The pitter patter of rain was like the footsteps of a toddler. The rain always reminded me that I was no longer home. In Los Angeles there was no fear of the rain turning to sleet or snow. Back in Los Angeles, in the days of my childhood, I lived in a small apartment with two rooms. Things would've been alright if I wasn't a part of a family of seven. My family was always angry and loud and the small confinements of the apartment allowed neither growth or peace. Here in Scarsdale though, I live in a house with six bedrooms and it's always quiet. The quiet feels so suffocating.
Back in Los Angeles, afternoons were usually spent in the living room with my younger sister. Nelly Furtado's music flowing out the open windows. My mom would sway her hips to the rhythm as she cooked dinner for the family. My three older sisters would be out in the streets causing mischief with their friends around this time. Then there was my father. A bitter old man who was always at work and rarely came home. I resented him for that. Here was my poor mother trying to tame five wild beasts. Of course my older sisters would try helping with the baby, but the thrills of youth would call to them and they would sneak away whenever they could. Some days I swore I could see grey strands in my mother's perfect hair. She was so young. Too young to be wasting away like this. And where was my father? No where to be found.
Now I find myself just as much of a workaholic as my dad. The only difference between us is that there is no family for me to come home to. There is no music or culture to bring taste to my house. It's dead inside with a few cheap paintings that I thought would look nice. I haven't had a home cooked meal in six years let alone one of my mother's meals. Most night I wait for my personal assistant, Connor, to bring home take out. Other nights I just go to restaurants with my friends. Some days I really do miss my family.
"Wren! Get out of that office, I brought Chinese!" Connor yelled from the kitchen.
I sigh and arch my back as I reach my arms out towards the bookcase behind me. I jump out of my chair and throw on a bathrobe. When I reach the kitchen Connor is laying out the containers with the food. He glances at me as he throws away the bag, "Took you long enough. I was about to go over to that rotten office and get you myself."
"Hmm," I reach for a bowl and begin filling it with food.
After I take a seat at the island counter Connor smacks the back of my head, "What? No thank you for actually caring? Ya know I could have just started eating without you and left you for dead in that office."
"I appreciate your concern."
"Damn right you do!"
Dinner was quiet as usual. Connor brought out his laptop at some point and we didn't attempt to start conversation because we were both tired.
I met Connor in the second year of my stay in New York. He was a college dropout who needed a job. Everette said I needed an assistant since I was so bad at taking care of myself. Connor is a jerk at times, but I guess that's actually what keeps me on track. Connor lives here with me and has been for the past three years. His little sister of eight years also lived here. She was always in and out of the hospital but I had managed to build a stable relationship with both of them despite that. She stopped living with us as of last year. Connor hasn't been the same since and neither have I. Connor spends his weekends now at raves and isn't back til Tuesday mornings. Before Emily, his little sister, left Connor had a large salary. A higher salary than most personal assistants, but when Emily left he changed his salary back to the average pay of a personal assistant.
"Well I'm gonna hit the hay. Night Wren. Actually go to sleep on time or I will force you to."
I chuckle and wish him a goodnight. I really do miss Emily. She took that edge off of Connor's aggressive personality.
