Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story line!
I wake reluctantly to the ringing of my phone. Last night's sleep did not come in easily and it feels like I have only slept for five minutes. That's what happens when too much stress interferes with your life. Great, now I sound like Dr. Phil; like I said, stress does weird things with your head.
Groaning in frustration, I put the pillow over my head and try to ignore the constant noise. Unfortunately, the phone kept ringing so I finally reached over and answered it.
"Hello." I say gruffly.
"Darling, you sound dead. It's nearly nine-thirty! We have brunch at ten!" My absolutely, beyond everything, annoying mother replies.
I let out a sigh of frustration wanting nothing more than to throw the phone across the room.
"Alright, I'll be there." I say.
"How on heaven's earth are you going to be ready by ten?" She says snippily.
"It's only brunch Mother, not a gala." I retort sharply.
"Blair, you know how important appearances are. Just don't come looking like you rolled out of bed, alright Darling?" She replies.
"Fine, I'll meet you there." I say.
I hang up the phone and relucticly crawl out of bed. My head feels like it's splitting in two. I walk over to my closet and pick out a crème colored loose, off the shoulder blouse and a pair of skinny jeans. Every morning is like this, trying to make a good impression. Well right now I could care less. How cares about blasted appearances when you have a migraine? Well besides my mother that is.
I touch up my make-up and pull my hair back into a loose ponytail. The very idea of actually trying to deal with my hair right now would be a nightmare. It's so thick and long that only having a few minutes doesn't leave enough time to fix it.
Giving one last glance in the mirror, I turn away satisfied and slip into some sandals grab my purse and walk out the door.
I walk somewhat slowly down the hallway enjoying the silence. I take every opportunity of quiet I can get, usually because it won't stay that way very long. My lifestyle is very hectic and, well just loud honestly speaking. Most of the time I just sit there and let people go on and on, but my mother is a different story. For some reason I just can't let what she says go.
I hear a laugh coming down the hallway. Immediately I feel myself stiffen at the sound, because I swear if it's Chuck I'm going to do something rather irresponsible. Something along the lines of killing a man. I turn my head slightly to peer over my shoulder. Fortunately, it is another guy talking on his cell.
A long breath of relief escapes my lungs.
Finally I reach the elevators and push the button. When I get off, I see my parents waiting outside the restaurant. I approach my mother's tapping foot and don't miss her eye of disapproval as she scans my outfit.
"I guess that will just have to do." She mumbles under her breath.
I just roll my eyes at her comment and look pointingly to my father who does absolutely nothing. He never does anything, he's probably worse than she is.
"Well good morning to you too, Mother." I say sarcastically.
"Now don't be in such a bad mood. You know I only say the things I do because I love you." She says as we follow the hostess to our table.
"Oh I'm sure it is." I mumble.
"What was that Darling?" She asks eyeing me.
"Nothing." I say as I sit down.
We just sit in silence as we wait for our waitress or waiter. I take the opportunity to look out the large glass window. The sky is especially blue today. The wind is as aggressive as ever, but it's a beautiful day outside. It looks much like the day when Serena and I used to play on the beach when we were little. Trying to see Serena running madly with flailing arms down the beach now would be priceless.
I start to quietly giggle at the image. Life was so much simpler then. All there was were fairytales, dolls and the ocean. I miss it somewhat. I miss the kind of friendship Serena and I used to share when we were little. But I guess everyone changes and we all must grow up someday, just never expected it would happen this quickly. It seems like yesterday I was flushing my Barbie dolls' heads down the toilet with my best friend.
"Blair."
I quickly jerk my head back. My father stares at me as if waiting for me to say something.
"I'm sorry, what?" I say quickly.
"The waiter is here." My father says.
"Oh right. Just a glass of orange juice and a bagel with salmon please." I say sweetly.
"Is that all for you miss?" He says.
I nod in response then get my phone out.
"I'll have your drinks out momentarily." He says then turns around and leaves.
"So," my father says while clasping his hands together. "How did everyone sleep?" He asks.
"Uh, good I guess." I say slowly looking at him strangely.
It was a strange question. Out of all the things to ask, he goes with 'How did everyone sleep?' I shook my head.
"Okay, well did you make any friends Blair?" He continued.
"No. Actually I met someone who's rather irritating to be exact." I reply.
His eyes immediately light up at my comment.
"Oh is that so? Do tell?" He says.
It is quite humorous. His face looks like a little boy on Christmas morning. It probably has something to do with our lack of a relationship. His expression makes me smile somewhat.
"Oh no! I know that face!" He suddenly exclaims.
"What!" I exclaim back.
"It's the blush! Look Love, she's blushing!" He says while laughing.
My mother rolls her eyes at his outburst and behavior.
"Really Charles, is this necessary." She replies.
