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Two

              Two;

              Leven

The white hallway seems to last forever as Jo and I walk down it, my breath hitching in my throat as we past paintings of old royals with their over dramatic coats and faces that oddly resemble babies. Usually I love these old paintings but today I'd rather gouge my eyes out than look at them. 

Jamie promised to help us with money issues but she said we would have to come see her first. Jo was going to come alone today, but with what happened last night, she told me that maybe it would be better if we came together. But, if you ask me, I think last minuet jitters got to her and she's just scared to come alone. Scared she should be. Jamie has no idea Jo's pregnant, or that her fiancé is in jail, wrongfully might I add. 

"Remember," Jo says. "Don't mention Dad, or the money, or Isaac -- or anything like that. Okay Leven?"

"Like I would say anything to her." 

"This is for our own good, Lev. Dad would have wanted this, and so would Gramps and Gran. I'm not doing this to torture you. This is scary for me too-" 

"Jo Henley scared of something," I fake a gasp. "The world must be ending."

Jo sighs and wraps her arm around mine. "For our own good," she mumbles. "For Dad." 

We stop at a black door with the numbers 368 painted in white, right in the center. It screams Jamie; black and white, smooth and clean. Let's not forget the mat with the words "flat, sweet flat," written in cursive, begging to be stepped on with dirty shoes.

So I grant its wishes.

As soon as Jo knocks, the door swings open and I freeze. She looks the same even after thirteen years. The same long, brown hair. Pale skin and blue eyes. Blood orange lipstick. It was as if I was seven again, looking at the women with tears in her eyes as she said goodbye to her children. 

"I'm not leaving you or your sister, Leven," she had whispered, putting my dress collar back in place. "I'm leaving your Father. It's different. You can come over anytime you like when Mummy gets a place of her own, alright, Darling?"

I never did. 

I also never understood what she meant by leaving Father was different. We were a family, right? Leaving Father meant she was leaving us. She was leaving the Easter Sunday's when we always dressed in the same colors; Jo and I wearing the same dresses. She was leaving the fun Saturday mornings when just she, Jo, and I would go shopping then for lunch. She was leaving the Primary and Secondary school memories -- and the University fails. Not to mention she wasn't there like a Mother should be when her daughter goes through her first broken heart. Poor Father, I ruined all of his pillows with mascara stains. 

"Jo, you're. . ." she whispers, her voice cracking.

"Pregnant. Yeah." I answer for my sister, who gives me a glare and takes her arm away from mine. 

Jamie puts her attention towards me with a smile and lets out a shaky breath, as if she's about to break down crying. "Oh, my Love, look how much you've grown!" 

I keep a straight face as she step towards me. I don't wrap my arms around her when she hugs me. I don't start crying. I'm not happy, I'm not thrilled to see my Mother again. I just want to go home. 

"Nice to see you, too, Jamie," I lie, pushing away from the women. 

"Mother or Mum," she corrects me with a frown. 

I start to say something -- "if you hadn't left us behind I would be calling you Mother or Mum, yes, good job Jamie!" -- but Jo senses that and speaks up.