Tuesday came and went. My parents didn't come home. I was hardly surprised.
I wouldn't be surprised if they came home months later, and saw me sitting
on the couch, and one of them said, "Oh, look, dear. We have a daughter!
How about that?" I knew all too well that my existence didn't fit in very
well with their aristocratic, entrepreneurship lifestyle.
My mother and father had a relationship similar to my own with Ethan. I was uncertain of how much "love" actually existed between them, but they had a mutually beneficial arrangement. My father gets the privilege of a companion who is stunningly beautiful and also follows his every whim. My mother gets a share of Daddy's enormous wallet. It all works out quite well. She's supposedly his Chief Assistant of Financial Management or some crap like that. I don't know her exact title; it's some made-up position she secured herself and uses as an excuse to follow Dad on all of his business travels.
It was Thursday. I put Britney Spears in my stereo, cranked up the volume, and sat down at my computer. The group project in Mythology required that I dress up as one of the Greek gods or goddesses and give a brief biography of them. Naturally, I had chosen Aphrodite, the goddess of love, desire, and beauty. It was simply fitting. I had put off doing my share of the research for a week, but I knew if I was going to get an A and be as perfect as I always was, I would have to force myself to sit down and do it. I curled up Indian-style in my chair as I listened to hard core dance beats and Britney's seductive voice singing, "I'm a slave for you...", and skimmed through websites on Greek mythology.
On the screen, there was a picture of a woman with milky white skin. She had blonde hair that flowed and stretched out as if she was in water; her lips were bright red and her eyes were deeply dark. At least I knew I could look the part. I read the text on the page, "In addition to her natural gifts, she has a magical girdle that compels anyone she wishes to desire her." I laughed out loud. I've got one of those, too, I thought to myself. It's called a wonder bra. I read on, "Aphrodite was cruel with her punishment, and she punished all who would go against her." Ah, that was my kind of woman: let no one stand in your way. One of my very own mottos. I became intrigued as I read all the ways she got her revenge. She turned the daughter of Cinyras to prostitution, and made the Lemnian women smell foul so that their husbands would leave them. "She represented sex, affection, and the attraction that binds people together," the screen read. A very powerful goddess indeed.
Apparently, there were two different theories to the birth of Aphrodite. The less popular belief was that she was the daughter of Zeus and Dione. The other legend claimed that she was born of sea foam, when the severed genitals of Uranus were thrown into the sea. She had no true parents, and was carried by the winds to the shores of Cyprus. It was there that she was bestowed jewels and allowed to ascend Olympus as a goddess. Damn, I thought as I read it. That was a bizarre tale if I ever heard one. I felt, however, that I could relate. My parents basically dropped me in the sea, leaving only winds to carry me and keep me from drowning. It was by my own damn strength that I survived and made it to the shore. I made it across the sea, and as far as much of the world was concerned, I was made a goddess for my troubles.
I grew tired of gods and legends after awhile and went downstairs. Amy was on the couch with a controller in her hand, making swift and erratic movements as though she were actually inside in the video game. I rolled my eyes and continued towards the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator was a lid- less jar of peanut butter, a watermelon, two cans of beer, a half-eaten ham sandwich, and a piece of cheese. Terrific. I searched through the cupboards and the pantry, but didn't find anything to my liking.
"Amy!" I called. "Why isn't there any food? What did you do with the grocery money?"
There was no response.
"AMY!"
"Busy!" she shot back. "I'll be there once I get the life shield, mmmkay?"
"Never mind," I mumbled. I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza. I didn't even want to imagine what Amy had possibly done with the grocery money. It was just like her to blow it on something else. The situation was worsened, of course, by the fact that Amy's freeloading friends had a tendency to eat what food we did have.
I came out of the kitchen and sat beside Amy as I waited for the pizza. Her slightly bloodshot eyes were alive with intensity as she focused on making her video game character slaughter a woman in blue robes.
"Who are you killing?" I asked vaguely, as if it mattered.
"Larka," Amy replied with pride. "She's been abusing my guardian angel Neneth. Yeah! Take that, angel-molester!"
I pursed my lips. "Well. That's lovely."
The front door swung open. "We're back!" chirped an annoyingly haughty but familiar voice.
"Hey, guys," said Amy, not looking away from her game.
