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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

surface. She groans rubbing at her temples. ” I have a massive migraine. Can you pour a glass of orange juice for

 

 

 

 

 

 

the soaked up wine cloth in the sink then walks

 

 

 

 

 

 

anniversary dinner last night?” I asked purposely. I observe how both Gertrude and mother stiffen upon hearing my

 

 

 

 

my question she orders Gertrude. ” Pour a glass for

 

 

 

 

 

 

mornings.” I said flatly, mildly irritated that she forgot I was allergic to citrus. Then again I should not be surprised, my parents forgot a lot about me

 

 

 

 

 

 

something or at least eat before you head to school

 

 

 

 

my line of vision, I could see how quickly she took out what looked like

 

 

 

 

 

 

my favorite vegan

 

 

 

 

 

 

up or do

 

 

 

 

 

 

dancing around with the many different materials before I got scolded

 

 

 

 

 

 

feelings than either of my parents. So I’d do it over and over again until she stopped bringing me to work with her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

nodded playing with the straps of my bag. “Yes Gwen 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 even if I

 

 

 

 

 

 

related and the only thing connecting us was the blood running through our veins. Besides, a car ride with mother always resulted in an argument about school grades needing to

 

 

 

 

 

 

the first day I dropped you off in kindergarten. My perfect little girl is growing before my very own eyes.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

in at work earlier than expected, he has already left.” She spoke after

 

 

 

 

 

 

she wants to talk

 

 

 

 

 

 

at all. Same old same old, be 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

 

 

 

 

 

 

don’t stay out late and if anything comes up at school, I’m one phone call away.” She utters, grabs her bag and leaves the kitchen

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

that Arabella. You know your mother loves you. Your parents love you.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

when she could always just stare at

 

 

 

 

not care and scroll through my phone as

 

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