Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis

Published By Erin Noelle

Copyright
© 2013
by Erin Noelle

All rights reserved. No
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental.

All publicly
recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective
owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this
story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or
producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is
intended.

“The Greek name for a butterfly is Psyche, and the same word means the
soul. There is no illustration of the immortality of the soul so striking and
beautiful as the butterfly, bursting on brilliant wings from the tomb in which
it has lain, after a dull, groveling, caterpillar existence, to flutter in the
blaze of day and feed on the most fragrant and delicate productions of the
spring. Psyche, then, is the human soul, which is purified by sufferings and
misfortunes, and is thus prepared for the enjoyment of true and pure happiness.”
(From Bulfinch’s Mythology: The Age of Fable, chapter XI)

“I can’t believe we are finally
here. I am completely and utterly exhausted, but could not be happier,”
Evie
, my longtime best friend and now college roommate,
said as she threw herself across her freshly made twin bed.

“I know. It’s surreal, isn’t it?
I’m almost afraid to go to sleep tonight in fear that I’ll wake up tomorrow
morning back at my parent’s house,” I replied as I sat down cross-legged in the
chair across the room.

“
God, that
would be a nightmare.”

“Tell me about it. You aren’t the
one that’s had to live with them the last 18 years,” I muttered.

“True, but I have had to live
across the street for the last ten and listen to you bitch and moan every day
about the prison wardens they are,” she retorted.

Evie
was right; without her, I may
have gone crazy at some point while dealing with my family. That or run away
and joined the circus. Seriously, that would’ve been an upgrade to the life I
had while living with my parents. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a bit, it’s
not like they ever beat me, or neglected me or really even yelled at me. I
never wanted for any material item or for my parent’s attention. It was quite
the opposite actually. My parents were so far up my ass that they literally did
not allow me to have a life of my own.

The reason my parents treated me
the way they did all went back to my older brother, Matt. My parents had Matt
right after they had finished college. Both being young attorneys and wanting to
climb the corporate ladder, Matt was often left under the supervision of our
grandparents who had a hard time saying no
,
and
babysitters that knew as much about child rearing as I do. By the time Matt was
a teenager, my parents both had well-established, well-paying jobs as defense
attorneys and worked long hours outside the home leaving Matt alone often. Matt
became the stereotypical troublemaker. He did lousy in school, got in trouble with the law on several occasions
for fighting, alcohol and marijuana possession, and was known for his way with
the girls and his numerous one-night stands. I was pretty sure I was my parents
attempt to try parenting over again. As bad as it sounded, I think they felt
they had failed miserably with Matt and needed a redo to prove to
themselves
that they could raise as close to a perfect child
as possible. I was born when Matt was 16. I was 2 when he left home, so I had
no memories of his living with us other than a few random pictures. Thankfully,
with time, he had eventually become a successful member of society and worked
his way back in my parent’s good graces. He became a middle school teacher and
coach along with his wife Meg, who I adore, and they have one daughter, Alyssa.
My niece is my little ray of sunshine. I would babysit for her often and loved
spending time with her, and spoiling her rotten (or spending time spoiling her
rotten). I was definitely the cool aunt and not just because I was the only
aunt.

So my parents had me when they
were both forty-four, which in my opinion, was way too old to be starting over.
My mom decreased her workload drastically so that she could stay home with me
and be present at every moment in my life. I still think she’s pissed with God
that she wasn’t around when I first got my period. To ensure that I did not
turn out anything like Matt, my parents sent me to an all-girl Catholic school
for my entire scholastic career, kindergarten through twelfth grade. What I
always found so funny about this was we weren’t even Catholic. They filled my
evenings with piano and classical guitar lessons, dance lessons, soccer
practices and community service. My weekends weren’t much
better-
when I wasn’t at a recital, performance, or game of some sort, I was at church
or playing the piano for the choir. They did everything in their power to
sculpt me into their idea of perfection personified, and for the most part,
thanks to my non-confrontational, naturally submissive personality, I did
exactly as I was told.

But today was the day they finally
had to let me go. I had been looking forward to that day for at least the past
three years, ever since I realized that kids my age were actually doing fun
things while I was studying or practicing something or another. I was finally
free of their outrageous and outlandish rules. I knew that I’d never escape
their unrealistic and idealistic expectations of me, but now as long as I made
good grades and didn’t get in legal or financial trouble, I would never have to
live under their roof again.

“Hello! Earth to Scarlett! Are you
still with me here?”
Evie
yelled, shaking me out of
my daydream. Or would it be a night dream since it was 11:00 at night?
Hmppphh
… that was an interesting thought…

“Scarlett, seriously, what the
fuck is your problem? You are sitting over there looking like you’re being
forced to watch someone shit in your
Louboutins
,
” she
spat.