"You know for once I completely agree." I say looking down. "He's an annoying git and I'll be so happy when I'm rid of him." I finish.
My father starts to laugh harder, quickly gaining the attention of the fellow people in the restaurant. My mother looks around at all the people staring and immediately her eyes get angry.
"Charles! That is enough! And besides, dearest Blair doesn't have time to waist on some boy. She has Devon to think about." She exclaims.
All feelings of laughter immediately are gone at her comment; in fact, I can already feel myself becoming infuriated by her. Are we seriously back to the Devon situation again?
"I already told you mother. I'm not interested." I hiss.
Her eyes flare up at my tone.
"Well, it just so happens that just because you throw a temper tantrum doesn't mean the conversation is over young lady." She answers slowly.
The anger is starting to boil. When will she ever let this one go? This is vacation, my vacation; this is supposed to be the time where I can escape all this. Now here she is ruining my happy moment.
"Did it not ever occur to you that I am your daughter? That maybe, well I don't know, have feelings!" I say harshly. "Or did you mistake me for a shiny object?" I finish harshly.
"Oh stop being so ridiculous! Here I am looking out for your future and you spit in my face!" She proclaims loudly. "How ungrateful can you be?" She finishes loudly.
"Eleanor, love-" My father interjects.
"Don't you Eleanor me! Here I am trying to look out for the well being of our daughter and she's acting like a spoiled brat!" She says.
"Oh so now I'm a spoiled brat for defending myself!" I yell back. "You know what! I'm not having this conversation again with you Mother!" I yell as I grab my purse.
"Going to run away again!" She yells. "Well you know what!" She yells as she slams the table with her palm. "Don't bother even leaving because I'm the one not staying." She finishes as she gets up and starts to leave.
My father looks apologetically at me, before mouthing 'sorry.' I stare out the window completely ignoring everyone's whispering comments.
"You will see Devon when we return, that's no longer a suggestion." My Mother yells icily.
I roughly stand up, grab my purse and head out the opposite way not even bothering about the check.
How dare she! How dare she call me ungrateful!
I throw open the glass doors and step out to the main deck. The wind hits me hard as I raise my hands to my head. I'm not sure how much I can deal with anymore. I can handle a lot. The lifestyle, done. The expectations, done. Career, done. College, done. But love and marriage? No, that's where I draw the line. She can make me do a lot of things, and I can even marry someone I don't even love. But to be involved with someone I absolutely hate? No, there's no way that's going to happen.
Not ever.
"Well, that was quite a show you put on for us." Says an all too familiar voice.
My anger flares again, because I am in no mood to deal with him.
"At what point did I ever hint that I wanted your company?" I say harshly. "Look, I know that you don't understand that my life isn't all peachy keen, but do me a favor and leave me alone." I finish as I turn to leave.
"What? And you think my life is perfect? Everyone has problems, everyone doesn't have the 'perfect lifestyle' So quit using that as an excuse to unload your anger on me." He claims behind me.
I spin around to face him again. He has no clue about perfection. He has no clue what my life is like.
"NO! That's where you're wrong. My life is perfect, that's the problem. You don't know anything about me, so don't stand there and act like you understand, because let me tell you; you don't!" I yell. "Do you have any idea what it's like having every aspect of your life controlled? To know that you don't have a say in anything! To not have a say in your own life? To be suffocated?" I continue then pause slightly looking at the ocean. "No, you don't know anything." I whisper quietly.
He stands there completely wide-eye at my outburst. I guess he thought I would just brush him off, not this. What can I say? He saw me for what I really am, and unfortunately it isn't pretty.
"Look, so if you could please just leave me alone." I falter out looking into his very green eyes.
"I don't," he mumbles. "I don't know what to say." He answers gently.
Immediately I see the pity in his eyes and it infuriates me. I don't need his pity; I just need him to leave me alone. I have survived in this lifestyle for seventeen years; I don't need his sympathy, or anyone else's for that matter.
I jerk my head back start to stalk in front of him.
"Don't bother saying anything at all." I say harshly brushing against his shoulder as I leave.
"Wait! Maybe I can help you!" He yells as I hear him run behind me.
"I don't need your help. I don't need to be saved and certainly not by you." I yell while walking and never looking back.
I start to run, run away from his piteous filled eyes; run away from the reality of myself, run away from the enticing hold that maybe he could help me. But trying is far scarier than just accepting, because trying means you have hope; something I gave up a long time ago.
Running away, a concept I am becoming good at.
Okay, so next chapter things are going to be taken up a notch! I'm just going to say this in advance; this story is going to get dark. I know it appears all fluff and bantering, but I'm really just not that kind of girl (read my other stories and you'll know what I mean!). It is a Romeo/Juliet story so keep that in mind.
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