“Later, Lizz!” Elizabeth Rebekah Eastsons’ best friend since preschool, Sasha Sarah Rainlane, exclaimed as the two parted ways, her and many students voices echoed in the cool afternoon air. Sasha Sarah, a vibrant girl with a mix of white and black heritage, waved energetically. The light brown curly-haired girl’s mother had just pulled up in their family car, a green Toyota, and it was evident that it was time for Sasha to leave.
For the fourth graders their day had been filled with homework and group work, shared secrets and laughter, but now it was time to part. The half white Hispanic on her mother’s side and half black on her father’s side was going home as always happy, unlike Elizabeth. Because unlike Elizabeth, she was going to have an excellent weekend with no unexpected plan change unlike the one pulled on Elizabeth by her parents.
“Yeah. Bye Sa,” Elizabeth Rebekah Eastsons replied, a scowl momentarily marking her soft lips. However, as she waved, the frown faded into a fleeting smile. Sasha always knew how to bring joy into her day, even if just for a moment. Elizabeth was still feeling the sting of her parents’ rash decision concerning the weekend plans, which revolved around her little sister Hana’s birthday wish. The unfairness of it all weighed heavily on her fragile heart, and a sense of disappointment loomed large. But seeing her best friend, radiating joy, lifted her spirits, if only for that brief encounter.
As Sasha climbed into the car and waved one last time, Elizabeth felt a tug-of-war between her emotions. She wanted to be upset about her parents’ choices, which felt particularly unjust, but those joyful memories created with Sasha throughout the day lingered in her mind like a warm embrace, softening her frustration just enough to keep it at bay. She recalled the countless minutes they spent earlier in the day trying not to fail their surprised Math and English tests by trying to form codes and failing horribly. Or the unexpected food fight that started during lunch, which allowed them to flee the cafeteria and eat lunch with their group in the middle school courtyard. Something that usually didn’t happen since the school was against students eating in the courtyards. However, thanks to the unexpected food fight messing up the cafeteria, it was allowed. A bittersweet smile crept onto her face as she remembered how they also did their science project presentation together on the water cycle and their little embarrassing but totally okay dance they did.
Yet, as the blue Honda approached, those sweet memories began to fade, replaced by the stark reminder of her current predicament. The warmth of friendship was a soothing balm against the turbulence created by family expectations, but as the reality of coming home loomed, that warmth was rapidly being overshadowed by her anxiety about the evening’s impending discussions. Each roll of the blue car towards her felt heavier as the complicated emotions swirled within her.
Pulling her backpack high onto her shoulders, the grey-eyed, blonde-haired girl sighed, a mix of resignation and determination flooding through her. She let out air between her lips and walked toward her mother’s blue Honda that was slowing down as it approached her location. Well, it was time to face the music.
“Hi, Pumpkin.” Elizabeth Rebekah Eastson’s mother greeted her blonde-haired daughter with a bright smile, her cheeks still flush with the day’s warmth. No matter what kind of a day the older woman had, she always greeted her children with a smile whenever they crossed paths. To her, adult problems were for adults, not children, thus there was no point in bringing her adult problems to her children.
As always, the over-40-year-old woman radiated joy, her countenance a contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside Elizabeth. Elizabeth was acutely aware that her mother, while trying her best to be optimistic, often unintentionally heightened the pressure she felt. Her mother’s cheerful demeanor felt like a ray of sunshine piercing through the clouds of Elizabeth’s doubt, but as she looked into her mother’s caring eyes, she knew the conversation about the weekend’s plans was inevitable.
“How was your day?” her mother, a strawberry blond like her older brother Peter, continued, genuinely interested, her tone a delicate balance of curiosity and maternal affection. Elizabeth hesitated, the weight of her discontent pulling at her reply. The car’s interior was comforting, yet it felt suffocating at that moment, thick with unspoken words. She felt the first stirrings of unrest creeping back in, reminding her that her world was about to shift once more. Behind the glow of her mother’s smile, Elizabeth braced herself for the turbulence of familial obligations, her heart caught between nostalgia for carefree hours with Sasha and fun responsibilities with the old folk home and the relentless grip of her family’s expectations.
As they waited for Hana, the second grader, to join them before they drove to the old folk then to the middle school to pick up Mary Ann and Peter then home, Elizabeth’s thoughts tumbled over one another, each memory intertwined with the emotions she grappled with. The anticipation of confronting her nursing home volunteer program manager loomed large, washing over her like a tidal wave; she tried to focus on the warm glow of the day, but the shadows of her worries began to emerge.
She had joined the local nursing home volunteering program last year due to the fact that her other best friend Jermiah Johnson was attending. It was a means for the two gifted students to pad their college applications long before even entering high school. Lots of kids from their area got into top schools by volunteering in their community, thus showcasing leadership skills and care for others.
Though she wished for the innocence of a simpler time when her biggest concern was which game to play next with Sasha, and if Apple sauce or yogurt was better for old people and not the weighty decisions imposed on her by her family, Elizabeth knew it was impossible. In her mind’s eye, she could picture the endless afternoons spent in animated discussion, laughter ringing out, and sharing dreams unfettered by the expectations of the adult world. Those moments felt like a sanctuary, far removed from the responsibilities and heavy truths that awaited her at home.
