Imperfect

Chapter One

~Present Day~

When you think about just how bad your life could get, I want you to look back at this book and remember that what I went through will always be shittier. Yes, I know that no problem is too small for most of America, but they will never experience the torture or the absolute heartache that I did. And yes, my experiences got broadcasted over all television screens in America, but I was still the one to go through it all.

~One Year Ago~

"Hey, Olivia, there's an envelope here for you from The Academy." Harold must have just gotten back from his trip and I guess he checked the mail on his way in. "Okay, honey," I make my way into the kitchen. I see Harold standing over the marble counter going through the rest of the mail. His stormy gray eyes do not particularly match his chestnut brown hair, but he is oh so attractive still. His glasses that always slip down the bridge of his nose, which just makes him even cuter, cover Harold's odd eyes. He stands at almost six foot five, and it could not make me happier.

"It's probably just saying that they are sorry and that I haven't received any nominations this year." A hint of sarcasm coming out with my last few words. I tear open the tightly sealed envelope and start reading the overly decorated piece of paper.

"Well, what does it say?" Harold said, moving closer to me.

"It says here, that I have been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress for my role as Rose Morgan in The Killing House."

After a few moments of necessary silence, "I am so proud of you, Baby. You have no idea how wonderful that is! You were absolutely wonderful in that movie! Meryl even told you that you were amazing! I love you so much." He picks me up and spins me around with the biggest smile on his face.

"I love you too. A lot more than you know."

Suddenly, I hear footsteps coming from the living room. My oldest daughter, Sophia, who is the perfect mix of Harold and myself, walks in into the kitchen. She has platinum blonde hair and she is has a figure that every woman in Hollywood strives for. She's only Sophia grabs a soda from the refrigerator and then leaves.

"Um, Sophia, are you not going to say hello to your father? He just got back from his trip." I say with my eyes still locked onto Harold, who is blankly staring at the wooden floor.

"No. Good for him to come home alive." She storms off back into the living room.

"Hey! Young lady, get back in he-" I start to yell after her before she reaches the couch.

"Don't bother, Olivia. She's been getting distant for a while now. Me taking that trip obviously made it worse. It'll fix soon, hopefully." He whispers, still blankly staring at the floor.

Harold walks out of the kitchen and into the living room, where the sudden shriek of our youngest boy, Foster, who is a younger version of Harold is met by the laughs of Harold, who is I assume picks him up and then hugs him.

My life is perfect. I don't consider Sophia's issue something of a problem because she's a teenager, and well, they are absolutely unpredictable. I just found out that I've been nominated for best actress in my movie that received some of the best reviews of the year. My perfect husband and I are perfectly happy together. I am happy.

~Three Hours Later~

I parked my car in the garage. Our garage is a multi-car type of garage even though there are only three cars here. We have room for one more, which is Foster's space when he grows up. We didn't need four because Sophia will move out at some point, but Harold argues that we should have four to make Foster feel special. I, of course, couldn't disagree with him, so we built four.