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#TheWatsons
#TheWatsons
The wind slapped my face as I stepped down from the tube train, quivering. Foreseeing the weather I had tied up my hair into a ponytail on the train. With strong winds like these, I couldn’t bear the thought of how messy my hair would turn out to be if it was still left to fall freely on my shoulders. Both of my hands were gripping my arms hard to avoid the sharp chill air. I should have worn my down jacket. Touching down my card, I glanced up at the clock.
Oh.My.God.
It was nearly six. Mom must be crazily worried by now. Barging out of the station, I took out my phone from the small zipped pocket on my backpack. My heart ached as I stared at the crack on the screen while pressing the lock button. I waited a while for the screen to light up, but nothing happened. The screen remained dark. I pressed the button again, this time holding it down longer. Nothing happened. Oh, no.
My mom always called home at half past five to check if I had come home on days when I didn’t have work after school like today. If she couldn’t reach me by the home phone, she’d try my mobile. However, neither was an option, since I was not at home and my phone had died. I bet by now she had practically gone mad thinking of horrible explanations for the unanswered calls. For examples, I got hit by a truck and my phone was crashed under the wheels, or some gangs had abducted me to blackmail her, etc. With her imagination, my mom could have been a great detective writer instead of a receptionist in an unknown paperclip company.
After five minutes of walking, I finally got to my dilapidated-but-comfortable house. It was very old and dark, but you should have seen the house six years ago. The building had a lot of custom touches. Its interior was furnished perfectly while the exterior, which was only a small backyard, was decorated with lovely trees in those tiny little pots; yet with the work of time, all the beauty had faded. The red brick walls were now covered with graffiti and advertisements sprawling on top. Closing the metal door behind my back, I climbed up the steps, taking off my shoes as I went. And there, I found mom’s stilettoes were neatly placed on the second step. She must have been really worried to be back from work so early.
I tiptoed into the living room. But mom was being mom; she had already seen me before I walked in.
“Amelia Watson, where did you go?” Her voice sounded sharp and inspective. Her eyes were on me, analyzing my every move.
“I …”
“Did you go out with your boyfriend?” She queried.
“Huh?”
“Did you two have a good time together?”
“Moooommm! No! And no! I don’t have a boyfriend!” I whined to her continuous questioning, and she just chuckled. I couldn’t believe it. Mom wasn’t scolding me about coming home late.
“Did something good happen today?” I put my bag leaning on the coffee table and sat down with mom. Almost instantly, mom took my hand, beaming happily.
“Do you remember Lisa?” She asked. The four letters ran through my mind. L-i-s-a… What’s Lisa? Did she mean my Biology teacher? Yeah, her name was Lisa Grunger.
“No,” I finally answered.
“Aw, honey, she was your biggest fan.” Mom sighed while her hands were fixing my messy hair. Blame the wind.
“I have a fan?” My eyebrow arched as I raised the question. I got that habit from trying to copy Niall’s eyebrows on the posters.
“You don’t know how adorable you were.” Mom’s eyes drifted back into memories. The beautiful past we used to share with each other before Harold --my belatedly-showed-up dad, came. I have a complicated family background and you probably wouldn’t want to hear it.
“I’m not adorable now?” I asked her, pretending to be shocked and hurt. Mom giggled at my reaction. Her pure laughter was priceless. I always love to make mom laugh. Listening to the sound of her happiness was like listening to the song that I could play over and over again all day long like a Best Song Ever.
“No, you’re so grumpy now,” Mom said.
“No I’m not.”My voice came out high-pitched as I shook my head in disagreement.
“Honey, you’re always about work work work, study study study.” I could feel her hand touching mine. Just by that one single movement, I knew it was the same problem again. “You should trust mom and dad more and live like a teenager for once.”
Oh, yes, she was going to ramble about my not-so-teenage life again. Mom had brought up this subject many times, but I had always managed to drive the conversations away from the topic. I knew that mom only wanted what was best for me. Nevertheless, how could she ask me to live carefree; especially when Harold – my dad - was in such bad shape? I could hardly bear the sight of him in the house. The reek of alcohol had become dad’s own aroma. He could definitely produce a perfume called Eau de Harold Magnusson – the Alcoholic. It would definitely sell out its first day on the market.
