Delicate ✔

BONUS: Chapter One - Justin's POV

"I'm really sorry to hear about your mother. Were you two close?"

I look over at the middle-aged woman in the driver's seat. Her face is sincere. I roll my eyes at her. Pity-looks can be so tiring to see after so long. "Why don't you just do your job and drive, Emily."

I hear her sigh. "It's Ella, dear."

"Whatever," I mutter. "Just because you're driving me doesn't mean we have to have small talk."

"I'm sorry to upset you, Justin. It's just that Mrs. Eastlake used to be very close with Katherine—"

"I know. They were friends when they were younger," I recall quickly, not wanting to hear some boring story.

The woman continues on anyway. "They used to talk on the phone all the time, you know? Sylvia always gushed about how she always wanted to meet you but—"

"But my mom developed a drinking problem and her son was already following in his father's footsteps. And now her awful son put her six feet under."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"I know you think that. Everyone does."

"I just wanted you to know that it's okay not to be okay. It takes time to heal. I know what it's like to lose a mother. Regardless of what she was like, she will always be your mother."

I remember cleaning out my mother's home for the last few days. I think cleaning out the house was worse than going to the funeral. Everything I touched in our home holds some memory. Everything I looked at made me think of her in some way. I wanted to be out of there so badly. I didn't want to see the drawings I made her in Kindergarten tucked away in her closet. I didn't want to go through her music collection and think of the songs we'd listen to together. I don't want to remember when she sang to me when I was a boy. I don't want to remember the nights she cried herself to sleep with a bottle of booze by her bedside and I did nothing to console her. 

I compose myself. "Yeah, yeah. Time heals wounds. Blah, blah, blah. I've heard it all, Ellie." 

"It's Ella," she reminds me in a polite tone.

"Right..." I trail off as we approach a large Victorian home. The grass is cut neatly and is the most perfect shade of green I've ever seen grass to be. We pull through a large black open gate up to their drive way to park next to a couple of other expensive cars. As my eyes scan their vast yard, I notice a large apple tree near the drive way. Past the tree is several rows of flowers lining their home. I shake my head when a notice a fountain in the middle of their yard. Their house is magnificent.

Everyone hear is probably a snob. I bet Ella hates her job. "This is way too rich for my blood."

"The Eastlake's are lovely people, I assure you." She tells me as she unbuckles. She sounds offended, but that's probably because of the look on my face. "Come one now, Mr. Howell. Let's get you inside and settled in."

"Do you think there'll be enough room inside for me?" I ask sarcastically.

She ignores my jibe, wrenching open her car door. I copy her, then proceed to follow her up the pavement to the massive home. Now I'm definitely going to feel like I'm a burden. I'm not even family to these people. The family that I do have are either in jail or don't want to deal with me. These people probably think I'm some bum. As soon as my birthday comes, I'm out of here. 

As we step through the large oak wood doors, the small of spaghetti wafts around the large house. Wood floors covered their exquisitely decorated living room. The wood flooring continued into what I assume to be the kitchen. I grip on the bag in my hand tighter.