nefelibata (n.) | ✔️

five.

Present. September 6th, 2018.

The rain falling on my cheeks is so light that I almost mistake it for tears. Then I remember that there is no reason to be crying, so I forget about it. I'm currently walking down the road to the docs, but not to enjoy the view. My mother, unwillingly, got me a babysitting job and it was around my fifth night of watching her. Thankfully I like the child, but it's still a pain in the ass.

The hood of my black sweatshirt is draped over my head lightly, protecting my long black straightened hair from the frizz the rain brings. My skin tight, light washed jeans cling to my thighs as the rain continues to soak them. For once I decided to pull out the lighter jeans for the sole purpose of not wanting to scare away the child.

The walk isn't too long, the usual 20 or so minutes it takes to get to the docs, usually. Of course, I could take the car, but navigating my way on foot seems more humane. Maybe that makes me an old soul, but I would assume that as a compliment.

The music blasting through my headphones welcomes me to the setting sun and the distant noise of rain droplets was clashing with the water. I always know where the Clarks' house is because they've got the biggest house in the row. The child I'm babysitting is three years old. Why they trust me to take care of a three-year-old, I'll never know.

I place a single knock on the door, waiting for the response. I used to envy their home because it's right on the water. Not to mention their house is possibly four times the size of mine. Before I can continue my unwanted thoughts, the mother of Cara, Camila, answers the door.

"Lena! Hi sweetheart, how are you?" She gently grabs my arm to pull me into her mansion of a house. Not literally, there are no mansions in Freeport but compared to my house. How does one afford a home like this in New York? Like my thoughts are being answered, in comes the father, Brian. They've got to be the most elegant family I've ever seen. Cara wears silk nightgowns to bed like she is in the fucking Titanic. Again, she's three.

"I'm doing well, how're you?" I reciprocate the meaningless words and try my best to keep my sigh as quiet as possible. Brian gives me a welcoming hug and their outfits burn into my memory. Do people even wear this anymore? Everyone mumbles some 'I'm well' and I try my best to keep my gaze off of the extravagant outfits of Cara's parents.

Brian was clad in a black and white tie suit, basic enough. His hair has no gel like it usually does. Instead, his natural curls have come out, and it does not suit him at all. Not that it is any of my business. Camila, on the other hand, is wearing a velvet rose red gown with matching heels and a headband to hold back her long brunette hair. "Where are you guys going looking so elegant?" I say, trying my best not to sound too forward. I give them a soft smile.

"You know how it is, love, just another banquet. We've got an auction we have to take part in as well." I know how it is? They've misinterpreted my life. Not that I take offense to it, at least they think I look the part to attend a banquet. My mother has always tried to act as elegant and proper as possible. The Clarks make my family look like a joke.

"Cara is in her playroom on the bottom floor; she keeps asking to swim in the water, don't let her. It's going to pour soon, and you know how that goes." Brian babbles on more useless rules that I am already aware. I nod like a bobble head, pretending to listen to his words.

When I hear his deep voice halt, I bring my attention back. "Got it, no need to worry Mr. Clark, I've got it all under control." I try to give him a comforting smile. Of course, there is a name for a daddy's girl, but is there a name for a dad that can't leave his daughter's side?

Camila takes me to the kitchen to show me what to make Cara for dinner; surprisingly, they make my job much more comfortable by laying everything out for me. Camila rolls her eyes as Brian says he wants to give Cara another kiss goodbye. I smile at his undying love for his daughter. "I trust you, so we're giving you a raise. Forty dollars an hour." FORTY? Did she just say forty dollars AN HOUR?