“I know how you feel toward Harold,” Mom said as if she just read my mind, tightening the grip around my hand. “You think he is unreliable but you have to give him time to move on and get over with things, Mia,”
“I gave him five years for God’s sake. How much more time does he need?!”
After my retort, everything fell into silence. All the joy on mom's face quickly vanished though it was just there a few seconds ago. Guilt snaked slowly into my conscience. What had I done... I shouldn't have said that.
"Oh, I'm sorry, mom. It's just that..." I bit my lips, my hands swung up trying to catch something in air. Maybe a good explanation for my behavior. It seems my apology soothed mom a little. I really needed to steer the talk back to um, who was it, oh, Lisa. "Anyway, you were talking about Lisa."
Did I ever tell you that communication was not my forte?
"Oh, Lisa. Honey, do you remember Boo Bear -- the Teddy bear that you used to love so much and never went anywhere without?" The depression still lingered on her face as she spoke. Despite that, the tone of mom's voice sounded cheerful.
Dear Lisa, I don't know who you are but you must be somewhat special to my mom.
"Yeah, I remember."
"That was her present for you when you were three," Mom said, again smiling at the memory. I hated it when she was being nostalgic. Just like mom, I found every bit of those glorious days perfect. Nevertheless, as soon as my state of mind came back the present time, all of what I had just called "perfect" transformed into splinters piercing my heart. “I wonder where he is now,” Mom said.
“Harold threw it away,” I casually told her, avoiding looking at her face. I had a hunch that I wouldn’t like the expression. My eyes were fixed on the crumpled paper on the coffee table. “Mom, what’s this?” I reached out my hand for it but mom had snatched the paper before I could barely touch its corner.
“Just a stupid advertisement that they gave me,” said mom. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. Her blue eyes were avoiding mine; she was definitely hiding something. Well, mom was always a woman of secrets, though on the outside she seemed to be a happy-go-lucky person. Having lived with her my whole life, I had come to terms with her being secretive. “So, you remember a bit about Lisa now, right?” Mom looked at me hopefully.
“Yeah, I guess.” My legs moved up on the couch and crossed on each other; I leaned my back against the scatter cushions.
“She just called me a while ago. And, well, we talked about a lot of things. Lisa told that she has a son, Stephen…”
Uh oh, I don’t like where this is going.
“Oookay…” My voice dragged on the letter “O”. My fingers intertwined as I pursed my lips veering my eyes away from mom.
“He’s going to be here in London next month…”
Before mom could say anything else about this Stephen guy, I interrupted her. “If you want me to give him a few tours around London, well, you know my schedule, I’m sorry I can’t help him. And I have some serious things I need to do right now. Homework, homework, homework! Just like you said mom. It’s always been work, sleep, eat and study.” Saying everything in a breath, I stood up, didn’t forget to pick up my bag and walked straight up the stairs. I could hear mom’s disappointed “aw” on my way up.
Mom had always wanted me to lead a normal life like Angie’s: having a boyfriend and a best friend, going out on the weekends instead of staying indoors and learning by heart the Nando’s menu, wearing the latest fashion instead of cheap secondhand stuff,…
Speaking of secondhand stuff, my phone! Shit! Why do I always forget about my phone?
Throwing my backpack on the bed, I knelt down and unfastened the zipper of the small pocket. My hand dug inside the small fabric bag, searching for the phone.
“Here it is!”
Staring at my broken phone, I wondered what mom’s reaction would be when she saw this. This phone had once been hers, after all.
“Bloody hell …” I moved my thumb along the cracks.
I wonder if they can fix this… Oh, right, of course, they can. But I wouldn’t be able to afford the fee. Damn you Edward!
Taking my mobile to the table, I sat down and turned on the laptop. I moved some thick text books to the floor next to my chair in order to make a place for the phone next to Macy – my beloved MacBook- then I went to Google and searched for a cheap servicing store.
Five minutes later…
There was no such thing as a cheap servicing store. The price of a touchscreen could reach the sky with no difficulties. Angrily leaving the world’s most famous search engine, I logged onto Twitter and planned all the things I would say to Edward, even though I knew I wouldn’t say any of them to him.
