Invisible

DEFINITION OF FAMILY

AIDEN DROVE ME TO HIS PLACE that Friday, just as he said he would. I walked out of the front door of the gym, downstairs into the parking lot. He was already waiting.

Boy’s locker room probably wasn’t as crowded.

“’Bout time,” he said as we start walking toward the lot entrance, “wouldn’t want to keep my parents waiting.”

I laughed. “You try being a girl and having to wait for the bathroom.”

“Nah, I’ll pass on that.”

He stopped at the huge pickup truck. A Chevy, jet black, four seats. He walked toward the passenger side door, opened it for me.

First time a guy’s opened anything for me.

“Thanks,” I said as I climbed into the passenger seat. Before I knew it, he was sitting next to me, car started, backing out of the parking space.

“So,” I said, “I’m guessing you’ve told your parents a lot about me?”

“Why do you say that?” he responded.

“They want to meet me, so you must have said something.”

He smirked as we drove out of the parking lot. “You could say that.”

<><><>

Aiden’s house wasn’t that far away from mine. I could have walked and made it there within an hour. He stopped the truck, jumped out. I watched him as he walked toward my side. He wasn’t seriously going to open the door, not again…

The door opened, his smile making me leap out of the truck. He led me to the front door of his house.

“This is it,” he said as he unlocked the front door, pushed it open. The second I walked into the foyer, Latin music took over, my eyes widened.

“Part Latin American?” I asked, looking up at him. His skin was tanned. I just never thought it was natural.

“Nope. Spaniard.” He smiled as we walked straight ahead, into the living room. Then he started speaking Spanish, words I could barely understand.

“Dad, I’m home!”he yelled, his accent slightly changing, making it seem as though he actually grew up in Spain.

“Hey!” A deeper voice called from the kitchen . He didn’t sound like a native speaker, his accent American, “How was everything at school?”

“Good. There’s someone who wants to see you.”

“Really?” A tall, broad man walked out of the kitchen, stood near the threshold leading into it. Then his expression changes as he looked at me, and I smiled, started to remember everything.

“Jack?” I asked, my heart pounding as he opened his mouth to respond.

“Emma…” he said, his eyes as wide as mine were. I nodded as my smile grew. He rushed toward me, wrapped his arms around me like a father would to his daughter. I hugged him back, and tears wanted desperately to fall, but I stopped them.

“It’s been too long,” he said. I smiled again, nodded.

“It has,” I responded, “I can’t believe you’re… Is everyone here?”

“Yes… Well, Ethan and Blake are in college, but they’re here.”

“And Alicia?”

“She’s at her studio. She should be coming back in an hour, if you’re staying that long.”

I nodded as I turned toward Aiden, his smile a little brighter than it was when we were younger. I remember him visiting right after my mother died. He’d asked me if I were okay, told me that everything’s going to be fine.

He’d be there for me.

“Aiden Michael Carter, huh?” I asked after a moment. He smirked, held his arms open for me.

“The one and only.”

I ran toward him, wrapped my arms around him as if it’d been the first time I’d seen him in over a decade, as if I hadn’t been going to school with him for the past three weeks. He squeezes me tightly.

“Hey,” he said, “Are Ethan and Blake coming over for dinner?”

“They called and said they would,” Jack said, leaning against the kitchen door pane, “they told me you wanted them to come. Didn’t know this would be the reason why.”

“I’m guessing they’re going to be psyched?” I asked.

Aiden smiled at me. “More than you know.”

<><><>

“When did you leave Barcelona?” I asked as he sat down at his desk, eyes still glued to me. I sat on his bed, crossed my legs.

“I told you already,” he said laughing, “Two years ago, I came here.”

“Why?”

“Well… I don’t know… Ali always wanted to move here, especially after your mother died…” he trailed off when he looked up at me. I wasn’t upset over my mother anymore, but every time someone would mention my mother’s death… My expression would change. He stared at me for a moment before he stood up, walked toward me.

The one feeling I remember from that day was how small I was compared to him. He was at least six inches taller than I was, and he seemed huge to me. I wanted to smile when he sat next to me, apologized. It’s not like he knew why my expression would change.

“Mark’s different,” I said, “I mean, he’s nothing like your father knew him to be.”

“Well, I kinda got that at school. Anna’s always saying how much of an asshole he is.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t even really get it.”

“Really?” He hesitated, pulled back toward the headboard, “Tell me about it.”

“Uh… I’d rather not.”

“Not comfortable?”

“No, it’s just not a happy subject.”

“Neither’s life, but we live through it, don’t we?”

I was silent as I looked around his room, noticed several pictures of him on the back of his door (with his family, friends, girls… and me). Well, there was only one of me, and I remember the day we took it. I was nine, he was twelve. He looked so annoyed with me, it was pathetic. Our mothers had to bribe us in order to take it. I smiled, wanted to ask Aiden about it.

“So, are you going to tell me?” he asked again.

I sighed, looked toward him. “After my mother died, Mark went a little crazy. He’d just go distant… you know?”

Apparently, he read my half-ass expression.

“Is that it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s not enough to make a person crazy.”

I sighed, looked back at the picture… I guessed I should have trusted him enough to let him in. I mean, he was there the day I was born, would have been there ever since if we hadn’t lived oceans apart.

“He stopped caring about everything… Me, Michelle… That’s why Anna always brings me lunch and would invite me over. She knows I would probably die if I stayed with him.” I laughed. He didn’t.

“Isn’t Michelle, like, five?”

“Yeah, we’d go and get her before we’d go to her house. We live right down the street from each other.”

“So, he doesn’t take care of either of you?”

“Not really. I mean, he did before we moved back, but it was bare minimum. I’d have to take care of Michelle and myself.”

He frowned, moved closer to me.

“So, you lost both of your parents, then?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Wow… that sucks.”

“Eh, I’m still living. I’ve still got people.”

“Yeah… You’ve still got us.”