Waiting For Us [COMPLETED]

chapter 3 - broken glass

Talia:

Nothing says pure joy like a Monday morning.

That's obviously a lie. The biggest, juiciest lie ever created by yours truly.

Walking into the hallway I notice the bathroom door is closed. Great. I stand right near the doorway and pound the door with my fist. "Jess, I need to use the bathroom."

"Ugh! Hold on you weirdo," my dear sister yells back.

I stand impatiently next to the door, taping my foot rhythmically to distract myself from my pressing and urgent bladder. One of my biggest weaknesses is chugging a whole glass of water right before bed. What can I say, I'm more thirsty at night. Unfortunately, this means when I wake, I immediately have to use the bathroom. Too much information? Maybe.

The bathroom door finally opens and out emerges an exhausted looking Jess.

I give her a bright and sunny smile to let her know how happy I am with life.

"Shut up," she says, giving me a sneer.

I walk backwards into the bathroom. "I didn't even say anything, my beautiful sister."

She gives me the finger, which only makes me laugh as I shut the bathroom door. Now, I can finally start my day.

***

I walk downstairs in a pair of ripped blue jeans and a loose green shirt tucked in at the front. Simple and elegant, just like me. That's a joke.

I greet my sometimes caring parents at the table, both eagerly consumed in what I can only assume is paperwork from their jobs. They're always working.

I usually wonder how in movies, parents have the time to cook a five star breakfast for their family. That's entirely unrealistic. In the Chase household, breakfast consists of cereal with milk. No bacon, eggs, or pancakes. Just some good old fashion Cheerios or Granola. Plain and simple.

After eating a delicious meal, I head to the front door ready to leave, but my parents stop me from escaping.

"Do you have any tests or quizzes this week?" my mom asks, finally pealing her eyes from the stack of papers in front of her.

I give a small nod. "Yes, in government and personal finance."

To this my dad hums, as if thinking of a further question to interrogate me with. It is always an interrogation.

"Have a good day at school," he finally says, emotionless.

I nod again. Saying, "I love you," is also an uncommon occurrence in this family. Sometimes it feels like they both had kids just to have another thing to check off the bucket list. They have always been "do-ers." Now don't get me wrong, I do know my parents love me and all, but a reminder is nice sometimes.