REVIVAL Return to Us Trilogy Book One

Chapter 1

Present day

Ivy

This mirror must hate me. That's it, it hates me.

I run my fingers through my unruly shoulder-length hair, struggling to untangle the ends. Using them like mock scissors, I try to tug apart each dark brown, knotted strand. I wonder if my mother had the same issue with her unmanageable locks?

I bet some kids hate growing up hearing constant comments about how they look like so and so. Not foster kids like me. We would love someone to taunt us for our familial resemblance. Instead, we have a reflection with no reference, no anchor. Did I get my wavy, chestnut hair and my moss green eyes from my mother or my father? Who gave me this somewhat crooked nose? The questions have haunted me since childhood. Is there a woman out there with the same pear-shaped body and pale skin?

The un-anchored Ivy in the mirror stares back at me with nothing I'd call extraordinary. Frumpy ol' Ivy Mae Summers: age thirty-four, single (with no prospects on the horizon), and childless. I'm just missing the tabby cat named Oliver or Otis wearing an obnoxiously flamboyant sweater I knitted for him. I shudder at the thought of becoming the crazy cat lady children run away from. Can I get a bird? Does that count as crazy too? Or a fish? Maybe a ficus plant?

I sigh and puff my breath out, making my bangs float above my hairline. The future crazy cat lady stares at me from the mirror that hates me, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to go back to work today. I just have to remind myself I'm going back for Uncle Bernie and Aunt Helen. I'd do anything for them, since they've done everything for me. Uncle Bernie is one of the most respected plastic surgeons in the Midwest, and from the tone in his voice, I knew he was in over his head. He needs to focus on his patients, not how much coffee to buy, or if the printer is working properly.

Since it's September and chilly, even for Chicago, I opt for a business casual chic outfit today. I'm wearing a light gray cashmere tunic sweater draping off my left shoulder, paired with black, feather-soft knit leggings. I rummage through my jewelry box and find my ironically pear-shaped diamond earrings to match the necklace dangling in the hollow of my throat.

My shoes are killer. These black Jimmy Choo suede booties have a 4.5-inch stacked heel with 0.5-inch platform base. I could never have afforded these shoes at retail price. But I may or may not have ripped them from another woman's fingers during a bargain-shopping trip to New York City and got a great deal.

I keep my makeup simple; just a little under-eye concealer, mascara, a smidgen of rosy blush, and a quick swipe of tinted pink lip-gloss.

Lately, I've begun to think my self-esteem won't recover from my relationship and break-up with Kevin three months ago. All the signs were there with Kevin. I just ignored them. He was lazy, selfish, and a shit lover, but he did make me laugh. In the end, he was laughing at me more than with me. Like the time he flung ice cream at me just because I was wearing a Chicago Cubs T-shirt and he was a White Sox fan. Stupid jackass White Sox lover.

I turn off my flat iron and the bathroom light and make my way toward the front door. I'm leaving my sanctuary. I'll admit I never intended to be away for three months. One week turned into two, turned into months. But this is back in the saddle Monday. Uncle Bernie needs me, and I can't skulk around anymore pretending it was my ex. Time to pony-up, Summers.

I grab my black motorcycle jacket and studded designer bag. With one more glance in the hallway mirror, I smile and giggle at myself. I totally look like a rock 'n' roll star's arm candy heading out to a job she doesn't need, since she's sleeping with a rock star. I open the front door and walk out onto the landing. I lock my door, throw my keys deep down in my purse, and step onto the cracked sidewalk.

I take a deep intoxicating gulp of the crisp fall air. I love fall, especially in Chicago. The green to orangeish purple leaves sway in the early morning wind to some type of secret fall melody.

I dig in my bag for my earbuds and attach them to my phone. I glimpse at the time on my phone and pick up the pace. I don't want to disappoint Uncle Bernie and Aunt Helen by being late on my first day back.

The sounds of "Look After You" by The Fray filter through my ears. I briskly cross the street and head up the stairs to catch the train. Thank goodness my work schedule puts me ahead of the biggest rush hour train times. Otherwise, I'd be sitting my pretty little butt down and waiting for an unpacked train to arrive.

As I wait for the train, I close my eyes and take in another deep breath. With the music singing in my ears and my hands shoved deep in my leather pockets, I board the train. Soon I'll see my dear Uncle Bernie, along with my Aunt Helen, and I can hardly wait.