Sincerely, Emily ✓

01 • You Like The View?

J U L Y  1 ,  2 0 1 0

Okay, I lied. 

Five months ago, when Mom asked, "You'll be okay?" and I answered with "Yes," I only wanted to say that so she wouldn't worry about me. Deep inside, I was screaming:

NO I'M NOT FINE THIS IS NOT HAPPENING I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME NO PLE —

"Sweetie," Mom called from the other side of the room. "Come look at this."

I looked up from the unfinished letter, partly annoyed and partly curious as to why she called me. She didn't know about the letters; she thought I was writing a diary or something. That's why she usually left me alone. 

Usually.

After standing up from my stool, I joined her, looking out the window. Outside, there were cars and people and boxes being positioned near our house. The house next to ours.

We hadn't had neighbours for three years. Our last neighbour moved to Australia, and even though they've stayed here for a long time, I hadn't been close to any of them. I had no reason to, anyway.

So I wasn't expecting much from the so-called new neighbours.

I was already on my way back to the stool when Mom gasped, "Six kids. Oh, dear."

"Mhm," I responded, getting back to my letter.

"Is that a girl? I hope that's a girl. We haven't had a girl since — "

"Mom, they're just next door," I said, already tired of the subject. "Maybe you can ask for a picture or something."

"That's a great idea! I'm going to do that right now."

My arm hovered above the paper, the pencil still in my hand. I turned to stare at her for a solid minute. "You're going to ask for a picture?"

"Of course not! I'm gonna visit them. You coming?"

"No."

"Why?"

I sighed. "I'm not good with neighbours."

"That's nonsense."

Putting the pencil down, I started, "Remember the time Grace invited me over and I accidentally dyed her hair pink?"

"That was her sister's fault!"

"Remember the time I hung out with Jason in the park and I left him crying?"

"You were being emotional, dear."

"Mom," I let out, exasperated. "It's fine. I'll be here."

She looked like she was going to protest yet again, but she clamped her mouth shut and forced a smile. "Okay. Let me know when you need anything, okay? Especially. . . uh, you know, you're having this. . ."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course I will. Don't worry."

Then she left.

Mom didn't like to talk about it. She never talked about it unless it was necessary. It was weird, because I was supposed to be the one who didn't like to talk about it — after all, I was the one who had it.