Fifty Shades Different

Chapter Nine

I made a snap decision, and it was probably a bad one, I told Christian that I would stay with him. Before I made my decision and after I was done crying Christian gave me all the information I wanted to know about my Biological father, his name is Kieth Earnshaw; he died when my Mom was five months pregnant with me. He told me that everyone loved him for my Mom, especially Elena, and Grace, but after my Mom told him she was pregnant he died. My mom was seventeen then, Ray came back from his deployment, he unlisted so he could help my Mom, and they ended up married. My married Ray, they fought all the time, when Christian told me his name I vaguely remembered something that happened about a year and a half before the divorce, it was a vague part I'd never quite understood.

     It happened when I was eight, it was one of the biggest fights they'd ever had. My Mom was in the kitchen cooking, I was setting the table when I heard the screen door slammed shut as Dad got home.

     He came into the kitchen and hugged my Mom from behind, "Smells good," he said in her ear. She shrugged him off and said 'don't,' under her breath, he took a step back and regarded her carefully. "What is it now Carla?" He asked, a strong sense of annoyance in his voice, I watched carefully, he shook his head. "I'm still not Kieth," he said.

     My Mom glanced up at me, I stood watching, completely oblivious to what they were talking about. "Shut up, Ray," she said through gritted teeth.

     "Carla, how long are you going to make us suffer over something that can't change?" He asked staring at her, he looked pained, I don't think my Dad ever had an intention of divorcing my mother no matter what she did. Everything she's ever done they always blamed on her being sick.

     "Fine!" She shouted, picking up the skillet she'd been cooking with on the stove and throwing it into the sink, and started out of the kitchen.

     "Are you gonna feed our daughter?" Dad asked shocked by what she had done, I wasn't all that shocked, I think Daddy always forgave her expecting a different outcome for the next time, but it always ended out roughly the same.

     "I don't give a damn if you two starve," she spat at the two of us as she made her way down the hall to her bedroom

     I made my way over to him, he was leaned against the counter, staring after the way she'd went. "I'll make dinner, Daddy, okay?"

     "Thank you, Baby." He said absentmindedly leaning down and kissing my forehead, he didn't really worry about me cooking, by that time I typically ended out making dinner at least twice a week. "Don't touch the skillet. I'll get it." He added as he went to leave the room after her.

      I remember hearing them scream at each other, Daddy, pointing out that every night she would go back to their room and drink sleep, she came back as always with how he never does a damn thing for this family.

     "I don't Carla? I don't?! Look at my hands!" He yelled at this point he was angry, after a fight, your parents always yell at you for listening if you ask about what was said. But, to be fair, it's hard not to listen when you can hear them from three rooms away as if they were standing right in front of you.

     "I don't want to look at your ugly hands and I don't want them on me either!" She wailed, even by this point in my life, I knew my Mother was overly dramatic, but I always thought that was all that wrong with her; that she was a overdramatic hypochondriac.

     She slammed the bedroom door behind her, I heard my Dad laugh in a kind of hysterical way, "All this because I'm not Kieth."

     That entire night makes sense now, as did every night my Dad said that he wasn't Keith.

     Christian sat there with me until I was ready to go get my things, and when I was he texted Taylor and walked right beside me, his hand at the small of my back as though he were scared I was going to fall. Once we reached the elevator, we stood in silence as we descended from his Pent House, Christian glanced over at me, I bit down on my lip, his eyes widened slightly but he didn't speak.

     It was a short drive to Elena's house to get my things, it seemed a lot longer last night, maybe it only seems shorter because I'm a nervous wreck. In the driveway I sit there for quite a while, debating on what I'm going to say to her when I get in there, I came up completely blank, so I came to the decision to not to speak unless I'm spoken to. This didn't last long because Elena spoke to me as soon as I made my way through the door.

     "I didn't think I would have to set a lot of rules, Ana. Not with you. I thought I could trust you to tell me the truth. Where were you all night? Why wouldn't you let me know that you weren't coming home? I thought that we were closer than that." Elena demanded

     "Now is not the time you want to talk to me about lies." I retorted bluntly, making my aggravation known. I continued to go upstairs to get the things I would need the utmost, she followed stopping at the base of the stairs.

     "Don't do that. Don't turn away from me. I didn't do anything." She urged, already seeming exasperated, I rounded instantly from half-way up the stairs.

            "Okay, since you've ALWAYS been so honest with me...Question: am I adopted? I trust you to tell me the truth too, Elena. How could you not tell me? I thought we were closer than that." I taunted, throwing her own words up in her face, I stood staring, and watching her reaction. Saying that she seemed surprised was an understatement, her mouth dropped and she stuttered for a moment before I cut her off.

     "Ana, I didn't...they asked me not to." She babbled, I rolled my eyes turning away and continuing up the stairs.

    "I don't want to hear about it!" I snapped as I made it the rest of the way up the stairs, going into the closet of my room I grabbed a bag and started throwing random things in it that I would need; toothbrush, the clothes that were already mine, my Notebooks, and my bookbag. 

      As I picked up my journal a stack of pictures fell from inside, they scattered over the floor, I scrambled to pick them up. I sat there staring down at the photos in my hands, one was a picture of Ray and me when I fourteen we made a trip to the Grand Canyon because he wanted to try to get my mind off of certain things. I flipped through the pictures, I came to one of my Mom, Theo, and I. It was when Mom was in the hospital after she gave birth to him, everyone was so happy, even Steve had a smile on his face.

      A quiet knock brought me to look up, Christian stood timidly in the doorway looking at me intently, I try my best not to look at him. He comes over and sits beside me, taking the pictures from my hands and putting them in my bag. "Are you ready?" He asks quietly, I nod my head wordlessly. "We'll come back in a couple of days to get the rest of it. In the meantime, my Mom wants to talk to you."

     "About what?" I asked as we were making our way slowly down the stairs, Christian pursed his lips and looked down at me.

     "Your strongly repressed feelings towards your Mother." He said he said it so casually as if he were speaking of the time of day.

     "Christian. No, I don't want to talk about my mother, especially to yours." I spoke coldly, I knew enough about my mom and some of it I wish I could forget, but I can't. And so I am completely content with not knowing the things that made her the way she was.

     Christian dropped the argument, which was odd, I was preparing myself for a full on blowout, but he just let it go. Mia texted me not long after and asked if I wanted to go out a little later, I hadn't seen Mia since I'd been back and even with as crazy as things were at the moment I felt I owed her a little girl time, so I said yes.