Opposites

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The end of my first week living in my new home hadn't been entirely awful

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The end of my first week living in my new home hadn't been entirely awful. Melody and I disregarded one another, that is, if we happened to be caught in the same room together. Everything had been smooth sailing during my time here. Considering my lack of energy for a fight, I stay to myself.

It wasn't until one morning that I spotted a woman with blonde hair in the kitchen. My predictions had been correct about Aaron having a wife, Trisha was her name. Sitting around the table like the Brady Bunch, she was sitting in the seat next to my father. Her love-struck eyes were stuck on his moving lips.

Absorbed in a serious discussion, the table erupted in laughter as if they'd just heard the funniest joke. The moment ended just as I entered the room. As I advanced closer to them, the table falls deadly silent. Discomfort brimmed from their piercing eyes. It had me questioning whether or not to turn around and lock myself back in my room. I couldn't allow them to intimidate me into hiding. It wasn't in my nature to surrender that easily.

I met the two pair of eyes head on. My expression passive as I grew closer to the table. Trisha glanced at my father, then back at me as if she couldn't believe I was actually here. Her eyes grew wide which confirmed her shock.

Just as I went to insert my body into a seat, the same two pair of eyes watched me cautiously. After my stepmother's initial shock settled, the greeting I receive from her was less than welcoming. It was evident my stepmother wasn't very fond of me based on her condemning grimace.

From what I could tell this woman wasn't used to seeing someone who looked like me. Bell bottom jeans and the abstract painting that was printed on the front of my shirt were probably considered poor girl clothes in her eyes. Rested on the designer outfit presently glued to her body, I could hear the judgment practically pouring from her facial expression. Now it all made since where Melody got her charming personality from. They both seemed to have heads bigger than their brains and believed that everything was supposed to be handed to them on a silver platter.

Breakfast that morning was awkward. Their conversation halted the moment I join the table. The four of us eat in silence. The clanking noise of our utensils was the only sound that permitted the air.

My stomach starts to feel tight from eating too fast. The things you do just to escape from an uncomfortable situation. After swallowing my last bite, I waste no time standing from the table. I pretend like I can't hear the whispering behind my back. As much as I want to go back and give them a piece of my mind, they weren't worth it. I was here to put in my time. I'm leaving the first chance I get. I wasn't about to stress over whether these people liked me or not.

Trisha was in and out after that. For a couple of days, she didn't appear during breakfast or dinner. I wasn't complaining. It was more peaceful when she was gone. Melody had even chilled out a bit. When I did see her again, we were never in the same room for long to speak to each other.

Trisha was the kind of woman obsessed with the idea of staying young. It had everything to do with the Botox done on her nose and lips. Plus, the lack of clothing that covered her skin. She appears around her late thirties. I could tell my stepmother loved to flaunt her body. Most of the time I found her walking through the house wearing outfits that revealed too much. She wore clothes I wouldn't be caught dead in. Wrinkles marred areas of her skin. Discoloration from too much sun appeared as dark patches on her body. Like my uncanny resemblance to my mother, Melody was like an old photo of high school Trisha.

My stepmother didn't want me here. I couldn't fault her for it. Imagine being told one day by your husband that he had a child, which of course, you never knew about. That would make anyone feel as if they were betrayed. To an extent, I completely understood where she was coming from. It's not like I was jumping up and down to be here either.

You know when they say, 'you never know how good you got it until you visit another household'. Even the infamous, 'You never know what goes on behind closed doors'. That was the jist of this family. Their family dynamic is different from what I'm accustomed to. Their relationship bordered more on the lines of friendship than parent(s) and daughter. Whenever Melody was in the same room as her parents, her eyes were stuck on her phone. Occasionally, she would divulge into a conversation with them. Under my Grandma's roof, you got a slap on the hand if you were caught red-handed with your phone out during dinner. The older I got the more it became habit to hide my phone under the dinner table. I couldn't imagine the consequences I would've received from using the same language Melody did with her parents. Unlike her, manners existed in my vocabulary. I was taught how to speak to my elders at an early age. Clearly, Melody missed that lesson. She wouldn't have survived a day living with my Grandmother.

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