Chapter 1
San Francisco, California. It was my home, and where my heart always returned to. I had grown up in our large house since I was 6 years old and it was the only home I remembered. It was hard for me to pull away and go to college when I was only 18. I suppose this is the only reason I stayed so close to home when high school was over. It just made me feel more secure to know that my parents, and my sister and brother were close to me. San Diego was of course still fairly far from home, but the fact that it was still in California helped me cope with being away from home. Of course after my first year in college, I realized that the distance was far from such a bad thing.
My roommate and I got along well for never having heard of each other before we found out we would be sharing a dorm room. She was from a small town just outside of New York City. She had known my aunt Rachel who I had visited once or twice and was fairly close to. Rachel was my mother's younger sister, and I had always looked up to her. My grand parents were probably some of the most unpleasant people in all of America, and my mother had always crumbled underneath their pressure, but not Rachel. She was always tough, and stood up for herself as well as her siblings. Her move to New York was probably the biggest rebellion against her parents that she could ever formulate, but her plan worked. She got away from her parents, and her parents learned to back off.
My mother, however, stayed in San Francisco with her parents only a 10 minute drive away. Her brother, David, and Sister Deana had done the same thing. With three out of their four children living near them, my grandparents seemed satisfied, as if they didn't need all of their children as long as they had some of them. They were almost as possessive of me and the rest of the kids in my family as they were their own children. It drove me crazier than I could ever attempt to put into words. I can't imagine how my mother put up with it her whole life. But the worst was that my grandparents rubbed off on their daughter. My room might as well have been made of glass because I had no escape from her anyways. My father, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. While he of course wanted to protect me, he let me have the freedom that every kid needs. I was always grateful for those weeks when my mother would leave town for 'business'. I of course knew that the only business she would accomplish would be in bed with her latest betrayal, but my father accepted that it was business.
Looking back now, I think he must have figured everything out long before he saw it with his own eyes. I guess he just never wanted to admit it to himself. They had been married for so long, and he still felt some of the love that was evident in the beginning. She had lost that love when my older brother was born. I know she hated the idea of being tied down by having kids, but her parents only ambition was to have grandchildren, and the thought of failing them seemed all to devastating to her. Before she knew what she had gotten herself into, she was tied down by a husband and three children. I know the affairs had been going on long before I found out, but I was never sure exactly when she decided that her love for my father wasn't satisfying her. I didn't want to know.
San Diego was a nice release the first year, but after my freshman year I needed to get out of California. My father and mother had joint custody of my little sister, Jennifer, but she wanted nothing more than to get as far away from my mother as possible. Despite the fact that while my mother had custody of all three of her children, she wanted to get rid of them, she had fought with all her power to get custody of her youngest. Kyle and I were now legal adults, and neither our dad nor our mom could try and get custody of us, but they were still feuding over us. When I would decide to visit home, I brought forth a war between the two as to whom I should stay with. It made my visits home rare and soon nonexistent. When college was over, I left with my ambition of being a designer still alive, even if slightly faded. I had decided that perhaps California wasn't the best place for me to live if I still wanted my sanity, but for my budgets sake, I stayed. Emily, my college roommate of four years and the only person outside of my family who I had let myself grow close to, and I bought a two bedroom apartment In Santa Barbara. With all the money her family had, she didn't need a job, but she wanted to work. My mother's side of the family, which had been rich for as long as I cared to remember, would have happily given me money, but I couldn't bear to accept anything from my mother.
So here I was living out on my own, and flat broke. Emily refused to let me even try to pay for any of the rent until I found a steady job. We always joked that she was more like my wife than my roommate. We were both 23 years old, and fresh out of college and the next years were some of the best years of my life. Emily and I were closer than ever and had a lot of time to hang out. She was working at a bank, but was dying, just as I was, to be a fashion designer. We had throughout college shared this love for clothes, and between the two of us, must have had some of the best fashions, or at least that's how it all appeared to us. Emily of course was gorgeous enough, and fit enough to be a model, but I knew she would much rather dress the models than be one. Then there was me. I had long dirty blonde hair that always hung limply past my shoulders. My features were decent, but not stunningly beautiful as hers were. But one thing my mother always told me was right; you are your own worst critic.
My interest in Fashion had been formed because of my aunt Rachel who had moved to New York to be just what I strived to be. She had been very successful after living in the city for nearly three years. She had gained control of the Case Agency. When she had enough money for the house and the commute to work, she bought a place outside of the city where she lives to this day with her fiancée, Marc. She was my inspiration, but that didn't seem to be doing me any good.
