Inheritance

Chapter 4

The wind starts to howl and the windows rattle loudly until they are suddenly blown open by a strong gust of wind. I go and close my window, though I'm pretty sure it was locked when I went to sleep. The skies turn stormy and my mood is pretty stormy itself. It's 01:15 on a Sunday morning and my chances of going back to sleep are slim to none. Not the best position to be in less than 22 hours and 45 minutes away from Monday... or my birthday I guess. I look at my bed, wishing that my mind wasn't wired as it was, that I could go back to sleep without dreams, but now that I have climbed out of bed and my feet have touched the floor, any chance of going back to sleep has dissipated. I walk over to my bathroom, deciding to draw myself a bath. I open the tap and plug the drain. I hop back into my room and start ruffling through my cupboard searching for my Sunday slouch outfit. The feeling is back, not the cold one, but the pleasant, warm one. I try and shake it off, I take out my sweatpants and tank top and head back to the bathroom with a book on top of my folded clothes.

I climb in, turn off the water and start to immerse myself in Tara Brown's newest romance. I read until the water turns cold and my book is nearly finished. I carefully place the novel somewhere it won't get soaked and climb out of the bath tub. I dry myself off with a fluffy towel and put on my slouch outfit.

As I grab my book and stroll into my room I look at the clock on the wall above my bed, five am, too late to fall asleep unless I want to miss my last Sunday as a sixteen-year-old, but too early to go and make breakfast. I settle on grabbing another novel and finish both before the cold feeling replaces the warm one again, almost arctic in its chill. With that I head down to the kitchen and start with breakfast.

My dad trudges into the kitchen a little while later, eyes thick with sleep, as the bacon sizzles on the pan. "Why are you awake before 08:00 Angel? I thought it was your life's mission to sleep more than the hibernating bears," my dad asks confused. "It's nothing," I tell him, "Just one of those nights." my dad shakes his head and opens the fridge, taking oranges to make some juice. "Monès!" I hear my mother calling from my parent's room. "Yes Kidè, love?" My father calls back, squeezing the last bit of juice from an orange. "Oh, there you are," she says floating into the room in her night gown, hugging my father from behind as he grabs another orange to pulverize. She reaches up on her toes and kisses him on the cheek before she walks around the counter to greet me and places a kiss on my cheek as well. "What can I do to help?" She asks eyeing the bacon and eggs on the stove. Deciding it would be dangerous to allow her any closer to the food than she is now I point to the kettle on the other side of the kitchen and ask, "Would you mind turning on the kettle for me?" She looks me in the eye with a mocking expression. "Too afraid to let me close to the food, aren't you?" I smile at her guiltily as my dad tries to choke back a laugh as she saunters off turn on the kettle.

"Have you decided what you are going to do for your birthday tomorrow?" I look at my dad in the most exasperated expression I can manage. He chuckles. "What?" He asks while squeezing the life out of another orange. "It's a relevant question. I would like to know if there is still room in my little darling's life for her parents on her seventeenth birthday." The question is so inane that I almost laugh. "Of course, there's going to be room for you guys tomorrow. I invited Ami and Chris over after school to watch movies and get high on sugar, but after that I'm all yours." My mom starts to say something, but my dad gives her a look that pleads not now. He smiles at me and finishes with the last orange as my mom gives me a hug and says that they're going to go and dress now. She and my dad walk off to their room in hushed conversation and I swear I hear them say something about magic.

I shake the thought out of my head and focus my attention on the sizzling bacon and eggs while listening to hear when the kettle is ready so I can start to soak the tea bags. I inch closer to the stove in an effort to get rid of the chill running along my spine while I scramble the eggs. I inhale the scent of crispy, salty bacon as I flip the pieces over, torturing myself even more when I add the mushrooms. The smells do so well in their job to distract me from the ice in my blood that need a distraction from my distraction. I look out the window above the stove while scrambling the eggs and adding enough salt to the eggs that it could be fatal to a lesser being. Our yard isn't huge but it was big enough for a lemon and fig tree at the back and space for a swing set and a woodworking shed out front. Our grass was a bit overgrown due to a couple of weeks of neglect and Georgie, the neighbour's daughter, has left her bike out on their lawn again. I look at it all, but I don't see it.

All I'm seeing is a guy with vibrant green eyes that can only be the result of contact lenses and hair that is so dark that it seems to suck all the light out of the air around it, I don't recognise him from anywhere, yet he seems as familiar as Ami and Chris would. I look him in the eyes and raise an eyebrow in question. He blinks for a second as if to clear his mind and raises his eyebrow in return his expression an exact mirror image of mine. The ice in my veins crystallised under his gaze and the suddenly between one breath and the next he disappeared into nothingness.

I blink a couple of times to try and make him reappear, but it is as if he disappeared on the wind or dissipated with what was left of the morning fog. The chill along my spine has disappeared as well. My parents step into the room again, fully clothed, my mother in her black slacks and a flowy silver top and my dad dressed in pitch black comfy jeans and a light grey button-up shirt. I leave my dad to make sure nothing chars while I go and make a cup, actually more like mug of tea for each of us. My parents are creepily quiet while we dish up breakfast and drink our tea at the breakfast nook. They've barely said a word since they went to get dressed and I'm starting to think they fought in their room.

I won't lie and say my parents don't ever fight, but they rarely truly get mad at each other and they NEVER give each other the silent treatment. I have this bad feeling whatever fight they had, for whatever reason they're ignoring each other, my gut tells me it has something to do with me. Even the thought that I could be cause for the sudden frustration and anger between two people who would sacrifice the world for each other makes me downright nauseated.

Luckily my parents start to speak to each other, laughing freely as if the tension in the air doesn't exist about halfway through breakfast. It lifts a weight off of my shoulders that was crushing me without my knowledge. I listen to them discuss the new security protocols the firm has implemented, their worry about the hacking that apparently took place a couple of days ago. They say no high-level information was taken, just a few employees personal information. They talk about Mrs. Parakatathi and what upgrades they can install. Sofia and my parents have been friends since before I was a twinkle in my mother's eyes and she has been like a grandmother to me. Especially since I don't have any grandparents, they all passed shortly after my parents got married, so I guess for all intents and purposes Sofia is my grandmother, especially when she sneaks me chocolate.

"How was she yesterday?" My mom asks with concern in her eyes. "She seemed fine when I was there, still the barely sane, incredibly awesome badass old lady that she always is," I answer, wondering why they're so worried about her. Now it's dad's turn. "You sure? She didn't seem dazed or confused and she didn't say anything weird while you guys were there?"

"No, she seemed perfectly fine. Why? Did you guys hear something from her doctor?" My parents look at each other and seem to come to a decision. "Nothing," my mom says. "We just worry about her age, do us a favour and go visit her today. I'm sure she'd love to see you one last time before you turn 17." My dad continues, it's seriously freaky how they complete each other's thoughts sometimes, it's like they share a brain. Besides that, I really have missed Mrs. Parakatathi these last couple of days, the only time I've seen her this week was the brief greeting we exchanged yesterday. "Of course I will go and keep her company today, I don't have anything else planned and my chocolate levels are critically low." My dad chuckles at this. "Then go ahead, you can drive my car today just be back by seven please, we have something we want to talk about before tomorrow and I'm making roast beef and milk tart." My stomach rumbles at the thought of dad's milk tarts, it's a recipe he got from one of the South Africans at the firm. "Will do," I reply licking my lips. I finish my breakfast and I'm off to coerce chocolate from an old lady who should have known better than to spoil me when I was younger.