Dark City

24.

Alex rested her head on the dining room table, humming "It's the End of the World" as she waited for dinner. She stared at the Tuscan cabinet and the oak wine racks that held enough libations to intoxicate an army, or drown a broken heart.

She didn't feel comfortable in this place anymore. All of the family furniture was so rigid and pristine. The sheer cleanliness of the rooms downstairs made her feel like she lived in a dollhouse. She reached under the table for the thick white fur of Aethelwulf. The sensation always reassured her. She would stay just long enough to pack her most precious belongings. And then she would leave this place forever.

Her mother was in the kitchen scooping Chinese takeout onto the fine china. Brett sat next to her, leaning on the back legs of his chair. Her brother had the fair hair and dark eyebrows of a Bennett, just like Alexandria, but his face was not as soft. He took after their father with his sharp nose and angular smile.

"You join a fight club?" asked Brett. Alex took a serving of lo mein and ignored him.

Her mother brought out the serving plates and sat down with them, folding her hands in prayer.

"Dear lord, thank you for all the blessings you have bestowed on our family. Thank you for bringing Brett here to have dinner with us tonight and please watch over Max as he makes his way home."

Alex rolled the noodles elegantly against her spoon and started to eat. She felt her mother watching her and tried not to make eye contact.

"Alex, honey. Are you ready to talk about what happened to your eye?"

"No," Alex said. She wanted something, anything to make her float again. Where was her sweet euphoria? Should she go back to Jacob? Apologize for leaving the motel before making her vow to Baphomet?

"Does this have anything to do with Nathan? Because if it does, you need to tell me."

"I thought he died," Brett said.

"He didn't die." Alex furrowed her brow and grit her teeth. Her mother's eyes fixed like laser beams and preemptively Alex relaxed her forehead before the woman could shriek "Wrinkles!" "He got injured. You never pay any attention."

"You were acting like he died, moping about, wearing black like some Goth kid. I remember."

Alex sullenly ate her noodles. Her mother sipped her glass of white wine, staring like she was going through the files in Alex's head.

The front door swung open and Aethelwulf went running. Alex recognized the sound of her father's steps. He gave his daughter a peck on the head and mussed Brett's hair.

"Both my children, what a treat," he said, taking a seat at the head of the table. He eyed the Chinese food suspiciously, but helped himself to some noodles without comment.

"Max, love. The luncheon on Terry's boat was a hit," her mother told him. "We raised over forty thousand for the clubhouse renovations."

"Great." Alex's father looked at his daughter and frowned. "What happened to your eye, sweetie?"

"God!" She stabbed at a slippery baby corn with her fork. "Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this?"

"I think Nathan had something to do with it," said her mother. "Those military types are unhinged." Lillian Stockton knew all about Nathan and his letters. When the letters stopped coming, her mother had held a hysterical, sobbing Alex in her arms on those nights she couldn't sleep.

"He's important to you, isn't he," her father said with a performance of sincerity he had perfected over the years of being a therapist. "You don't want to get him in trouble."

Dr. Maxwell Stockton kept up with the whole family's mental health. Whenever Alex went to her parents with any complaints, she ended up on the couch with daddy trying to shrink her head. He made her draw pictures of the family over and over. She would draw the big house on the hillside with the forest running off the page. A man and a woman stood outside the house. A boy rode his bicycle down the hill, and a little stick figure Alex was in the window, looking out.

"You won't have time for a boyfriend anyway during your first year at Princeton," her father remarked. Alex closed her eyes and smashed her face into her hands.

"Did he and his mother like those muffins we baked?" her mother asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know," Alex said, her voice muffled by her palms.

"December is right around the corner. How are those applications coming?"

"I'm not going." Alex attempted at keeping a neutral tone, but each word was tainted with resentment. Her father's eyes dropped to his plate. Her mother set her silverware down and folded her hands.

"You have to go," her mother said. "You're legacy."

"I don't fucking care."

Her father coughed on his water. Brett burst out laughing.

"Alexandria," her father said sternly. "There are so many better words to use to express yourself. Don't resort to using that one."

"Well that's the only one that gets through to you!" Alex shouted, standing up from the table. "Fuck Princeton! Fuck legacy! And fuck you!"

"Alexandria Stockton!" her mother snapped.

Alex shot up from the table and stormed out. She held back her tears all the way up the stairs, slamming the door to her bedroom and throwing herself into bed where she buried herself beneath the covers. She would be gone soon. And they would all be so sorry for all the years and years of suffering they had put her through.

She turned on her blackberry and texted Lacey.

I want to come back.

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Music: "End of the World" Skeeter Davis