Orange Blossom

Chapter 3

*Beep* *Beep* *Bee-*

Half asleep, I slammed my snooze button as hard as I could. I forgot to turn off my alarm again. For a couple of seconds, I debated if I should see the time. Being the curious person I am, I looked and it broke my heart. My freakin' alarm clock woke me up at 5:55 in the morning. I cursed under my breath for forgetting. It was summer break and Junior year was over! Today is the third day of summer break and I was planning on going to as many parties as possible. I wanted to have the full on experience before I left high school. It isn't bad for a girl to party!

I decided to get ready for my day, because once I wake up, I can't go back to sleep again. I went into my sliding door closet and grabbed some light skinny jeans, a black v-neck, undergarments, and converse. I placed my clothes on my bed and shoes on the floor, holding onto my undergarments and heading to the bathroom to take a shower and brush my teeth.

After I cleaned myself and washed my hair, I decided to cherish the hot water before it gets cold.

Right when I turned the shower off, I heard crying in the next room. My mom's room.

I sighed.

She's been crying almost every night now since the beginning of June, always around my birthday. Her crying was always bad around this time of year and his death date, which was on October 23rd.

His name was Vincent, my father, who died when I was six months old. My mom never wanted to talk about him. Even if she did talk, she'd give out as little information as possible. I tried to push her into telling me more every year, but her lips were sealed.

All I know about my father is that he was Mexican, born and raised in San Francisco, was a kind noble man, and died in a car accident by a drunk driver. I thought he would've been buried like my abuela was, but mom said he was cremated a long time ago. I was so mad, because I was hoping to see a tombstone to get a little more info on who my father was, I didn't even know his last name for Christ sakes!

My whole name is Zagara Marie Garcia. Since my parent's never married, I kept my mother's last name. All my life, I was called either, "Blossom" or "Orange". My mother called me, Orange, because of my love for the fruit when I was a baby. When I hit my fifteenth birthday she's been calling me, Blossom. Honestly, it's better than Zagara! What the hell was my mom thinking? I used to ask her why she gave me such an ugly name and she argued that it was beautiful. When I kept complaining about how ugly it was or pissed her off, she'd say my whole name just to spite me.

I wonder what my father would've named me. It had to have been better than Zagara.

I stepped out of the shower, dried myself, and put my undergarments on. Before I left the bathroom, I put on my robe and went to change inside my room. Once I was fully clothed, I brushed and blow dried my long wavy blackish dark brown hair. I looked at the time. It read 6:45.

"Nice," I said to myself, walking out of my room. I made my way to the kitchen and decided to make french toast, bacon and coffee for my mother and I.

Right as I finished making breakfast, my mom walked in with a fresh clean face.

"Mm, something smells good," she said with a broken smile. I gave her a small smile back placing everything on the table and setting up dishes for us.

"I made our favorite," I said while pouring coffee into her cup.

"Gracias, Mija," she said with a thankful grin.

"You're welcome. Now dig in."

We both ate in silence, me wishing she could say something.

"You're up pretty early for a Saturday. What're your plans for today?" my mother asked as if reading my mind.

"Hanging with Jessica and Tara at the mall today unless you have something else planned...?"

"No, have fun! But you're ass needs to be home by 5:30 with the meat. We already have the dough and everything else ready," she said giving me a look.

"Mmkay, I'll be here. Thanks, Mom!" I said walking over to her and giving her a hug. Soon after I finished the rest of my bacon, I put my empty plate in the sink, getting ready to wash it.

"Orange, I'll do it. You cook, I clean," she told me unexpectedly.

"Oh..are you sure?"

"Yes, Mija, it's okay."

"Oh, well, I'll be going then," I said grabbing my bag off the counter throwing it over my shoulder.

"You're leaving already? It's barely 8 o'clock," she asked worriedly.

"Yea, I'm going to Jessica's house, she's up by now," I answered reassuringly.

"Oh, okay. Tell her I said, Hi, and have her teach you Spanish!"

"Mom..., I understand it!" I said whining her name.

"Yes, but you don't speak it! Just because you say -ito in the end for everything, doesn't make it Spanish," she said shaking her head, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Fine, I will. I gotta go. Love you," I laughed, kissing her on the cheek. After, I took my keys out of my bag and ran for the door.

I locked it behind me and beeped my car unlocked. Once I went in, I sat there and cried.