Oblivion || Tate Langdon - Completed

Chapter 1: Antiques and Jars - August 1, 2011

~ Jade's P.O.V. ~

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I opened my eyes to the yellow fluorescent rays of sun pouring through my windows, illuminating the entire room with the high noon sun. I put my arm over my face, turning over as I sighed. Just then, I heard a knock on my door.

"Jade?" the small yet womanly voice called.

"Yeah, mom?" I groaned.

"It's noon. I just wanted to see if you were up," she opened the door softly as her face peered in. I removed my arm to look at her.

My mother was the descendant of Filipino immigrants, half Tagalog (native) Filipino from her mother and half Chinese Filipino from her father. Her thick raven black hair fell in curls created from the curling iron to her shoulders. Her wide eyes upturned at the edge were a deep chocolate brown and framed by squared black rimmed glasses that sat perfectly upon the wide bridge of her nose, her full rosy lips standing out against her round pale face. She was only about five feet tall with a slightly accented waist and hips and small breasts.

"Well, I'm getting up now," I sighed, rolling over to get up as my mother closed the door.

I went into the bathroom just across the hall from my room to get ready for the day, taking a quick shower beforehand. Boxes still lay strewn everywhere as the house was still somewhat bare. Just yesterday, we had moved from South Carolina to Los Angeles. Not only was the move exhausting, but the time change was taking its toll. My grandmother was getting older and no one was here to help her, so we had to uproot and move to Los Angeles where my mother was born and raised during her entire childhood.

"It's for the best, Jade," my mother patted my leg as we accelerated down the free way, the California breeze teasing my hair and sending it in many directions, allowing it to fall into place at last only to tangle again. The intense sunlight poured through every window of our small white Toyota Yaris. "I've been planning to move out here anyway. I've always wanted to be close to grandma. Plus, we need a fresh start after Vinny."

My mother, giving birth to me at the ripe age of eighteen, has been a single parent her entire life. I was the result of the affair that she had with her French foreign exchange student. She was in her senior year of high school when her parents advocated for a foreign exchange student to come and stay with them. He was nineteen years old and in university, I recalled her saying. She had showed me a picture of them together. He appeared to be a tall man - though everyone was tall next to my mother - with wavy brown hair, hazel eyes, defined facial features, and slightly tanned skin. Upon finding out she was pregnant, he decided to go back to France and totally forget about us all together.

When I was twelve, my mother married an Italian-Hungarian American named Vinny, who's company I enjoyed very much. However, once I became fourteen, things became tense in the household. My mother divorced him when I was fifteen. I must say her divorce from him brought much needed peace to our lives.

Once I was ready for the day, I bounded down the grand mahogany polished staircase with intricate carvings at the end, swiveling into the kitchen. Though the house was old - apparently built in 1922 - the kitchen was very modern, equipped with stainless steel appliances, granite counter tops, and a white tiled floor. My mother was standing there, eating a bowl of vanilla yogurt and strawberries.

"Do you want some food?" she offered. When she spoke, she had a primarily American accent although some words were accented, as Tagalog - the Filipino language - was her first language in the house.

"Yeah, I'll have a bit," I went over to the silver double door fridge, taking out the orange juice, fruit, and yogurt. I pulled out a tall pristine glass and poured the thick orange liquid into it, eating the yogurt and fruit separately unlike my mother.