1.
I was awoken by an annoying sound which I soon registered as the ringtone on my phone. I pressed ‘Ignore’ and continued on in my dream which involved and Abercrombie model and some massage oil. Until I was disrupted by the annoying sound again, to which I finally answered.
“Hello?” I answered, my was throat was sore and dry.
“Everliegh dear, where are you?” the uppity tone which curled at the end of the question indicated my mother, and I could tell that she wasn’t impressed.
I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus to get my bearings “I stayed over at Noomi’s last night” it appeared that I was sleeping on Noomi’s coffee table, Noomi was on the couch and Ainslie was underneath it. No Saroya, which struck me as interesting, until I located the smell of vodka and truffle oil coming from Noomi’s kitchen.
“Well” my mother said, “Harrison and I are leaving for St. Barts in an hour and we would like you to be home before then, there just a few things to go over.”
“Yes mom, see you then” I said, snapping my phone shut. As much as I loved my mother, there was something that I couldn’t really stand about her; maybe it was the way she was so pushy.
I got up and managed to get off the coffee table without standing on Ainslie, on one side and all the coffee table trinkets on the other. I tip toed across the landing on the first level and found, Saroya casually flipping a frying pan of vodka-truffle oil cherry tomatoes, mushrooms, bacon, capsicums and Spanish onion. Saroya was the only person I knew who cooked with vodka more than she did olive oil. Most of us would say a waste of alcohol; she would say ‘it’s something a little bit different’.
“Morning” she said once she notice my presence in the doorway, “Omelette?” she offered, setting down the frying pan and picking up a metal bowl of egg and began whisking it.
“No,” I sad rubbing some sleep out of my eye “I have to get home, mum and Harrison are going to St. Barts and she needs to go over some stuff with me.”
“Do you thinks it’s stupid? You left home and now you back and it’s like you’re a stranger.”
“Tell me about it, but until you spend all of your trust fund and move back in with your mother and husband number four, fuck you” I started to giggle.
She knew I only meant half of what I said; she poured the egg mix into the frying pan and continued to make her omelette. I picked up a piece of cherry tomato from the chopping board and popped it into my mouth. It was rich and had a brief sour bite to it something that could only be sold for 13 bucks at the Dean & DeLuca down the street, I made a mental note to stop by there on the way home and treat my subtle hangover to a cappuccino. I blew her a kiss from the door and skipped down the stairs to ground floor, I slipped my heels back onto my tender feet before picking up my coat and ducking out the door. The first morning of the year was cold, and the wind instantly bit at my cheeks. I pulled my coat tight around me and flicked my collar up to protect my neck and ward myself against sickness. I rubbed my hands together before stuffing them in my pockets on my way up the street.
Mental note: Call Coco and tell about gloves before she claims them for herself.
I wound myself around the bodies that blocked the streets, as I turned onto Park Avenue. A quick duck into the warm and cluster store front of Dean & DeLuca, a wave to Mark behind the counted in gesture for him to make my special and the size of the line only made me think of how worth it, it would be. I pulled out my purse to get my money, and he held up his hand in a wave and said “Don’t worry about it, first day of year. It’s on me.”
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My Works
Teen FictionA collection of my all works and musings for you to read what u fancy! This is where I put my stuff when its on hold, I'll bring it back out when I'm going to continue it but let me know if there is something you like, and if you want me to continue...