-1
December 19
A slender white finger with candy apple red polished nails twists a lock of gold colored hair. The soft cracking of bubble gum punctuates the otherwise silent cabin of Flight 702. Never one to waste money Ellis had booked Meredith on the red eye. Feigned motherly concern also played a factor; although Meredith doubted the concern had anything to do with her safety and everything to do with Ellis's surgical schedule.
Popping another large bubble, she stares down at the lime green and white polka-dot iPod that she holds in her left hand. She isn't quite sure why she even brought it. Her nerves are strung too tight to listen to any music, her mind occupied with the fact that for almost two weeks she would be stuck with her mother. She had tried to get out of it, using an already finished Domestic Arts project with Cristina as an excuse. Ellis hadn't gotten where she was by being gullible though, and had told Meredith that she had best be on that place and if there was any project that needed to be done it could be done via telephone.
"Miss?"
She looks up to find a flight attendant standing less than an inch away. Her gaze travels up the blue slacks and lighter blue sweater to the kind face of a woman in her late forties. "I'm fine," she answers before the attendant, Susan her name tag read, could ask.
"Well, that is always a plus," Susan laughs, her dark eyes dancing with merriment. Not sure how to respond Meredith smiles, her fingers tightening around the iPod. "Pilot should be announcing that we're landing soon." As though on cue the pilot makes the announcement.
Still smiling like some crazy person Meredith watches as the flight attendant walks away. There is the usual round of pre-landing announcements about putting the seat in the up-right positing, of securing all trays fastening seatbelts, and the weather conditions. She hears none of this, she is mentally preparing for the meeting with her mother. If she is lucky Lucy, her mother's personal assistant, would be there instead.
Meredith waits until the rest of the plane has disembarked, then stands up. She slowly removes the black carry on bag from the over head compartment before creeping her way up the slender aisle. She forces a smile for the pilot who asks if the flight went well. She can do little more than nod, her lips unable to form words.
Gulping down the lump that has formed in her throat she follows the crowd down the terminal, each step bringing another onslaught of dread.
A bone chilling wind cuts through the blue and white ski jacket Izzie had dawned the moment she seen her mother's dark green mini-van pull in front of Robbins Hall. Strands of curly blonde hair whip across her face as she shoves one of her four over-night bags into the back. She reached up to pull her pink beanie down further, not that it helped much. She scowls when another lock blows across her mouth.
"How come you're mad?"
Blinking, Izzie looked up to find her eleven year sister Hannah leaning over the back seat. "I'm not mad." She lowers her eyes, not wanting to meet the earnest hazel gaze of the flaxen haired girl before her.
"You sounded mad." Hannah leaned further over the seat, her twin braids falling over her shoulders. "Earlier. On the phone. Is it cause mom isn't letting you go skiing with that boy?"
The scowl deepens. Leave it to Hannah to bring up the one blight on her Christmas vacation. Alex's parents had invited her along to Aspen. Not for Christmas, just the week after. It would have meant being with Alex on New Year's Eve. Her mother had said a resounding 'no.' Forget that the Karev's were going to pay for the plane ticket. Forget that Alex and she would be chaperoned. Forget that other parents weren't so uptight. Karen Stevens wasn't other mothers, she was Izzie's and she wasn't going to let her daughter go off on some trip with a boy she didn't know.
"I'm not mad," Izzie repeated. She wasn't mad. She was furious.
"Uh huh. Sure." Hannah rolled her eyes, turning around as their mother came out the front door of Robbins Hall, carrying the last of Izzie's bags.
"What are you two talking about?" Karen breezed over, tossing the green bag on top the others. She starts to press a kiss to Izzie's cheek, frowning when Izzie flinched. "Are you going to act this way all break?" Izzie shrugged, moving away. "You'll thank me one day, you know."
"Right," Izzie muttered, reaching up to slam the back of the van shut. She would never thank her mother for this. Never. It wasn't fair. "I'm going to thank you for ruining my life!"
"I'm not ruining your life," Karen sighed. She crossed her arms, staring intently at Izzie. "Did you honestly expect your father and I to let you go off with some boy we haven't met?"
Hope flared. Then died. It wouldn't matter if her mother met Alex. The answer would still be no. "It doesn't really matter what I thought or expected does it? Since all you seem to are about is ruining my life!" Stomping around to the front of the van she yanks open the passenger side door, then slams it. No way in hell she was riding in the front with her mother. Lifting her chin she slides open the back door and climbs inside. Settling into the captains chair she fit's the small ear buds of the iPod Alex had given her for Christmas into her ears. The bluesy voice of Jenny Lewis filled her ears, drowning out the her mother's voice. Her mother didn't want to give her what she wanted, fine. She would return the favor by making Christmas Break as miserable as possible.