Be polite. Be polite. Like a princess. Like the Queen. OK! Just be nice and calm down. Stop making your hands look like a claw. Don’t throw your anger on him. You are nice. You are calm. Peaceful. Tranquil. What are the other synonyms? Ugh… Why do I always become such a weirdo whenever I try to talk to Edward?
@JustMiaN: Hey.
Leaning back in the chair, I waited for his reply in agitation. My fingers anxiously combed my ponytail then nervously tapped a random rhythm on the table; it might be the song Paradise by Coldplay, I wasn’t sure. I crossed my legs on the spin chair. Ten minutes had passed and he hadn't said anything back yet. Maybe he left. Yeah, probably so; it had been three hours since his notification appeared on the screen. It might be midnight in his place and he was already asleep by now.
Great, just when I need to talk to the guy and give him a mental slap on the face. No, I mean I will not give him a mental slap. Be like the Queen. Be like the Queen. Oh, but he left.
My hand lazily grabbed the mouse, moving the small triangle to the shiny red X button. I took a last glimpse at the inbox before closed the window. A blue dot had appeared. It must be him!
@hesloveturtles: How was today?
I was right. One point for Amelia!
@JustMiaN: Terrible.
@hesloveturtles: Why? What happened?
@JustMiaN: Angie. Your message earlier. My broken phone.
@hesloveturtles: Why is my message one of the reasons?
@JustMiaN: Long story but it was because of that message that my phone was broken.
@hesloveturtles: How come...
@JustMiaN: Long story.
@hesloveturtles: You sure it was my fault?
I thought about his question for a while. If it wasn't for that notification, my phone wouldn't have fallen. Well, on the bright side, if the phone hadn’t fallen, there were high chances that I would be on the tube right now. But whether or not Edward was at fault, I would say...
Evil me: He is definitely at fault! If it wasn't for that stupid notification, my phone wouldn't have been broken like this!
Angel me: Well, maybe he didn’t do anything wrong. I should have been more careful holding my phone tighter.
Evil me: Shut up you idiotic Angel! You don’t know anything!
Angel me: What? You shut up! Stop being mean!
Me: You both shut up!
@JustMiaN: 50%
@hesloveturtles: Oh, come on!
@JustMiaN: Later.
@hesloveturtles: Wiat!
@hesloveturtles: wait
@JustMiaN: No can do. Gotta go make dinner before I die from starvation.
@hesloveturtles: Then talk to me after dinner? I need to know why it was my fault!
@JustMiaN: I said it’s a long story. It’d take me forever to type.
@hesloveturtles: Then talk.
@JustMiaN: How?
@hesloveturtles: Skype.
@JustMiaN: … Why?
@hesloveturtles: Because I have the right to know. I don’t want to be calumniated.
I lifted myself to stretch my back. I had been sitting a painful position. Ugh. My legs felt numb. It was like instead of having flesh-and-bones legs, I had two metal legs that were being electrified. I tried to make the blood flow easier by massaging from my thighs to my feet. It didn’t help much.
@hesloveturtles: Where are you?
@hesloveturtles: Did you leave? Mia?
@hesloveturtles: Hey, come back!
@hesloveturtles: Miiiaaaaaaa!!
Note to self: Edward is a very impatient person.
@JustMiaN: What? I really have to go now.
@hesloveturtles: Wait! Give me your Skype ID. Please?
@JustMiaN: Ugh!!1 I will SUE you if you do something to my Skype.
@JustMiaN: Mia.Wats
Typing in the speed of light, I glanced at the cat-shaped clock on the wall. My hands gave a push on the table’s corners lifting myself out of the comfy chair to go to make dinner. I hobbled out of my room. My legs were still feeling numb. Ugh, so uncomfortable! Staggering to the stairs, I could already smell the stink of alcohol. Harold was home. He rushed up the staircase, shoving me aside. I almost fell down, but I didn’t mind. I was used to it. My legs continued to step down slowly while my ears ignored the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom. It was just common sense in this house.
Just very very common sense.