San Francisco, California. It was my home, and where my heart always returned to. I had grown up in our large house since I was 6 years old and it was the only home I remembered. It was hard for me to pull away and go to college when I was only 18. I suppose this is the only reason I stayed so close to home when high school was over. It just made me feel more secure to know that my parents, and my sister and brother were close to me. San Diego was of course still fairly far from home, but the fact that it was still in California helped me cope with being away from home. Of course after my first year in college, I realized that the distance was far from such a bad thing.
My roommate and I got along well for never having heard of each other before we found out we would be sharing a dorm room. She was from a small town just outside of New York City. She had known my aunt Rachel who I had visited once or twice and was fairly close to. Rachel was my mother's younger sister, and I had always looked up to her. My grand parents were probably some of the most unpleasant people in all of America, and my mother had always crumbled underneath their pressure, but not Rachel. She was always tough, and stood up for herself as well as her siblings. Her move to New York was probably the biggest rebellion against her parents that she could ever formulate, but her plan worked. She got away from her parents, and her parents learned to back off.
My mother, however, stayed in San Francisco with her parents only a 10 minute drive away. Her brother, David, and Sister Deana had done the same thing. With three out of their four children living near them, my grandparents seemed satisfied, as if they didn't need all of their children as long as they had some of them. They were almost as possessive of me and the rest of the kids in my family as they were their own children. It drove me crazier than I could ever attempt to put into words. I can't imagine how my mother put up with it her whole life. But the worst was that my grandparents rubbed off on their daughter. My room might as well have been made of glass because I had no escape from her anyways. My father, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. While he of course wanted to protect me, he let me have the freedom that every kid needs. I was always grateful for those weeks when my mother would leave town for 'business'. I of course knew that the only business she would accomplish would be in bed with her latest betrayal, but my father accepted that it was business.
Looking back now, I think he must have figured everything out long before he saw it with his own eyes. I guess he just never wanted to admit it to himself. They had been married for so long, and he still felt some of the love that was evident in the beginning. She had lost that love when my older brother was born. I know she hated the idea of being tied down by having kids, but her parents only ambition was to have grandchildren, and the thought of failing them seemed all to devastating to her. Before she knew what she had gotten herself into, she was tied down by a husband and three children. I know the affairs had been going on long before I found out, but I was never sure exactly when she decided that her love for my father wasn't satisfying her. I didn't want to know.
San Diego was a nice release the first year, but after my freshman year I needed to get out of California. My father and mother had joint custody of my little sister, Jennifer, but she wanted nothing more than to get as far away from my mother as possible. Despite the fact that while my mother had custody of all three of her children, she wanted to get rid of them, she had fought with all her power to get custody of her youngest. Kyle and I were now legal adults, and neither our dad nor our mom could try and get custody of us, but they were still feuding over us. When I would decide to visit home, I brought forth a war between the two as to whom I should stay with. It made my visits home rare and soon nonexistent. When college was over, I left with my ambition of being a designer still alive, even if slightly faded. I had decided that perhaps California wasn't the best place for me to live if I still wanted my sanity, but for my budgets sake, I stayed. Emily, my college roommate of four years and the only person outside of my family who I had let myself grow close to, and I bought a two bedroom apartment In Santa Barbara. With all the money her family had, she didn't need a job, but she wanted to work. My mother's side of the family, which had been rich for as long as I cared to remember, would have happily given me money, but I couldn't bear to accept anything from my mother.
So here I was living out on my own, and flat broke. Emily refused to let me even try to pay for any of the rent until I found a steady job. We always joked that she was more like my wife than my roommate. We were both 23 years old, and fresh out of college and the next years were some of the best years of my life. Emily and I were closer than ever and had a lot of time to hang out. She was working at a bank, but was dying, just as I was, to be a fashion designer. We had throughout college shared this love for clothes, and between the two of us, must have had some of the best fashions, or at least that's how it all appeared to us. Emily of course was gorgeous enough, and fit enough to be a model, but I knew she would much rather dress the models than be one. Then there was me. I had long dirty blonde hair that always hung limply past my shoulders. My features were decent, but not stunningly beautiful as hers were. But one thing my mother always told me was right; you are your own worst critic.
My interest in Fashion had been formed because of my aunt Rachel who had moved to New York to be just what I strived to be. She had been very successful after living in the city for nearly three years. She had gained control of the Case Agency. When she had enough money for the house and the commute to work, she bought a place outside of the city where she lives to this day with her fiancée, Marc. She was my inspiration, but that didn't seem to be doing me any good.