Masquerade

Chapter 3

Summer rolled around, and my parents had only become more determined in their decision. They insisted that maybe I may even grow to like Aunt Patricia. They had a point, maybe she wasn’t quite as vapid as I thought. Maybe she wasn’t quite as materialistic. I can’t really give an excuse for her apparent hatred for children… Something I found quite amusing, considering she would have to have been a child at some point, or maybe she emerged from the womb as a stuck up bitch. No, think positively: she’s a nice, but misunderstood human being.

*

I blasted some pop music through my ear phones. The lyrics were meaningless, but that was kind of good for what I was about to face. I just needed a distraction, I didn’t want to think about something really deep or anything. Patricia was more enough drama for one day.

“We’re here kiddo,” my dad said empathetically.

Our car drove up the long driveway. I honestly felt like I was nearing hell as each stupidly shaped topiary passed the window.

I leaned back into my seat wishing I could have morphed into the seats. I would have done literally anything to avoid living with Patricia the Bitch. Then I was slapped into reality by the sound of the car door opening and slamming shut. I was really here now. No going back. Shit.

I stepped out of our Toyota Camry, which was by no means was it poorly maintained or anything. I look over at the mansion that my pole-up-ass Aunt and my lovely Uncle called home. It was huge, really almost too big. Three stories high, very white, and very grand. Up the front there were massive white marble columns surrounding the width of the house. A large brown door flung open revealing a man in a butlers uniform. I felt instantly sorry for him. He had to work for bitchface. Would she have docked his pay if he didn’t do things in her specific order for ruining the aesthetics of the house? I felt sorry for him, but it made me feel slightly better about my situation. At least I wasn’t the only one who was suffering because of Patricia.

Harry (or Harold, as the letter had dubbed him) and Patricia filed out of the house. She wore a white pencil skirt, paired with a light pink business shirt and a white blazer. At least she didn’t look like a total slut today.

I took in a deep breath. This place was going to be home for the rest of the summer, and for the first time in my life I began to hope that it would pass very quickly. Patricia made her way down the front steps, one elegant step at a time. Uncle Harry walked behind her, his hands rested in his pockets.

“Lacey! It’s so nice to see you again! It feels like it’s been forever!” she shrieked.

I bit back the snide remark on the tip of my tongue. It was her fault that she didn’t invite me to the wedding, so it was her fault she hadn’t seen me around lately. I mean, if her wedding’s aesthetics were so fragile, then I suppose the rest of her life was probably equally so. In any case, I would have hated to have infected her with my peasant germs.

“Aunt Patricia! Uncle Harry! It’s so good to see you.” I laughed. Damn, I should be an actress. This faking is second to none!

My mum hugged Uncle Harry, and awkwardly embraced Patricia. My dad shook my uncle’s hand, and just ignored Patricia. I liked that.

“Now darling, we are going to have so much fun here! I’m going to teach you how to dress yourself like a lady, how to put make up on like a lady, and how to act in society! It’s going to be amazing!” She laughed as she tugged me towards the house. The doors opened, but I swear I saw the mouth of hell open. My mum followed after me. “Oh sweetie, I remember when my mum did this for me too. It’s going to be just the most amazing thing!”

When I was finally inside I was greeted by a large marble staircase and two side hallways. “This way darling,” she tugged me further into hell, I mean, through the house. She walked over to the kitchen area and over to the refrigerator. “Do you want anything to drink darling?”

“Do you have coke?” I asked.

She laughed. It was an awful noise. Very high pitch and drilling on the ears. “Oh sweetie, we don’t keep that poison here! No, anything else?”

“Do you have lemon, lime and bitters?” I ask, not really expecting a positive answer.

“No, darling.”

“Well what do you have?”

“We have tea, lots of teas (including iced), and sparkling water,” she replied.

“Oh, well. Can I just have some tap water, please?”

“Absolutely!”

The woman was very friendly, but I supposed this would all change once my mum left.

“So, Alexandra, how have you been?” Patricia cooed. Since when did anyone use my mum’s full name? She always introduced herself as Alex, Lexi, and Allie. Always. So why was this monster using her full name?

“I’ve been all right Patricia. How about you?”

“Oh you know, planning parties and making plans. I’ve been very busy. It’s quite difficult being married, I had to hire a cook for us.”

I choked on my water. Yup, so difficult shopping on Rodeo Drive all day long, getting ‘manis and pedis’ with her ‘BFFs,’ and planning dinner parties! I bet that woman had never worked a day in her life.

“You’ll get used to it, I’m sure,” My mother said as she slowly moved her eyes in my direct. She looked at me, and for a moment I saw a glimmer of mockery, before she turned her now, concerned face back to Patricia. My mother was a flawless mocker apparently.

“Anyway, thank you for dropping Lacey off. You didn’t have to, I would have sent a driver to collect her,” Patricia began to shoo my mother out of the house.

“That’s all right Patricia. I wanted to come, I needed to see Harold anyway.”

I began to grab for my mum’s hand. I shot her frantic looks of ‘Don’t leave me here with this psycho!’ and ‘I’m too young to die!’ and then she was gone.

I was now officially in this madhouse with this Bimbo Barbie for the rest of the summer. Oh joy.