Across The Pond Chapter 1

It's been a really long time, and I'm about to go review but I wanted to get this off my chest first; rough day, lads/: Welks, any feedback of any kind, good or bad, is much much appreciated. I will return the favor!

“It’s for the summer, in Europe with my God Mother.” I held the phone close to my ear with my shoulder as I sprawled myself out above my fluffy comfiture. “Dad says it will be good bonding time…” I turned to my side to look at the framed picture of my mother on the wall. It seems like just yesterday she was hustling and bustling around the house.

“Good bonding time?!” Lydia hollered into my ear from the receiver. “Good bonding time is when you’re stuck at home with a relative, good bonding time is when you’re hanging out with me watching movies when we have nothing to do on Friday nights. Spending an entire summer in another country with a woman you’ve never met is not good bonding time!” I chuckled at her obnoxious reasoning, toying with the ends of my wet hair. I looked above, outside the window at the moon. I could see the clouds in the sky, the bright stars twinkling. I often did that, stare at the sky.

“Lydia, she was my mom’s best friend.” I sat up, the hangnail on my left ring finger pulling in my attention. I heard her sigh and knew she wouldn’t say anything. “They went through grades second to twelfth together, dude. Apparently she never got married but was always here for me when I was a baby. I have a right to know who this woman is.” I reasoned with my best friend. Normally in these situations, I was the one freaking out. But when things had to do with my mom, I always found reasoning.

“Okay, but seriously. Three months? Why three?” I heard a bag of chips opening on the other end of the line, and then realized my own stomach growling. “I mean,” Lydia chomped down the salt and vinegar chips I knew she loved, “why can’t it be for the rest of the summer, then come back? I won’t see you until…October!” I heard her sip whatever beverage she was in to.

“September.” I corrected her as I trampled down the stairs of our large, empty home. It was just my dad and I, and that damn, sketchy cat I hated in this place. “I’ll be back for my twentieth birthday.” I stated as I opened one of the pantries in our large kitchen. My mom loved to cook, which meant that every house they bought had to be equipped with a big enough kitchen for all her “creative” messes.

“I really, really don’t like this, Celeste.” Lydia continued as if her opinion mattered. I smiled sweetly to myself as I grabbed out some bread and the toaster.

“I’m kind of into it.” I tossed the bread inside the four-slotted toaster and then hoped on the island as I waited. Ski, our platinum Burmese cat, decided this would be the perfect time to creep up on me. “I’ve never been out of the east coast before, never mind the country.” I commented, flicking Ski away.

“Well, I’m not. I think it’s stupid. Let me talk to Pops, I can get him to let you come stay with me.” Lydia hassled me. I laughed as I pulled out my bagel and laid some smoked salmon and cream cheese out on both sides before squishing them together. I carried myself to the connecting family nook where my mother decided to turn our sunroom into an all glass wall room with a TV and couch, perfect for out neighbors to see us.

Ski weaseled his way back onto my lap, the attention whore trying to grab my salmon. I shoved him away from me but he kept coming back. I started to space out as Lydia rambled, looking out at the dark night from the other side of the glass window. I heard the front door open and close, causing Ski to scurry off down the two steps of our living room.

“Celeste, sweetie?” My father’s voice called out. He always had a booming voice that echoed through out the two-story foyer of our brick home. This house fitted him as much as it had fitted my mother, her for the kitchen and him for the big open rooms to bellow in.

“I’m in here, Dad.” I interrupted Lydia as I responded to him.

“Is that ol’ Pops? Give him the phone! Do it now!” She hissed as I continued to look down the hallway that connected our kitchen and foyer. He appeared, tall and lanky as always in his work clothes.

“Hey,” He greeted casually as he placed his suitcase and clipboard on the island. He made his way over and kissed the top of my head, Lydia still requesting to talk to him from my left ear. “That Lyd?” He asked.

“Yeah,” I responded, picking at the half-eaten salmon and cream cheese sandwich.

“Tell her I said hello.” He walked back to the kitchen as he loosened his tie. He opened the steal door fridge and bent down, roaming the shelves for a snack.

“She wants to talk to you.” I yelled over, staring at him in anticipation.

