Our Reflection

39• Right Where I Want You

Cheryl Blossom POV

It was an old and well-worn box, a layer of dust covered the top and I blew gently to remove the excess.

I didn't remember taking it with me on the move, or even taking it to Berlin, but that box was important.

Photos and memories carefully kept and preserved all these years, perhaps waiting for the right moment to let me gossip them.

There is nothing better than seeing images from your past and smiling remembering the moment, or reading a text in the diary that shows how you felt when you wrote.

I had two notebooks during the last two years that I stayed in Los Angeles, I put them out every day, it was a wonderful escape valve.

I always wondered if Marjorie had the same habit, I often searched her things to try to find, but if she really had a diary, she took it up and down with her.

Those two notebooks were the most personal objects I had, it made my stomach feel cold when I looked at the red leather covers.

"Don't be afraid, you have nothing to fear, it's just an old book", but I knew it wasn't.

I was about to meet my sixteen and seventeen-year-old self, and let's face it, I wasn't very friendly.

My adolescence was somewhat vulgar and petty, but I had good qualities, unlike Marjorie.

My sister was always number one in the class, very calm, the famous "quiet girl", except that I knew very well who she really was.

If all the people who studied and lived with us at school lived under the same roof as Marjorie and me, they would have changed their minds about many things.

It wasn't that it was bad all the time, but it didn't make it easy, it always seemed to have something keeping us from keeping peace for at least twenty minutes.

My mother used to spit idly trying to break up our fights, only my father could do it; a shout was enough and that was it, that was it.

Unlike my parents, my grandmother was the only one who knew the right point that made us shut up almost in the same second.

"For me, you can kill yourself, but remember one thing; it doesn't get you anywhere. In fact, it does. If you keep screaming inside my house, I'll put you both to sleep in the yard", her voice was calm and peaceful while pointing to the back door.

Fraser was not pleasant in winter, much less outside the house.

I smiled remembering my grandmother's serenity and opened the box, feeling a musty smell invade my nostrils.

I sneezed and scratched my nose, holding a polaroid cake.

Marjorie and my father. Me and Heather. Both of us and my sister.

There were so many pictures that I didn't even remember, I forced my head to remember when I took it, but it wasn't helping much.

"Excuse."

I raised my head to look at the door and my mother had a glass of wine in her hand.

"I came to bring you this, I thought you might need it."

"Thank you, mother"

She approached holding out the cup to me and noticed the pictures, taking some that were already on the table.

"I found this box, I don't remember taking it to Berlin or bringing it. These photos are old, nor did I know you had them saved."

"Ah ...", she ran her finger over a Polaroid I hadn't seen yet and her eyes filled with water.