Sweet Consumption

Chapter 4

I blearily open my eyes the next morning with a massive hangover and the sun shining right in my face. I blink and roll over to notice I didn't bother to change into my pjs before I passed out. I cautiously get into a sitting position and instantly regret it as my head pounds harder than before. I groan and decide the only way to feel better is to take a shower and eat some breakfast. I walk to the bathroom where I brush my teeth and step under the hot spray to wash away the pain.

Once I feel refreshed, I get dressed and walk towards the kitchen where I can smell the heavenly aromas of bacon sizzling. My stomach grumbles in response. I pass the living room and when I don't see Sasha on the couch, I figure she must have gone home at some point last night.

 Mom is at the stove, cooking eggs and bacon and looks up when she sees me. "Good morning, honey! Did you sleep well?" My mom has always been a morning person, which is not something I inherited.

I groan in response and plop down on a stool. A plate of food appears in front of me and I suddenly feel ravenous. I shove food in my mouth, afraid that if I don't do it fast enough, it will disappear. 

"Olivia, slow down. You'll choke!" My mother admonishes and I do as she bids, taking one slow bite at a time. She gracefully sits down next to me and begins to eat her food in very small pieces. 

This is where my mother and I differ the most. While I did get her tenacious spirit, I also got my father's lack of care when it came to appearances.  My mother is not a vain person, but she does take special care to make sure that nothing is ever out of place. I, on the other hand, couldn't care less if people thought I looked sloppy or unkempt. As long as I was comfortable and nothing was showing that shouldn't be, I was okay. For example, right now, my mother is carefully eating her food in a silk robe and her hair is neatly piled on top of her head in a cute bun. Whereas, I am in cut off jersey shorts made from pants that had too many holes in them and an oversized t-shirt that hangs off my shoulder. My hair probably looks like I put my finger in an electrical socket.

“Livie, what are you thinking about so hard over there?” I break out of my musing to see my mother studying me. 

“Just how different we are sometimes.” I shake my head. “You look so put together and I-“ I wave a hand at myself, encapsulating the mess.

She smiles warmly at me. “Olivia Martin, you're perfect the way you are. I love that you're a free spirit and don’t care what people think. I envy that you can live your life by your own standards instead of living it by everyone else's. I spend too much time putting myself together and sometimes wish I could be as carefree as you.”   

“But maybe if I had been more put together I would have seen what James-“

“Don’t,” she stops me with a hand on my arm. “James is a selfish jerk who didn’t deserve your love or attention. You don’t need to spend one more second on him. You need to start focusing on moving forward with your life.” She turns back to continue eating. 

I'm about to ask her how to do that when I hear a familiar voice behind me. I turn around to see Collin on television again, being formally interviewed in what appears to be a conference room. 

I get off the stool and head toward the living room as the camera shifts to the reporter. "If you're just joining us, we're here with Collin Harper, the star of the movie, Traitors in the Night. The movie is set to come out sometime next year and is being shot in our own Detroit area." She pauses and looks down at some notes on her lap. "How are you feeling Collin? I heard you were in an accident last night." 

The camera flashes back to him and his face portrays a detached indifference that looks cold and unfeeling. It's so different from the angry, passionate man I ran into last night that I stare at him, entranced.  "I'm feeling fine, thank you."