Chapter 1: [1] Staying With Grandma
Sometimes I wonder why I had the father that I had. I wanted him to disappear from my life, but not by taking my mom with him and leaving me like this: alone, and broke. He left me with nothing but troubles.
"I'm still nauseous" I told my grandma.
"Maybe... you didn't digest well the toast?"
"It's more like hunger".
Oops, I shouldn't have said that. My grandma sighed and tried to dissimulate, but I could see she was worried. Since I moved to her house, I had to transfer to the nearest public school so I just had to walk there and not pay for transport (we don't own a car) or tuition; meals in the cafeteria were cheap, but now I can't have that luxury. Grandma's physical health is in detriment and can't even work anymore, so we live off the money Mr. Hamington sends us every month for the groceries and paying the bills.
The only food I got at school are the leftovers from breakfast, which are usually a toast and (a few times) a piece of bacon.
"This is unbelievable... my own granddaughter starving..." Grandma muttered, but I heard her.
I didn't show anything on my face. All the sadness, desperation and tears were wasted when my father (damn him) kept me prisoned in what was my home, isolated from everyone. I thought it was normal, until I learned it wasn't on therapy, and that greatly explained why I had panic attacks and depressing episodes. I was all empty.
"Oh, what the hell, we'll just have to ask Zachary for more money".
Mr. Hamington, or Zachary, was my parents' neighbor and my father's best friend from High School. He and his family moved away when I was ten or eleven, but kept in contact with my mother and grandmother mainly to help them economically. I don't know why he feels like doing it, or if he's just stupid and thinks we'll pay him back, but when I asked my grandma she said 'he's just a good man. A good, rich man'.
My grandma is shameless about asking money. My mother told me during her youth she almost never worked and survived on grandpa's and other relatives' income, only to warn me to never be like that.
"I'll buy some pizza to get you better" Grandma said as she walked to the entry door.
She left me alone, sitting in the small living-room sofa. I didn't like to be alone: I tend to remember when father locked me in my old room for days, all because I didn't come back home immediately after school. Now that I was living with grandma, I can see how overbearing and controlling he really was, and that I prefer my careless and penniless grandma a thousand times over him.
Mom was like grandma in that sense. She liked to roam freely, moved around the country to work in different retail stores and that's why she left me most of the time in the care of my father. Part of me is mad at her for leaving me behind, but at least she fought for me when she found out about what my dad did. It was also my fault for not telling her anything, but in my defense I didn't think it was abnormal.
I'm already 14, I can start looking for a job in a year or two, and I'll support my grandma. I don't think I can go to college with how tight money is, but I can work as a photographer, or in a daycare (I love children, they are the only innocent living in this world) and I'll save enough money to start my own family.
"That's what I like! Little Bianca smiling looks more beautiful" Grandma commented, walking to the kitchen with a box of pizza in her arms.
I didn't know I was smiling. I didn't even realize when grandma came back. She opened the box and put it on the table, and we sat to eat. The house doesn't have a dining room, so meals are on the kitchen. Peperoni pizza was my favorite, and I was grateful that she remembered it.
"So, how was school today? Apart from the nausea" She kind-of joked.
"Like always..."
"Boring. Yeah, I don't know why I even asked".
I laughed a little, gaining a smile from grandma. She then took another bite from her pizza.
"And what did you do today?" I asked her.
"Eh... you know... enjoying life..."
"How?"
"I went to this nice hotel and sat on the lobby, you know?"
Oh, no. I know where this is going.
"The valet, or servant, or whatever people call them approached me and asked me if he could help me. I told him I was waiting for someone and blah blah blah, I kept talking with him about life and stuff, and he offered me some lemonade. Tasted awful but was for free, and after a long time he asked the name of the person I was waiting for, and I told him it was Sarah, or Sally? or Sammy? I acted like some old lady with bad memory and poor guy looked sooo helpless".
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes at her exaggerated cackle. My grandma knew many cheap tricks to get away with things.
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