People were staring.
Cristina could feel their eyes taking her in. The twin pig tails high on either side of her head, adorned with skinny pink ribbons that were the exact same shade of the bra she visibly wore beneath a sheer, form fitting white sweater. A black pleated skirt that almost didn't cover her ass and patten leather above the knee boots completed the naughty school girl look she was going for. Shock and awe. She thrived on it.
"Miss Cristina."
The melrose voice of her father's butler twists her ruby painted mouth into a smile. Hudgins was the one constant in her life. The seventy-three year old Englishman was more than hired help. He was family.
"Hudgy." Her arms automatically wrap around the elderly man, her eyes closing as she inhales the comforting aroma of pipe tobacco and beeswax. For as long as she could remember he had smelled this way. She had once read that scents triggered emotions, she could believe it was true. Anytime she smelled beeswax or pipe tobacco she felt safe and cared for, the same emotions Hudgins always inspired.
The elderly man patted her back, making soft clucking noises with his tongue. "There now. Tis good to see you as well miss."
Cristina smiles faintly. The fingers of her left hand curl in the lapel of the stiff, black suit Hudgins wore. It was the same cut suit he had always worn. Another bit of familiar comfort in her life. "Did my father say what time he would be in tonight?" Victor Yang had phoned her the week before to let her know he would be home for the holiday. She had tried to not let herself become excited, had tried to not make plans, yet she was still childish enough to do those very things. Images of ice skating in Rockefeller Center and New Years in Times Square had popped into her head. Those images burst when Hudgins looked away. Her heart constricts, behind her lids her eyes started to burn. "He's not coming is he?"
"I'm afraid not miss."
Dark pig tails bounce around her shoulders as she nods. Her chin tucks against her chest, her breath coming out of pursed lips in short little pants. The old anxiety of being alone was creeping back in. "What was his excuse this time?" Her voice was little more than a whisper. She wasn't even certain he had heard her.
"He didn't give one."
Hudgins was lying. Her father always had an excuse. She had learned long ago that when Hudgins said there wasn't one it meant her father had tossed her aside for his latest girl friend. "Where did he meet this one?"
"Paris, I believe."
Paris. It figured. Paris was where her father met most of his flings. There had been one, Claudia, that he had met in Berlin. Then there had been Kathleen, the sassy Irish girl he had met in a swank London club. None of his flings meant much, nor did they last long, but while in one he entirely forgot about his sixteen year old daughter. In her rare moments of honesty, Cristina could admit that it wasn't just during his 'relationships' that he forgot about it, it was all the time. She reasoned it was because she reminded him of her mother, but even that wasn't the truth. The truth was her father was a selfish ass who had time for no one but himself.
"I had thought to order dinner in for you miss. Perhaps the traditional holiday fare?"
Cristina shook her head. There was no point in eating Christmas dinner alone. It would only serve as a reminder that she truly was alone in this world. "I'm not much on Christmas. You know that." Oh how well the lie fell off her tongue, though it was slowly becoming more truth than lie. There had been a time she loved Christmas. The sparkling lights on a festively decorated tree, the thrill of shaking presents in an attempt to figure out what was inside, the warmth of giving something to someone and knowing they would love it. Those days were long gone though, buried with her mother. Each year her heart hardened a bit more, her childish hopes fading.
"Very well."
Neither said much as he held open the back door of the black Mercedes sedan. Smiling in a rather miserable way, Cristina slid into the backseat. Her almond shaped dark eyes burned in a familiar way. She wouldn't give in though. A single tear drop rebelled, running down her cheek, leaving in its wake a stream of black mascara.
Christmas vacation was usually the high light of Alex's year. His parents would pack the family up and head for the slopes of Aspen. They didn't go for the skiing or snow boarding, Sun Valley was better suited for that. No, they went to be seen. He was fine with that. It usually meant they were off at parties, which left him plenty of time to throw his own parties. He would spend the two and a half weeks drinking, sleeping with girls he would never see again, and dreading when he had to go back to school. Not this year though, this year he wanted the holidays to go by as quickly as possible. Two and a half weeks without Izzie was going to be torture.
Two weeks and one day, he amended as he shrugged out of his black North Face down jacket. He dropped the thick, coat on the burgundy wing back chair that sat in the corner of his bedroom. It instantly slid to the ground. He made no move to pick it up, instead he flopped back on his bed, bored out of his mind.
"Alex?" He lifted his head, found his older sister Gwen standing in the door way. Still wearing her hot pink and black ski gear, she looked a bit like a neon sign.
"What?" He came off more surly than he meant to. In addition to missing Izzie, he was starting to really miss sex. He was trying to understand Izzie's point of view, he really was, but a guy could only go so long.
