Windows

Starting Over

We waited at least three hours for the moving van to pull up outside the new house. Mum was mad. We'd been waiting in what was to be the living room in the stifling heat making awkward conversation for far too long, and my iPod was running out of battery.

The sweaty man with the goatee told us that there was a minor car accident slightly ahead of him and was stuck in traffic for a while, a lie which Mum blatantly believed without question. I barely had to glance at his face to know that was not the truth, from the anxious way he was twisting his cap in his red fingers to the way he kept shifting his left foot back and forth, scraping the pavement constantly.

Mum helped haul the furniture out of the truck and threw me a lamp or pot plant every few minutes, as if I were too fragile to handle the tiny armchair I'd mentally claimed since my birth or even a picture frame. The man barely helped, and was reluctant to assist Mum in pulling the sofa out of the van, as if it wasn't his job. Eventually we got everything inside and the man tipped his hat goodbye and drove off.

"There. When we rearrange everything tomorrow we'll be living in luxury!" Mum exclaimed, slightly exaggerating. I glimpsed around the room, trying to look enthusiastic, but the beige wallpaper and our random ornaments scattered over the grey carpet was less than exciting. The pot plant even seemed to wilt sadly in the corner.

When I didn't respond, Mum continued, "Well, do you want to pick your room?"
I nodded and followed her up the steep wooden staircase where there was a narrow hallway and a few doors. I walked into the first one I saw and laid my mattress and pillows down - we were too tired to bring the beds up yet. Mum looked at me patronizingly.

"This one? It's so small."

"I like it."

"Are you sure? There's bigger room down the hall. Next to mine," she prompted.

"No, no, that can be the...entertainment room," I mumbled stupidly into the pillow.

"Entertainment room?"

"Yeah. Sure. We'll buy a pool table and a jukebox," I said, half joking. She didn't bother to consider.

"Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight." 

I fumbled around with the sheets and pressed my face into the coarse material of the pillowcase. This was not a new and exciting development. This was routine. Despite my uncomfortable substitute for a bed, I would fall asleep and tomorrow we would do the same thing we do every time we move into another house, neighborhood, state. I can't wait for Mum to finally lose it and move us to India.

Morning came quickly. I almost forgot we were not in our old house, in this new house with the funny winding hallways and the kitchen that had too many electric sockets. I was used to the sun streaming through the window at 6 a.m, obviously unaware that some people like to sleep in. But these dark curtains made it still seem like night when I awoke. A fresh start.

Mum was snoring peacefully in her room-which means I get another morning free from her attempts to make breakfast- and so I went downstairs and gazed forlornly at  our scattered belongings. But not for long, because then came a knock at the door and some cheery middle-aged laughing. Oh God, I thought, not one of these neighbourhoods. 
But I was not in luck.

"Hello! We're the Wilsons from across the street over there," said the lady with red-rimmed spectacles and foundation that did not hide any of her insistent wrinkles, pointing unnecessarily at their house. A grumpy tall, broad man stood with his arms crossed next to her, obviously not here of his own accord. The woman was unfazed by the indifference the man and I shared to neighborly greetings and sustained a giant grin. Her eyes were cerulean blue, framed by deep crows feet and brown lashes. Oh it's too early in the morning for this, I complained inwardly. I tried not to look directly at her face but it was too late, the damage was done. Her name was Nora Wilson and she was the local librarian. She was married in 1996 to her current husband, George, who was an architect and stood next to her, trying to smile convincingly but failing miserably. The other neighbours think they're a shining example to their happy society, but really Nora has been threatening to file for a divorce for the last four years because of George's anger problems and his apathy towards her thrilling tales of chess and knitting club.

I realised I was staring, a rude habit I was trying to get rid of.

"Oh, hi," I stuttered out. "My mother...she's still sleeping. It was a tiring drive yesterday," I continued uncertainly. 

"Oh, never mind, we'll come around and introduce ourselves to her later on," George replied.

I hadn't told them my name yet. I really should be winning an award for my kindness to strangers.

"My name's Haylee. Nice to meet you. Thanks for coming around."

"A pleasure to meet you too! We best be on our way. Welcome to Goldenridge," Nora declared proudly. I nodded goodbye and shut the door. I leant my back against it and groaned.

I need to stop doing that, I told myself. 

A/N: (October 2016)

Hi everyone! I'm starting a new book called MIND GAMES. If you enjoyed/are enjoying Windows then please go to my profile and give Mind Games a read! 

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