The Relatives

Insert Godmother Here

"Well, there is your God Mother..." 

"I have a godmother? NO WAY" I was bouncing up and down with excitement."Do you have any contact details for her? A number, email adress, anything?" 

"Yes, I have a number for her, but It's at home somewhere. She's an old friend of mine and she was very close to your mom and dad. Do you have an email adress or number that I can send it to?" he said slowly.

"Yes I do, umm... its... umm fuckmeitsoned@yahoo.com" I said cringing at the email address I had created for myself.

"Fuck- Me- Its- One- D... " he said aloud as he wrote it out. "Nice email address, I'll get the number to you by the end of the day."

"Thank You" I said breathlessly and hung up.

A few hours later of staring at my computer screen, suddenly a little message popped up. 

FWD: Rosan Firths Contact Details

I opened the message, and looked at the number. My hand shot out for the phone, but then I hestitated. What if... She didnt want to meet me.? What if she had been ignoring me because she didnt want a goddaughter... But the words FOSTER PARENTS ran through my head. So I dialled It.

Someone answered on the first ring. 

"Hellooooo, this Rosan Firths, who am I speaking to?" A southern accent drawled through the phone.

"Um Hi Mrs Firths, I don't know If you know me but I'm Lulu Gray and... you're my god mother."

" WHAT? Lulu....Gray? As in Luella-Rose Gray?" Said the shocked voice in a very different accent.

"Yeah... um... that's me..." I said cautiously, wondering if this was such a good idea anymore.

"OHMYGOD. Oh my God, oh my God, oh MY GOD," There was a slight pause, followed by very heavy breathing, "Okay, So you're Ellen Parson's daughter? Your dad is Corbin Gray? Right?"

"Umm, well, yeah."

"So,uh, how is your mom?" Rosan asked cautiously. The line crackled slightly making me jump. I hadnt anticipated this question. I thought she would have known.

"Uh... well.... She died. In a car crash. 6 months ago?"

Each word I said felt like a knife stabbing me.

"SHE WHAT? No...wait...What?No, no, no she can't be dead. NO!" The voice said in a fast paced, high pitched, suddenly californian accent. 

"Yeah, umm dad too." I said quietly.

"Oh, honey I'm so sorry." she said softly.

"Um, yeah, so I don't know exactly how to put this, but um, you know...." I trailed off. "You're kind of my last umm living relative and..." suddenly the words began spewing out of my mouth, "YOu're kind of the only person I have left because I have no other family, and they're going to put me in a foster home and I dont want to go to a foster home and-"

"Hold Up- Foster Home? Noooooo, honey Imma come get you. Where do you live?" 

"You will?" I said totally shocked, realising inwardly that I thought she was going to dump me and let me go to a foster home.  Relief washed over me.

"Okay, I live in apartment 23 A in Chelsea Cloisters,  London. I live with a social worker called Alissa Mendon. You should, umm, act sensible around her, she has a very... judgemental character"

"Okay...I'll bring the papers and everything, hang in their honey.I'll be there in 3 days. Can I contact you on this number?"

"Yeah?"