I get home at 5 and there is already a light blinking on my answering machine. The insistent red flicker reminds me that they all know I am coming home today, and for some reason they can't wait to see me this time. I hit the oversized, blue Play button and listen to the familiar squeal of Renee's voice as she excitedly screeches that unbeknownst to me, we have plans for tonight. I drop the rest of my bags onto my bed and slide my coat from my shoulders. It hits the floor softly as I think to myself, "I haven't even eaten dinner yet. Oh well, I guess it won't be a big dinner." Mom is cooking pasta in the kitchen and I can smell it all the way up in my room. Dad yells up the hall stairs that it's done and that I should come down before it gets cold, making sure to add Pumpkin to his final words, the name he's called me since I was a year old and went as a Jack-O-Lantern for my first Halloween. I rearrange the mess on my desk and bed a little before complying with the call. Flicking the light switch on my way out the door, I make my way down the staircase. I can hear my Mom commenting to my Father that she's missed hearing the herd of elephants coming down the stairs, especially now since the boys have moved out.

Apparently the whole family is coming over for dinner. Mom makes sure to mention that they will be arriving any minute, as I pop the cork on the bottle of red wine with the pretty foil label. She smiles at me, slightly dazed, as I sip from the glass I just poured. I smile back and reply, "What?" through my big teeth. She moves from the stove and towards me and repeats for the tenth time since I've walked in the door how nice it is that I am home again. She hugs me and I can hardly breathe, but she doesn't let go. She kisses me on the cheek and recedes. I shake my head and take another sip from my glass of wine, just like a big girl. The boys come bounding through the door, new wives in tow, and they all take turns hugging and welcoming me back home. My sister and her family head through the door not long after, carrying overnight bags and all the necessities one must carry when one has two little girls. I haven't been back to my town since the end of July, and it is now winter break. I still don't know how I managed to convince them that I didn't really need to come home before this. I felt like I needed a break from everywhere for a while. When a friend suggested I come visit him at school in San Francisco over my fall vacation, as opposed to going home, I decided to do it. It was the first time that I didn't go home for that weeklong break, and I could tell that Mom was still a little upset about that, but refused to show it because I was home now.

Dinner began and so did my family. They started right in with all of their questions about what I had been up to and the reasons as to why I hadn't called or written. Because that was very unlike me. I gave them a standard reply and told them I'd been busy/the semester had been crazy, and that now I was glad to be home and just wanted to forget about all the insanity for a while. Why was it that I just did not want to talk about this semester? And why hadn't I needed a ride home? Every time they asked a new question I would promptly grab the wine glass and lift it to my lips, quickly sipping so as to avoid having to answer their questions right away. The savoring of the wine gave me time to come up with a reasonable answer for my withdrawn attitude. I couldn't explain to my suburban family that I needed to cloister myself away somewhere for a while, to shut everything else off, to shut it out. I had to find a way to be alone and be okay with it, and I knew they wouldn't understand it, and would attempt to force me to talk about this because "harboring feelings instead of talking about them just wasn't healthy," in my Mother's opinion. Soon the wine glass is empty, and my brother manages to grab the bottle before I can refill my glass. I feel I have nowhere to land and above the din of our usual dinner conversations he asks the question I've been dreading since I walked in the door. "So what have you really been up to?" The table quiets suddenly as I smile sheepishly and I withdraw my hand from where the bottle had been located. "Nothing. I told you I've just been busy." By this point the two glasses of wine I managed to down began to take their effect, and my eyelids feel like heavy glass lampshades. My eldest niece jumps from her chair at the end of the table and squeals as she runs toward me. She pulls herself up into my lap as if I were an oak tree and smiles widely up at my face, innocently asking, "Aunt Jeanie got new John?" Of course she is six years old now and can make complete coherent statements but still refuses to call my boyfriends anything other than "Johns". Which I admit is slightly disturbing considering her word choice here, but John was the name of the first boyfriend I had that she remembers, and at that time in her life she didn't know the term boyfriend so she just always called him my John. I press my face against hers and nose-to-nose I answer her in a manner as silly as that of her asking, "Miss Amanda got a John?" She squeals again and backing her face from mine she whips her hands up to cover her mouth as if another shriek is going to sneak out. She promptly informs me that hers is not a John but in fact is a Zachary. I apologize for my egregious error and she laughs some more, and I realize that throughout the entire conversation the whole of my family has been silent, waiting to hear what my answer is going to be. They figure that "a new John" could be a perfectly good reason as to why I've been so distant this semester. So when I look up into their boldly questioning eyes, I reply with my standard, "What? Do I have something in my teeth?" and I smile a huge grin, hoping a stray piece of basil has lodged itself. One of my new sisters-in-law promptly gives my smile a clear bill of aesthetic health, and asks, "Well?" Apparently she has had a few glasses of wine as well… I hear the phone in my bedroom ring and I grab the last bite of farfalle from my plate before I bolt from the kitchen table to run to my salvation. I am up the stairs before my father demands that I sit down. In the safety of my room I answer the phone, breathless but strangely breathing easier. Renee's voice reprises itself through the receiver and she tells me we are going barhopping, her treat. She says she'll be around in fifteen minutes and I think how perfectly that will fit. Just enough time to brush my teeth and get myself ready before my family decides to revive the Spanish Inquisition. Our conversation is brief, and I change into more appropriate clothes than the tank top/button down shirt, jeans combo I wore on the ride home. A fitted black jersey v-neck sweater finds its way onto my body as do my super-tight, low-rider dark rinse denim bootcuts. Thick-healed black boots walk their way onto my feet. I flip my head over, letting my hair hang a few moments in front of my eyes, as I contemplate the reasons why I am getting so "dressed up", especially when I am probably only going to run into half of the population of my high school graduating class. We are after all going to Bung's first. Bung's is a local bar that attempts to serve food, but should just stick with beer. I flip my head back over in a dazed rush. I can feel that my face is red. I walk to the mirror that hangs on the wall above my dresser and look in, expecting as always, to see someone else. I apply my evening coat of social shellac, trying ironically to make it look as natural as possible. As I stare into the mirror as I realize that there are some things about make-up I will never understand. I grab my black leather jacket, feeling almost bad-ass and bound down the stairs. My family is still making raucous noises in the kitchen as the boys start cleaning up and discussing the latest new toys they've bought for their new houses/cars/stereos/whatever. I kiss Dad on the top of his balding head first and then my Mother's cheek and tell them I'm going out with Renee and not to wait up. Dad looks over the top of his glasses and says, "Not late, young lady. I've got to go to work tomorrow."

