Catching Raven (19 page)

Less than a month left to pull my shit together and return to Raven’s
side before she catches a one-way flight to Cali. I can’t let her leave knowing
we’re on rocky terms. I’ve gotta make it right, especially if it’s my last
chance to see her.

r     a     v     e    
n

My apartment has never felt more
barren. Between Eric leaving and Mia moving out, nothing’s familiar. It’s all
random fragments of a life I used to know. Change is necessary. Transitions are
inevitable. That part I was prepared for. But what I didn’t expect was an
imposter to swoop in and take over the place. She goes by the name Deafening
Silence, and she’s everywhere, all the time.

It still hasn’t sunk in that I’m leaving. I keep waiting to second-guess
my decision, but Pasadena is where my heart belongs. It’s the one area of my
life that still makes sense. Packing has become therapeutic. There’s something
about seeing actual proof of moving forward that gives me a renewed sense of
hope. My thirty-day notice is up in a few weeks, but I’ll be out of here before
then. Thanks to a depleted college fund, the government and I will be tag
teaming the hefty bill for design school. I don’t mind, though. Makes it feel
more like mine and less like someone else's.

I check the clock on the microwave, gauging how much time I have left
before I need to finish getting ready. Chase, Mia, and I are all going downtown
for a few drinks. I’m not keen on being the third wheel, but it certainly beats
hanging out with Deafening Silence all night.

With twenty minutes to spare, I finish wrapping the last of my wine
glasses in newspaper and gently place them in the box. My phone vibrates with
an incoming text. I swipe my thumb across the screen and glance down.

Mom:
Hi sweetie. Can you swing by the restaurant on your way downtown?

Me:
Why? My last shift was a couple days ago.

Mom:
I know, but we forgot to have you sign some paperwork. It’s
important.

Of course it is.
Unable to say no to my mom, (or any other family
member for that matter) I succumb.

Me:
Give me forty-five minutes.

Mom:
Thank you!

I waltz into the bathroom and finish straightening my hair. Tonight I’ve
chosen to attack the sleek, low pony look. Slipping into an all-black Lipsy
jumpsuit and matching Brian Atwood Tribeca pumps, I’m sophistication
personified. I stare at my appearance in the mirror, searching for confidence,
trying to remember what it feels like to be comfortable in my own skin—to be my
old self. Something inside me says that girl will never fully resurrect. How
could she? With all the changing tides, she’s evolving. Aren’t we all? I keep
trying to convince myself trivial things that used to matter, like having a
person in my corner, just don’t carry the same weight anymore.

I put on a brave face and whip out my phone to text Mia.

Me:
Ready to go whenever you are. Also, can we swing by the restaurant
first? My mom needs me to tie up a couple loose ends.

Mia:
Sure thing, love. On our way now.

I lock up the apartment and make my way down. When I round on Chase’s
Mustang, I fling the door open, slide into the backseat, and come face to face
with a beaming Mia. That’s how I know she feels sorry for me. She’s
overenthusiastic, and she’s riding bitch.

“Mia, get up front where you belong.”

She scowls and crawls across my lap to grab the handle and slams the door
shut, then leans back and glares. “Get over yourself. I’m sitting next to you
because you’re moving soon. We only have a finite amount of time left to spend
together, and I want to make the most of it.”

I twist my body and press my shoulder against the leather seat. “I have a
serious love-hate relationship with your attitude, you know that?”

“Aw, shucks. Love you too.”

“Where to, ladies?” Chase interrupts, throwing an arm behind the
passenger’s seat and glancing between the two of us.

“Bellotti’s,” Mia answers.

He turns around and shifts the car in reverse, then switches gears and
cruises through the gate.

Mia and I spend the bulk of the drive bonding over the perks and pitfalls
of living with boys. She only asks me about Eric once, and whether or not I’ve
heard from him, to which I shake my head and stare out the window. I’ve reached
a place where I can talk about him without feeling resentful, but tonight’s
different. It’s another celebration he’s not here for. He didn’t miss a single
one in eight years, and now he’s missing heaps of them.

I’ve come to realize that Eric needs to be divided into two separate
categories: the ex-boyfriend, and the best friend. I don’t want the
ex-boyfriend here; I want my best friend. They’re two entirely different
people. My best friend sticks around through thick and thin and always has my
back. The ex ditches and leaves, smashing my heart into oblivion on his way
out. One is my protector; one is my destroyer. Problem is, I love them both.

Never once did I envision my future without him. How could I? There are
certain people in this world that you never think you’ll have to learn to live
without. Eric was one of those people. He intricately wove himself into the
fabric of my life, and now he’s gone. We only had so many chances to get it
right. We missed our shot. I can’t tell if that’s mercy, or cruelty.

Before I can analyze everything to death, Chase pulls up to the front of
Bellotti’s and drops Mia and me off at the door. He drives off to find a
parking spot. I glance down and proceed to dig through my clutch for my ID. I’m
in dire need of a cosmo.

“This should only take a sec,” I tell her.

“No worries. I’ll save a seat at the bar and you can wait for Chase out
here.”

“You’re a riot,” I mutter, assuming she’s joking. The sound of her
footsteps fading tells me she’s not. My head snaps up. “Hey, get back here!
He’s your boyfriend, not mine.”

She disregards my comment and disappears into the restaurant. Now I’m
stuck on non-boyfriend babysitting duty. I glance around the parking lot,
keeping an eye out for Chase. No such luck. A family of four makes their way
past me, still no Chase. He’s a grown man. He can navigate his own damn self
around the world.

I slip my clutch under my arm and head inside. The place is buzzing with
chatty customers waiting to be seated. I inch past the horde and make a beeline
for the bar. Along the way, Emilio comes waltzing out of the kitchen with a
tray of food.