~*~*~*~*~
The wind slapped my face as I stepped down from the tube train, quivering. Foreseeing the weather I had tied up my hair into a ponytail on the train. With strong winds like these, I couldn’t bear the thought of how messy my hair would turn out to be if it was still left to fall freely on my shoulders. Both of my hands were gripping my arms hard to avoid the sharp chill air. I should have worn my down jacket. Touching down my card, I glanced up at the clock.
Oh.My.God.
It was nearly six. Mom must be crazily worried by now. Barging out of the station, I took out my phone from the small zipped pocket on my backpack. My heart ached as I stared at the crack on the screen while pressing the lock button. I waited a while for the screen to light up, but nothing happened. The screen remained dark. I pressed the button again, this time holding it down longer. Nothing happened. Oh, no.
My mom always called home at half past five to check if I had come home on days when I didn’t have work after school like today. If she couldn’t reach me by the home phone, she’d try my mobile. However, neither was an option, since I was not at home and my phone had died. I bet by now she had practically gone mad thinking of horrible explanations for the unanswered calls. For examples, I got hit by a truck and my phone was crashed under the wheels, or some gangs had abducted me to blackmail her, etc. With her imagination, my mom could have been a great detective writer instead of a receptionist in an unknown paperclip company.
After five minutes of walking, I finally got to my dilapidated-but-comfortable house. It was very old and dark, but you should have seen the house six years ago. The building had a lot of custom touches. Its interior was furnished perfectly while the exterior, which was only a small backyard, was decorated with lovely trees in those tiny little pots; yet with the work of time, all the beauty had faded. The red brick walls were now covered with graffiti and advertisements sprawling on top. Closing the metal door behind my back, I climbed up the steps, taking off my shoes as I went. And there, I found mom’s stilettoes were neatly placed on the second step. She must have been really worried to be back from work so early.
I tiptoed into the living room. But mom was being mom; she had already seen me before I walked in.
“Amelia Watson, where did you go?” Her voice sounded sharp and inspective. Her eyes were on me, analyzing my every move.
“I …”
“Did you go out with your boyfriend?” She queried.
“Huh?”
“Did you two have a good time together?”
“Moooommm! No! And no! I don’t have a boyfriend!” I whined to her continuous questioning, and she just chuckled. I couldn’t believe it. Mom wasn’t scolding me about coming home late.
“Did something good happen today?” I put my bag leaning on the coffee table and sat down with mom. Almost instantly, mom took my hand, beaming happily.
“Do you remember Lisa?” She asked. The four letters ran through my mind. L-i-s-a… What’s Lisa? Did she mean my Biology teacher? Yeah, her name was Lisa Grunger.
“No,” I finally answered.
“Aw, honey, she was your biggest fan.” Mom sighed while her hands were fixing my messy hair. Blame the wind.
“I have a fan?” My eyebrow arched as I raised the question. I got that habit from trying to copy Niall’s eyebrows on the posters.
“You don’t know how adorable you were.” Mom’s eyes drifted back into memories. The beautiful past we used to share with each other before Harold --my belatedly-showed-up dad, came. I have a complicated family background and you probably wouldn’t want to hear it.
“I’m not adorable now?” I asked her, pretending to be shocked and hurt. Mom giggled at my reaction. Her pure laughter was priceless. I always love to make mom laugh. Listening to the sound of her happiness was like listening to the song that I could play over and over again all day long like a Best Song Ever.
“No, you’re so grumpy now,” Mom said.
“No I’m not.”My voice came out high-pitched as I shook my head in disagreement.
“Honey, you’re always about work work work, study study study.” I could feel her hand touching mine. Just by that one single movement, I knew it was the same problem again. “You should trust mom and dad more and live like a teenager for once.”
Oh, yes, she was going to ramble about my not-so-teenage life again. Mom had brought up this subject many times, but I had always managed to drive the conversations away from the topic. I knew that mom only wanted what was best for me. Nevertheless, how could she ask me to live carefree; especially when Harold – my dad - was in such bad shape? I could hardly bear the sight of him in the house. The reek of alcohol had become dad’s own aroma. He could definitely produce a perfume called Eau de Harold Magnusson – the Alcoholic. It would definitely sell out its first day on the market.
“I know how you feel toward Harold,” Mom said as if she just read my mind, tightening the grip around my hand. “You think he is unreliable but you have to give him time to move on and get over with things, Mia,”
“I gave him five years for God’s sake. How much more time does he need?!”
