Morituro

Tea time and broomsticks

Two days after, the weird conversation I had with Angelo, it luckily being an off day.As our parents search for someone to take up the post as our teacher— one that won't physically punish their students. The tension between me and Juliano is at an uncomfortable high and every one in our little group can easily sense it.

Valentine the good peacekeeper she is whisked me and Jiji away for a "girls day". In actuality she was preventing every one from going through another painful day of having to ignore the obvious tension and awkwardness that has settled between Juliano and I. As thankful as I am, she couldn't have chosen a worse place.

The aroma of sweet tea and expensive perfume fills the quaint tea room. Upperclass females, sipping obnoxiously, slowly on their tea— too distracted by the gossip, flowing out, the botox filled lips of their companions.

I look down at my bleak tea. I stir it unconsciously, zoning out as Val talks— her words passing through one ear, swirling through my mind in a storm of thoughts and leaving my mouth in the form of "no ways" and "aw".

I look at the two girls. Val is clad in a bright, yellow sundress, a few inches above her knees but not too short to be scandalous. Her hair is straight and covering her bare shoulders. Large, trendy sunglasses perch on top of her head.

Jiji is classier wearing a knee-length, light green, button up dress. A thick, brown belt adorns her midsection, showing off her curves. Her short hair sweeps over shoulders as she looks around. Her eyes darting every where, to every one, looking for inspiration. Occasionally she looks to Valentine, looking at her as if she is actively listening to her ramblings.

Then I look down at myself, my white and blue, flowy romper, hangs off my body— but in a good way apparently. Val chose my outfit so if I am underdressed then the blame can be placed on her. By the looks I was receiving when we first walked in, it's clear to see, she should take it.

I couldn't feel more out of place, and it's not only from the current dress code but rather the class of the people that fill the room. I just don't belong, my father may have the money and class, but I know nothing about living the high life except the few things I've been shown during my time here- I can say with reassurance, it's not my scene.

I know next to nothing about etiquette, I barely even know how to spell the word. I don't understand the purpose of it, why would you need to eat something with a specific utensil? I could eat a soup with tea spoon ,and it will still leave my body in exactly the same way. So why all the fuss?

I look out of the large window, staring from above, at all the people walking to and from work, school and all the places in between. I remember walking those very roads, taking those very buses. It brings an unwelcome lump to my throat.

My eyes run down the hilly landscape ending to where the ocean meets the horizon. My mind is like a tram; going back and forth between two places.

San Francisco might be my "home town" but its feels like the furthest thing from a home, what's a home without a family. The Bahamas aren't my home, well not quite yet, but it's more inviting, less people walking out of my life and more walking in.

The historical buildings are like time machines, commentating the past,
but as soon as I see them I remember how I'll never be able to escape from my history.

I'll always be that angry, poor girl that nobody can love. The girl that everyone always abandons.

I once again look around the room, attempting to get my mind off such depressing thoughts. I look at how Val is ranting, probably about her photoshoot for Calvin Klein. Jiji looks at her understandingly as she speaks, she never replies, but the tall girl really makes you feel like she's giving you advice. Even though not a single syllable escapes her full lips.