My Distraction

Chapter Eight

April

      Claire.

  I thought in my mind with disgust. The most beautiful caramel skin coloured woman I have ever had the opportunity to let my eyes behold. She held her head high as she called sisters.

    When she puts on her usual thick layer of make-up, it really gives her a good advantage. She is nervous. I can tell. She shifts, almost uncomfortably. She does not even bother to come to me. Soon enough, our gazes lock. She stares, I stare. It soon turns to a glare and I do the same to her.

   We are both rooted at a spot and the drizzle of rain is not helping at all. Literally, this explains my relationship with my mother. We are not going anywhere in our relationship just like the way we are now rooted in a spot and the drizzle just represents the people and things around us that makes everything even more worse. I feel Chris's palm on me, as he squeezes my arm tight. I give him a reassuring nod once I look away from my mother to see his worried face.

Right now, I might as well pull myself together and face my mother. This is not doing any of us any good. Using my crutches I move towards her. I take her by surprise, I am sure she never expected me to come to her. But knowing who she is, she quickly wipes away the look of shock on her beautiful face. When I reach her after much struggle with the crutches, she just struts into her grand mansion after the butler opens up the door. I greet Mr.Tom, my long old time friend with a nod of my head and he does the same with placating eyes.

I ignore my mother's rude action. I shrug when Chris searches my face probably for any trace of hurt. I feel hurt. I am really hurting. Nobody may not know it but I to can feel. But at least she taught me how to hide my emotions. She cannot get the opportunity to see that she is really hurting me.

The interior and even the exterior embellishments of this mansion never fails to surprise me. When Mr. Tom pulls open the door to this mansion all I see is beauty. Every other person who walks in here sees it too. This is my mother's most beloved mansion out of the many she has. I can tell by the big grin that she always has planted on her face when she walks into her home.
"This is our home." She used to say when I was a kid. But over the years I quickly understood that "our" actually meant "my". She loved and still loves this mansion to a very large extent.
"Sit."
I look over to my mother to find her gesturing to her posh sofa lined with porcelain at the edges to match the small table placed at the middle of all these extravagant beauty. Chris helps me sit before taking a seat besides me on a replica of the sofa that I am sitting on.

It has been three years since I have been in contact with my mother. How fate works, we are now opposite each other in the same room tension taking over the space between us. I notice my mother give me a hesitant smile. I hope this meeting ends well. Chris takes my wrist in his palm and gives it a firm grip in reassurance.
Well, let us begin.