Touch Me While I Taste You

Chapter 4

4

 

 

Arabella Rivera 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Goodmorning Arabella.” Gertrude greeted me as I entered the kitchen. 

 

 

 

 

I wanted to point out that there was nothing good about the morning, especially the day ahead. But of course, I swallowed it down and murmur a soft greeting in return. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’re here so early?” I asked, throwing my bag on the island. I fixed myself onto the stool and let my eyes stray to Gertrude. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My eyes drop to stare at the broken wine glass she was quickly sweeping in the dustpan before disposing it into the bin. My stomach drops already knowing without having to ask. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

” Yeah, your mom needed me to come early to clean up.” She answers, pushes a cloth under the running pipe and wrings it before wiping down the spilled red wine on the floor. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“They had a rough night huh?” I asked. It was no secret that my parents never saw eye to eye. 

 

 

 

 

Funny that they complain about the Cross’s while they were no saints themselves. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. At least the Cross’s didn’t hide behind the facade of a perfect family. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gertrude doesn’t answer confirming my suspicion. I should not be surprised, in fact, I wasn’t. This was normal, it was normal. But that didn’t help the lurking anger I felt knowing that my parents never cleaned after themselves. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They treated Gertrude like a slave who should always do their bidding. Yes, she was practically our maid but no one should be worked to the point of exhaustion. ” Maybe one day you should have them clean up their own mess.” I couldn’t stop the hint of anger that slipped when I spoke. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

” Who needs to clean up their own mess?” A hoarse voice speaks. 

 

 

 

 

I looked over at mother who entered the kitchen, fingers pressed to her temples like she had a massive headache. When her eyes fall on me, I took note of how red and swollen they looked. It appeared like she had been crying for hours. At this point, I wouldn’t doubt it. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She was also dressed in her normal formal attire, white blouse, pencil skirt with deathly high red stilettos and a black Prada bag clutched in her hands. She looked like the epitome of a hot wicked boss whose personal life is falling apart day by day. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In her case it was true. I could vouch for that since I was living in her world. The one where I am supposed to be perfect just like her. Or as perfect as she portrays to be. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

temples. ” I have

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mrs. Rivera.” Gertrude replied and throws the soaked up wine cloth in

 

 

 

 

 

 

was the anniversary dinner last night?” I asked purposely. I observe how

 

 

 

 

my question she orders Gertrude. ” Pour a glass for Arabella as well.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

orange juice kind of person on mornings.” I said flatly, mildly irritated that she forgot I was allergic to citrus. Then again I should not be

 

 

 

 

 

 

to school Arabella.” She sighs grasping the glass of orange juice Gertrude handed to her.

 

 

 

 

see how quickly she took out what looked like

 

 

 

 

 

 

will.” I said, planning to buy my favorite vegan salad on the

 

 

 

 

 

 

on the wall and she turns to me. “Is Gwen picking you up or do you need a ride? I

 

 

 

 

 

 

me dancing around with the many different materials before

 

 

 

 

 

 

feelings than either of my parents.

 

 

 

 

 

 

should be here any second now so no need to drop me off.” It was not like I hated my parents, they were my parents so of course I couldn’t

 

 

 

 

 

 

blood running through our veins. Besides, a car ride with mother always resulted in an

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like the first day I dropped you off in kindergarten. My perfect little girl is growing before my very own eyes.” She laughs lowly, gulping more orange

 

 

 

 

 

 

point out that it was not actually her who had dropped me off in kindergarten but Gertrude but I bit my tongue. Surely she’d win that

 

 

 

 

I nodded. “Right.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

work earlier than expected, he has already

 

 

 

 

 

 

so now she wants to talk about

 

 

 

 

 

 

the perfect daughter with good grades while they act like the best parents when they’re, not. Sometimes I felt that my parents saw talking to me as a chore which was rather

 

 

 

 

 

 

Arabella don’t stay out late and if anything comes up at

 

 

 

 

 

 

while pretending to wipe down the countertops, walks over to where mother was a few seconds ago and reaches for the empty glass. Her head lifts and her eyes connect

 

 

 

 

at me like that Arabella. You know your

 

 

 

 

 

 

when she could always just stare at me and read my

 

 

 

 

my phone as I waited

 

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