The Beauty Underneath

Chapter Four: Face in the Mirror

It was silent at first. But then he suddenly thought of a conversation. “Was that your brother? He’s really good-looking.”

I feigned a surprise expression. “Is this the part where you tell me you’re secretly gay?”

He gave me a look. “No, I was just wondering where you got your looks,” he said evenly.

I laughed. “Touché. And yes, he’s my brother. He’s a lot popular than I am. Girls follow him like a moth to a flame.”

“And your aunt? Gina, isn’t it? She looks so young!”

“My father was seventeen when she was born,” I explained. “They’re not that close, maybe because of the age gap. I never saw her when I was small except twice – when my grandparents died. I only know that she’s a photographer and she’s a happy-go-lucky. When my parents died, the family lawyer told us that she’s the only living relative that we have. It’s either we’re going to stay in a foster home or Gina’s going to take care of us.”

“You don’t call her ‘aunt’?”

“She’s twenty-seven and she doesn’t want to be called ‘aunt.’ How about you? Who do you live with?”

“My grandparents,” he replied. “They’ve been really kind to me. They’re American, though. My mom was an American while Dad was British. My accent’s like this because I stayed in London longer.”

“I like your accent,” I admitted as we took a right. “I really love the British.”

Hugh chuckled. “That’s not the first time I heard that.” He thoughtfully cocked his head to the side. “Where do you live anyway?”

“You know that big house where some people thought it’s haunted? Well, that’s it.”

He turned to me in surprise. “You do know it’s haunted right?”

I thought about the voice that I heard last night, but then pushed it away. It was jet-lag and I was hearing voices in my head. “I don’t believe in ghosts,” I said bravely.

Hugh raised an eyebrow, unbelieving. “Oh?”

I nodded firmly. “Hell yes.”

“You’re not really most girls, are you?” Hugh said, shaking his head.

“What does that mean?”

“You’re different,” he said. “Not in a bad way. You’re the first girl I know who’s interested in musicals. I thought I was the only one. And sometimes I don’t go around and admit to anyone that I like musicals. People might think it’s girly of me.”

“Simon like musicals,” I assured him. “He just doesn’t let anyone see it. But back in New York, my family used to watch a musical in Broadway once a week. It is family tradition… Or was.”

Hugh smiled at me sympathetically. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did your parents die?” he asked slowly.

I swallowed and looked away. “Car crash. Dad instantly died but Mom was able to say goodbye to us in the hospital.”

“Well, at least, you didn’t actually see them die.”

I turned to him in shock. He faced me too, but there was something sad in his eyes. “You… you saw them die?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“It’s not as if it was my choice,” Hugh admitted, sighing. “They didn’t die at the same time. Mom was the first one. She was sick. Brain cancer, you know. It was a Tuesday night. Dad was buying dinner; I stayed in the hospital. Mom called for me so I went in. She held my hand and told me things that she never did. She told me I need to take care of myself; that I need to take care of Dad. She told me she loved me and I told her I love her. She closed her eyes and never opened them again.”