"Daddy, you don't have to wait up for me. Please go to sleep. I'll be in by two at the latest." He has just enough time to eek out the words, "Be safe." before Renee pulls up and honks her horn. I bid goodbye to everyone and tell them I'll probably see them all sometime this week. I rush out into the cold night air, feeling it hit my face refreshes me and I'm alive again, the two glasses of red fade like a distant memory as I climb into the messy car. "Hey girl," Renee says in her usual tone, drawing out the vowel sounds in each word, "You ret to get?" "Let's go," I mutter and we head out into the December darkness, leaving behind nothing but a blur…

* * *

I walk into the warm kitchen, bare feet on the chill sage-green industrial tile floor. Padding around like a cat I'm drawn to the window letting sunlight stream through its blinds. I twist them and peer out and the playground across the street is lifeless, except for a lonely swing rocking gently in the winter-white breeze of early morning December. I start the coffee pot in hopes it will revive me. The house is quiet, everyone has gone off to work, its 11. Listening to the spitter spatter tinkle of coffee on the bottom of its glass pot, I smell the rich aroma and think of the hokey television commercials. I daze off into space, eyes glazed for a minute, after-effects of the alcohol-induced sleep from last night. I absentmindedly pour into a mug, because I can't find my old faithful teacup. Sugar and milk, just the same. I amble around the huge island/counter monstrosity that is coated in mauve Formica and a thick covering of old pieces of mail and stale magazines. I crouch into the chair at the end of the table. My toes wiggle as of their own accord. The golden glint from the window is nearly blinding and I find myself no longer looking out but looking in. Realizing I can't see anything but last semester, I forget about trying to focus and start to remember.

* * *

The sky was white that day and I laid under it, letting it press my body into the bed of grass. You hovered above me, a welcome eclipse of the sun's intensity. Your shoulders filled out a familiar silhouette, and I thought to myself how strangely divine you looked haloed in sunlight. I peered up and you bent down revealing the rays. I recovered and shielded my eyes. You pressed your lips into mine the way she had just done the day before, only she tasted like Smartie candies. I had more of a preference for the bittersweet flavor of your lips that I had come to adore. I wanted your stubble to slide over my face, because after a while it's just soft and not so rough anymore, and that's where it was now. Examining your chin, I took your jaw between my thumb and forefinger and said, "You need a shave and a haircut." And you nibbled my ear, whispering back something that caused a shiver that belied the summer air. And you rested your leg across my body as you half lay beside me, half on me, tranquil as fresh grass, sedated and dazed by the wonder we'd found in each other's worlds. As you laid there holding me I couldn't help but think of how she kissed me yesterday… and how different it was… She was lying in the grass on the quad. I saw her and I laid down too, because she looked so comfortable. I was surprised that she rose to the sky as I sank to the ground; in one swift motion we had traded places. I blinked for one moment and only opened my eyes again when I no longer felt the warm sun on my face, and I suddenly felt darker and cooler in this unexpected shade. My eyes peered open. She stood above me, feet boxed around my head. I didn't enjoy looking to my left and seeing one foot dressed in her old, black Cons. Dark curls and royal blue, t-shirt covered breasts dangled above my eyes as she bent over, pulling the cotton taut as she tucked her hands into her back pockets. The frayed denim surrounding her knees played against the skin beneath and all I could think about was how I wanted to run my fingers over my own rough spots. Her lips parted and she breathed an easy, "Hey." Approaching me still upside down, she bent and kissed me, planting her sickeningly sweet taste on my mind. She flopped down on the earth beside me and I sat up, slightly surprised by her boldness. She is not you. Her legs bent under her comfortably as I sat and ironically thought about how much I wished you were sitting next to me with dirty jeans on playing with my rough spots…

