Sunny, beachy California. Yep, you heard me right. I'M IN FUCKING CALI. It's hard to believe that just a couple of days ago, I was curled up on the couch binging every movie in the Twilight Saga in my tiny apartment—in New York.
Last Friday
*Beep, Click*
The front door closes with a thud, alerting me that Mom got home from work. I mentally prepare myself to leave the comfort of the couch.
"Vi! I'm home! Come help me with the groceries!" Mom hollers into the apartment. I reach for the remote from the coffee table in front of the couch and pause the movie—New Moon, for anyone who's curious—on the TV. I detangle myself from my fluffy blanket and stand up with a grunt.
"Violet Kim! Hurry your ass over here and help me! Did you watch Twilight without me?!" Oops. Caught. I scramble to the kitchen, where Mom is beginning to unpack the bags of groceries.
"Hey Mom," I say, flashing her a smile. She looks towards me with a frown. She seems tired, probably from how hard her company has been working her ass. The thought of how hard my mom works for us pulls at my heart, so I quickly go to help her unpack the food.
"So...?" Mom asks, still frowning, taking fruit out of a shopping bag.
" 'So' what?" I ask as I put eggs and milk away into the fridge, confusion apparent in my voice. Mom grumbles and rolls her eyes, clarifying,
"So, tell me how your week has been, Violet. We barely talked cause I was swamped at work."
"Oh, uneventful." I lie through nervous laughter, hoping she doesn't catch on. Unfortunately, life absolutely loves going the way I don't plan.
"Bullshit. Talk to me, Bean." Mom commands, concern evident in her eyes. I don't know why I even tried lying, Mom has always been able to tell when I lie.
"Same old stuff. Teenage girls are mean." I say with a shrug. We finish putting away all the groceries, and I stretch my arms out with a groan. When I turn around, I notice Mom's face twisting in distress.
"What?" I ask with a confused smile, looking around.
Mom brushes it off and announces, "Give me a minute and we can watch something together after I change," motioning to her outfit, which consisted of her usual work attire—a skirt, blouse, and blazer. Despite the old lady outfit, Mom looked fashionable as ever. And she is definitely not an old lady.
While Mom goes to change, I walk into the living room. I admire the cozy space, along with the rest of the two bedroom apartment. Despite the fact that we've never had a lot of money, it's our home. It's always looked nice I guess, the apartment, but that's just because Mom's a neat freak and interior design whore jumbled into one big apartment cleaning monster. I chuckle to myself at the thought. Mom walks in, sporting a pair of gray sweatpants and a Calvin Klein bralette. This lady's too toned to be 36 years old, I think to myself, mentally rolling my eyes.
"Hey, Bean. What're you laughing to yourself about? Is it finally a boy?" Mom remarks with a smirk, clearly holding in laughter.
"Ew. Gross, Mom." I reply, making a face of disgust. "Plus, how do you know I don't like girls?" I add, sarcasm dripping from my voice. Mom only chuckles in response, knowing that I'm very much straight and that this is the same argument I use every time she asks about boys.
To be truthful, I have no time for boys. I'm so busy trying to keep up with school and ballet that there's no chance for me to speak to any boys. Plus, my entire future relies on ballet. Without ballet, I'm nothing. I'd rather not risk my future for a boy who will screw me over. Every minute of my week is given to ballet, besides core classes. My grandmother, Mamie Cecelia, is the one who scheduled it all out, insisting that she would help make my dream possible no matter what. She pays for my lessons, which are 20 minutes away from the public high school I attend. Mamie insisted on paying for me to attend an arts academy, but Mom refused, saying that we wouldn't accept her money. So they came to a compromise, and now I attend high school while squeezing in as many ballet classes as humanly possible, hence the lack of boys in my life.
When Mom and I finish the last step of our Friday Ritual—Gossip Girl, pizza, and ice cream—I get up from the couch to clean our plates and spoons. When I return to living room, I am met by a serious vibe from Mom.
"What's up, Mom?" I ask, sensing that she wants to talk about something.
"Violet, I," Mom starts, seeming to carefully choose her next words. Sighing, Mom pulls out 2 plane tickets from behind her. Damn, she literally pulled that out of her asshole. Ugh, so not the time Violet.
"What are those plane tickets for?" I ask, still confused as to what the point of this conversation is.
"Vi, we're going to move to California next week." Mom says with a soft tone, probably so that she doesn't upset me.
"I'm sorry, what?" I ask, not processing the words leaving her mouth. I take a seat next to Mom on the couch.
"We're going to go live with Mamie Cecelia, permanently." Mom continues with a note finality, trying to gauge my reaction.
"Mamie? Why so suddenly though? Is she okay? What about ballet?" My questions come out rapidly.
"Cecelia and I have it all worked out baby, don't worry too much, okay? I promise I'll answer all of your questions, just take it one by one." Mom replies, surprisingly calm. I nod in response and continue.
"Is Mamie okay?" I ask, my voice coming out softer and weaker than intended.
"Yes, she's fine Vi, she's great." Mom replies, lightly squeezing my hand.
"Okay, then why? Why are we moving?"
"It's...it's complicated. But we need to, and it's final." Mom says with a sigh. Mom told me that she had been stressed because of work, but could this be the real reason?
"What about your job, Mom?" I ask, continuing on the thought of her work.
"I'm going to get relocated to the firm's HQ in California," Mom says with a small smile, and I can tell that she's proud to have gotten the position. I nod and ask her the question that's been itching at my tongue the entire time.
"What about ballet?" the question comes out small, barely louder than a whisper, but it's all that I can manage. Ballet is my whole life, it's my dream. Plus, not to brag or anything, but I'm really fucking good at it. You can't not expect me to wonder about ballet.
"Cecelia enrolled you in an arts academy, and you're going to meet with a few people from the school next week before the semester starts." Mom replies. "Valencia Academy of the Arts. It's a really good school, Vi. I know you'll love it." Mom adds with a grin.
"An arts academy?" I ask, more to myself than anything, but Mom nods anyway. Despite the fact that I never opposed when Mom refused to let Mamie send me to an arts academy, I've always wanted to go. It would bring me one step closer to my dream, give me an advantage. But I had to agree with Mom, I don't like using Mamie's money, even if the lady's got so much of it. And I know Mom agrees, so I add,
"How are we going to afford tuition?" I question.
"They're offering you a partial scholarship!" Mom squeals giddily with a big grin.
"What?!" I say, my tone and expression matching Mom's.
"I know, right! Apparently, the head of the ballet department saw one of your performances and put in a good word with the school." Mom exclaims, adding, "I'm so proud of you, Bean. But they still want to meet with you in person before the start of the semester. And, with my new position and a little help from your grandmother, we'll be able to pay the rest of tuition."
"This is...woah." I say, in shock.
"I know it's sudden, Vi. But I promise you it will be worth it." Mom says with a soft smile. "I'm going to turn in for the night, make sure you're all packed by next Wednesday, okay? The flight is leaving on Friday night and the movers are coming Wednesday." Mom continues, rising from the couch and heading towards her bedroom.
"Got it," I say with a smile and a nod. "Goodnight, Mom"
"Goodnight, my Vanilla Bean."
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Author's Note
AHHH AND WE'RE ROLLING
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- Liv -
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