a pillow. My pillow has been a victim to my shouting and crying for so many years that I’m surprised it is still loyal in serving me well to sleep comfortably at night. Tuna’s usual presence next to me soothes me just like always. I’m so lucky to have a pet who understands my feeling.

“Oh Tuna! Juliet is coming over! Do you know what it means?” I ask the feline.

Tuna ignores me and my question as he starts to groom himself up instead. What an ignorant cat; he knows when to show love and when to just go back to doing ‘typical cat activities’ without a care in the world.

Jealousy tugs my heart.

Even my cat has a better life than me.