‘SOMETIMES things fall apart so that BETTER THINGS can fall together.”
I woke up this morning thinking it would be a normal Tuesday (except for not having school since it's summer break) - I'd get up from my very comfy bed, use the restroom before heading downstairs in my pajamas - which consist of a pair of camo night shorts and tank top with the saying Nobody can wear camouflage better than me - in pink letter's. Yuck. I hate pink, no offense.
My mom would be in our very big kitchen making chocolate chip pancakes, bacon and eggs while humming some 80's tune under her breath. My dad would be at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee sitting in front of him, the daily newspaper held in his hands - turned on the sports section, but every few seconds he would look up and watch my mom with a look of adoration and love on his face.
Only when I get downstairs I don't smell the delicious smell of breakfast, a frown on my face I walk into the kitchen to see it's spotless and empty - no pancake mix all over the counters - no bacon frying - no humming mother - no pretending to read dad - nothing.
“Mom! Dad!” I call out, walking from the kitchen toward the living room. The closer I get to the living room the more I hear something that sounds like crying.
I enter the spacious living room to find a small black-haired woman sitting on one of the two light brown sofas, elbows on knees, head held in hands as her shoulders shake with sobs.
“Mom.” I say, taking small steps toward her, “are you okay?”
She looks up her brown eyes glossy from tears, her tan face tear-streaked.
“I'm fine.” She sniffles out taking deep breaths to calm down.
“Are you sure mom?”
“Y-ye-” sobs begin wracking her body again and she shakes her head, her long black hair falling in her face, strands sticking to her wet face. "I'm so sorry baby girl." She cries out, “I'm a terrible mother!”
I rush over to her and move into the floor, on my knees in front of her and wrap my arms around her waist, laying my head on her. “No your not. You are not a terrible mother, you are quite the opposite.”
After a while she calms down, running her fingers through my long wavy chestnut brown hair. “I love you Neveah.” She murmurs. “I love you too mom,” I replied raising my head so I can look at her. “Wanna tell me what's wrong?” I ask softly. Before she can reply I quickly add, “No secrets between us, ever. Remember?”
“I know baby girl.” She sighs before patting the couch cushion beside her. I raise from the floor, wincing from being on my knees for so long and sit beside her. She takes my hands in hers and looks at ms.
“You remember Westley, right?” She asks softly.
Westley?.... Confusion crosses my face before it dawns on me whom she's speaking of. “You mean that piece of doohickey West?!”
Westley Jameson... The idiot who ruined my mothers' life, who left his girlfriend (her) of 3 years pregnant and alone, who just so happens to share my DNA.
“Yes, honey. West.” She confirms.
“Oookay..” I draw out, “why you mentioning that piece of shi-”
“Watch your language, young lady.”
“Sorry, mother,” I mumble, casting my eyes down.
“It's fine baby girl. And I'm mentioning him because...” She trails off her shoulders slumping, “because you need to go stay with him for the summer.”
“What did you say?” I question hoping I heard wrong.
“I said you need to go-”
“I know what you said, mother!” I stand and start pacing, “but why do I need to go stay with that... that no good man?!”
She stands and moves toward me “Because he's still your father-”
“He's not my father! And I am not going to stay with him for the summer!”
“It's not happening mother!” I snap, glaring at her.
Her eyes harden, a stern look appearing on her normally sweet face. “You are going to stay with Westley for the summer.”
“No, I am not.” I stand my ground, glaring right back at her.
“Neveah Sky Coleman! You are going and that is final!” She tells me, voice rising.
“No, I'm not!” I shout, ignoring the warning in her voice and the way she said my whole name.
“Yes, you are!”
“Whoa! What's all this shouting about?” Quinn my dad... Well, the only dad I've ever known asks entering the living room.
“I don't want to go stay with my sperm donor who abandoned not only me but my mother!”
“She doesn't want to listen!”
Mom and I holler at the same.
“OK, calm down. Both of you.” He says looking between us before settling his gaze on me, “Look Neveah sweetheart I know you don't want to go stay with your father-”
“He's not my father!” I stomp my foot (childish I know) while cutting him off from finishing his sentence.
He gives me the look, you know the one I'm talking about - the one that says shut your mouth and listen or be grounded - before continuing “Heck I and your mother don't want you around him less staying the summer.” Sighing a pained look crosses his features, “but if you don't go and spend the summer with him he has threatened to take your mother and me to court and file custody for you.”
I stand there in shock for a minute or so before saying, “He can't, can he?”
“Well baby girl, you see he can do whatever he pleases seeing as he is one of the richest men in California and seeing as he has the president in his pocket.” My mom speaks up, flinching when she says president, even though it's been years, 17 almost 18 to be exact I know it still hurts her to know her father wants absolutely nothing to do with her, despises her, sees her as a failure.
“But I'm 17, if he does take y'all to court I can just say I want to stay with y'all and not him.”
My mom starts crying again and walks out of the living room leaving me and Quinn alone.
“Sweetheart, your mom...”
“My mom what?” I ask looking at him, “what isn't she telling me?”
He sighs and says “If your father-” I flinch, I hate West being called my father and Quinn can tell because he smiles sadly at me, “If Westley takes us to court, there's a big chance he will get custody of you. He'll win.”
“Well sweetheart when you go to court they dig through your background and even though I know my background is clean we both know your mothers aren't the best. And that it would be enough for us to lose you.”
“But I'll be 18 in less than a month!”
I cry out.
“I know sweetheart and when you do turn 18 you can come home. But you still have to stay with him till then.”
Tears fill my eyes making my vision blurry. “Why, why now?”
Quinn walks over and pulls me into his comforting arms, the smell of his ax cologne filling my senses making me relax into him.
“Everything will be okay sweetheart, you just have to stay with him till your 18th birthday... A month at the most and then you can come home and then you won't ever have to see him again if you don't want too.”
Pulling out of his arms I ask, “When do I have to leave?”
Friday is 2 days away, 2 days is all the time I have to spend with my parents before having to leave.
That night I lay in bed sobbing into my pillow and asking myself why, why does he want to see me now? ... I'll stay with him till my 18th birthday then after that I will never ever have to see him again.
And if he thinks making me stay with him for the summer or part of the summer will make me hate him any less then he is sadly mistaken. It's because of him and my grandparents that my mom had to go through what she did...