I let the music wash over me as I stared out of the window of the car. We were moving…again. Of course we were moving. This was the sixth time now and I had grown accustom to not getting attached.
"I'm sorry Cal," my mother said, turning around in the passenger seat to pat my knee gently, "I promise this is the end. The house is perfect, and the area is really good. I promise this is the last time." She assured me gently. I barely heard the words over the bass of the song bursting my eardrums, but I just smiled and nodded at her.
Giving my leg one last squeeze, my mother turned back around and resumed talking to Pete. I knew that she wouldn't be able to keep that promise, but I'd accepted that after the third move, knowing she would never be truly happy anywhere we settled. Which is why I'd also just thought of it as me and her.
With every new city and house came a new guy. He was generally the reason we moved.
My mother thought that she had terrible luck with love. Yeah right. Firstly, there is no such thing as luck, and secondly, it wasn't that love didn't find her, it was that she was constantly thinking she was falling in love with the newest guy that she barely knew.
Pete had been mowing our lawns for two weeks before my mother swooped in and claimed she'd found her soul mate. I didn't say it aloud, but the only thought running through my head as the new happy couple told me we'd be moving, was that I'd been told the exact same thing about the last four guys.
My mother would never cheat, oh no that was below even her. She just got so carried away that it was like she painted half the room blue before deciding she actually liked it green, then repeating that with pink, black and red.
At this point I'd grown so dizzy from the fumes that I'd decided to leave the room.
I spent the rest of the car trip ignoring Pete's attempts at small talk, contenting myself with staring out of the window as the streets began getting smaller and smaller and more and more houses appeared.
We stopped in front of a fairly large brick house, a perfectly manicured lawn stretched out to the gravel path outside the doorway and the dark-greyish brown roof appeared to be soaking up the bright sun.
"It's perfect!" My mother exclaimed with a little clap of her hands. I just nodded with a purse of my lips, eyeing the house and Pete as he loaded his arms with bags.
"Why don't you help Pete unload and I'll start sorting the boxes into the right rooms?" she suggested, heading inside, her dyed platinum blonde hair swinging in its ponytail as she went. I sighed and reached into the boot of the car to grab as many bags as I could.
"Thanks for handling this so well, Calypso." Pete said with a small smile as I passed him on the way inside. My response was a grunt as I walked in, my eyes scanning my new 'forever' home. High ceilings and fake crystal chandelier lights, a white tiled floor and marble kitchen bench.
"Great." I muttered, setting the bags onto the floor of what I assumed would be the living room with the others.
"Isn't it just!" My mother's happy sigh was breathy and I controlled my sarcastic reply in want of staring blankly at her for a few seconds. Turning to me with a box labelled 'kitchen' in her arms, her smiled faltered and for once the light in her eyes seemed to dim.
"I know this is hard for you Cal, but you know, you're just going to have to deal with it. You're not the only one who has had to leave a few friends behind, you know." Her voice wasn't harsh or anything, but it certainly wasn't kind either.
"Whatever, mum." I acknowledged her words only just and then proceeded to turn and walk away without looking back, heading back outside to the car to get more bags.
An hour later I was lying on the floor of my new bedroom, staring up at the bare white ceiling (something would have to be done about that) contemplating when my bed would arrive. According to Pete the furniture had been delayed and there was no telling how long it would be. At least I had my easel and paints. With a sigh, I rolled onto my back and stared at the blank canvas, currently resting on the easel, upside down hoping that would help picturing what I would create on its surface.
This was a process I always had to go through when painting or drawing, I had to see what it would be before I picked up the paintbrush or pencil, otherwise I'd spend hours staring at a blank page.
And suddenly I knew. Rolling onto my knees I approached the canvas and began to sketch the delicate lines of the silhouette. It showed a girl looking through a window, towards the house beside hers. Much as I was doing now I realised with a start.
I hadn't noticed that I could see our next door neighbours' house from my bedroom window, and my hand stopped sketching as I stared.
Made of red brick, with a tiled black roof, it was a wonder I hadn't noticed the mansion beside us. A large number of windows covered the entirety, ensuring another wonderment over how I hadn't seen inside it yet.
But then I could, through the window that was almost directly opposite mine, as a set of black curtains were pulled back, revealing a young male, about my age. Grinning he waved, making me blink furiously for a second before raising my own hand in acknowledgement. He had a shock of unruly blond hair that covered his eyes as his head ducked down, breaking eye contact.
Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.