Blue Words

A New Begining

Part I

A New Beginning

"Even the most jagged of pasts can be atoned for if given a second chance."

 

George raised her head and glared suspiciously at the alarm clock. It had to be playing games with her. For what felt like hours she had lain awake anxiously rehearsing the coming day and time had barely moved. Now after resting her heavy eyelids for what felt like seconds it had surged forward hours. Five A.M. already. Tabitha would be up soon.

She had recently developed a need to watch the sunrise with mummy every morning. George had found it cute at first, but the early starts had quickly bludgeoned that cuteness from existence. She had driven herself to the brink of madness trying to put a stop to the early morning intrusions, but still the two year old woke like clockwork at a quarter past five every morning. Mummy was eventually forced to accept it as part of her morning routine, although it would be lying to say that a slide bolt on the outside of Tabitha's door had never crossed George's mind.

Begrudgingly she switched the alarm off, forgoing her last fifteen minutes of precious sleep, and dragged herself out of bed. George slipped her gown on and tied back her long, black hair. She stared at her face in the mirror, poking and stretching at the darkened bags under her eyes. She grumbled something under her breath, gave the reflection a disapproving glare and set about preparing breakfast for Tabitha and herself. In the background the television mumbled and gossiped of events which had occured as she slept.

"Mining magnate Razeik Grovern was found dead in his home overnight. Police have ruled out foul play citing natural causes as the probable cause of death."

 

Right on time the munchkin emerged from her room. "Morning sweetie," said George as she filled two tall glasses with orange juice. Tabitha smiled and ran straight over to the large front window of their apartment where she excitedly threw the curtains open and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. George carried the tray of breakfast to the couch and took a seat. The two year old ran over and leapt up onto the couch beside her mother, bouncing a splash of orange juice over the lip of the glass and into George's lap.

Their apartment was nothing special to look at; dinted walls, flaking paint, stained carpet and a faint but persistent wet dog smell (despite never actually owning a dog). However, it did have an amazing eastward facing view of Brisbane. As much as George dreaded the early rises, there was no denying that she loved snuggling with Tabitha. She was also painfully aware that these experiences wouldn't last forever and were something to be treasured while they were an option. So she smiled and patiently endured her sticky lap. Mother and daughter watched as the golden, pink rays of fledgling sun light crept their warming fingers through the high rises of the city and across the river.

George was not a woman who glowed with maternal instincts. In fact George herself never believed she would ever be a mother. Very much a tomboy in her youth, she had never really been a baby lover; despite working with small children for a living. Before Tabitha had come along George had revelled in her reputation as a party girl with a very fiery temper. Her uni days had been a haze of wild, drunken nights dancing and drinking, followed by long, painful days sleeping and purging.

A relentlessly competitive spark within meant that she enjoyed staying fit, but an equally relentless desire to reject mainstream culture meant she preferred self defence classes at the local community hall to the city gym which most of her friends attended. The clientele there were far more accepting, with a wider range of ages, backgrounds and personalities to mix with rather than the name brand Barbies at the gym. She felt that her diverse training partners were far less judgmental and, well....bitchy; important to someone like George who so frequently rubbed others the wrong way.