Elisabeth Marie

Chapter One

I'd had the dream so many times before that even in my subconscious, I knew it wasn't real, that I would wake up and come back to reality the moment the first ray of sunshine streamed through my window. I tried to tell myself that. But it never worked. It always started the same way, a smaller version of me running through a field for a reason that I could never quite figure out. The silhouette of a young woman was always in front of the sun, arms outstretched as if she was waiting for me. I would be overwhelmed by this feeling of complete joy, as if everything was perfect in the world. The hearty laugh of a man would sound in the distance, and I would smell meat cooking, probably on a grill. "The burgers are ready, Rose!" the man would always call. The woman's head would turn towards the sound, and she would walk towards me, her paces much larger than my own. "Time for dinner, my sweet girl," she always cooed. I would reach up for her hand, my arm shielding my face from the sun, and turn to look up at her. Every time, I would see the eyes, her bright green sparkling eyes. And then, right when her face would start to come into focus...

The sudden beeping of my alarm clock almost caused me to fall out of bed. Ugh. I slapped my hand on the wooden table next to my bed with my eyes still closed, feeling around for the snooze button. It was nowhere to be found. I had that dream again, didn't I?

I groaned and sat up, opening my eyes slowly. The clock had somehow managed to shake itself off the table and onto the ground. I slipped out from under my warm comforter regretfully and picked it up, slapping it off. It's too late to go back to sleep now, I thought to myself as I shuffled over to the closet, catching a glimpse of my awful I-just-woke-up hair in the mirror.

"Why does the morning have to come so soon after I've just barely gotten to bed?" I groaned aloud, pulling open the doors to my closet. After looking around in the massive thing for a few seconds I pulled out a lace top and a pair of jeans from behind some wrinkled t-shirts, making a mental note to myself to do the laundry soon. The amount of dresses lying draped over the edges of the basket was getting ridiculous, something Mother never hesitated to remind me. My nightgown joined the crumpled heap. The sun was starting to come out now and I grabbed a hairbrush, brushing it through my long, thick hair as I opened the curtains wide.

I squinted at the brilliant yellow light peeking over the neighboring skyscrapers and sat down on the window seat, hairbrush still in hand, as I swept my eyes over the familiar view from the penthouse apartment of one of the tallest buildings in San Diego.

The city came to life slowly, the sidewalks filling with people and the streets crowding with the yellow roofs of cabs. A couple of little birds flew up near the window and pecked briefly at my bird feeder before flying away, free to go wherever they wanted to in the big, beautiful world. Someday I would fly like them, I promised myself. The same thing I'd been telling myself for years. I finished brushing my hair and put it into a loose braid reaching almost to the bottom of my back before standing up and going out of my bedroom.

"Mother? Are you in here?" No response. I pushed open the French doors into the great room and saw my mother, Sharon Johnson, sitting at the table and sipping a cup of coffee.

"Elisabeth, there you are. I'm glad you're up. I have to go to the office early today. Open the elevator, will you?" she asked, standing up from the table. It wasn't much of a greeting, but after living in an apartment with her for my entire life I was long adjusted to telling myself good morning, congratulating myself on good grades, and, some years, even wishing myself a happy birthday. No, Elisabeth, that sounds pathetic. Mother and I really did have a great relationship, and I was lucky to have a parent who supported all of my interests. Six years ago I wanted to learn how to dive after watching a few clips of the summer Olympics, and Mother promptly installed a pool. When I decided I wanted to learn how to watercolor, Mother didn't hesitate to buy me an instruction DVD and a set of some of the best watercolors around. I'd been taking pictures for years and Mother had gotten me multiple cameras as my skills increased.