Rose | Ashton Irwin

chapter seventeen

Rose's POV

Strangely, all four of us sat around the dining table Saturday morning. The sun was high and bright, the breeze stronger than usual, causing the trees to dance. Meanwhile, my brother and I were half awake as we leaned over our breakfast of bacon, eggs, and slightly burnt toast. Mom had barged into my room with a smile, pulling the sheets off of me and insisting I was downstairs within the next five minutes. Russell joined soon after, eyes barely open.

"So," He started, shoving a mouthful of his scrambled eggs into his mouth. "What's going on?" He spoke with his mouth full of food, his loud smacking filling the small room. When mom shot him a stern look he immediately closed his mouth and shrugged his shoulders.

"We have a surprise." Mom beamed, placing her hand on top of our fathers. When my eyes moved to his, I realized how lifeless and dull he looked. It was strange to see the way he slouched forward, his hair messy, while still wearing a pressed button up and khakis. His expression was no where close to matching mom's, in fact it was quite the opposite. My stomach dropped at the thought of what they wanted to talk about.

After a moment of silence she squeezed his hand gently, causing his head to snap up as if he was pulled out of a trance. "Oh, yes that's right." He forced a tired smile onto his lips and straightened out his posture. As if he could read my mind, he ran a hair though his unruly hair. "Nana is visiting." He spoke with a false enthusiasm and I could still see the prominent bags under his hollow eyes.

"What?" My fork froze in front of my open mouth.

"When?" Russell asked at the same time, setting down his piece of bacon and glancing toward the door as if she would barge in at any second.

"Well she called just before I got you out of bed." Mom glanced toward the clock, tapping the wooden surface of the table with her painted fingernail, "So probably within the text fifteen minutes."

"What?" Russell shoots out of his chair immediately and flies up the stairs without another word. I know exactly what he's about to do. He's going to rush into his room and shove all of his junk under his bed and into the bottom of the closet, hide anything that he doesn't want seen, and throw away the weeks worth of trash. Every single time Nana visits the house is treated as a quarantine zone. Despite her ageing bones she will get down on her hands and knees with gloves on and scrub the tiled kitchen floors until they are spotless. By the time she leaves the nothing is in the same place, all reorganized, and all looking brand new. Russell is always the biggest victim of her cleaning spree's, and if she arrives seeing his room the way it is he's sure to not hear the end of it. It's a continuous cycle.

Mom lets out a light laugh, shaking her head and turns to her husband to ask about the guest bedroom. Looking at them you would assume that she was thrilled to see her mother, but Nana is actually our father's mom. The two have always butt heads, but she loves our mother as if she was her own daughter. A very opinionated old woman, she's never afraid to speak her mind and put dad in his place.

"I'm going to go clean up a bit." I announce after finishing my toast, slipping my plate into the dishwasher and heading up to my own room. I can hear Russell rummaging and grunting, and can just picture him doing his best to close his closet door as a mountain of clothes spill out. As for me, I only hang up a few t-shirts and place some clothes into the hamper. The only thing I need to worry about is her moving the new poster hiding the dent Ashton put in my wall.

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"Rosalie, Russie," Nana squeals as she pulls us into her frail arms, a wide and warm smile covering more than half of her face. As she pulls away I'm not surprised to see her grey hair pulled up into a tightly styled bun, dressed as if she's ready for church. Large diamonds are hanging from her ears, paired with a flashy matching necklace. Beside her are two suitcases and a small duffle bag despite her leaving tomorrow night after dinner.