The silver blade appears in my hand. It’s a thick kitchen knife, the one with the sharpest edge. There’s nothing surrounding me, all I can see is the pitch black background and my arms in front of me. I raise my right hand, carrying the blade, and cut horizontally into my left wrist. Blood slowly begins to trickle down and I continue moving the knife down my arm in a spiraling fashion until I reach my elbow. The blood beautifully covers my pale white skin, as I hold it up to get a closer look. Then, I laugh at myself for holding such thoughts and push it out of my mind, focusing on what’s in front of me, I smile.
“Elle, did you hear what I just said?”
I look up at my loving mother who’s driving the car to my favorite place to eat, an out-of-the-way sports bar with an authentic Italian menu, for my twenty first birthday. Her frizzy, thick hair is perpetually in various stages of being bleached blond and although her face is wrinkled from all the tanning she does, it doesn’t betray her true age of 57. Never acting her age, she retains a bright, youthful spirit that is contagious to anyone around her—even me. She often makes me wonder who’s the parent and who’s the child in this relationship, but I don’t mind. In fact, I very much love my mother and often find her childish demeanor to be rather cute—as long as she continues to listen to reason. She’s manic depressive, after all.
“No, I didn’t. What’d you say?” I ask from the backseat.
“I said, your first drink has to be a Jaeger Bomb!”
My mom’s current favorite actor-singer Gun-Chan has a song where he asks for a Jaeger Bomb. Ever since she saw him drink it in a video, she’s been obsessed with that drink. Many eye rolls have ensued since I introduced her to him… However, despite the many years that have gone by, I will admit he still holds a special place in my heart too.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Hahaha. Alright! But, if I don’t like it, you have to drink the rest!”
“Don’t worry, you’ll love it!” She smiles back.
My father, sitting in the car seat in front of me, starts to chuckle a bit as well. On top of my father’s head he has naturally blond, gradually whitening and balding, thin hair. Because my father’s face, neck, and head are always varying shades of red, the bald spot located in the center of his head really looks like a painted target. Like my mother, he also doesn’t look his age of 54. Sometimes, he tells me, people mistake him for being in his thirties! I don’t believe him though, since he’s always playing tricks on me. He believes I’m really gullible, but I just like to act like I am. I really love my father and his “dad jokes” as he likes to call them.
“You can drink all you want, but you better not drink enough to throw-up.” My father teasingly scolds.
“Ehh~ I thought that was the whole point! You’re supposed to drink that much so you never do it again, right?” I ask.
“I can’t believe you’re already old enough to be drinking…”
I rub my dad’s head and reply, “Neither can I.”
Normally, I suppose a twenty-one year old girl would celebrate by going out to a club with their friends or something. However, I no longer have any friends, so it’s just me and my loving parents that can’t get rid of me. Despite me being a waste of space that can only eat, sleep, and breathe they’re still diligently taking care of me. They even bought me a cake and presents like they have every year before. I could almost cry, but my guilt won’t allow me to and I’m about to partake in some delicious food.