The Beauty in Poverty

Chapter 1 - Rain

© AP ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 2019

It was raining.

"That wasn't too bad, was it?"

I shrugged.

"And, at least the asparagus wasn't overcooked this time," she continued cheerfully.

I turned to look out of the window. I hated this type of rain. A light continuous splatter - like it had been through a sieve - each drop had been diced, and diced again. Why couldn't it rain properly?

"Avery..."

I placed my head against the cold glass, making a noncommittal sound.

"Avery, I'm worried about you," Aunt Gina sighed.

"Aren't you always..."

"Well somebody has to be," she had muttered under her breath, but I had heard.

"You don't need to remind me that they don't care...it's hardly something that I could forget," I deadpanned, a ghost of a smile slipping onto my face.

"Oh Avery - honey, you know I didn't mean that, of course they care, you know they care...heck they're your parents Avery - they love you," she said firmly, reaching out to grab my shoulder.

I gently took her hand off my shoulder and placed it back on the steering wheel.

"Then why am I here with you right now?"

Silence.

Just the way I liked it.

You see, silence was genuine. No façade or pretense, but just the truth - that there's nothing to say. And bless Aunt Gina because I know she did care. And whilst her affection was genuine that bullshit about my parents caring was not. They were too concerned with the filthy little affairs of their daily lives. Literally.

"Because I am your godmother, and your parents appointed me at your birth to change your diaper on occasion, buy you a shitload of candy behind their backs, take you for crappy nights out at fancy restaurants as you got older and love the shit out of you," she paused, "So that - that is why you're here with me right now."

I turned to scowl at her for breaking our one rule and being even the slightest bit sentimental, but I felt the rare tug of my lips instead forming a somewhat smile.

She grinned back, happy with herself and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

"Aunt Gina" was not my real aunt. She was merely my godmother, who refused to be just that. She'd insisted from the very instance I could string together barely coherent phrases that I call her "Auntie Genieee". Which naturally as I developed into my surly cold-hearted self, metamorphosed into "Aunt Gina" - cold and unemotional, simply her title. She was probably the person I liked most in my life, but I couldn't help but hold her at a distance, I did that to everyone. That was just a consequence of the way I'd been raised. And I had been taught by the best.

Aunt Gina was diligent in trying to build our relationship. She'd often call until my short clipped answers would make her hang up, or take me out to yet another highly expensive restaurant with boring food and boring people and a boring live band. Her latest obsession seemed to be attempting to get me to spend time with her boring daughter, who was supposedly my age, and who I'd apparently 'get on so well with'. This I highly doubted.

I should mention that I don't have any friends. I gave that up in year 7 when I realised that money makes people envious and for spotty prepubescent girls that means bitchy or fake. I didn't have time for mean girls who were jealous of even the air you breathed, or fake friends who only hung out with you to reap the benefits and then dashed when they were done. No. It was better to be alone. Solitude meant silence. And I liked silence.