* * *

My Mom comes home bursting in the door. It's lunchtime and she wants to eat. She asks if I've even eaten breakfast yet. I nod, thinking… "Damn, is it really noon already?" I ask her about my favorite teacup because I don't know where she keeps it any longer. She says she has packed it away. I look at her with a different expression, an expression that insists, "What have you done with my favorite teacup! Who are you that you could be so bold as to consider moving MY things?!?" And then I remember. I am no longer at home. I am in my parents' house. I sit with a different teacup enclosed in my cold fingers, eye to eye with her, the Grand Inquisitor, as she asks me all about my semester. I tell her I've found religion, or lost it, as she will later believe. I do not want to participate in Christmas anymore… I just don't feel Catholic. Between buttering toasted bread and drinking her own coffee, she calmly states that this doesn't make sense because I have been christened, I am Christ's child and no one else can claim me. But then I ask her why is it so that Buddha cannot claim me as his own, or Shiva, or Allah, or anyone else for that matter. I feel in this smallish rebellion like I have taken a lover, even though I feel too young to understand the mysteries of love. Reading my thoughts, she leans her head to a side and says that it isn't true. I belong. I have already been claimed. What she doesn't say, but I know she means, is that I belong to our family, even though I am no longer myself, I belong to my little suburban town, I belong to my church that I never attend, I belong to my football-obsessed high school, I belong to my friends. I belong to my home. But I don't, and in my heart I know it.

My fingers play with the hollow at the base of my neck and I am reminded of a necklace she gave me so that I wouldn't forget where I came from. In stroking my neck's nakedness I realize that I haven't worn it in two years. But I am reminded of this oversight every time I come back. She reminds me that I should not be a stranger even though I've left the me I used to be behind, in my little girl bedroom. She believes that I am still there, somewhere inside myself, even though I may be hidden by all of these crazy ideas. So she just sits and stares looking and peering inside trying to see the Me I used to be, struggling and straining because she believes I'm still there. I'm not so sure myself anymore, because I can't find my teacup, because someone has moved it… and she's looking for me like I'm looking for my teacup and we both end up sitting in the kitchen making the best of our replacements for our favorite things as we stare at each other… She clears the dishes as I turn back to my window perch and she silently leaves to return to work…

* * *

I'm transported by the sun filtering through the blinds again and the warmth from the unfamiliar cup. My eyes glaze over and I find myself on the grass with you again, this time whispering words into your eyes. You rested with your head cradled in my lap gently. I was your umbrella, shading you from the summer sunbeams. I was reciting something I had written and you smiled because you understood the metaphor for the first time, even though this was the thousandth time you'd heard it. You were proud of yourself for understanding and I took delight in watching you smile up easily into my protective eyes. I whispered and hushed and stroked my fingers across your temples reciting.

And you opened your eyes just enough to peek at me through your lashes, and you smiled, and I was lost in your teeth. I leaned in to kiss you on the forehead, upside down and then leaned further, planting my lips on your mouth. That was the first time you didn't pull away easily, your head followed mine as I released, not wanting to let go just yet, and I kissed you quickly again to appease you. You rolled onto your stomach and found my mouth again, lifting your weight from the earth to meet my face, we collided gently and you rolled me to the ground, and we collapsed, enveloped in the hovering cloud of the breezy kisses.

The sun streaks into my eyes interrupting my blurred memory and I'm pulled back to the present, and I try to shake it off. I realize that my lips are dry as I watch you walk away from my consciousness. I want you back, but the phone rings. I smile to myself as I answer it. It's my mother. "Can you bring me a cup of coffee?" she asks. I reply with a happy yes, not really thinking about her, but instead letting my thoughts cradle you in the grass again.