*Edited 5-21-2011*

-Chapter 2-

Realizations

That morning I definitely did not wake up in a limo. Unless limos transformed into house sized rooms with plushy beds and enough throw pillows to drown in these days. Seriously, who the hell needed that many pillows to sleep on? There were more pillows than mattress.

I attempted to get out of the sea of cushions, and my struggled resulted with a meeting with the very hard, very cold, white wood floor. The pillows broke most of my fall, so I guess they did have some use besides being a frilly decoration. Then, when my head had cleared, I pondered over my situation, or rather my location. Not that it really mattered because the room hadn't really changed since my last stay here four years ago. There was a flat screen TV built into the back wall now, situated snuggly between the cabinets filled with books and knick-knacks. There was a lot more rugs than I remembered, but the bed was still pulled out from the walls, the walls were still this grey-ish blue color, and there was still a spiral staircase in the far corner of the room that led to the upper floor, better known as my music room.

What was nice about Grandma's house was that the rooms each had their own style, rather than the entire mansion being decked up like something from Queen Elizabeth's era. I checked the closet and found my clothes neatly lined up, color coded, and probably organized by season. A makeup table stood in the corner, forever to remain unused and alone.

A smell caught my attention, a very potent, appalling stench; so I decided that I should take a shower for my hairs' sake. And for anyone else who just might happen upon me. It was surprising, really, that I was able to sleep in jeans for the past two days. Oh, the power of jet-lag.

Quickly picking out a pair of striped pajama bottoms and a hoodie, because it was chilly and why should I look nice when I'm just going to be unpacking, and I stepped through one of the doors to my right into the bathroom. Small bathroom, I must add. Small when compared to the size of the bedroom anyway. There was a double vanity even though I wouldn't need to share with someone, and a walk in shower whose tap I immediately flipped on to get warm, letting the room fill with a thing steam while I ignored my humanitarian self that was screaming inside my head about the affects of wasting water.

I stepped into the shower and let my eyes wander across the painted doves on the walls, losing myself yet again in my thoughts as my situation started to fully dawn on me. I was in Japan, a completely different environment from my hometown back in Colorado. I was without my family, living with a filthy rich grandmother whom I had not seen since I was like twelve but was very/somewhat close to. She came to Christmas in the States a lot. And stay for long periods of time. And what a joy it would be when I started school as the new student when the school year had already started.

The wonderful thing about showers is they make you squeaky clean. The bad thing is that it's impossible to breathe in the stuffy air when they're over.

As I was drying my hair and I strolled over to the large mirror on the wall, that was more like the wall itself. It was quite big, you see. I stared at the familiar reflection looking back at me as I patted my curls, and my heart stopped at the sight of the obscured face.

"Caven," I whispered and a pair of green eyes blinked back at me, framed by a tousle of light auburn hair. I scoffed and wiped the rest of the residue away, revealing my very non-boyish long hair that blocked the upper half of my body. Not that it really mattered. I was a beanpole anyway.

"Stop doing this to yourself." While scolding myself I evaluated my body and face, and of course didn't really care about what I saw. I had lost my tan, there were bruised beneath my eyes that seemed to sag, and my eyes themselves were so scary and lonely that if I had been a person on the street, I'd moved to the other side when I came into view. To say the least, I looked sick. "Just stop. Caven isn't here. Neither is mom and dad."

Once dressed I exited the bathroom, deciding to tackled the chore of unpacking since there was really nothing else to do for the next unknown length of time. My still damp hair went into a ponytail, and I plunged into the first box I laid my eyes on. There were tons of books stacked a top each other, and I pulled each one out carefully and individually place them in their respective places on the bookshelves built into the walls. Besides the novels, there were sketchbooks and journals, not mine of course, because I made stick people look bad. They were my brother's who I didn't think would mind me having. I would deal with them later and give them a special place.

