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This is a chapter I plan re-doing. Don't like it. |
The great MA "A heart is a heart, whether it is broken by the curse of lost love, or spoiled by too much love," her mother said coolly, and trying to comfort the mind of her daughter. She always tried to make an understandable speech to me, but never seemed to understand the true meaning of the words she spoke. I assumed this line was another one of her grandmother's over-used quotes. And it was; she told me soon after. I never forgot those words. Even after she died and left me to strive with my father in Massachusetts. My father was nothing like my mother. They had extreme differences... I couldn't imagine how they once lived together, once loved eachother.... I shook my head and stared at the white Victorian house before me, and also watched as the winter snow began to cover the ground. I strived to remember the last time I saw my father. Christmas... two or three years ago, I suppose. The house had a wrap around porch, a pretty tombstone styled door, and a small tower at the left of the house. A tower... and magnificent tower. Perhaps my room? I wondered and stepped out of the taxi cab after paying and tipping the driver. My eyebrow automatically raised and my lips pursed in a smirking yet lost in thought position. "Samantha!" he shouted, walking limbly outside of his door. My father seemed older.... grey streaks had appeared in his hair and bushy beard, and his round 'Harry Potter' like glasses were perched on the tip of his nose. But he still had his humorous and gleaming white smile, showing that he still was a little young. I smiled back at him and let him throw his arms around me. I laughed a little. "Long time- no see, Samather panther," he teased. "Ha, nice to see you too, dad." Then he offered to carry my bags, I protested, but he shook his head and took them any way. I followed him silently in the house and was in shock at what I saw. A spiraling staircase went up to the top floor, and and the floor we were standing on had wide and noticeably old... but well taken care of- wooden floors. The furniture was a bit modern, and filled with artistically shaped objects, as in circular chairs in bright colors, and black and white carpeting. "Great decorating, dad," I commented. I really did like it.... not what I expected, but I liked it. "Wait till you see your room, Sammy." I suddenly turned my thoughts onto the tower.... Please be the tower, I thought. "Follow me," my father said, nodding his head towards the staircase. Tow-er, Tow-er, Tow-er, I chanted into my head. But no, he opened the door to a different room, and I sadly let out a disappointed sigh. No tower. "What's wrong?" My father gave me a worried glance. He had noticed my sigh. "Don't like it?" "I haven't seen it yet, dad," I chuckled, trying to hide my stupid disapointment. And I loved it. The walls were lime green with layering white circles and polka dots everywhere. The room was lined with black trim, and purple and green striped.... but elegantly styled.... drapes hung from the windows. My bed was a circle and had soft and comfy looking sheets in different shades of grey. "Dad.... it's.... a-m-a-z-i-n-g. "You're welcome dear. Heh... you didn't need to spell it out, love. " "Oh, but I did." I plopped myself onto my oddly shaped bed and let myself sink into it. Wonderful. My father set my things down by the door onto a green carpet in the shape of a turtle. Lol, was the first thing that came to my mind at the site of a randomly placed turtle. Damn stupid IM terms. "Well, make yourself comfortable. Dinner's at six. If you need anything I'll be...." "In your studio waiting to be inspired," I finished. I still remembered he used to say that. He grinned at me. "Exactly." He walked out, shut the door, and left me alone. Really alone. I looked across the room. And old computer was there... a very outdated computer. I could unpack my stuff... nah, too lazy. I was suddenly very tired. I had to sleep. I looked at my new bed dreamily and took off my converse, and then descended into the blankets. I woke to the sound of my dad yelling my name. I was startled. I jumped up, glanced in a full length mirror that was across the room making sure my hair wasn't completely messed up. It was, so I threw it in a bun and marched down stairs. "Er, sorry dad," I said, kinda of embarrased. "I hope you weren't yelling long." I sat down at the dining room table, and folded the black napkin onto my lap. "Naw. What were you doing? Listening to music on headphones or something?" my father asked, giving me a nice serving of spaghetti onto my plate. My cheeks formed a soft shade of red. "Uh... yeah," I lied, smiling. "Oh really? What were you listening to?" I was positive my cheeks were flaming now. "Um...." I fiddled with my fork. I was hopeless when it came to music.... I barely knew anything about it. "I dunno. It was a mix a friend made." "Ah. Well, dig in. I hope you enjoy your meal." My father smiled at me. "Anyway.... you know my white T-bird?" He asked, picking of a forkful of food and chewing slowly. I loved that car. "Yeah, what about it?" "I'm giving it to you. I just bought a new Volvo... I won't be needing it much, and you need to get to school some how. I'm busy during the day you know. I leave for work much earlier than you do." A smiled crossed his bearded face. "Happy?" I was estatic. "Dad.... you shouldn't..." "Yes, but I am whether you like it or not." He winked and I bit my bottom lip, wondering if I was going to laugh or cry with joy. It did neither and looked at my plate. My cheeks were on fire. "Nice spaghetti dad." I murmured. |