I wake up to the familiar sound of rocks being thrown at my window. Shit. I forgot to cancel with Asher. To be fair, it's not like I have his number or anything so I technically had no way of telling him that I couldn't hang out today.
I look at the clock on my bedside table to see that it is already 4 p.m.
I open up my window just to see Asher, rock in hand ready to throw it.
"Wait! I'm here. Don't throw the fucking rock please," I pull my hood over my head, remembering how I must look at the moment.
He laughs and puts the small rock down.
"Asher I'm sorry, but I can't hang out. My new 'stepmother' is coming for dinner. She's going to be here soon."
He looks disappointed, and I do feel bad. It makes me feel weird that he cares so much about hanging out with me. I just thought he pitied me.
"Oh. That's fine. Maybe I'll come over later," He grins and walks away before I can protest. I don't say anything, I just roll my eyes and shut my window.
Surprisingly, I actually want to look decent for Sarah. Asher coming here put a little spring in my step for some reason- plus I don't want her to think I am rude. In saying that, I haven't looked good for anyone in a while- I might be a little rusty.
I have a shower and quickly blowdry my thick hair. Then I use my flat iron to straighten it as much as I can. No one every taught me how to take care of my curly hair. My mother had the same hair as me, but I never even got to meet her. It's nice knowing that I share that trait with her. Almost like a connection that can't be taken away by anyone.
Normally I just leave my hair and put it into a bun or a braid. A couple of years ago though I would straighten it every morning for school or for any outing that I had. It was like an addiction.
I put on jeans and a hoodie. Sure, I could dress nicer. But I don't want her to think I am the sort of person to just wear a sundress around the house. Maybe I used to be that sort of person. Not anymore.
I go downstairs, expecting my father to be home to be met by an empty house. I don't know what I expected. Him to be cooking a 4-course meal for his new girlfriend?
I realize that he is probably just going to bring home takeout and act like he cooks for me all the time. I wonder if Sarah knows what a shitty father he is to me. If she would even care.
I plop myself down on the couch and check the time. 5. My dad texted me and said that they would be here with takeout around 5:30.
I applaud myself for being ready on time- something that I always seem to struggle with.
I hear the door open.
I hear my dad's laugh, which I haven't heard in years. I hear a sweet woman's laugh as well and some chatter coming from both of them when they enter my view.
My dad is in a nice button-up shirt and dress pants, and a woman's arm is attached to his. Next to him is Sarah (I assume). She is in a cute sundress that reaches her ankles. She has huge hoops in her ears and her jet-black hair is cut close to her head. She is beautiful. Looks kind too.
She gives me a warm smile and comes to hug me, to my surprise. She has a maternal energy, a warm aroma that makes me relax.
"Amira. It's so lovely to meet you, sweetheart."
My dad gives me a 'be good' look from over her shoulder, and I nod at him simply. Sarah pulls away and shows me the bag of Chinese food.
"We brought some food," The smile hasn't left her face. It's terrifying. I don't think I could smile for that long if I tried.
I notice straight away that my dad is different around her. Happier, kinder maybe. It's weird seeing him like this. I don't ever remember him being happy- really. When I was younger, maybe. But I was naive and stupid back then. Everyone looked and seemed happy to me. Even me.
We sit down at the dinner table and Sarah lays out the food.
"I'll do it, honey," My dad takes the plates from her. My mouth has to be wide open by now. My dad, helping out? Not in my world.
My dad sets the table and then sits down.
"Tell me about yourself. I want to know everything."
My dad smiles at Sarah, and it makes me want to punch him in the face.
"Richard has barely told me anything about you!" She playfully shoves him.
I give him a pained look. He knows why he hasn't told her anything about me. Because he doesn't know anything about me. He's never asked. And he knows that. I think his plan must be just to pray that I will forgive him. Hope that I will welcome Sarah with open arms into a family that is barely even there in the first place.
"Yeah. Well, I'm 17 and on summer break right now. I go to the local high school. Uh... I like to read," I struggle with finding things to say- I don't have many hobbies.
"That's so lovely. Maybe I'll get you some books sometime," She smiles and my Dad smiles with her.
"Yeah. She loves it when I get her books. Don't you darling?" My dad looks at me and I nod meekly.
He has never bought me books. Ever. He didn't even know that I liked reading. Once I asked him to buy me a book for Christmas, and he gave me 20 bucks and told me to get it myself. He didn't even look up from the TV.
We start to eat, and she asks me many questions throughout the night. My dad is mostly silent. He doesn't even know the things I'm telling Sarah.
She asks typical things, 'Do you have a boyfriend?' and 'What's your favorite subject in school?"
I answer each time politely, despite the constant screaming in my head.
I have nothing against Sarah. I like Sarah. It's my dad that I have the issue with. I realize more and more throughout the night that my dad has made Sarah think that he's a good dad. A loving, caring parent who I love. He made her think that he has a happy family back home.
It makes my blood boil- the fact that he lied about our relationship so that he could get the girl. Instead of making an effort to have a relationship with me, he lies.
I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, shut the door and cry. Tears are streaming down my face and I use my sleeve to stop anyone from hearing anything.
I normally wouldn't cry about this sort of thing, considering what I've been through. But I can't help it. My own father needs to act like he loves me for his own benefit. No consideration to my feelings whatsoever.
I jump when my phone rings from my pocket. It reads 'UNKNOWN NUMBER'. I wipe my tears and get off the floor.
When I answer I hear the voice I least expect on the other line. Asher.
"Hey Mira," I smile through my tears at the nickname, "Can I come over now?"
I check the time. 7 p.m.
I try to make my voice sound as normal as possible, not knowing if he will be able to tell that I was crying.
"Yeah. My stepmother is still over though so give it 10 minutes."
I only sniffle twice in that sentence. Accomplishment, if I do say so myself.
"Okay cool. See you."
I hang up and look at my puffy face in the mirror. That just makes me cry even more. I need something. I open the bathroom cabinet and scan the shelves until I find what I am looking for.
'Benzodiazepines, prescribed for anxiety to Amira Morelli'
I grab the pill bottle out and take 2 out. This medication was prescribed to me by my doctor for anxiety and panic attacks. I use it for that, and also just whenever I need a release.
I'm only supposed to use them very rarely and when I'm feeling a severe panic attack coming on and it's likely I will hurt myself.
I'd say I use these about once a week at this point, at least.
I pop them into my mouth, pull my hair back, and turn the bathroom sink water on. I swallow them down with ease and then I splash my face with the cold water.
I go downstairs- praying that I don't look too rough.
"I'm going to go to bed. I'm tired. Very nice meeting you though, Sarah."
"You too honey. Have a good sleep."
I smile at her but don't bother to even look at my dad.
A/n
This chapter was fun to write. Poor Amira :(. I promise I will show you what her previous trauma is. It's intense, and I don't want to introduce it too early. Be patient, it will be worth it. Especially when Asher finds out about it ;)
Have the best day my lovesss.
*Not edited