Imagine, a nicely painted picket fence, a perfectly sized house with little window shades, perfectly cut grass outlined the house with no blade uneven or out of place, and inside the house was the perfect family.
Two loving, understanding parents and a smart, beautiful child that obeyed all of the time, and could tell anything to her mother that loved her so dearly.
Are you picturing it?
Yeah, well now, picture the complete opposite and you have the perfect representation of my life.
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"Why were you in detention?" My mother's perfectly curled hair bounces a bit as she rests her palms on the granite counter island in our gigantic kitchen.
"I was late to class. No big deal" I shrug, readjusting my backpack strap.
"No big deal?" A vein clearly sticks out of her neck.
She's fuming, "you were in detention!" She slams her hand down on the counter sending a loud bang echoing through my spacey house.
"I ask you to do simple tasks and you can't even get those done! All your father and I ask of you is that you go to school, come home, and get your work done!" Her eyes widen in anger, "and a chore every once and a while!" She exclaims, smacking her hand down, once again.
"Mom, I can't help that people can't keep it in their pants, or have trouble with barfing wherever they walk!" I yell back, leaning my hands on the counter now.
"Then you push past them! Don't go through your life letting people push you around, you'll get pregnant!" My mother yells, catching me off guard.
"I'm not like you" my voice is low now, almost dripping in hatred for her.
"So that's when I told him, no you're the fly guy!" My father jokes walking into the house, followed by two nicely suited men.
The expression immediately changes on my mother's face into a fake smile.
I guess it ran in the family.
"Ah, boys, meet my family" my father holds his arm out gesturing towards us.
The groomed men both nod as if saying hello.
"This is my wife, Sarah, and my daughter, Savannah" my dad goes on acting like he genuinely cared if they knew or not.
"Hello Mrs. St. Clare" one of the men proceeds to shake my mothers hand.
His dark green eyes gleamed in the dim light illuminating from the countless lamps placed around the kitchen as well as the house.
His carefully swept over brown hair also shined in the light due to an over excessive amount of hair product.
The other business man steps forward to shake my mother's hand.
He, on the other hand, had bleach blonde hair that was slicked back, but not as much gel was used. It looked sort of naturally swept that way.
"Savannah, we'll be in a meeting" my father informs me as if it was new information.
I was used to them having business men coming in and out of the house, meeting after meeting.
They all file out, the two men sending me nods saying goodbye, including my mother who stops once they all exit the humongous kitchen area.
"Please," her fake smile is replaced with a distressed frown, "keep it down"
"Oh you know me, always throwing raging parties" I put my hands up sarcastically.
"This is a big deal for your father," she steps into the room but keeps her head towards me, "don't mess it up" and with that she closes the door.
I can't believe she was acting like I was some sort of juvenile delinquent, which I clearly wasn't.
I knew to keep quiet during meetings, I was quite familiar with how this situation works, and most of all, how would I mess a big deal up for my father? It all didn't make any sense to me in any way.
**
"Um," the dark haired business man breaks the silence, "your father said you knew where the champagne was" he places his hands in his pockets realizing I was comfortable but still a little uneasy at his presence.
"Yeah, it's in the cabinet to the left" I point my finger lazily at long cabinet sat beside the spacey fridge.
"Oh, thank you" he nods, retrieving the tall bottle. The man stops at the island I had been sitting at for the past hour, "something wrong?"
Without thinking, "no" I answer quickly.
"Are you sure? You look a little stressed" he plays with the top of the bottle mindlessly.
I shake my head, still a little apprehensive towards him.
"You know," his gaze on the bubbly bottle in front of him, "my parents were hard on me too" the man's stare was now on me.
"Really?" I ask, how could someone so composed have come from such stern people like my own parents?
"Yeah, they always made me feel like everything was my fault or the blame was always mine" he starts, leaning his elbows on the counter.
"Almost like you're never good enough" I reply being all too familiar with the feeling.
"But," he sighs deeply, "look where I am today"
"Talking to a 17 year old in a kitchen" I say.
He was in a meeting with my parents, but he didn't really seem to care to want to go back.
"I'm successful because of them. I learned to be independent and self motivated at a young age which brought me here" he explains calmly.
"Jones, what's the delay?" My father interrupts with his deep, booming voice.
"I was telling your daughter here how I got started in the business, you know, you really should give her more credit. She's a smart girl" 'Jones' pats my father's shoulder before disappearing back into the meeting room.
I look up from the floor to be met with a disapproving look overlaid on his face.
He shakes his head in disappointment, then disappears behind the tall wooden door just as Jones had done minutes before.
What could I have possibly done to get this much negativity from my parents?
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Hey to whoever's reading. Thanks for the support. I'm just gonna keep posting
-A💝
