fire & ice
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mb;
My dad died two weeks ago, seeing as it was due to a careless drunk truck driver, I would like to consider it as a simple accident. My parents were divorced (they divorced when I was six) and I was shipped off to live with my mother. Kendra Block—yes the Kendra Block, the famous designer of all of New York City's elite.
My dad and I were close, very close. I was his little girl and he never bothered to re-marry since the divorce; he was content with his little girl and his busy company.
So here I am now, a week and a half later, bags at my feet and in my clasped hands, mouth agape.
Kendra had never been much of a talker or really just a mother. She preferred to keep everything business like and very, very neat. She has always been a neat freak.
"This is your room," she says, cell-phone microphone covered with a manicured hand, "Come downstairs when you get settled in and I'll have Isaac show you around." And with that she strides downstairs.
I used to visit her when I was younger; dad would drive me to the airport and Isaac would usually end up meeting me there (considering mom always had some business to take of). Isaac was her chauffeur (although he had always been considered family), and then there was Inez, who was Isaac's wife. They lived and worked for my mother. Inez was Kendra's house-cleaner.
Whenever I visited New York, I had always found myself making comparisons and contrasts between the Upper Eastside and the West-Coast. I visited since I was eight.
I stare blankly at the white room I hadn't been in for literally years. Inez, of course, cleaned and dusted it so it didn't feel like it was untouched.
I stopped visiting New York shortly after the age of fourteen.
The room was like a giant life-size iPod. With a small heave, I lifted and began putting away all of my clothes in the ivory wooden dressers and all of my shoes in the walk-in closet. Kendra was never short of money, as it appeared.
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"Bonjour Mademoiselle Block," Isaac greeted me with his thick French accent, arms wide, standing by the Range Rover.
I ran and hugged him, forgetting just for a moment that I was sixteen.
"I'm very sorry for your loss," he mumbled, hugging me tightly. Inez appeared around the corner of the Range Rover. I shrugged, trying not to cry all over again.
Inez joined our hug and I felt better immediately.
Kendra had never been one for hugs or physical contact.
"This is the school you will be attending: Briarwood Academy." Isaac points at a huge school, similar to a castle. "It's a very good school."
I nod, staring out the window in the passenger seat, tugging the hem of my pea coat.
"When do I start?" I ask, glancing at him.
"Tomorrow," he glances at me worriedly, "Are you ready to attend school Mademoiselle?"
"Yeah."
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Sitting on the purple comforter of the queen bed, I whipped out my MacBook Pro. It hummed to life.
"Did you take your medication, Miss Massie?" Inez pokes her head around the corner of my door, a motherly look placating her face.
"Not yet," I admit sheepishly.
Her eyes become firm, "Take your medication. I don't want another trip to the hospital, Miss Massie."
I nod, a small smile forcing its way onto my face. "Yes Inez,"
She shuffles in, kisses my forehead and gives me a small weak smile, for my benefit probably. "I'm sorry about Mister William," she states.
I shrug again, glancing at the white laptop in front of me. "Could've been worse."
Inez nods in agreement and walks out the door.
I pad to the bathroom, the bright lights and see-through glass bowl sinks, the heated tiled floor, the double headed shower—it was all so nice.
I feel lonely as I sit on the toilet, the lid down, staring at my reflection.
"I miss you Daddy," I whisper while looking at my hands. "But I'll stay strong in the meantime; I took my medication and I promise there won't be any reason for this sickness to spread."
Tomorrow was going to be absolute hell.
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Multi-chapter story, YAY!
Reviews would be lovely and motivating.(:
What do you think? I'm rusty
As always,
-another moment gone-