The Pains of Growing Up

Prologue

The rain had already been pouring down for hours as young April Roberts held her hand out on a bay window and pouted. She had planned on going outside today, but because of the stupid rain, she was a sitting duck in her room. Of course her dad and stepmom had to be gone now on their important business trip, she thought with mild anger. They'd already been gone for two weeks.

Luckily, her nanny, Amelia, was there to keep her company on the chilly, dreary day. Amelia was a kindhearted young woman with nothing but love to give to anyone who met her. In all honesty, April practically considered her her real mother, since the woman who gave birth to her was long gone, living her own life somewhere on the East Coast, according to her father. She tried not to let it bother her, though.

April looked over at the large lawn she claimed as her own. The looming trees beckoned her to come outside, their tender waves teasing her desire to play, to invite her neighbors over to her treehouse. However, Father's rule stuck up straight in her memory. "No playing outside in the rain," she'd been told on numerous occasions. Today was not the day to go breaking Father's rules.

She checked the clock perched neatly on her simplistic nightstand: 13:18. A gentle sigh escaped her lips. When boredom hit her, it hit her hard. Though, she could swear it felt like she was forgetting something. She figured if there was something she was forgetting, Amelia would warn her about it.

With a swipe of her wrist, she picked up her very full planner for this year and found the date, April 8th, a full week before her 11th birthday. Her father had promised he'd be home by then, but she knew not to expect him to keep that promise. It wouldn't have been the first time he missed her birthday, and she was sure it wouldn't be the last. He was always just so busy, so she never tried to fuss about it.

The sound of quick footsteps climbed the stairs leading up to her room, startling her inner monologue. Amelia opened the door much more loudly than April had expected, causing her to flinch. "Hey April, you ready to go? We have to leave in three minutes," she started. April blinked in confusion. Ready for what? She looked down at the page dedicated to the current date and sighed in disappointment towards herself. She had forgotten about her cello lesson with the private instructor her dad was friends with. She had always hated these lessons.

"Just... give me a minute." With a quick nod, Amelia was out the door. As hastily as she could, she changed out of her pajamas, tamed her short, unruly hair, and slipped on her comfiest pair of shoes. After glancing at the clock, she sighed with relief. She still had a minute.

April ran down the spiral stairs she had always thought were more fun to slide down, but now wasn't the time. Amelia nodded to the coat rack, where she found her umbrella with her favorite flower on it, daisies. Wanting to keep good luck, she waited until she was on the porch to open it up. She wasn't superstitious, but it didn't hurt to try.

On the way to the concert hall where she normally had her lessons, she sighed to calm herself down. Although it was quiet, Amelia definitely noticed. "What's wrong, Muffy? You sound upset." April smiled softly to herself at the silly nickname.

When she was much younger and still leaning how to talk, little April had trouble saying the letter n. One morning, Amelia had asked her what she wanted for breakfast. Without hesitation, she held her hands high above her head on the counter, and cheered, "Muffy!" It took Amelia a couple minutes to figure out what she meant, and she was laughing with the sudden realization that she had said the word 'muffin.' The nickname had just stuck. The memory made her happy to think about, but her smile quickly faded.

Her dad didn't have any nicknames for her.

She felt dramatic, really. It wasn't a big deal that her dad didn't have a nickname for her. To her, though, it really mattered. No "Hi, Sweetie!" for when he got home, or "Good luck, pumpkin!" She honestly couldn't remember the last time her dad had said "I love you."

"April? Are you okay?" Amelia asked, genuine concern laced in her relaxing voice. April sighed again.

"Do you think he'll be back for my birthday?"

The words seemed to startle Amelia. She looked torn at the fact that April felt so downhearted and hopeless. She had to tell the truth.

Amelia took in a deep breath. "I'll be honest, Muffy. No, he's not," she began. April shrunk into a ball at the bold truth, but her nanny continued. "He wanted me to tell you that he really wishes he could be there, but he's just too busy—"

April cut in. "That's what he always says! He's always telling me, "Not this time, April," or, "I'm sorry; I'm too busy." He's always too busy." She bit her lip before continuing. "I'm surprised he hasn't left too, like Mama did after I was born." Those words broke Amelia's heart.

The grown woman pulled out her phone, making a call to someone. April looked away, thinking she didn't care either, which was unlike her. "Hey, Maxwell? We won't be able to make it today, terribly sorry for the inconvenience." She mumbled a couple other words, but the conversation was really in one ear, out the other with April. She snapped back to reality when Amelia cleared her throat.

"Max says he's willing to cancel this week's lesson. How's about we go get some ice cream and talk this out? Does that sound fun?" April smiled once more, elated that someone actually understood.

The two of them sat inside the ice cream parlor they'd gone to together many times before. April's demeanor was much more relaxed, as she knew Amelia was truly listening to her. She took a spoonful of her sundae occasionally as she unloaded everything that had been bothering her for the last few weeks or so: that her father wasn't home enough for her, she didn't feel like she had a real family, she felt like she wasn't loved by her parents, and that she thought her dad was too busy for her. "So... yeah, that's basically it," she mumbled after letting all that out.

Amelia smiled comfortingly at her. "Y'know, I'm super proud of you for letting me know all this. I know it seems like you're just not good enough for your dad, but I promise you that isn't the case. I know he loves you; he just has trouble showing it with the crazy amount of work he has to do. I'll talk to him, but only if you want me to. I understand if you don't trust him enough to let him know because he's not here very often." April nodded slowly.

"Please don't tell him."

Amelia nodded in return. "Anything for my favorite little girl. You know I'll always love you, right?" April's heart softened. Amelia really did feel like her mother, and she was glad to have someone here who genuinely cared about her from an adult standpoint.

"I love you too, Amelia."

After they finished their ice creams, Amelia had suggested they go hang out in the treehouse. When April brought up her father's rule about playing outside, she winked. "He doesn't have to know," she said mischievously with a sly grin. April liked that idea.

When the sky began to get dark, and the rain finally stopped, they climbed down the ladder to the treehouse and ran inside. Amelia gently patted the child's head. "You better get to bed, young lady. You have school in the morning." April nodded silently, hugging her caretaker. The two held each other silently for a couple minutes before the child finally let go, running back to her room.

As she lay in bed, April thought about how much she really trusted Amelia, and how much less she trusted her dad and stepmom. She still loved them, though. She sighed contentedly, loving her complex, yet simple life. If she had Amelia and the neighbor kids to make and keep her happy, she never wanted things to change.