Beyond The Veil - Volume 1

“My darlings, we are almost there! We are going to have a great time!” I rolled my eyes and laughed as my adoptive mother Trisha sat alongside my adoptive father, Eric Lash, in the front seat of the “not so flashy” minivan that she says has always been one of the best purchases they ever made for our family. My name is Kitara, I am 13 years old and when Trisha and Eric Lash found me at an orphanage in cold and rainy Washington 2 years ago, I had little hope that I would find my forever home. Sad, but true. They looked like a normal couple with some quirks. The first time I met them, Trisha was dressed in bright yellow, but it didn’t look as blinding as others can be, it looked soft against her tan skin and brunette hair. Her soft green eyes carried a kind look to them. Eric had similar brunette hair, but he had light brown eyes, and I could see some freckles. I am a little short for my age and I have dark brown almost black hair that falls just below my shoulders. My favorite part about me is my eyes, electric blue like a current. I try to blend in as much as possible but I stand out with my fairness and the Lash's tan skin. Seemingly normal and they were my saviors. They brought me to their home all those years ago, and I was nervous as they introduced me to their son, Kyle Lash. Over the years, I have learned a lot about him. He doesn’t talk much, but he is kind and helpful if I ask. He is good at video games, and sometimes I would watch as he plays, or I would sit with him and read another story from my collection Trisha has helped me with these past few years. It became our tradition and each month I would save my allowance from doing chores for the day she would be available from work, and we would make a day out of it by eating out or going to a movie afterward. Last time we saw Pitch Perfect, and we loved it so much that our popcorn was flying everywhe- *BEEP BEEP* I looked out the window to see another car honk and pass by us as we were gliding down highway 20. This happened every time we drove anywhere. I read in a book once that there was a saying, “Driving like Ms. Daisy”? When I asked my father what that meant, he said, “It means someone who drives slowly and safely instead of fast and crazy like most drivers on the road. Always got to be careful”. I realized the same saying could be connected to both my parents, but I would never tell them that. After spending the last 2 years with them, I realized I had no reason to be afraid. Not only because of their driving but because they saw something in me, and I had a feeling it was right where I needed to be. I couldn’t explain it, but I loved it so far. They are always kind to me, and they treat me like I am their own, as if I have always been part of the family. I don't mind calling them Mom and Dad because they have been more parents to me than my own. Still, looking out the window brought up another thought and whoever thought that bright yellow was a great color for a car needs help. Me, on the other hand, I wouldn’t be caught owning one of these. Later, when I am older, I want something faster. We were on our way to our annual family camping trip on Ross Lake, and normally I’d be more than excited to be away from everyone at school as I don’t have any friends there and read more novels while sitting and listening to the waterfalls and animal calls, but something had me feeling... off. But everything was normal, so why was I feeling this way? I couldn’t point out anything specific, so I tried my best to brush it off. Kyle sat next to me in the back with his headphones, immersed in his own world as usual. He was already kind of tall for his age, he carried the same brunette hair as both his parents, but like my adoptive mom, Trisha, he had her green eyes that had a kind look to them. Light freckles framed his cheeks as the sun shined and even though my father Eric has brown eyes, he and Kyle have similar facial features down to their noses. He saw me staring and gave me a small smile and went back to his phone. Being as quiet as I am sometimes, I sit there observing. I can’t help it, and they tend to catch me and remind me that I am staring... embarrassing, right? There are times when I don’t mean to, and I don’t even realize I am until I’m told. There was this one time they caught me staring at a boy who was going to buy the book I wanted, and I had found out he grabbed the last one on the shelf, and they thought I liked him, but really I was trying to figure out ways I could get the book from him; try to create a distraction and take it? Attack him for it? I couldn’t decide at the moment and then, like a dummy, I stood there thinking, “Why is everything I’m picturing so aggressive?” and then it was too late. He was gone, but I will never forget his face nor what his hair looked like when he was turned around. I thought boys my age didn’t really care for books? But oh well. Looking to my left reminded me why I always liked this part, the view of the trees blowing in the wind, leaves falling and the many new restaurants and fun spots they had opened, the rare sightings of animals passing with occasional passer-by travelers who stand outside trying to get pictures and soon a partial view of the lake finally appeared, and we had made it to our destination. As we entered the campsite there were other people throughout the area who were setting up their camping gear with their families, smiling and laughing as they did so. From what I have seen, my parents like to go a little more inward at the campsite, and they say they do that so that way it isn’t as loud. We went for a few miles down the stone path and eventually stopped and got out of the van. My mom, dad, Kyle and I walked a few paces, stopping to just stand there and take it all in. Closing my eyes, I could feel the breeze brushing past my face, hear the birds chirping surrounding us as they sang their songs, and you could also hear the faint sound of water splashing from further down by the water. “Here Kyle, come help me with the tent. Hun could you and Kitara help get some things out of the car?” my dad asked. “Of course, babe,” my mom said, then she looked at me and said, “Let’s go,” as she wrapped her arm around me. I admire the way they love each other and call each other cute names. I noticed that they do that often, and it makes me wonder if all couples are this way when they are older. “You know,” my mom started as we walked along the stone path back to our car, “We used to come here just us before we had Kyle. Then, after Kyle was born, we of course started bringing him. It’s been our tradition ever since, and I am so happy you are willing to be part of this with us. First there were three, now four. We will always include you in everything no matter what it is. You’re our family and always will be.” She stopped to give me a full hug and stood there with her hand on my head. She slightly started running her hand up and down the side of my head giving me feelings I had only ever dreamed of… I am not the type to usually cry over anything, but she was making all my guarded walls feel like maybe, it’ll be okay to let them down one step at a time. I never knew my real parents. I never got to experience my mom or dad taking me to or picking me up from school, showing me how to do things like swim, play a sport or learn how to cook like the other kids at my school, and learning at an early age that my mother had given me up by leaving me at a few days old on the front doorstep of the orphanage the Lash’s found me in, changed something in me, and after it was hard to believe anyone wanted me. But here she was, making me feel safe and wanted, giving me everything I could have ever asked for. “Thank you,” I said as I hugged her back tightly, “You guys are my family too, and I love it here.”