After my retort, everything fell into silence. All the joy on mom's face quickly vanished though it was just there a few seconds ago. Guilt snaked slowly into my conscience. What had I done... I shouldn't have said that.
"Oh, I'm sorry, mom. It's just that..." I bit my lips, my hands swung up trying to catch something in air. Maybe a good explanation for my behavior. It seems my apology soothed mom a little. I really needed to steer the talk back to um, who was it, oh, Lisa. "Anyway, you were talking about Lisa."
Did I ever tell you that communication was not my forte?
"Oh, Lisa. Honey, do you remember Boo Bear -- the Teddy bear that you used to love so much and never went anywhere without?" The depression still lingered on her face as she spoke. Despite that, the tone of mom's voice sounded cheerful.
Dear Lisa, I don't know who you are but you must be somewhat special to my mom.
"Yeah, I remember."
"That was her present for you when you were three," Mom said, again smiling at the memory. I hated it when she was being nostalgic. Just like mom, I found every bit of those glorious days perfect. Nevertheless, as soon as my state of mind came back the present time, all of what I had just called "perfect" transformed into splinters piercing my heart. “I wonder where he is now,” Mom said.
“Harold threw it away,” I casually told her, avoiding looking at her face. I had a hunch that I wouldn’t like the expression. My eyes were fixed on the crumpled paper on the coffee table. “Mom, what’s this?” I reached out my hand for it but mom had snatched the paper before I could barely touch its corner.
“Just a stupid advertisement that they gave me,” said mom. I raised my eyebrows in disbelief. Her blue eyes were avoiding mine; she was definitely hiding something. Well, mom was always a woman of secrets, though on the outside she seemed to be a happy-go-lucky person. Having lived with her my whole life, I had come to terms with her being secretive. “So, you remember a bit about Lisa now, right?” Mom looked at me hopefully.
“Yeah, I guess.” My legs moved up on the couch and crossed on each other; I leaned my back against the scatter cushions.
“She just called me a while ago. And, well, we talked about a lot of things. Lisa told that she has a son, Stephen…”
Uh oh, I don’t like where this is going.
“Oookay…” My voice dragged on the letter “O”. My fingers intertwined as I pursed my lips veering my eyes away from mom.
“He’s going to be here in London next month…”
Before mom could say anything else about this Stephen guy, I interrupted her. “If you want me to give him a few tours around London, well, you know my schedule, I’m sorry I can’t help him. And I have some serious things I need to do right now. Homework, homework, homework! Just like you said mom. It’s always been work, sleep, eat and study.” Saying everything in a breath, I stood up, didn’t forget to pick up my bag and walked straight up the stairs. I could hear mom’s disappointed “aw” on my way up.
Mom had always wanted me to lead a normal life like Angie’s: having a boyfriend and a best friend, going out on the weekends instead of staying indoors and learning by heart the Nando’s menu, wearing the latest fashion instead of cheap secondhand stuff,…
Speaking of secondhand stuff, my phone! Shit! Why do I always forget about my phone?
Throwing my backpack on the bed, I knelt down and unfastened the zipper of the small pocket. My hand dug inside the small fabric bag, searching for the phone.
“Here it is!”
Staring at my broken phone, I wondered what mom’s reaction would be when she saw this. This phone had once been hers, after all.
“Bloody hell …” I moved my thumb along the cracks.
I wonder if they can fix this… Oh, right, of course, they can. But I wouldn’t be able to afford the fee. Damn you Edward!
Taking my mobile to the table, I sat down and turned on the laptop. I moved some thick text books to the floor next to my chair in order to make a place for the phone next to Macy – my beloved MacBook- then I went to Google and searched for a cheap servicing store.
Five minutes later…
There was no such thing as a cheap servicing store. The price of a touchscreen could reach the sky with no difficulties. Angrily leaving the world’s most famous search engine, I logged onto Twitter and planned all the things I would say to Edward, even though I knew I wouldn’t say any of them to him.
Be polite. Be polite. Like a princess. Like the Queen. OK! Just be nice and calm down. Stop making your hands look like a claw. Don’t throw your anger on him. You are nice. You are calm. Peaceful. Tranquil. What are the other synonyms? Ugh… Why do I always become such a weirdo whenever I try to talk to Edward?
