Maddie's Girls

Chapter 13

"Jesus," Becca groaned, touching the cold towel she had on her forehead.

"I got you soup," I sighed, following after her into her large living room that wasn't really a living room, it was the "sitting room."

I've never been to her sitting room before and I was in awe. It was like the TV room, just as big but without the TV.

Rich people were excessive with their space, I guess.

This room, however, looked more like the place where you hold gatherings. It looked elegant and spacious, a little bar furniture. Aunt Cecil had always wanted one of those, however, I think the one at Becca's held a lot more expensive alcohol than the one we would have at home (if we were ever to get one). There was also a huge piano there, in a corner of the room, all forgotten and lonely. My heart ached at the image, I looked away from it.

I turned away from the piano to find Becca staring at me with knowing eyes. She laid as on a cream coloured couch with blankets all over her. After we played in the rain, Becca got a bad cold and when she didn't go to school on either Monday or Tuesday, I worried, so I came to see her.

"I think I have a fever again," She whined, her voice sounded cute. "You took ages to come."

"I was at school and then I went home to get the soup." I left the soup on the closest table to me.

When Becca sent me a text telling me she wasn't coming into school today either because she was feeling sick still, I called Aunt Jeanine to ask her for grandma's chicken soup's recipe. Aunt Jeanine tried to explain but gave up right after telling how to chop the chicken into pieces and instead made the soup herself and dropped it off at home.

"Mr Miller sends his regards and hopes you feel better soon, said he missed you in English. Should I heat up the soup?"

Becca nodded. I grabbed the soup and I wandered about her house, heading to the kitchen.

Her house was the biggest house I've ever been to. They had like three rooms that seemed like living rooms yet they all different use and different layout. Becca once tried to explain what each room was used for, some for business gathering, family gatherings, TV room... to me they all just looked like living rooms, you could do all of those business, family and tv meetings in one room... who needs three living rooms?

Rich people, I guess.

When I finally got to the kitchen, I struggled to find the microwave that was disguised as part of the wall. Why did rich people have the need to hide things? Like... what was the point on having your stupid fridge door disguised as part of the wall? It was a kitchen, it was not meant to look like anything other than a kitchen...

By the time I made it back to Becca, she was asleep. No surprise there. I took about thirty minutes just to heat up a stupid soup... I placed the soup on a table next to Becca's couch and I wandered about in her living room.

There weren't many pictures around her house but in the living room, there were some. In one of them, Becca was younger, about 14, her mother and, I'm guessing, her father was in the picture with her.

I touched every single piece of furniture as I went, the couches were made of a soft material, the tables were made out of fine wood, the curtains were pretty and sophisticated. I wondered who decorated the house, I wonder who put everything in place to make it all seem so spacious and so elegant yet so... cold and empty.

When I finally reach what I've been trying to avoid since I noticed it, my fingers were shaking. A few inches were all that was separating us. A few inches. Just a few inches. It was so close to me and my fingers were aching to reach it, to touch it, to give it all of me the way I was taught.