I wished that I could ignore my parents' entrance the same way she did, but unfortunately, I actually was eager to see them. It's awful how things work that way. Even though they ruin your life, you still miss them when they leave because they spawned you. I looked towards the entryway. My mother, in all of her glimmering glory, pranced into the room as if it were a yacht party. You'll never see her make an entrance that isn't grand. Her gold hair was pulled back at the top, but the lower half was left hanging by her neck in perfectly even curls. Her eyes were shaded intensely with hunter green shadow. Her face was shielded by thick foundation, her lips were bright red. She had on black dress pants, heels, and a knitted red sweater that was far too low-cut for a woman her age. Only my mother would wear a sweater in 75 degree September weather, making the excuse that it looked classy. Admittedly, it was classy, and she made it look good. She was the spitting image of the Aphrodite illustration I had seen.
It bothered me intensely. I hated the fact that she was so striking, that heads turned whenever she entered a room. Nobody knew, when they admired her, what a horrible woman she was. They didn't know that she never taught me right from wrong, only lipliner from eyeliner. They didn't know that she would get plastered and tell me everything I did wrong. They didn't know that she had failed to show me what it meant to be loved. All they saw was a gorgeous woman, a muse, a goddess. As they watched her graceful movements and infectious charm, they had no idea that far away she had a daughter who was crying for her.
She came into the living room, paused, and struck a pose. My father walked in behind her, carrying the bags. "So," she said in a chipper voice. She beamed at Amy and me. "Who missed me?"
"Oh, I did, Aunt Ada," Amy responded monotonously. She was still in her zone. "Loads."
My mother looked over at me radiantly. Did she even realize that she had been gone a week longer than she originally said she would? Did she even care that at this very moment, there was barely any food to provide for her daughter? As I looked into her face and saw her carefree smile and lively eyes, I knew that she did not. She had always been oblivious to the fact that I, too, had needs, and that many of them were her responsibility to fulfill. She only knew of her world.
But I could not turn down her beautiful, smiling face. She looked so happy. Deep down, I knew she was only in such a pleasant mood because there had likely been booze on the flight. I knew that she was wrapped up in herself, that she was as phony as ever. I ignored my reasonable side, however, and gave in to my weaker emotions. I wanted her to be happy to see ME. I fooled myself into believing that the smile on her face was there because she had been away from me for so long, and now she was with me again. I wanted to believe that the radiant woman in the doorway was my mother who loved me and wanted to take care of me.
I got off the couch and walked over to her, letting her open arms give me a big hug. "I missed you, too, Mom."
Author's Note: The Aphrodite information used was taken from http://acheron.servehttp.com:8080/checkram/mythology/aphrodite.htm and www.greekmythology.com. If you happen to check out greekmythology.com, the lower illustration actually does look alot like Kate.
My mother and father had a relationship similar to my own with Ethan. I was uncertain of how much "love" actually existed between them, but they had a mutually beneficial arrangement. My father gets the privilege of a companion who is stunningly beautiful and also follows his every whim. My mother gets a share of Daddy's enormous wallet. It all works out quite well. She's supposedly his Chief Assistant of Financial Management or some crap like that. I don't know her exact title; it's some made-up position she secured herself and uses as an excuse to follow Dad on all of his business travels.
It was Thursday. I put Britney Spears in my stereo, cranked up the volume, and sat down at my computer. The group project in Mythology required that I dress up as one of the Greek gods or goddesses and give a brief biography of them. Naturally, I had chosen Aphrodite, the goddess of love, desire, and beauty. It was simply fitting. I had put off doing my share of the research for a week, but I knew if I was going to get an A and be as perfect as I always was, I would have to force myself to sit down and do it. I curled up Indian-style in my chair as I listened to hard core dance beats and Britney's seductive voice singing, "I'm a slave for you...", and skimmed through websites on Greek mythology.
On the screen, there was a picture of a woman with milky white skin. She had blonde hair that flowed and stretched out as if she was in water; her lips were bright red and her eyes were deeply dark. At least I knew I could look the part. I read the text on the page, "In addition to her natural gifts, she has a magical girdle that compels anyone she wishes to desire her." I laughed out loud. I've got one of those, too, I thought to myself. It's called a wonder bra. I read on, "Aphrodite was cruel with her punishment, and she punished all who would go against her." Ah, that was my kind of woman: let no one stand in your way. One of my very own mottos. I became intrigued as I read all the ways she got her revenge. She turned the daughter of Cinyras to prostitution, and made the Lemnian women smell foul so that their husbands would leave them. "She represented sex, affection, and the attraction that binds people together," the screen read. A very powerful goddess indeed.
