Switching Places

2. Promise

     I'm not happy. I know I have everything anyone could possibly want in their lifetime, but I feel like something is missing, and it's not the new collection of nail polishes from Essie. I already have them. Dana gave them to me as a gift, but it felt more like she was giving them to me to stay in my good books, and continue being my friend.

     "Don't forget to curve the end of the Y," my calligraphy teachers, Jane, reminded me. She is an older lady, with short greying hair, brown eyes, and she never hesitates to tell you what she's thinking. "That looks horrible."

     "Why do I have to learn this? No one use's calligraphy anymore." I said and dropped the pen onto the table.

     Jane sighed and leaned back in her chair. We were in the reading room of my house, taking up two of the ten chairs that lined the big table in the middle of the room. There are no books in here, they are in the library room. Here there is simply a table, chairs, an a few couches over by a window.

     "That's the point, Promise. No one knows how to do calligraphy anymore. We have to teach the younger age, or they will forget to write all together with their fancy devices that type out what they say."

     "Can we just be done for the day? My hand is cramping up." I said.

     "I suppose so. Go and see Frank, he will give you some ice for your hand." Jane said as she packed up our papers from the lesson.

     I head off down the hall in search of Frank. He's our personal chef, and should have ice in the freezer ready for anything. He and his wife Jules, who happens to be our maid, live in the separate guest house at the end of our property. It's about a five minute walk, but they have a lot of privacy. You can't even see the guest house from the main house.

     I find myself in the kitchen, but Frank is nowhere in sight. "I guess I can get the ice myself," Before I walk to the refrigerator, I stop to look for a bag for the ice, but all I find is a dish towel. "This will do I guess."

     I open up the freezer door and start to put handfuls of ice from the ice box into the towel. A few slip from my hand and land on the floor, so I kick them under the fridge.

     "What are you doing?" a voice says behind me, making me jump, then smack my head on the freezer door and drop all of the ice to the floor. "Careful," the voice says again as I turn around to see who it is.

     Frank stands in front of me, with a smile on his face, and a grocery bag in his hand. Looking at him, I realize how young he is. At thirty, he has a few wrinkles around his eyes, probably from smiling so much, and a bit of a beard growing. He's really attractive for an old guy, and I always wonder why he chooses to be a cook for my family, and not a model. His wife is beautiful too, they are like older siblings to me.

     "So, what were you doing?" he asks as he sets down the grocery bag, and bends down to pick up the ice.

     "My hand was cramping from my calligraphy lesson, and Jane told me to see you to get ice. But you weren't here, and I figured I could grab some by myself."

     Frank skillfully wraps the ice back up in the towel, before handing it to me and then tending to the groceries. I sigh in relief as I place it on my hand, then watch Frank curiously as he washes some vegetables.

     "What are you making?"

     "Lasagna." He replies.

     "You make the best lasagna."

     "I know I do," He smiles, then grabs more stuff from the grocery bag. "Oh, man." he says as his smile fades. "I forgot to grab the coffee your mother likes, looks like dinner is going to be a little late tonight."

     "I'll grab the coffee." I say.

     "I can't make you do that," Frank says as he looks at me. "Your mother would fire me if she found out I made you do the errands for me."

     "Oh nonsense. I was going to go for a drive anyways," I lie. "I will pick up the coffee on my way back. She likes the coffee from that little shop on the other side of town right?" Frank nods his head as I place my towel of ice in the sink. "I will be back before dinner." I say and head off down the hall to my bedroom to change.

     My room is pretty big for just a teenage girl. It fits my queen size bed, plus two sitting chairs with a table for homework. Off to the left is my personal bathroom, and to the right is my walk in closet that is any girls dream. I pull on a simple black skirt, floral top, and simple black heels, then grab my car keys, and head to the garage.

~~~~

     I inhale the strong small of coffee as I open the door to the little shop. I have only been in here a few times, but it's very cozy and makes you feel at home. Before I got here, I ended up driving past the park, looking to see if my best friend, Blair, was there practicing soccer with his team, but he wasn't, so I drove around for a bit before noticing it was almost dinner time.

     As I paid for the coffee, I looked around the shop and noticed a public bathroom at the back. Normally I never use a pubic bathroom, but looking at the sign made me realize how badly I had to go, so I ended up walking away without my change, and giving the cashier a five dollar tip.

     Using my shoulder to open the bathroom door, and my free hand that wasn't carrying coffee to cover my nose, I entered the bathroom. And stopped dead in my tracks at what I saw before me. Is there a mirror in here playing tricks on me, showing the opposite of who I am? A girl, who looked exactly like me, but with hair tangled from the wind and outdated wrinkly clothes, was standing at the sinks.

     "What the hell?" came out of her mouth the same time "Who are you?" came out of mine.