The Girlfriend Experience

Chapter 8: Golden Opportunities

Ethan

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My Father works at a bank downtown; he's a Personal Financial Advisor. With bonuses and benefis he makes close to a hundred grand per year. My Mother owns and manages a wedding shop that sells everything wedding related, from dresses, to shoes, to veils, to jewelry etc....

Her Father died twelve years ago and left her a gargantuan amount of money and she invested most of it in the store. I think sometimes after having me and Dad not being around she got tired of being a housewife. She wanted to add something extra to her name hence why she decided to open up a shop based on something she loves.

The store is her life, she talks about her clients and her co-workers all the time....that is when she's not badgering me about what to do with my life. When she's not at the store she's at home being a part-time housewife. When asked by her friends on how she does it, handling being a mother, a store owner and a wife to a successful man she gushes and says, "It's not that hard, it's all about balance." My mom thinks everything is about finding the perfect balance. She could have been a gymnast if she wanted to.

My parents aren't bad people they're just a little narrow minded when it comes to raising me. Since I don't have any siblings they put all their focus and energy into me. Being an only child sucks. My only escape is when I finally leave for college next year and I plan on going somewhere far. I need the space to breathe and spread my wings without them questioning my every move.

Take this morning, for example, I'm dressed and on my way out the door feeling optimistic about the events which are planned for today. My palm hasn't even made contact with the door knob and my Mother is bellowing my name from the kitchen. I was hoping to avoid her and her million questions this morning but evidently she beat me to the punch. Fortunately for me, my Father has already left for work which means it won't be two against one.

Upon arriving in the kitchen my Mother rushes towards me with a plate of pancakes.

"Eat," she orders then plants a wet kiss on my already moist forehead.

She's got her phone glued to her ear yelling at her assistant Margaret about sending the wrong dress to alterations.

"The lace overlay is for Andrea, I thought you knew this," she says as she wipes the kitchen counter. Margaret must have responded with something she didn't like because my Mother's tone flares up, "What's the point of being my assistant when you can't get a damn thing right!" she hangs up. "Eat your pancakes, Ethan." Her attention is fully on me now. Lucky Margaret.

I stab the fork into the pile of pancakes in front of me, my appetite is nowhere to be found. For some reason when my Mother fixes me a plate of food she always fills it up abundantly as if she's feeding a Football player or a starved child. She doesn't seem to understand the concept that I don't eat like a normal teenage boy. I have far more important things to worry about than food, like getting girls to notice me, girls like Rhiannon Penrose.

Shit! Rhiannon. I look down at my phone; it's seven twenty-three. School starts at eight. The morning traffic is an absolute bitch and if I'm going to make it on time I need to leave now. I take three quick bites back to back and push the plate aside.

"Bye, Mom," I say about to walk away.

"Wait a minute, Mister," she calls after me. "You barely touched your plate."

"I'm going to be late."

She places her hand under her neck, her pinky resting right below her carotid artery. She's in deep thought about something, something she can't tell me because she knows that I'm not going to agree with it.