When Spencer lost the person she trusted the most her world collapsed.
Now almost 6 years later, she is longing to find happiness but this isn't as easy as it seems, especially if you struggle with your weight.
Can the mysterious black-haired spanis...
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Waking up from the sun rays shining on my face I recognize that I don't have to go to work today because its Saturday and the encounter with the stranger was four days ago. Not that I'm counting the days. Definitely not! I'm not like that!
Rolling over in my bed I readjust the sheets around my body and grab my phone lying next to my book on the nightstand. Turning it on I see what I see every day: Nothing. No messages. Also by whom?
Sitting up I swing my legs out of the bed and put my feet into my slippers standing in front of it. Taking my book with me, I amble down the stairs to the kitchen. I have to eat something even if I later wish I hadn't.
Fortunately, my mother isn't home. One day after the unwanted meeting in the kitchen with my mother and her lover, he decided that he 'can't put up with the attitude of our family'.
Let me put it like this: my mother wasn't amused. the following day I had to listen to her non-stop talk about how it was my fault that he left her, that she cant look in my eyes and that she has to get away from me.
The following day my brother drove her to the airport and an hour later she flew off to Mallorca.
It will probably seem strange to you but this is a normal behavior of my mother: She blames you for her failed relationships and manipulates you into thinking she is right. Then she seeks help from your 'reliable' brother, who drives her to the airport so that she can travel into a faraway land to, as she likes to say, 'get a clear head'.
After an unknown time, she comes back with freshly sprayed lips, less money ok her account, and a new lover. Then after a few weeks, it starts again.
A never-ending story
Opening the fridge I look for a small snack, which I later will not regret eating, and decide on a packaged salad with tomatoes, cucumber and corn.
My mother would be proud!
Taking it out of the fridge I open it, throw the lid into the garbage, grab a fork from the drawer and sit onto a barstool at the counter. Savouring every bite of my salad I eat half of it before I get interrupted.
Heavy thumping footsteps announce my brother who walks through the door a few moments later. Based on his appearance I conclude that he must have just woken up:
His blond hair is disheveled, eye bags under his blue eyes and he still wears his wrinkled T-shirt and sweatpants he must have slept in.
"Morning ", he grumbles in his deep morning voice.
"Morning", I reply, turning my gaze back to my salad to shovel another bite in my mouth.