Apparently, there were two different theories to the birth of Aphrodite. The less popular belief was that she was the daughter of Zeus and Dione. The other legend claimed that she was born of sea foam, when the severed genitals of Uranus were thrown into the sea. She had no true parents, and was carried by the winds to the shores of Cyprus. It was there that she was bestowed jewels and allowed to ascend Olympus as a goddess. Damn, I thought as I read it. That was a bizarre tale if I ever heard one. I felt, however, that I could relate. My parents basically dropped me in the sea, leaving only winds to carry me and keep me from drowning. It was by my own damn strength that I survived and made it to the shore. I made it across the sea, and as far as much of the world was concerned, I was made a goddess for my troubles.
I grew tired of gods and legends after awhile and went downstairs. Amy was on the couch with a controller in her hand, making swift and erratic movements as though she were actually inside in the video game. I rolled my eyes and continued towards the kitchen. Inside the refrigerator was a lid- less jar of peanut butter, a watermelon, two cans of beer, a half-eaten ham sandwich, and a piece of cheese. Terrific. I searched through the cupboards and the pantry, but didn't find anything to my liking.
"Amy!" I called. "Why isn't there any food? What did you do with the grocery money?"
There was no response.
"AMY!"
"Busy!" she shot back. "I'll be there once I get the life shield, mmmkay?"
"Never mind," I mumbled. I picked up the phone and ordered a pizza. I didn't even want to imagine what Amy had possibly done with the grocery money. It was just like her to blow it on something else. The situation was worsened, of course, by the fact that Amy's freeloading friends had a tendency to eat what food we did have.
I came out of the kitchen and sat beside Amy as I waited for the pizza. Her slightly bloodshot eyes were alive with intensity as she focused on making her video game character slaughter a woman in blue robes.
"Who are you killing?" I asked vaguely, as if it mattered.
"Larka," Amy replied with pride. "She's been abusing my guardian angel Neneth. Yeah! Take that, angel-molester!"
I pursed my lips. "Well. That's lovely."
The front door swung open. "We're back!" chirped an annoyingly haughty but familiar voice.
"Hey, guys," said Amy, not looking away from her game.
I wished that I could ignore my parents' entrance the same way she did, but unfortunately, I actually was eager to see them. It's awful how things work that way. Even though they ruin your life, you still miss them when they leave because they spawned you. I looked towards the entryway. My mother, in all of her glimmering glory, pranced into the room as if it were a yacht party. You'll never see her make an entrance that isn't grand. Her gold hair was pulled back at the top, but the lower half was left hanging by her neck in perfectly even curls. Her eyes were shaded intensely with hunter green shadow. Her face was shielded by thick foundation, her lips were bright red. She had on black dress pants, heels, and a knitted red sweater that was far too low-cut for a woman her age. Only my mother would wear a sweater in 75 degree September weather, making the excuse that it looked classy. Admittedly, it was classy, and she made it look good. She was the spitting image of the Aphrodite illustration I had seen.
It bothered me intensely. I hated the fact that she was so striking, that heads turned whenever she entered a room. Nobody knew, when they admired her, what a horrible woman she was. They didn't know that she never taught me right from wrong, only lipliner from eyeliner. They didn't know that she would get plastered and tell me everything I did wrong. They didn't know that she had failed to show me what it meant to be loved. All they saw was a gorgeous woman, a muse, a goddess. As they watched her graceful movements and infectious charm, they had no idea that far away she had a daughter who was crying for her.
She came into the living room, paused, and struck a pose. My father walked in behind her, carrying the bags. "So," she said in a chipper voice. She beamed at Amy and me. "Who missed me?"
"Oh, I did, Aunt Ada," Amy responded monotonously. She was still in her zone. "Loads."
My mother looked over at me radiantly. Did she even realize that she had been gone a week longer than she originally said she would? Did she even care that at this very moment, there was barely any food to provide for her daughter? As I looked into her face and saw her carefree smile and lively eyes, I knew that she did not. She had always been oblivious to the fact that I, too, had needs, and that many of them were her responsibility to fulfill. She only knew of her world.
But I could not turn down her beautiful, smiling face. She looked so happy. Deep down, I knew she was only in such a pleasant mood because there had likely been booze on the flight. I knew that she was wrapped up in herself, that she was as phony as ever. I ignored my reasonable side, however, and gave in to my weaker emotions. I wanted her to be happy to see ME. I fooled myself into believing that the smile on her face was there because she had been away from me for so long, and now she was with me again. I wanted to believe that the radiant woman in the doorway was my mother who loved me and wanted to take care of me.
I got off the couch and walked over to her, letting her open arms give me a big hug. "I missed you, too, Mom."
Author's Note: The Aphrodite information used was taken from http://acheron.servehttp.com:8080/checkram/mythology/aphrodite.htm and www.greekmythology.com. If you happen to check out greekmythology.com, the lower illustration actually does look alot like Kate.