“Pumpkin,” her mother’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, “are you okay? You seem distant.” Elizabeth swallowed hard; the concern in her mother’s tone added another layer to her internal turmoil. It wasn’t that she wanted to hide her feelings, but articulating them felt like climbing a steep hill with no top in sight. She felt like she was trapped in a maze of her own emotions, unsure of which way to turn. The prospect of opening up about her feelings, especially when her mother was so firmly set on the upcoming family plans, felt daunting.
“Just…thinking about some stuff,” Elizabeth finally replied, her voice quiet, barely breaking through the comfortable lull of the car. The truth was, she wanted her mother to understand without having to say everything out loud. A heavy silence settled between them, filled only by the soft hum of the car and the distant sounds of the world passing by.
Elizabeth caught her reflection in the window, the curtain of her golden hair swaying slightly as the car stood still waiting for Hana’s appearance. She longed for the bravery to speak her mind, to let her mother in on the fact that she felt overlooked, that her own desires were being bypassed for the sake of Hana’s birthday celebration. It was a difficult balance—her little sister deserved happiness, but so did she. Navigating the intricacies of family dynamics felt like walking a tightrope, and she feared a misstep would send her tumbling into disappointment.
With a thick swallow, Elizabeth prepared herself to navigate the emotional labyrinth waiting for her inside their home, all the while wishing for the carefree moments of friendship that felt so far away now. She realized that change was inevitable, but perhaps in the chaos of family expectations, there could still be fragments of joy, glimmers of understanding that would connect her to her loved ones, if only she could find the courage to express her feelings.
“So once Hana gets here,” Mrs. Eastsons continued, the lilt in her voice a genuine attempt to ease the tension she sensed. “We will head to the Winter Hills nursing home on West Creek Drive. Okay?”
Elizabeth bit her lips and then opened and closed her fists. Of course, her mother understood her situation; she just didn’t care. All that mattered was Hana, Elizabeth’s youngest sister, and her birthday wish of going camping during the upcoming weekend. It was a nightmarish reroute of her own aspirations, overshadowing her own excitement about being the lead at the Winter Hills nursing home during bingo night on the coming Saturday. It felt selfish to feel resentment, yet it also felt deeply unfair that her voice was lost in the shuffle, cast aside for a celebration that, while important, didn’t cater to her own accomplishments and desires.
“You need to tell Mrs. Landview that you can’t make it this Saturday because of our family outing,” Elizabeth’s mother continued, the smile still etched on her face as though it was a permanent fixture. Each word landed like a weight on Elizabeth’s chest, her heart sinking further. The contrast between her mother’s unwavering optimism and her own simmering discontent created a rift in their conversation, a chasm of understanding that felt insurmountable at that moment.
“I….” Elizabeth started, but before she could continue, Hana, the cause of her problem, appeared and entered the car. Taking the seat to the right of Elizabeth in the back of the blue Honda, she settled in with the innocence and excitement of a child unaware of the complex emotions swirling within her older sister. And even if she did she won’t have cared.
“We will talk later,” her mother shut her down before she could continue. “I am about to drive, and you know how I feel about talking while I drive.”
“Right.” Elizabeth nodded, her frustration boiling just beneath the surface. She did know. Her mother had poor eyesight, and because of that, she hated conversations while driving because it distracted her from the road, and she feared having an accident.
“How was your day, Hana?” Mrs. Eastsons said once she turned on the blue Honda engine and prepared to drive off, trying to cultivate a sense of normalcy and family connection amidst the unspoken tensions floating in the air. Elizabeth turned slightly in her seat to look at her younger sister, a dirty blond, who began recounting the day’s adventures in her 2nd grade class with wide eyes and animated gestures.
As Hana described her day filled with finger painting and story time and times tables and reading of “Judy B. JONES”, Elizabeth couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy mixed with affection. Hana’s carefree excitement seemed a universe away from her own struggles—she wished she could feel that liberated yet, instead, was caught in the complexities of growing up and navigating the expectations thrust upon her. There was a strange juxtaposition between the innocent joys of youth and the murky waters of adolescent responsibilities swirling in Elizabeth’s mind, a reminder of her place in the family dynamic, which was rapidly shifting with each passing day.
“Maybe we can make s’mores this weekend while camping!” Hana chirped enthusiastically, oblivious to the storm of feelings brewing in the backseat. “And then we can tell ghost stories around the fire!”
Elizabeth forced a smile, her heart aching with the desire for her own dreams to be acknowledged and celebrated. She had looked forward to her opportunity at the nursing home, to be the one leading, the one inspiring others, but now, it felt as if those dreams were slipping through her fingers like sand.
Feeling the weight of her unexpressed emotions, she took a deep breath as they began to drive away from the school and toward the old folk home, her thoughts swirling as the the laughter and chatter reduced in the car.
She silently hoped that one day, she could communicate her feelings without restraint, bridging the gap between her desires and her family’s expectations, transforming the constraining silence into a tapestry of understanding. For now, however, she resigned herself to listening to the sounds of the car movement.
The journey to the nursing home ahead felt more daunting, the impending family gathering after looming large on the horizon, overshadowing her own hopes. She glanced out of the window, watching the landscape whisk by, each tree and building blurring together, much like her thoughts. She knew she would have to find a way to voice her feelings, to carve out a space for her own desires amidst the cacophony of family obligations. But for now, all she could do was brace herself for the family discussions awaiting her and hope for a moment of connection that might make it all feel a little more bearable. But whatever happen it really was not fair at all.
Pecanpieandchocolatemilk 
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