A.L.Q.D

Chapter 1

Songs for this chapter are:

Little Talks - Alex and Sierra

Bel Air - Lana Del Rey

Fidelity - Jasmine Thompson

Ivette's POV

She used to bring me to the kitchen and have me sit on an old stool with pink satin ribbon in her hands.

In front of me was a large french kitchen window that overlooked our beautiful backyard.

She would let the satin ribbon run around and between her thin fingers like the fabric was dancing intricately.

I would sit with my best posture on that stool as she would brush my hair with a dust telling century old hairbrush as my young eyes grazed upon the scenery. 

After she was done brushing my hair she would gather it and put it up in a classic bun with bobby pins and lilac filled hair spray ; never letting a single strand free from her fingers. 

If you had good eyesight then you could see a sliver of a pond on the left corner of the window. With all of the lily pads and dragon flies flying and floating around the surface.

Her intricate fingers swooped up my blond hair and swiftly finished the ballerina styled bun.

She would then take the satin ribbon and tie it around the bun that rested perfectly on top of my small head and smile.

"Darling Ivette", she would quietly say as she finished my bun, "people should pray for hair like yours dear; such silky, smooth and elegant hair."

I would be too caught up in the beauty of our backyard for me to hear her words before she walk clear her throat loudly.

"Ivette darling, people do not like people who minds wander.", she would finish my hair and place the hairspray and hairbrush on the table next to her and then grab a pair of scissors.

I would fix my posture and fix my eyes on the little butterflies and gnats that flew around the french window that then made their way into the distance. Yet whenever she would say those words to me, I never built up the courage to challenge her words with mine.

She would then snip away the tiny strands of blond hair that couldn't quite reach the ribbon with a quick snip and flip of her wrist.

The strands would gently fall to the tile floor and rest there until she would sweep them up later with an old broom.

I could tell when she was done because her warmth and fragrance of lilacs were gone, that was when I would turn around and peel my eyes from the beauty and come face to face with more of it.

"Are you ready Ivette?", she would have a trench coat on and have her hand out for me, "yes mother.", I would whisper and take her hand and abandon my seat on the stool overlooking the yard.

I would tip toe my way out of our creaky home and exit the front door with a greeting of wind that rustled the tulle skirt. Or mostly known as, my most prized possession; my tutu.

My mother would unlock the car and open the door for me with such elegance as I slipped into the car being careful not to snag my tutu on the metal frame.

I would close my door as she would enter the car and start it up as my eyes looked upon our home, large french windows and our front door. The doorknob was old, anyone could tell, but I loved it. The way the gold paint chipped off and the way the paint chipped of the window frame just appealed to me. It always had.

We had flower boxes along the windows yet my mother had only planted daisies in it once, and she never did again. She told me the reason why when she was putting the ribbon in my hair once, "Ivette, daises are sad flowers, who loves white flowers? There is so much more colour on our world, so why let it drain out on petals dear?"

I would whisper a "I don't know mother.", while she snipped the free strands away.

"Perhaps the colour was put in you darling.", she would say into my hair and kiss the left side of my head.

That was the most beautiful thing my mother has ever said to me, and that was the only time I could remember her kissing my head as well.

I would smile and turn around when she was done and whisper back, "perhaps mother."

Yet she never planted those drained daises ever again and now the flower boxes lay empty and searching for the roots of beautiful flowers once more.

Once I was done daydreaming about flower boxes, chipped doorknobs and memories we were not moving anymore. We were in front of the place that made me smile and feel free, like my backyard.

Miss. Adelaide's Ballet Studio.

This place did not have chipped window paint and doorknobs, it was painted to perfection over the wooden frame with beautiful baby pink colour.

My mother would park in the back with all of the other cars and let me out of the car with grace as my little feet covered in ballet shoes ran to the front steps.

"Ivette!", she would say, "please do not run away from me, its quite rude."

I would stop running and usually it was right in front of the steps when my mother would grab my wrist and shake her head, "Ivette I have told you that one to many times."

"Sorry mother, I am just excited for ballet today.", I would say and wait for her approval to go inside, "well, that's good that you are excited dear.", she would reply to me as she grabbed my small hand and led me inside.

As soon as I stepped into Miss. Adelaide's Ballet Studio the feeling of warmth and love washed over me, and as in my young age it was an even stronger feeling.

Every time I walked in I could hear music and someone saying, 1, 2, 3 ,4 , 1, 2 ,3, 4 over and over again in a soft mellow voice, along with the soft padding of feet hitting the wooden floors.

It was like music to me, if I could hear feet padding on the rustic floors and someone counting along  with classical music, I would listen to it everyday.

"Miss Ivette and Mrs. Muller, such a pleasure to see you this evening. Ivette dear, are you ready for your lesson?", Miss. Adelaide would say to me as my eyes gleamed with excitement and happiness.

 "Hello Miss Adelaide, and yes, Miss. Ivette is all ready for your wisdom this afternoon.", my mother would smile and take my jacket off and drape it over her arm.

"Are you ready?", she would always check with me everyday, you know, just in case. I would my head and smile, "yes mother, I am ready and excited."

 "Good, have a wonderful time dear. I will pick you up at 3 o'clock."

I would nod my tiny head as the bow bounced upon the top while my mother left the building.

Yet every time she would stop and blow me a kiss and then leave.

This time she didn't.