Pt. 8 – Previous parts in the serie can be found here.
A weekly blog serie based on the character Mia – the rebellious one. A single twenty-something woman in search of many things – love not being one of them. Complicated is her middle name.
I’ve never been able to understand those who wake up voluntarily at the earliest light of the day. I check my phone – 06:37 am and I can’t seem to fall back asleep with all the morning sounds behind the walls. I had forgotten how early this house start their mornings. Too early. Alas, my body refuses the wake. While staring at the ceiling, in a desperate attempt to sleep I fall into a light doze. But only to come back to life from the sound of a child’s whine. Which quickly changes to a high pitched cry. Even I can’t fall back asleep.
It’s 07:15. Sleep is not in the cards this sunny Tuesday morning. I put on my clothes from the previous night. Waking up and getting dressed in a random bedroom sadly feels familiar. But this time, minus a tall dark stranger and the walk of
shame trying to regain lost memories.
At 07:30 Maddie is in full cleaning mode, keeping up with appearance. God forbid there should be a stain left on the kitchen counter. As I enter, I question if she notices me.
“I wouldn’t want trading place with the counter,” I say as I make my way to the fridge.
“You’re up!” she shouts, surprised to see me alive at the crack of dawn (which is what if feels like). “I wasn’t expecting you up at such reasonable hours.”
I Ignore to ask what the book of Maddie says about reasonable hours but knowing her, I already know the answers. However, there is nothing reasonable with starting my day so damn early.
I hear Bella running down the hallway as she yells “Mamma Mia! You’re awake.”
One afternoon of house sitting with the kids and one particular song earned me my nickname. “They are singing your name” was the reaction, astonished it was even possible. Not knowing is the song that earned me my name in the first place.
“Good morning, princess Bella” I say as I take a bow, like one of those unlikely Disney prince.
“Are you staying?” she asks, eyes wide open with hope.
I make my sad face and mouth the words “I can’t princess.” Thinking to myself how much I miss sleep and that’s what I intend to do.
“Bella,” Maddie interrupts “Sweetie, go get dressed. We’ll be leaving soon.”
Bella opens her mouth to say something but is quickly interrupted. “Now, please.”
And off she goes.
“Hey, thank you again for stepping in last night.”
“No worries. Anytime. How is the little prince?” I reply, happy to have helped the superwoman that is my sister. Who rarely asks for help.
“Resting. His fever has gone down,” she says, continuing her cleaning rampage. This time, wiping all fingerprints on the fridge. I dare not to touch an inch of it. “The doctor wrote a prescription.”
She makes a note on her shopping list and continues over to the kitchen island, ready to scrub some more.
“Look who decided to wake up,” the infamous Maddie remark, that has a tendency to make you feel small or even wrong for doing something right.
The sight of Henrik startles me. The poor man looks deranged from last night with his zombie steps – the case of a hangover. To my knowledge, no prescription for severe hangovers unfortunately. In my mind I’m hoping Henrik’s memory is still blurry. So far, he hasn’t mentioned anything to Maddie. I wonder why.
My mind escapes Maddie’s questioning of where I was last night when she called. I only told her that I was a friend but I could help babysit Bella. And she was too occupied to even ask, which suited me fine.
“Who’s the lucky man who’s going to get his heart broken,” she says, knowing well of her insult but hides behind a big grin.
“Maddie, shut up,” I mutter
“You’re almost thirty, Mia. Time is ticking.”
“I’m twenty-six, Maddie. You’re thirty. Learn to count.”
Maddie starts raiding the kitchen cupboards and scribbling items on her shopping list. I can feel my patience slowly being drained by her constant judgement. I’m single by choice. Beside, it’s not time that frightens me, it’s opening your heart thing and let love in. The kind of crap convincing women that’s all life is about. I’m not even sure I know what love is. If she bothered to care, she would know. I would tell her the truth.
“Want to stay for an early lunch?” she asks, to my surprise changing the subject. She is usually persistent. “I’m having one of the neighbors over,”
“Mrs Erikson, I presume.”
“Mrs Olsen actually. She’s been feeling down lately,” she explains. “You know, her husband is having an affair. So, I invited her for lunch.”
I automatically scan the room of any trace that may identify me. Remembering that Camilla has seen face one awkward morning. Picture perfect of the Larsons hang on the wall – Maddie’s proud of every one of them. There is even one of mother but none of me. I don’t bother being offended.
“What about the divorce?” I ask to keep the conversation going as I walk towards the glass-fronted cabinet to check for more pictures. Curiosity of knowing what she knows is also prominent.
“The divorce is just a minor detail,” she argues, “besides, there’s still hope they’ll get back together.”
Henrik walks in again, looking worst than before. Hunchbacked, paled and droopy eyes – the case of the man flu. According to men, quite deadly.
“For God sake, Henrik, go lie down!” she urges. The poor man does what he is told.
She turns her attentive stare towards me, “Well, are you staying for lunch?”
My mind screams the words – hell no. That would be suicide. I pat her ego, praising her for the invitation but I gently decline it. I check my phone and notice the time – 08:23, I need to get home in the comfort of my own bed and misery.