Again (PUBLISHED!)

Chapter 1.

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Edited: 1st Feb 2017

"Eleanor Sanchez, Skype's as real as Chanel bags. So get a grip now."

I told myself looking at my droopy reflection in the mirror. But then again, nothing could completely help me from missing the person who was most important to me in this whole wide world.

My Daddy.

He left for Europe yesterday for a business tour. It wasn't the first time that he was away. And every time he went, it always became difficult to cope up with his absence.

"Eleanor, sweety,"

That warm and kind voice from behind was so good to hear.

I soon saw my Granny's reflection in the mirror as she entered my room and I turned to face her. So yeah, Granny Sanchez is here with me. And Thank Goodness for her! She was a medium-heighted plump woman of around sixty with short brown hair and twinkling black eyes. She came over to look after me whenever Daddy was away on business.

"Bah! Weren't those stairs I just used to get here audacious?" she said, dramatically moving her hands in disapproval, "I tell you, honeybun, those asses need a good spanking--" okay, she just call the stairwell an ass, "I was about to nearly topple down. I don't want to end up with an ugly fracture near my boobs. I'm still so young! Or maybe that wouldn't be a bad idea after all," she was nodding thoughtfully now, then fixed me with a serious look, "Just make sure there are ten shirtless young men with glistening abs nursing me out of it."

I burst out laughing. And so did she. That's my Gran for you, always ready to kick some ass.

"So what did your father say darling?" she asked softly, referring to the phone call I just had with my dad.

"He has landed at Heathrow airport and is en route to the hotel," I responded, "Wish it were vacations still. I wouldn't have had to miss him. I'd been in London with him right now."

"Yeah, he'd have loved that too," she said, looking at me kindly, "Your senior year in school starts tomorrow and he doesn't want you to miss anything of a year so important for your future."

I nodded, knowing her words were true.

"So," she said, placing her hand on her hips, "Shall we get your clothes back from dry cleaning and make a trip to the supermarket? And then, I will bake your favorite chocolate cake and cook your favorite stuff for dinner? What say?"

"Sounds like a plan," I smiled, feeling good.

Dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans and a dark green baggy top, I stepped out of the house with my grandma into the cool and pleasant evening that felt relaxing to my skin. The soothing breeze teased my straight black tresses that cascaded down my shoulders.

I lived in Crawford Lane with my father. I had similar hazel brown eyes like him but he wasn't a great fan of chocolates like me. I wish I could tell something about my mother too.

Crawford Lane was a nice, quiet and friendly neighborhood having colorful houses with vintage rooftops. There was a park, a sports club and a library. No scandals or heavy gossip ever occurred here. Everyone had a good reputation and everyone minded their own business.

Outsiders regarded it as one boring neighborhood. But I liked this calm suburban lifestyle that was on the outskirts and untouched by the hustle and bustle of a busy city like New York.