The Last of the Vitas

First step down hill

I stood there, in front of my full length mirror just staring at the girl in front of me. She stared back at me with her pure hazel eyes that seem to draw me in. They were so enchanting, like gate ways that held the way to secrets and power.

Slowly, I raised right hand and ran it through my auburn brown hair, feeling the silkiness of it. The girl in front of me did the same, as I took in the image of myself in the mirror.

I had medium beige skin with dark apricot lips, which were a gorgeous combination - may I say so myself. With a petite figure (since I was only 5’4”) and curves in all the right places, one wouldn’t exactly call me ugly.

Smoothing down my black skirt and putting on my black blazer over my purple jumper, I glanced at my wristwatch. Damn it! School starts in 10min I was still at home.

Hastily, I grabbed my messenger bag and headed down stairs. Skipping towards the kitchen, where I came to an abrupt stop as I took in the scene before me.

My dad was by the window looking out with his back to me, while my mum sat at little table in the middle of the room, looking uncomfortable. The atmosphere in the room was tense; you could feel it from anywhere in the 10mile radius.

Awkwardly, I walked into the room, taking a seat in front of my mum. Instantly, she looked up focusing, all her attention on me, with sad sorrowful eyes. Something was up.

I suddenly got the feeling of déjà vu. Like I was 10 again (which was about 6 years ago) and we were all seated around this very same table. My mum held my hands in hers and looked in to my eyes and said very softly “Darling...the reason you look so...different from us is because you’re...adopted. You see...we found you in a park when you were just a few months old...they you were about 2 months. But dear...this doesn’t change a thing. Your will always be our baby girl. Yhaa...nothing’s changed.”

I saw tears in her eyes as she studied my face, anticipating my reaction. Well I wouldn’t have said I was shocked. I mean look at me and then look at my parents. Compare my tan skin colour to their fair skins. My mum had wavy blond hair with brown highlights and bright blue eyes. She was a very beautiful English rose.

Then there was my dad, who was 6’5” with soft brown hair that was cut just short of his shoulders. With big brown, puppy dog eyes that you couldn’t help but say yes to.

I could see that I looked nothing like them. Well everyone could see that I was obviously not theirs, just by looking at them then me. Why my parents thought I didn’t know this just baffled me.

Upon hearing police sirens outside, I came back to the present. Back, to the tense kitchen, where my mum was looking around the room. Observing her surroundings, but refusing to make eye contact with me or dad. I saw a single tear drop roll down her rosy checks and on to surface of the wooden table.  Reaching across the table to hold her hands, I whispered: “Mum what’s wrong”

She looked at me then, with tears in her eyes. I saw sorrow and hatred written plainly across her face and in her eyes.

“Ask in him,” her voice sounding rusty as she spat those words out, “ask him what he did!” she exclaimed, starting to raise her voice as she pointed her index finger in the direction of my dad.

Swiftly, I turned my head towards the direction in which the finger was pointing to, almost giving myself whiplash. I quickly searched my dad face (as he had turned to face us) to only see guilt written on it.

“Emma we don’t have to talk about this now. She has to go to school...look she is already late.” My dad pleaded, desperation in is voice.

“No Ben!” my mum shouted back to him, getting off the chair and standing to face him. Anger and fury where burning through her blue eyes. “You tell her now. She has every right to know. She is your daughter for goodness sake!”

My dad rubbed the back of this neck- which was something he did when he was nervous.

“The thing is Nica” he started “I had this affair with this lady and...We have a little 2 year old boy and...The thing is that, this thing with your mum just isn’t working anymore. I guess what I’m trying to say is that...sweetie your mum and I are getting a divorce.” With this a tense silent filled the room.

All eyes in the room where on me, waiting for my reaction and all I could choke out was:

“I...I have to go to school.”

 That said, I immediately grabbed my school bag and rushed out the front door, before any of them could say another word. I had heard enough.

Stepping out into the cold January air, I unconsciously shivered as a chilling wind blew my hair back widely.  I hugged by blazer closer to my body for heat as I began to walk towards the bus stop. Well I couldn’t really go back inside for a coat now, could I?

It would mean going back to the house and having to talk about what just happened with my family. No thanks that could wait till I get back from school. Luckily I have an hour detention -for being last as well- which meant an hour more before I had to deal with the problem. Yhaa that’s always been something I could never handle.  I was the one who was always running away from the problems, to afraid to face them.

Stupid British weather! I thought, as I stood there shaking at the bus stop. Well wasn’t this day turning out to be just awesome? What a way to start the New Year. I considered this all as I watched the red bus pull up at the bus stop.