November 23rd, 2010.
Here I was, as usual cleaning up the art store. What was her problem, seriously? I swear she had it out for me. Well, I chose to work in an art store and what I got was, well, what I got. I never noticed other sixteen year olds cleaning up their places of work, no, I only saw myself doing the dirty work. Stupid, stinking, foster carers. Where was my real mother when I needed her? Oh right, dead. Why do bad things always happen to good people?
“Charlotte, have you finished sweeping the floors?”
“Yes, Blair, how come I had to do it though?” I replied to my foster mother, who apparently knew my real mother really well.
“Because there’s nothing else for you to do but clean, and this time I’m serious!” She entered the room and smiled with a joking appraisal. She came up and kissed me on the top of my head, and gave me a small nudge in the ribs. I playfully pushed her away. “And, your mother would’ve never wanted you to have a career in art. She herself was an Anthropologist. Come on, I think it’s time you stopped cleaning and we went out for some dinner. How does that sound?”
What was I going to say? No, Blair, I can’t because I’m meeting Thomas in twenty minutes. I don’t think that was a nice way of telling your foster mom that you didn’t want to spend the evening with her!
“Blair,” I was so going to get it. “I know we haven’t spent much time together, but I already made other plans!”
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh really, and with whom did you make plans?”
“Just someone. Well to be honest, Thomas,” I flinched because I knew what was coming.
“Charlotte-Ruby McDonald, didn’t I tell you not to associate yourself with such a boy. He’s not good for you, he makes me seem normal!”
Yeah, incredibly normal, normal like ‘I still sleep with a teddy-bear’ normal.
“But…”
“Charlotte,” She said, frustrated, as usual, “How come you’re still dating him? After all the trouble he’s caused you…”
“HA-ha, the trouble he’s caused me huh? More like, the trouble he’s caused you. You don’t like him because his parents were jailed and he lives with his aunt.” I was getting furious.
“That’s not it…” She groaned.
“Actually it is. But you know what? We have so much in common. I mean, he is lonely; his aunt treats him like a five year old and he has no-one to share his feelings with- except me. And you wanna know something else? You treat me exactly the same way! I’m sick of all this confusion about who my mother was, and who I was before you adopted me into the family. I’m sick of all the conspiracies about what she did and who my father was. I’m done, and now I hope you’re happy!” I threw the broom down with all my force and stalked out of the stupid art store. It was raining outside, but it didn’t seem bad because my tears also rolled down my cheeks. The streets were filled with rushing people and labouring adults, who were all wearing suits and ties and holding their briefcases over their heads to shield them from the downpour. I was not going anywhere but to Thomas’s. He was all I wanted right now. Nothing but his love would help me out. I used my jumper to shield myself from the rain, and half ran to the bus stop located across the street. Luckily enough, I knew the bus driver so I asked him to drive me to Mimosa Rd, where Thomas lived. The bus ride was sad, as no-one but an old grandmother and I occupied the bus seats. She sat, staring out the window into the miserable lash of weather that we usually had throughout the winter nights. She looked so frail and so peaceful that it almost made me cry. I decided I would copy her actions and stare out the window too. All I could possibly think about was what my mother would’ve looked like. She was probably incredibly beautiful, like most mothers are, and I guessed she had brown, ringlet hair like mine, and the brown eyes I so desperately hated. I couldn’t imagine her face though, that was something that troubled me, somewhere in my memory bank I had the features on her face, pasted to my mind- but for some, logical reason I could not seem to remember. Blair told me she was blonde; I told her she couldn’t have been because I would’ve been blonde or red haired. She was definitely a brunette. Blair also told me that I had a father, but he died before I was born. His name, all I could get out of Blair, was David; but she didn’t want to tell me his last name. What if he was still alive and she didn’t want me to see him? Well, I was going to search for him and Thomas was going to come with me. He had no life with his aunt, and was much better off with me. The bus drove to a stand still on the corner of Mimosa Rd and Weemela St. I hopped off the bus while thanking the driver for the free fair and he smiled at me and told me it was nothing; I was his best customer after all. The rain was still pelting down and so, once again, I used my jumper to shield myself from it. Ever so slowly I reached the driveway of number 7, and smiled with joy as I noticed Thomas standing outside, underneath the front porch. He smiled back and ran out with an umbrella, hugging me slowly and laughing at my cold expression. He was, to put it straight, so beautiful. What more could I want? What more could anyone want? He had black hair, and those ‘oh so wonderful’ green eyes that looked like round gems, and the remarkable thing was that he was mine. All mine. I didn’t care what Blair thought about him and his life, he was just too perfect to let go of. He was like my own Romeo Montague, except without the accent and crummy clothes. I loved him more than life itself.
We walked inside the house, and I felt the warmth inside it, not of the company, but because the fire was going in the corner. I shivered with the sudden temperature change. Thomas hugged me closely, but was aware of the pair of eyes that glared at me furtively. Aunt Melody was Thomas’s aunt, or as I liked to call her, aunt Hellody. She stood there in her red apron and held a towel in her hands, which were tight on her hips. She looked devilish.
“So,” she grumbled. “Is this who you were expecting, Thomas?”
He looked about ready to shoot her. “Yes, aunt Melody.” Even with the urge to yell he kept it down to a growl. “Charlotte was going to visit today, didn’t I tell you?”
By her looks I guessed not. “You pretty much kept it a secret. Are you planning on going somewhere tonight?”
Thomas knew he was, and I explained gently. “Aunt Melody, I was wondering about that. Would you mind if I spent the night? It’s just that my mom and I need a little time away from each other.” In other words she was driving me up the wall and I needed someone to run away with.
Melody looked at me and shook her head, and that’s when I figured out what she thought about me; stupid and ignorant. That was what I thought, but aunt Melody probably considered much more. “Well, if it’s ok with Tom, then yes, you may.” Wow, that was unusually nice. Well maybe aunt Melody was having a good day, or maybe she was finally starting to admire me. “But home early next morning!” She growled. Or maybe not!