“Hey, Sis. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for Mom.”

“Hold on a sec.” He walks over to a nearby booth and sets the tray down
on a stand. Once he’s done passing out the food, he grabs the tray and returns
my way.

“Where’s Mom?” I ask.

He points over his shoulder to the party room. “In there.”

“Got it. I’ll wait at the bar until she’s done.”

“No need. Just head in there.”

“Uh, what about the guests?”

“They’re not your typical customers. Here,” he winds his arm around mine,
“I’ll escort you.”

“That’s really not necessary,” I say, my attention split between him and
finding Mia. He ignores my protest and tugs me along.

“It’s going to be weird without you,” he admits.

There’s a sadness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. I look away and
swallow past the lump in my throat. Of all my siblings, Emilio’s going to be
the hardest one to say goodbye to.

“It still doesn’t feel real. I’m just hoping I don’t wind up falling flat
on my face and embarrassing myself once I get there.” 

“You won’t. This is your time. Seize the opportunity and don’t let go
because it may not come around again. And promise me you’ll keep in touch,
okay? I don’t want you forgetting about us when you become the next Rachael
Ray.”

“Rachael Ray isn’t a fashion designer, Emilio.”

“Then, um, one of those Full House kids?”

“Oh, my God. Give it up.”

“One of them is a major designer, though. Right?”

“
One
of them? Seriously, stop. You’re embarrassing yourself. And
of course I’ll keep in touch. Harassing my favorite older brother is part of my
job description. Someone needs to keep you in line.”

“Whatever you do, don’t tell Andre I’m your favorite. And don’t forget
you said that, either. When all the famous chicks are strutting your clothes
down the runway, this guy expects full backstage access. Especially if one of
those models is Cara Delevingne. She’s smokin’ hot.”

I burst out laughing. “You’re delusional if you think I’ll ever get that
big, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, you never know. Leave the doubting to all the haters. Your job is
to aim high and catapult yourself to the top, shattering any glass ceiling you
may encounter along the way. Make that money and be about that business. But
most of all, be happy. Wouldn’t expect anything less from my favorite sister.”

“Better not tell Ari that I’m your favorite.”

“She probably already knows.”

“Yeah, but no need to rub it in her face.”

We come to a stop at the end of the hallway. Emilio spins around to face
me. “Wait here,” he says, then disappears into the party room. Less than a
minute later, he reappears with a gift bag in his hand.

“I’m not off for another two hours and I wanted to give you this ahead of
time.”

I’m kinda speechless. Gifts aren’t his MO.

“Open it,” he encourages.

I reach over and take the bag from him, then gently pull the stuffing out
and peek inside. Resting at the bottom is a brand new sketchbook and a case of
sketching pencils. I suck in a sharp breath. My gaze immediately finds his.

“Emilio—”

He cuts me off.

“I know it’s not your first sketchbook, but it’s your first professional
one. You’re going to need it in design school because you’re going to kill the
competition.”

Tears well in my eyes. “You’re crazy.”

“Hush. I don’t want to hear it. Just say thank you and accept the gift.”

I smile harder than I have in weeks, completely overcome with emotion.
“Thank you so much. They’ll both be put to good use.”

“I know they will,” he assures. He steps back and motions his head toward
the party room. “Now get in there. You’ve got people waiting, but you didn’t
hear that from me.”

Excitement floods my chest. I lean up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek and
stride past him. I sneak another glance inside the bag, antsy to draw up some
new sketches. Holding off until school starts isn’t an option anymore. Not when
I have access to these.

I drop my clutch inside the bag and grab both handles, then push the
doors wide open. Once I step inside, all of my closest friends and family pop
out from behind tables and surprise me. I give them my best
oh-my-god-I-never-saw-this-coming face and hope they buy it.

Twinkling lights and flickering candles cast a magical glow over the
room, radiating a sense of warmth. Being surrounded by unconditional love
helps, too. Large platters of red velvet cupcakes grace the center of
confetti-filled tables. Every last detail is well thought-out and perfectly
executed, down to the design of the napkins. They’re folded to look like black,
strapless cocktail dresses with a ring of faux diamonds and pearls to hold it
together around the waistline. My eyes scan the crowd for the one person who’s
responsible for managing every major and minor detail, not only for tonight’s
event, but for every milestone in my life—my mom. I spot her and mouth the
words “Thank you,” even though it’s not nearly enough.

Her smile bursts with pride as she mouths “Love you” right back.

I take a moment to absorb everything. It’s overwhelming, but in the best
possible way. Mia and Tori both come running up, fully decked out in flapper
headbands and long beads. I drop the gift bag and wrap an arm around each of
them, going in for a group hug.

“Sorry for ditching you outside, but I had to get in here and warn
everyone before you came in,” Mia says into my ear.

I pull back to smile at her. “You’re forgiven.” My head twists in Tori’s
direction. “What are you doing here? I thought you were staying in San Marcos
for the summer.”

“Oh, bitch, please. Like I’d miss this party.”

She twirls around to grab a headband and some beads off a nearby table,
then she slips the pearls around my neck and carefully places the headband over
my head.

“There,” she says, satisfied. “Now you’re sorta a flapper girl.”

“Very 1920s of you,” I praise.

“I did my homework.”

“I’m impressed.”

“Alright you three, huddle together for a quick photo op,” my mom
interrupts.

We line up and wind our arms around each other’s waists. Mom whips out
her iPhone and counts to three. Seconds before she snaps the photo, Chase slips
in through the doors and jumps in the shot for a glorious photobomb. Mia looks
over her shoulder and pushes him backwards.

“What?” he shrugs. “I’m extremely photogenic.”

She grins and shakes her head, then focuses her attention on my mom for a
retake. This time around, we get it right.