When Confidence Collides

Chapter 8: Take a picture if you want; it'll last longer

Laid out in front of me were 3 different outfits for me to choose from. For some reason trying to find something I wanted to wear today had been really stressing me out. You know those days where you look at your wardrobe and don't feel like wearing anything and you end up crying because you can't choose? Yeah, that was what was happening right now. I was not deprived of options I just was not feeling any of the outfits. 

After trying to find something to wear for an hour and a half, I finally settled on the 2nd set of clothes I had laid out on my bed: my beige sweatpants with a white cropped vest and my matching beige knitted cardigan. I put my hair up in a messy bun and made my way downstairs. 

I was on the last few steps when the feeling of nostalgia hit me. It smelt like home. I eagerly walked into the kitchen wanting to work out what had reminded me of my home back in England.

I turned the corner and watched Sydney and Calla rushing around like ants, cooking something that was way too familiar. 

"Hey, Ivy," Calla greeted me once she finally saw me, "Syd and I have decided to try and make something from your home place today: a Sunday roast. Its Sunday and we thought since we had company coming later, we could try something different," she explained whilst peeling potatoes. 

Company? Oh yeah, Syd invited Jace over. 

"I'll help since it's something I have helped cooked many times before," I told the two of them whilst grabbing a knife and helping. 

When I was younger, I would always help my Dad cook on Sundays; it was our thing. It was always so much fun. We would have music playing whilst my Dad dealt with the chicken and me with the veg. We would always be laughing and joking about something whether it was remembering something that happened years ago or something more recent. It was light-hearted and enjoyable. 

I sighed as I remembered what happened. 

That was, of course, until he left.

I wasn't mad at the fact he had left, that didn't bother me. It was the way he was after. 

I found myself arguing with him more often and the way he spoke to me was not right. I am in no way perfect and I know I don't get everything right. No one does, but my Dad would always find a way to tell me I was wrong or that I will look back on it all and regret the way I was being. The thing was though, I wasn't acting any different to the way I was before he left and 7 years later, I still fail to see where I was being out of line. 

I had learnt from a young age to tell him what he wanted to hear but the older I got, the more I realised how messed up it was, so I stopped. 

I was 11 years old at the time it all happened. He used to say that I had him wrapped around my little finger, now I don't even know where in the big, wide world he lives. 

I felt my mood becoming dampened. I lightly shook my head to get rid of the depressing thoughts and helped prepare dinner. 

-

Calla and I were both in hysterics with the way Sydney was dancing and singing to the song currently playing through her speakers. 

"I can't breathe," Calla managed to say in between contagious laughs. We had stopped cooking a while ago and were just waiting for the chicken to cook so now we were all just messing about. 

I heard a knock at the door and instinctively walked over and open the door. 

It was Lucas. 

"Hey," I said after I had finally stopped laughing, "I didn't know you were coming today." 

I felt a presence of someone behind me. "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you earlier," Syd commented.