Genevieve Carter has got it all. The house, the friends, the looks, the family, even the perfectly planned future. Vieve has always felt lucky. She knows what it means to be Genevieve Carter, and she's never know anything else.
And then came Alex.
❣...
5:47 pm. Saturday. I'm crumpled up in my sheets, hugging Eddy-Bear to my stomach. My mom pounds on the door, the muffled sound of "4,3,2..." reaching my ears, when it suddenly bangs open.
"Genevieve." She gasps. "Genevieve you are not even asleep, now you know your father has an important potential client coming this evening and you are not going to mess it up alright?" She scolds, drawing open the blinds, and tugging off my blanket. "Genny, baby, get up now" she holds my head in her hands. "Crap, it's, it's 5:59, Dominick is not a man who likes to be kept waiting..." With this she gets up swiftly, and smoothes her dress in my mirror.
"Mom?" I mutter. "Why don't you wear your hair curly anymore? I loved your crazy curls. You were famous for them." I smile. "Goldilocks, they called you on the magazines right? Back then?". I look up at my mom, who's face now appears grave. She examines herself sadly in the mirror, with her long, perfect white Valentino dress, and slick, severe straight ponytail. I wonder if she misses those days too. If she misses the woman she used to be.
"Are you okay, Mom?" I approach her, one hand on her shoulder. "Heh" she coughs. Looking side ways to me, patting my hand but distancing herself ever so slightly. "Yes dear, well, anyways, that was a long time ago." She sighs. "For now, I left your clothes on your chair. None of that makeup you like to wear, just brush your hair, those bangs of yours are already a little unruly."
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I look at myself in the mirror. "Okay, no, no, no, no no no! I mean this is so not me! I look about 80, mom." I mutter. I start towards the door, but stop myself. Hmm. I think. I slowly open my walk-in closet, shuffling through the dresses. A rose gold shimmer catches my eye, and I bite my lip as I glance back at my hair curler on my desk. "Maybe, If Mom doesn't wanna remember her past, her look-alike daughter can remind her..."