"Dad said to tell you not to bother unpacking. He just got a call and has to fly out to Hong Kong. Mom's going with him, so we're going to Aunt Elise's." Gwen rolled her eyes. "Like I'm not capable of keeping you under control."
"Where's Aunt Elise spending the holidays?" He sat up straighter. His father's younger sister liked to gamble and usually spent the holidays in either Las Vegas or Ocean City. He crossed his fingers for Ocean City. Izzie wasn't far from there. Maybe thirty minutes.
"Ocean City," Gwen said with a grimace. It was clear where his older sister had been hoping their eccentric aunt would be spending Christmas. "Seriously, what does the woman see in that place?"
"I dunno." Alex didn't really care either. His holidays were starting to look up. Grinning from ear to ear, he vaulted off his bed. "Better get packing Gwen," he said cheerfully. Yup, his holidays really were starting to look up.
Sunlight glared through the wall of windows that lined the back side of the Sloan's Malibu beach house. Seventeen year old Mark sat facing them, slouched in a lipstick red leather club chair, sunglass perched on his nose and a bottle of beer dangling from one hand. Wave after wave of blue green water rolled onto the sparkling sand.
"Markie?"
His handsome face falls into a scowl as his step-mother's high pitched voice interrupted his semi-tranquil state. Felicia Sloan, his father's twenty two year old bride, was the last person he wanted invading his space right now. "I thought I told you not to call me that," he growled. He lifted the bottle of Heineken to his lips, taking a long sip.
"Yes, yes. I know. You're too much of man to be called such a little boy name." Felicia mocked. She dropped into the chair next to his, her long, slender tan legs stretched out before her. A quick glance in her direction revealed that she wore a barely there pink bikini that left little to the imagination. "Like what you see Markie?" She mocked, raising her hands to cup her breasts, pushing them together to enhance her already massive cleavage. Plastic boobs to go with her plastic smile and bleached blonde hair.
"I've seen better," Mark snickered. His mind instantly goes to a beautiful red haired girl of sixteen with the large blue eyes and creamy white skin. Addison. His smirk fell from his face. "Besides, haven't you heard, plastic isn't as fun to play with as the real thing." As he had known the words brought a scowl to Felicia's face. He knew her game. Trevor Sloan was a busy man. Gone all the time. She wasn't the first step mother to try and get the son to warm her bed. And, knowing his father, she wouldn't be the last either.
"You're an ass. You know that?" Felicia shrieked, flinging herself out of the chair. She stood over him, her beautiful face a mask of fury.
"Yeah. I get that a lot." Mark took the last drink of beer, letting the bottle drop to the floor. Reaching out, he grabs the waist of his father's young wife, pulling her down onto his lap, her legs splayed on either side of his thighs. A knowing smile lights up her face as her hand automatically go for the gold, unsnapping his khaki colored shorts. Once she had him free, she started to move her bikini bottoms to the side. He stopped her, reaching into his front pocket for a condom. He wasn't a complete idiot. Not true, a small voice in his head whispered, you never remembered one with Addison. He shoved the thought aside, rolling the latex down the length of his cock. He had barely moved his hand when Felicia lowered herself, taking him into her warmth. He gripped her hips, closing his eyes behind the dark lenses of his sun glasses. He wouldn't' say it aloud, but right then he would have killed for the woman riding him to be Addison.
Trembling fingers gripped the small, slender white and purple plastic stick. Through tear blurred eyes Addison read the results. One line. She lets out a small sigh of relief. The relief doesn't last as a second line started to appear. "No, no, no," she whispered, her body starting to shake. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Not to her.
A knock on her bathroom door startled her into dropping the positive pregnancy test. "Addison?" The soft, accented voice of her parents house keeper drifted through the doorway. "Your father would like to see you in his office when you get a chance."
Wiping at her tear stained face, Addison stood up. Strands of copper colored hair stick to her damp cheeks. She doesn't bother pushing them off her face. Instead, she yanked open the bathroom door, stepping around the short, almost rotund woman standing outside the door. "Thanks Helga." The German woman gave her a curt nod before heading in the opposite direction.
Addison slowly made her way to her father's office. She hesitated outside the dark paneled room, then taking a deep breath, slipped inside. Her father sat behind his large desk, barking orders into his cell phone and entering something into his palm pilot. She twisted her fingers together, her heart pounding. "Daddy?"
Winston Montgomery-Forbes looked up from what he was doing. He abruptly ended his conversation and laid his palm pilot down. "I'm going to be blunt with you. Your mother has left us. Ran off with that new pool boy, Javier. I made it clear to her that she is no longer to have any contact with you. This has nothing to do with you, and to ensure that you realize this, I have taken the liberty of making an appointment for you with a child psychologist."
A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. This wasn't happening. The pregnancy, her mother leaving, it was all a bad dream. It had to be.