Misbegotten

Twenty-Two

The decision to go home the next morning was one that was more thrust upon me, rather than chosen. Loren, after buying me ice cream and letting me rant for as long as my little heart desired, finally kicked me. She lovingly told me to stop sulking and try to make some sort of amends with my father, or I'd regret it in the long run. The problem wasn't that she was wrong. She was actually probably right, but it was more that I wasn't in the mood, or felt I had the mental capacity to deal with my father at the moment. A cop out? Definitely. Did I care? Not really. So, when Loren dropped me out the front of the house I pretended that I was grateful for her push, in what I claimed was the right direction. I felt like a rubbish best friends for always complaining, and Loren always listened without question or hesitation. But once her car was gone, I trudged up to the front door and made a beeline for my room.

"Sofie, Sofie!"

Cleo's little giggles stopped me about halfway up the stairs. She stood at the bottom with her lunch smeared across her face.

"Hey munchkin, what's up?"

"Lottie's coming over tonight," she squealed.

"Really?" I asked. I furrowed my brow, Lottie was Cleo's  babysitter. Did Florence really not trust me to look after her child while she slept now?

Speaking of the devil, Florence emerged behind and Cleo, scooping her up in her arms, which made Cleo giggle more. She gave her daughter a wet - but loving - kiss or her dirty face. I wouldn't admit that watching Florence with her kids made me miss my mum. I couldn't.

She looked up at me, her face growing tense. But, through it, she mainly she just looked tired. Tired of having to see me, tired of having to hate me.

"We have dinner tonight at the Jacobsen's, I thought it best you didn't come, seeing as how things are between you and your father, but I understand from Chelsea that you have been seeing Declan Jacobsen."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway.

"Then your father has said you can come. Dress appropriately, and don't be late. We walk out the door by seven."

Before I could reply, or even think of one, she had turned her attention back to Cleo and walked with her back into the kitchen. I found myself sighing as I tried to comprehend what tonight might bring. I scrolled through my phone to find Declan's number, as I walked up the rest of the stairs and into my room. Shutting the door behind me, I rang him and collapsed back onto my bed.

"Hey stranger," his voice made me smile, despite it making me feel like a fourteen year old boy-crazy girl.

"Hey, sorry, I know I went MIA yesterday. I ended up at Loren's house after a tiff with my dad," I explained.

"No, no, it's fine. I was working anyway, at the office, shuffling papers." I could almost hear him roll his eyes. "Did you make up with your dad? What was the fight about?"

"Usual stuff and not as of yet, but I just found out we are all invited to yours for dinner tonight."

"Yeah, I did hear about that. You coming?"

"Well, that's kinda why I'm calling. On a scale of one to ten, how bad could it get?"

"Well, the one thing you have going for you is that they'll are too proper and too concerned with their appearances, and they won't want to throw away that facade for you."

"Thank you, that makes me feel so special."

"Hardy ha ha." He paused. "Up to you, but I'd like to see you."

"I want to see you too."

"Then come. You've been bugging me to see some of my photography. There all here, I can show you."