“You tell her the news?” He straightened up and peered over his shoulder at me. That’s the look I always enjoyed. That waiting but knowing look. It was in all of the candid photos of my dad, it was always the look when I knew he was really paying attention. His small, brown eyes wide. His dark eyebrows heavy and his mouth parted just a little, squaring out evenly with his chin. My mom always made me remember that look. I have no idea why she wanted me to, but I did.

“Maybe.” I smiled.

“I’m not ready for the protests yet, maybe tomorrow.” He yelled loud enough for Lydia to hear. She started into fits of rage and demanding that he talk to her but I ignored it all. I suddenly became very tired and realized I just wanted to sleep.

“Hey, Lydia? I’ll call you tomorrow or something. I’m really tired.” I excused myself from our “conversation” and clicked off the line. I brought my plate over to the sink where I rinsed it and placed it in the dishwasher. My dad was cutting up some left over ham beside me.

“Are you really going to bed?” He asked.

“Yup. Goodnight.” I smiled and walked out of the kitchen. I entered through the foyer and up the stairs where I stopped and looked at the picture of my mom on the wall. I sighed, realizing how fast these past two years had gone by. I walked into my room and climbed into my sheets, passing out instantly for the first time in weeks.

++

I lay awake in my hot, summer sheets, anticipating when my alarm was going to go off. I couldn’t recall how long I’ve been up, I would wake up scarcely throughout the night until finally I decided the hell with it.

It was departure morning and I wasn’t sure if I could go through with this. I am a mousy, small person. I keep to myself and rarely do I take big chances, for instance, flying all the way across the Atlantic to stay three months with a woman whom I’ve never met before in my life. Did daring, exotic people even do this? I rolled on my side and blinked at my alarm clock, the red numbers informing me that I had two minutes before I was to get up.

I glanced out my window at the sky, for four in the morning it was pretty light out. The morning glow illuminating some of the stars, the sun’s rays becoming apparent beyond the trees while the crescent moon was still bright and shining. I rubbed my eyes and thought if I’d be able to back out of this. I could fake sick, right? Maybe even claim that Lydia was having a family emergency?

As I contemplated my escapes, my alarm blared those loud, obnoxious beeps that made people’s ears bleed. I slapped the snooze button and jumped out of bed, pacing back and forth. I needed to do this, I reminded myself, I needed to break free from this caged environment that was holding me back from moving on.

I glanced across my room at my mother’s picture on the wall, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I needed to be able to go through one day without staring blankly at a wall hating my life, hating myself and feeling like nothing. I wiped my eyes and started to get dressed, fiercely brushing the knots out of my bland, straight hair and avoiding the tears that would slip past my lashes every now and then.

Three knocks came to my bedroom door followed by a quite, “Celeste? Are you up?” I opened my door to see my dad still in his baseball t-shirt and some checkered pajama pants, two coffee’s in his hand. He held one out to me with a solemn smile and I accepted it with one in return.

“All packed?” He asked as he sat on the edge of my bed. I returned to my hair brushing in my bathroom, nodding in response to his question. If he saw that I had been crying, he himself would call off the entire plan.

The thing about my dad was that ever since my mom passed, he endured his quieter side. Before, he was a sports maniac and loved to try new foods with my mom, always joking around and keeping the mood light. But now…he just sits there a lot, thinking off into space. Baseball and football are a past time to him, and the only thing he’ll eat is whatever he can conduct in under three minutes. I think the only part of him that’s remained the same is that waiting but knowing look he always gave my mom.

“Celeste?” I glanced up at him in the mirror, he was now leaning against the door jam of my bathroom. “You know you don’t have to go.” That was a pull to my heartstrings.

“Will you be okay here by yourself?” I turned to him, trying to pull any answers from his weary face. The death certainly aged him ten years, but I knew that he was still that young guy that would pry my mom and I from our seats to go on adventures.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve lived by myself before…” His eyes trailed off before snapping back to me, “Are you going to be okay on your own?”

“Dad,” I smiled at him, “I wouldn’t be going through with if it if I was worried about that.” He chuckled and sipped his steaming coffee before turning away.

“We have to leave in twenty minutes.” He called over his shoulder as he walked out of my room. In the mirror before me, I saw a scared, little girl that would always need her mom. I threw the brush into my carry on and tugged on a sweatshirt, angrily trying to rid that image of myself. I was almost twenty, I needed to grow up and move on. Right?