“I don’t own
Louboutins
,
Evie
.”

“Humor
me
…”
she said and then a serious look crossed her face. “ You are supposed to be
happy… joyful… hell, you should be jumping up and down ecstatic that you are
actually going to be able to have a life.”

“Sorry, I was just thinking about
how controlling my parents really are and wondering how I’ve managed to survive
until now,” I confessed.

“Controlling
?!?
That’s like saying that Lindsey
Lohan
has a minor
drug problem or that Charles Manson might have been a psychopath. Elizabeth and
David are nuts and I’m still not sure how you’ve managed not to go postal on
them until yesterday. And I’m still surprised they ever let you be friends with
me.”

“It’s only because they could see
your house from our front window,” I said somewhat embarrassed because we both
knew that was the truth. “And I think they are still in shock over my standing
up to them,” I continued as I thought back to the day prior when I had told
them I was an adult and was making a clean break from them. I was finally
taking control of my life; I’d be making all of my own decisions, and whether
those decisions were right or wrong, good or bad, I could and would live with
the consequences because they were MY choices. I didn’t mean for the
conversation to be hurtful or ugly ~ I told them I appreciated everything that
they had done for me, all that they had sacrificed for me to have the life I
had, and how much I loved them for that. I had also told them I understood why
they tried so hard to protect and shield me from… well, everything really. But
when it was clear that they were not listening to a word I said and told me
they expected to be in my dorm room by 10:00 PM on school nights and midnight
on the weekends, I lost it. Truth be told, I went bat-shit crazy. After all of
the screaming and crying, we resolved nothing. They thought I was acting
immature and unappreciative and told me to get ready for a huge wake-up call
when the real world wasn’t what I expected it to be. I thought they were
unreasonable and irrational, and that they expected me to live in some
ridiculous bubble forever. It still made my stomach hurt to think about it; I
had actually vomited several times during the argument because I was so upset.
Thankfully,
Evie
and her parents allowed me to stay
at their home for our last night in San Antonio, because I could not spend one
more night under my parents’ roof, or their rule ~ I was done.
Evie
could not believe it when I showed up on her doorstep
with my puffy red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. She had told me no less than
one hundred times in the last
twenty four
hours how
proud of me she was for standing up for myself, but I was still upset about how
the whole thing went down.

Evie
and I had become friends when our
parents bought houses across the street from one another in a newly constructed
neighborhood the summer before third grade. Our parents were always cordial
with one another but they were never friends that hung out together. My parents
were older, extremely conservative, and so involved in my
life,
they forgot to have one of their own.
Evie’s
parents
were quite the opposite.

Her mom was from Japan. She had
come to the U.S. for
college which
is where she met
Evie’s
father, who was also studying abroad in the United
States, he was originally from Australia. They could not have looked any less
like a couple that belonged with one another, but they were so cute when they
were together. She was tiny, maybe five feet tall and a size 0, with dark hair
and eyes, where
Evie’s
dad stood well over six feet
and donned curly blonde hair and sky blue eyes. Even after twenty plus years,
they flirted with one another, had date nights regularly, and really seemed to
still be in love.
Evie
hated when they engaged in
their playful, sexy banter around the house, but I didn’t mind it. My parents
would never allow me to hear them even suggest something in a sexual manner.
They had kept me away from the male population as much as they possibly could,
short of sending me to a convent. My brother and I, or old age, or something
must’ve done a number on their relationship because they seemed to have no
chemistry or passion for one another as far as I could tell. I’m surprised that
my dad stayed inside my mom long enough to ensure my conception to be quite
honest. I am still not convinced that my two X chromosomes weren’t magically
mated in a petri dish in a doctor’s office. But at the very least, I can
guarantee you that the sexual encounter was not by
chance,
it was most definitely penciled in on their schedules. These people were
obsessed with calendars and schedules… you really have no idea.

So my family moved in across the
way just several weeks after
Evie
, whose real name
was Evelyn Rose, and her family had relocated to San Antonio from California.
We were both 8 years old, separated by only a few months, and we immediately
became the best of friends. We liked to play the same games, listen to the same
music, and we both loved to read. We would spend hours at each other’s houses
reading the same book so that we could discuss it as we went. It was almost as
if we had formed our own little mini-book club long before we knew what one
was. At the end of that first summer of knowing each other, we were devastated
to find out we wouldn’t be going to the same school. I would continue at St.
Helens in the city and
Evie
would attend the local
public school. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the public schools where
we lived, in fact they had won numerous achievement recognition awards for
their national test scores; however, my parents would not even consider letting
me attend there. I remember asking one time if I could go to school where
Evie
went. I was told no and that we would never discuss it
again. So we didn’t.