Some family pictures came next and they went with the photos already set out precariously around the room. To go with the photos were cameras, the expensive ones of my mother, because they couldn't be mine. My photography skills were so bad my own mother insulted me. And moms are supposed to love you no matter what.

A picture at the bottom caught my attention and I stooped down to pick it up. It was taken about a year and a half ago when I was 15. My dad had gotten somebody to take a picture of me and my family when we went on vacation to Florida. Caven and I were standing beside each other, his arm wrapped around my shoulder and my hand secured tightly around his waist. His curly hair was sticking in every direction from the wind, and mine was falling out from a messy bun. Our parents were behind us hugging, nothing but love and adoration in their eyes. Maybe a little bit of pain because mom had gotten a terrible sunburn that week.

Caven and I didn't really look like our father. Dad's Japanese heritage gave him pale skin, dark eyes, and black hair, while the rest of us had varying shades of red hair and bright green eyes with tanned skin. Courtesy of my Mom's European background.

"I miss you guys so much."

It was around 4 o'clock in the afternoon when I decided to take a break, which is code for "my stomach is growling so bad it's painful and I can't concentrate." A trip to the kitchen would be the perfect opportunity to tour the mansion and see any other changes that had been made over the years. Before I left though, I remembered my guitar and frantically searched for about three seconds before I found the case perched against an arm chair. I sighed and stroked the smooth leather, smiling instinctively.

"Wouldn't want to lose this, now would we."

When I left my bedroom, and it was weird calling it my bedroom, I found myself in an abnormally long hallway. The ceilings were high just like the ones in my bedroom, and probably like every other room in the house, and antique chandeliers were strewn down the length of the hall. Scenic paintings of various sizes, colors, and techniques dotted the hallways and their pale green walls, and vases were placed out with fresh flowers in them. Why use a plug-in when you could have nature itself?

Despite what seemed like a Victorian-esque feel, Grandma's house was rather contemporary.

If I remembered correctly, going right would take me back to the main hall. Luckily I was correct, and when I turned the final corner of the corridor I was greeted by the big-ass foyer that I preferred to call the concert hall, because when I was six I remember an orchestra came to play for my grand-parents anniversary or something. And entire flipping orchestra. And the ever present chandelier that came from an opera hall in Paris was still hanging over the area. I would not want to be under that if a storm hit.

The clicking of heels caught my attention and I looked down from the balcony to see a maid making her way across the tiled floor.

"Excuse me?" I called out to her, and she turned quickly in my direction with a confused expression before bowing look. "No, don't worry about that."

I made my way down the staircase on the right out of habit, because the one on the left was… well, I just didn't like it.

The maid in question had just a few wrinkles and was unnoticeable pretty, probably in her early thirties, with shoulder length black hair that was tucked behind her ears and a maids cap perched on top of her head. The band went with the rest of the black and white dress and apron and I squirmed internally at the thought of having to wear such a ridiculous outfit. She must have been married because there was a wedding band on her ring finger. I had never seen here before.

"Good day, Miss Iwahashi-sama," She greeted courteously with another small bow. I let it go because I was getting tired of people bowing at me. "I'm glad to see you awake. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, I was actually wondering where the kitchen was." I gave a slight smile because it seems like the location of the kitchen was one of the things that had changed.

The maid gave me an awkward look, but returned the smile with one of her own and a slight nod. "Follow me, Miss Iwahashi-sama." She turned around and started for the direction she had come from and I followed suit.

"If you don't mind, please call me Cailyn." If they were going to bow then they could at least use my name like a normal, American, person would. "It reminds me of home."

The lady nodded in understanding and added, "Yes, Miss Cailyn. I hope you enjoy your stay here." That sounds like something a stewardess would say.

"Oh, by the way." The maid turned to me as we stopped in front of a large set of double doors. "What's your name?"

"Hanako Okayama, my Lady."

"I think we're going to be good friends, Hanako." I meant every word I said too, and Hanako look shocked from my words. She quickly recovered and smiled, believing that I was right.

