Check Yes, Juliet

Kairos

My alarm went off at exactly 6:00 in the morning. I roll over and look out the window to find it still pitch black outside. I always kept my blinds open, I liked looking out at the darkened sky to welcome me to another day. I roll over again and stop my alarm. I never hated the sound of the alarm, in fact I found it encouraging. Alex called me crazy for thinking this, but I couldn't help it. It made me happy for some reason.

I drag myself out of bed and take a quick shower, and get ready quickly. It doesn't take much time to be done. I put my hair up in a pony tail, I put on my favorite jeans, and a comfy sweater. My beat up converse sit in the corner and I put those on quickly. I never had any use for make-up or straightening my hair. It was a waste of my time. I had more important things to do. Well one; that was to study.

I walk downstairs, bumping into the wall as I do so, to find my mom and dad sitting at the table already. My dad has a newspaper in his hand. He is wearing a suit, to show that he is important, and holds his head high, as if he has to look important here. My mom has her hair put in place perfectly, make-up that is barely visible and her best pant suit. She sits eating her light breakfast quietly. My dad was the head doctor at the local hospital, the best one in the state. My mom was a lawyer, the second best one at the firm. She was always complaining about John, the best of the best, apparently he was a cheater.

I sit down in the middle of them and the maid, Sandra, sets a plate of eggs and a medley of fruit in front of me. I thank her quietly, and she just nods her head. She is a pretty lady, with brown hair that is slicked back into her white cap. She has a tiny figure, with slight curves, and a wedding band around her ring finger to show that somebody has taken her. She is quiet, which is how she is supposed to be, but sometimes I wish I could find out more about her, to see what she is like.

I eat my breakfast quietly, waiting for my mom or dad to speak. They tell me that it is not proper manners for me to speak first. I am the child. I wouldn't call myself a child, I'm 16, and I've basically had to teach myself how to grow up. My mom and dad are never around. When we are together, it is for some special function that we have to attend, and then they are busy talking to others.

"Do you have that biology test today?" My dad grumbles from his chair, not bothering to look up from the paper.

"Yes sir." I say quietly. I have also learned that it is not appropriate for a lady to raise her voice above a whisper at the table.

"Have you studied?"

"Very hard, sir." I say, with a nod of my head.

"Is that what you're going to wear to school?" My mom says, eyeing me doubtfully.

I look down at myself and see how she would be disappointed. "Yes, ma'am. I want to focus on my studies instead of clothes."

She nods then, in approval of my choice and then goes back to eating her food. I release a breath I didn't know that I was holding. I love my parents, of course I do, and my entire life is dedicated to pleasing them. I study hard, don't have any friends, and refuse to have social media, so that I can get good grades and get a fancy job. It's exhausting. Sometimes I just wish they would let me take a break; or tell me that they are proud of me. The most praise I have gotten out of my father is a small smile and a nod of his head. I think they love me too, but I'm never sure. They don't show emotion; it's hard to tell with the two of them.

I finish with my breakfast and quietly excuse myself. I grab my backpack from Sandra, smiling at her, and then I leave for the bus. My parents are right behind me, my dad with his big bag and my mom with her small purse and a big binder. They don't acknowledge me as they get into their separate cars and I just continue walking to the bus stop as if they were never there. I grab my IPod and press play on a Beethoven song. I know from statistics that listening to classical helps the brain focus and work, so by listening only to classical it must help me somehow. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to listen to things with electric guitar and drums, but I push the thought aside. There is no point in wishing for things that will get me nowhere.