✔ DRUNK words, SOBER thoughts ✖ hemmings au

40: The Final Declaration

ARI.

I wasn't so sure I wanted to turn 18 anymore. I was more keen on the idea of freezing in time, letting the world pass and letting the problems pass without me in them. I wanted to turn 18 under my conditions; under my rules. And all I wanted now, was to cancel my stupid Debut. I was completely over the idea of big parties, fancy dresses, dance rehearsals and coming out to all my friends and family as an adult. I agreed to a big soirée because my mom was so pushy, but with her confined to a hospital bed, I wasn't so sure she'd even have the energy to attend. But my mom was persistent. She was so adamant about this party, that it felt like she was trying to relive her own Debut when she turned 18 so many years ago.

"I'll attend your party even if they have to roll me on this hospital bed," mom joked, attempting to make light of this situation.

Even through the phone I could sense the forced strength in her voice. But reading between the lines you'd know that it was cynical and pessimistic. My birthday was two months away and if my mother was joking about hospital beds, it's safe to assume that she didn't see herself getting any better.

"I don't want this party anymore," I grumbled, slumping further into the driver's seat. My car was idle, parked against the curb of the O'Hara house. An Italian-inspired beach front-house loomed before me, with only one car in the driveway. Reese wasn't home and it was the perfect time to do some sleuthing.

"The venue and catering has already been paid for," mom explained, "your cousins are still excited."

"I guess," I exhaled, finally shutting off my car and shutting off the warm air that filtered through the vents. "I'm not very excited about it anymore."

"But I'm still excited," and it was that simple statement from my mom that sparked something in me.

I didn't want to let her down. I didn't want to take away something that clearly made her happy. I guessed my mother needed something, a little piece of life outside of the hospital to keep her spirits up; to keep her mind on other things. In a way my 18th birthday party was something she could look forward to. I had to stick with this party. Even though I wanted to cease everything about it, even though my mind was in a whole different dimension, I had to follow through for my mom. Maybe this party would distract me and keep me sane despite the shit that's culminating around me.

After hanging up with my mom, I grabbed my purse that was sprawled on the floor of the passenger side of the car. I pushed open the door and stepped out, gazing up at the O'Hara house. Christmas lights lined the rooftops, reindeer statues adorned the grass and deflated snowmen were in a pile near the door. I let out a breath with puffed cheeks, wisps of hot air dancing right before my lips. After taking in another breath, I stepped forward. I felt my heart thump against my chest as my feet slowly inched forward. Before I knew it I was standing on the porch, my arm raised and my finger pressing the doorbell.

After a few moments, the tall, rustic, wooden door opened. Kimmie stood there with a smile on her face and a pair of skinny jeans adorning her incredibly long legs. It was almost refreshing to see her in casual wear as oppose to the spandex and dance apparel she so often sports during dance rehearsals.

"Ari! Hey, come inside. It cold," Kimmie opened the door wider to let me into the warm home. She pulled me into a hug and she smelled strongly of vanilla and chocolate. It was welcoming, much like my surroundings.

The O'Hara house, though situated right on the Percival Shores Peninsula, was quaint. The walls were painted a pale custard color and the floor-length windows were like frames to the private beach in their backyard. The Christmas tree was tall, grand, and perfectly decorated, each ornament carefully placed. Christmas was three days away. We didn't even have our tree out of storage, much less erect and flourishing with decorations. Despite the gloomy weather outside, the home felt like a home; unlike mine and I was jealous.