@JustMiaN: Hey.
Leaning back in the chair, I waited for his reply in agitation. My fingers anxiously combed my ponytail then nervously tapped a random rhythm on the table; it might be the song Paradise by Coldplay, I wasn’t sure. I crossed my legs on the spin chair. Ten minutes had passed and he hadn't said anything back yet. Maybe he left. Yeah, probably so; it had been three hours since his notification appeared on the screen. It might be midnight in his place and he was already asleep by now.
Great, just when I need to talk to the guy and give him a mental slap on the face. No, I mean I will not give him a mental slap. Be like the Queen. Be like the Queen. Oh, but he left.
My hand lazily grabbed the mouse, moving the small triangle to the shiny red X button. I took a last glimpse at the inbox before closed the window. A blue dot had appeared. It must be him!
@hesloveturtles: How was today?
I was right. One point for Amelia!
@JustMiaN: Terrible.
@hesloveturtles: Why? What happened?
@JustMiaN: Angie. Your message earlier. My broken phone.
@hesloveturtles: Why is my message one of the reasons?
@JustMiaN: Long story but it was because of that message that my phone was broken.
@hesloveturtles: How come...
@JustMiaN: Long story.
@hesloveturtles: You sure it was my fault?
I thought about his question for a while. If it wasn't for that notification, my phone wouldn't have fallen. Well, on the bright side, if the phone hadn’t fallen, there were high chances that I would be on the tube right now. But whether or not Edward was at fault, I would say...
Evil me: He is definitely at fault! If it wasn't for that stupid notification, my phone wouldn't have been broken like this!
Angel me: Well, maybe he didn’t do anything wrong. I should have been more careful holding my phone tighter.
Evil me: Shut up you idiotic Angel! You don’t know anything!
Angel me: What? You shut up! Stop being mean!
Me: You both shut up!
@JustMiaN: 50%
@hesloveturtles: Oh, come on!
@JustMiaN: Later.
@hesloveturtles: Wiat!
@hesloveturtles: wait
@JustMiaN: No can do. Gotta go make dinner before I die from starvation.
@hesloveturtles: Then talk to me after dinner? I need to know why it was my fault!
@JustMiaN: I said it’s a long story. It’d take me forever to type.
@hesloveturtles: Then talk.
@JustMiaN: How?
@hesloveturtles: Skype.
@JustMiaN: … Why?
@hesloveturtles: Because I have the right to know. I don’t want to be calumniated.
I lifted myself to stretch my back. I had been sitting a painful position. Ugh. My legs felt numb. It was like instead of having flesh-and-bones legs, I had two metal legs that were being electrified. I tried to make the blood flow easier by massaging from my thighs to my feet. It didn’t help much.
@hesloveturtles: Where are you?
@hesloveturtles: Did you leave? Mia?
@hesloveturtles: Hey, come back!
@hesloveturtles: Miiiaaaaaaa!!
Note to self: Edward is a very impatient person.
@JustMiaN: What? I really have to go now.
@hesloveturtles: Wait! Give me your Skype ID. Please?
@JustMiaN: Ugh!!1 I will SUE you if you do something to my Skype.
@JustMiaN: Mia.Wats
Typing in the speed of light, I glanced at the cat-shaped clock on the wall. My hands gave a push on the table’s corners lifting myself out of the comfy chair to go to make dinner. I hobbled out of my room. My legs were still feeling numb. Ugh, so uncomfortable! Staggering to the stairs, I could already smell the stink of alcohol. Harold was home. He rushed up the staircase, shoving me aside. I almost fell down, but I didn’t mind. I was used to it. My legs continued to step down slowly while my ears ignored the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom. It was just common sense in this house.
Just very very common sense.
~*~*~*~*~
Notes
VOTEs + COMMENTs = COTEs!( ! ) Stephen! He is a guy that you should not forget (though he won't show up in the next 4 chapters.)
Any guesses for who Edward is?
What do you think of Chloe Grace Moretz being Amelia?
I will! I love this story and I don't care who hears it! :) thank you!
12/29/13