New York - A Tristan Evans Fanfiction

10

"Somewhere in the world there, is a father and a mother
And the father is a son, who has a mother
The mother has a daughter who gets married to the brother of a mother
And they all just tryna multiply with one another" - Sabrina Carpenter

Addison's POV

As I turn the key in the lock of my apartment I can immediately tell something is wrong. It's not like I can see anything suspicious, it's just that I've got some strange feeling in my gut.

It's 11 in the morning and I just returned from the Vamps' hotel. I know I look like Woody Harrelson in the Hunger Games because my hair is a mess, I've got circles underneath my eyes that are bigger than the Empire State Building and my breath is probably worse than decay scent because I've hadn't had the chance to brush my teeth properly yet.

I silently unlock the door because it is Sunday morning and other than Vince, Liz is no early riser and I don't want to upset her because wake Liz and you are literally dead.

I put off my shoes and let my bag fall down onto the floor. I need coffee, like right now. I've hadn't slept that well last night because I was too nervous sleeping next to Tristan. Forget about all these stupid love novels, they are telling bullshit. Sleeping next to the man you love doesn't calm you or anything, it makes you nervous.
Not saying that Tristan is the man I love but I crush enough on him that he has that effect on me.

I scuffle into the kitchen, put on the coffee machine and lean against the fridge.

Someone coughs.

That's when I first notice somebody sitting on a chair at the kitchen table. My jaw drops before I remember that these are bad manners and shut it again. Manners is all my mother can think about and unfortunately the person who's sitting at the kitchen table happens to be my mother.

I can't remember one moment in my life that I've actually called her, mum, mama, mamma or māma. Whatever language it is, she's nothing more than mother to me.

When you look at my mother you can see the orderliness in person. Her blonde hair is cut in a neat long bob with light blonde highlights. Her hair is cut weekly and her manicure and pedicure is done twice a week so everything looked perfect on her.

I stare at her and she stares at me and I know that my hair looks like a mess and I'm still wearing Tristan's shirt and ripped jeans and my mother observes me.

"Well, surprise." I say cheering and wave my hands, pretending to be glad about her visit. "Didn't expect you to come to visit me before my funeral."

My mother has never liked my sarcasm and had always told me how unabashed my manners were.

"Look at you." My mother says and I do as she tells me.

"Lovely shirt, isn't it?" I ask, knowing exactly that's what she most dislikes about my appearance.

"Where did you get it? Targets? It looks like a men's shirt." Well, maybe because it is one?

"No, got it from some guy I hooked up with last night." I know this is only partly the truth but I don't care because it is enough to cause my mother to choke on her coffee. Lovely to see that she's already made herself home and gotten a coffee.

"What happened to the daughter I once knew?" She switches to Swedish but I won't play that game with her. I live in America now and I'm planning on staying here. "Look at you, your hair looks like you haven't used any care products in weeks, it's so dry. Your fingernails are short and dirty and it seems like your eyebrows haven't been plugged in a couple of days. Besides your clothes, this is just embarrassing. If anybody in Stockholm knew what happened to you, they'd make a mockery of you."

I don't look anything like my mother describes but sorry that I can't look like Jennifer Anniston, or rather my mother because that's what she wants from me. But I moved away from Sweden to do what I want, not what my mother thinks is right for me.

"Why thanks, mother." I say. "But you forgot to mention that my jeans are secondhand."

Her jaw drops and her reaction is ridiculous. I suppress a laughter because I know she would have killed me if I dared to laugh in such a 'serious' situation.

The unfortunate thing is that I used to look exactly like her. I used to straighten my curls and to go to the hairdresser every week to get my highlights done. I used to wear decent makeup and wore lovely summer dresses that were never sexy but cute and stunning still. I used to go to the gym at least four times a week and I used to do whatever my parents wanted me to do, such as playing the piano and the harp.

Unfortunately, I'm not really musical.

And as much as I wanted to read history encyclopaedias, I was always forced to keep me occupied with business economics and accounting because that's what I was supposed to do. To run the family bank after my parents had retired.

Nope guys, I'm out.

Instead of going to UNI in Stockholm, I practically ran away and found shelter in Liz' and Vince's apartment.

"So?" I ask her in fake politeness. "What brings you to my humble accommodations?"

"I'm here to take you back to Sweden." My mother says and I laugh. She doesn't even ask me, she's assuming I'll come with her. Funny.

"Did you read the bible and the part with the prodigal son touched you and all of a sudden you want the hopeless daughter who happens to be a heathen back?" I keep on giggling because this irony is way too funny.

"Your 'humour' is something we need to work on when you run our family business." Mothers says and I raise my eyebrows as I walk over to the fridge to get some milk. After I am done drinking, I place the milk on the kitchen table and my mother wrinkles her nose as she notices this isn't low fat nor free of lactose milk. I'm proud of myself.

"Why do you want me back all of a sudden?"

"Your father is planning on retiring soon and we need our heir back." Mother says. Seriously? We live in the 21st century and my mother is talking about heirs. Where are we? Mediaeval times? Certainly not because my mother doesn't even want me to study that subject.

"Well, what about Theodor?" I ask. "He's always been like a son to you." And happened to be my ex-boyfriend but let's just not mention that.
Let's just say he's the son of my parents' most important business partners.

"He will resume his parents' business. He can't run both." Mother stands up and folds her hands firmly in front of her stomach. "It's time to get sane again and come back to Stockholm. You've rebeled long enough."

"This is no rebellion. This is a revolution." I tell her and I know my mother won't get what I meant.

"Stop using these mediaeval words, it's already a shame that you study that. I thought you were cleverer than that."

"Well, mother. My cleverness depends on two things. Inheritance and upbringing. In both cases it's your fault, not mine."

I lead her to the door and shove her out of my apartment.

"You can wait a long time until I come back to Sweden." Forever, to be exact but I don't say that. "And if that happens, it's only to get my favourite purse that I've forgotten there."

And with these words I slam the door shut in front of her nose and I'm proud of myself for handling her so well.

Author's Note
Sooooo here is the new chapter 🎉

I can tell you Theodor is gonna have an important or not so important role (depending on how the story turns out - not sure about it yet)
His name is pronounced in the Swedish way - Teeeeeeeodor
The e not like e in be but like the e in bedroom.
Also there is no Th but a hard T.

All the love
Xx
A