To say the kitchen was huge would be a gross understatement. Half of the room was the cooking area, while the other was a prep space. In the back there was a breakfast nook for eating. Like the rest of the house the room was mismatched. All the appliances were modern, but the feel of the kitchen itself was rustic. The cabinetry and paint scheme was old-fashioned and reminded me of homemade cookies, partly due to the warm glow the lighting was giving off. A large bay window had been added to one wall that faced the rest of the kitchen. I'd had always loved the many windows in the house. I could always see the sky.

"Why hello there!" A bellowing jovial voice boomed behind us and a large, middle-aged man approached us while setting a stack of pots down on the marble counters. Goro was Italian, and when I was younger I always thought he was Santa Clause's brother because of a red suit and white hair, he wore a green apron with his uniform and a chef's hat over his dark brown hair.

"Hey, Goro."

"Hello, Cailyn. Miss Hanako." I could still make out the slight accent in his Japanese, something that hadn't changed. Hanako began straightening up some dishes and Goro moved around us to wash his hands. "I already fixed lunch, but I could make you anything you want. Still vegetarian?"

"Yup. I moved towards the fridge and began scavenging the shelves for food. My brother and I had been vegetarians since we were eight, when we both watched some documentary on animals being skinned alive, or something. It kind of scars a person when you see a cow being brutally murdered.

I reached for a plate of veggies and dip and Goro tapped my hand with a spoon, surprising me. "Don't eat that. It has strawberries."

"Ah, thanks." When I was five I found out I was deathly allergic to the little red fruit at a family reunion. I had not-so-accidentally eaten a piece of cake that had strawberry preserve in it and blacked out during the toast when I stopped breathing.

"Cailyn?" I turned my attention back to Goro and he and Hanako were giving me worried expressions.

"Hmm? What is it?"

"Are you okay?" Hanako came closer and I flinched away. "You zone out for a moment there."

"Oh, um, yeah." I mumbled and averted my eyes from the pair. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup. Just peachy."

"There's potato salad and spinach wraps on the second shelf, Cailyn." Nodding I grabbed a plate and inhaled the food, surprising both myself and the two others in the room. I laughed when they gave each other the same surprised look and I placed the dirty china by the sink. "I'm gonna go take a walk, now."

"Okay, Miss Cailyn."

After exiting the kitchen I remembered my manners and thought that I should thank Goro and Hanako for everything they had done so far, and also, I forgot which way I needed to go in order to get outside. As I was about to push the doors back open, though, my name being spoken caught my attention.

"Poor girl. I can't imagine what she's going through." That was Hanko speaking, and my heart dropped because I had heard these conversations what felt like hundreds of times.

"I know what you mean," Goro spoke up and I clutched at the wood. "Lost her parents and her twin in a plane crash. It's horrible."

"Did you see her face after she mentioned the strawberries?" I touched my face unconsciously as a few cabinet doors slammed close. "She just seems so fragile. Someone here age shouldn't have to go through this kind of thing. No one should."

"I agree."

"I wish she wouldn't force her smiles. There's no need for her to hide her feelings." That's not true. I have to hide my emotions.

"She's always been that way," Goro stated and I could picture Hanako nodding in agreement. It seemed they were done talking, so I left to find my own way outside.

As I made my way down the cobblestone path that wrapped its way around the back of the house, my situation was finally starting to dawn on me. Hanako and Goro's conversation had really put my life into perspective. My parents were gone, along with my brother, never to return again. I thought that if I never admitted it aloud, it wouldn't be true. Even at the memorial service I wouldn't accept the fact that they were dead.

But to hear it spoken so clearly… It was a stab to my already crushed heart.

Mr. Suoh's words from the airport came back to me from the other day. "No matter how sad or alone you feel; there will always be someone waiting to be there for you. You will always have people that will care for you, even if you can't see them or hold them close."

"Yeah, right," I muttered and let my head fall back in despair. I'm alone. Forever alone. No matter how many people are around me I will always be alone.