Life as We Know It

Chapter 12

I pulled into a small driveway with scattered rocks of different shapes and shades of colors. The house in front of me was modern with an old time look to it. It was a light blue house with chipped paint, black shutters with some missing, and the door was a faded red with a half oval window up the top. I could see curtains blocking the window view and windchimes chimed as I approached the door.

    I stepped up to the white porch slowly and gracefully. I flipped my bag over my shoulder and inhaled deeply. I knocked on the old door and waited for an answer.

    The door creeked open and I saw a mid twenties woman with brown eyes. Her eyes were the same, dark color as her hair. Her face had paint smudges on it and she wore a white smock.

   "Hello, can I help you?" She asked wiping her hands that were splattered with paint.

   "Are you Margaret Whitlock?" I asked.

   "Yes, who are you?"

   "I am Lulu Whitlock, Denise's daughter. I heard about you and I wanted to meet you. May I come in?" I asked.

   "Yes, you may." She smiled and allowed me to walk in. When I walked in a smelt a sweet smell of flowers and vanilla.

   "Thank you." I said sweetly.

    "How did you hear of me?" She asked.

  I worried she would ask this. I thought quick but not fast enough.

   "How did you hear about me?" She repeated.

   "I.. um...uh..well...I.." What do I say? "I heard your name at school. I heard it walking to school."

   "Oh, who said my name?" She asked grasping a paintbrush from a pail.

   "I heard it from a group of people." I spatted.

   "Well, how did you find me?"

   "Internet. That is pretty." I said glancing at her painting of a garden with a flowing river.

   "Thank you. So the internet had my information?" She asked washing her brush off.

   "Yeah." Should I ask her why she isn't a part of our family anymore?

    "So, has your mother told you why I haven't been mentioned?" She asked not even turning to look at me.

    "No, not really." I twisted my fingers in silence. "What did happen?"

    "I distanced myself from them when I was eighteen." She sat her brush down and turned to look at me. "Sit."

   I sat on the sofa and looked as she sat beside me. "I didn't go to college because I didn't need to. I knew I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to be one my whole life, but my parents thought I would fail at it and have to live with them. They didn't believe in me, but they did believe in Denise." She looked at me with bright eyes.

   "Then what happened?" I asked when she paused.

   "They told me I had to be a lawyer. I yelled at them and stormed out of the house. I lived here since. I love them dearly, but they are so controlling. A month after I moved out, my father died. They thought I killed him and they almost got me arrested." She stopped again.

   "Did you? Did you kill him?" I asked.

   "No, they found out he died of heart failure and I was released from trial. My family still believed I killed him so they wouldn't invite me over for holidays. So I just didn't even try to contact them."

   "I am so sorry." I decided to bring up her journal. "Did you have a diary?"

   "A journal. I loved that and my life was in it. All my secrets and expariences." Her eyes teard up.

   "What happened to it that you are crying?" I asked. It's not like I knew. I know where it was put. But why did it get put in our basement?

   "When I left the house I was living in, I left it there by accident. I couldn't go back, I just couldn't." She sobbed and I felt sorry for asking. "I had it locked in my night table's drawer and I has the key taped under. I hope no one read it. I don't even know where the table is. I think you should go."

   I got up and she opened the door for me to leave. "I am sorry. Thank you for telling me all this." I hugged her and left the house. I got in my car and drove away.