I know you’re probably confused right now. Therefore, I will rewind this story a couple of months to help you understand what just happened…
CHAPTER 1: THREE MONTHS AGO
(The events that led to Iva encountering Mane)
Once upon a time, there was this boring girl…
Today is the big day, and I can’t believe it’s finally here. It’s hard to imagine myself living in a different home, but I suppose it’s overdue. We discussed moving when my mom received another job offer in Upstate New York somewhere. This job supposedly pays twice as much as the editing gig she has now. She took the offer without thinking twice of course. The place is a highly-reputable publishing firm somewhere in western New York, far away from the actual city we see on movies. What a missed opportunity to visit Timesquare.
It’s located near the town her and my uncle was raised in. When she mentioned the possibility of us moving, I didn't take her word for it until the Realtor arrived to discuss the details. In all honesty, I never cared much about this house. This place always felt more like a prison than an actual home. I spent most of my time sitting in front of my window, watching life around me progress like a human statue.
Social media helps me with my boredom. I have an online show, where I host and review all of the books I've read. As I finish up my last episode in Virginia, I can’t help but feel disillusioned by the whole move. I don't even have the motivation to finish the episode, but I have to keep my followers informed; all 12 of them.
It’s not much more I can do with my life. The reason being is because of my unfortunate health conditions. I have SCID, or in other words, Severe Combined Immune Deficiency. I’m unable to go in public without the risk of becoming gravely ill. Therefore, I was homeschooled all through my childhood. Another major condition is my bone deficiency, which caused my legs to become brittle. No biggie, I have a wheelchair that helps me get around when I need to.
My least favorite out of all of these conditions is my epilepsy. Sometimes I faint and have a seizure unexpectedly. The most embarrassing moment was when I was at the carnival with my mom, years ago. I’m still trying to forget that situation. In short, my life sucks. Medical advancements has helped over the years, but nothing in my personal life has changed.
If that’s not bad enough, my mind doesn’t function as well as other girls my age. I always had problems learning since I was young. Doctors blamed it on the lack of oxygen to the brain when I was being conceived. I blame it on my ADHD, which only adds towards the laundry list of problems in my life.
“Cupcake!”
A familiar voice shouts out to me excitedly to gather my attention. I quickly break away from hosting my web show to respond to her.
“Mom, I'm live. Give me a second. Thanks,” I whisper.
“Oh sorry,” she whispers and back steps out of the camera's view swiftly.
“So this is my final thoughts about “Pride and Prejudice”. It's a great read for a woman, especially for a woman that is coming of age. My only regret is that I didn't read this until now. If you haven't read this book, do it now. It's a reason why this book is a classic. It's so good. Also, subscribe to my channel and make sure to hit the like button. This is my last episode in Virginia, big move today. So I will see you guys later. This is Iva Hill signing out.”
I end my live broadcast and close my laptop. I then rolled myself away from my desk and in front of my window to stare out into a world I barely understand. I only know about this world through TV, books, and a computer. My single greatest regret is the inability to live a normal life. My second greatest regret would be leaving here and reliving the same story all over again.
“Did you get more subscribers?” my mom asks behind me.
“No,” I reply with no enthusiasm.
I turn away from the window and look back into my empty room. I spot a beautiful brunette woman walking towards me with a humble smile that always breaks me away from my bleak mood. I look back out the window and watch Ms. Porter take her Shih Tzu for his usual afternoon walk.
I count down from five in my head and watch Mr. Jenkins cruise down the street in his blue Volkswagen. He’s been working overnights for years. As you can see, I’m pretty much familiar with everyone’s daily routines because observing is a hobby of mine.
“I was calling you for at least five minutes, you know,” she tells me.
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“I hope it’s not another ear infection.”
“You know how my mind is,” I reply with annoyance. “I zone out.”
I’m only frustrated because I always tell her my mind goes completely blank for no reason. Nonetheless, she always insists it’s something else.
“Well, we have to hit the road now before traffic gets bad,” she informs me.
“This is happening,” I say in disbelief. “We’re moving.”
“And it’s about time,” she replies as she gently places her hands on my frail shoulders and sighs.
I then begin to reminisce about someone who I haven’t seen in a long time, and a feeling of resentment overcomes me.
“Do you ever think about him?” I ask her.
“Iva, we had this talk before. He made his decision. We’re better off without him. I’ve been telling you this for twelve years, Iva.”
“I know,” I finish with a bit of hopelessness behind my tone.
If you have to know, the person I’m indirect about is my father, who has chosen to remain out of my life. He left us when I was young for his shellfish reasons. My mother never fully recovered emotionally from that experience. I suppose you can say the same for me.
“Life goes on,” she tells me.
I sigh and shake my head; hoping to replace regret with a better emotion, but no matter how hard I try, I will always feel sad about him not being with us. In a way, I still love my father although he pretty much left my mom with tons of medical bills and no good reason for doing so.
Soon, I was fastened into the car and ready to leave my house for good. My mom pauses to take a long sigh that she’s probably been holding onto for years.
“We leave all of our problems here,” she tells me.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Tomorrow will be a new beginning for us both,” she reassures me.
“Okay,” I reply automatically.
“I got this new job. We won’t have to worry about money anymore. I’m going to get everything we need. I will stop drinking, as I promised.”
“And smoking.” I add.
She smiles at my charm.
“You drive a hard bargain but okay.”
I look in her eyes and hopes she’s not making another false promise. I’m searching for disloyalty in her eyes to save myself from future regret.
“Pinky promise?” I ask with my pinky in the air.
I know if I get her to pinky promise, she means business. She smiles and intertwines her pinky with mine.
“I pinky promise.”
She then sits back and starts the car. To my amazement but not to my surprise, she pulls out her pink flask and takes a sip.
“Mom?!”
She almost chokes on her drink before she responds to my outburst.
“I said tomorrow,” she tells me.
“Still, you don’t even have the decency to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
“It’s just…whatever. Not only that, but we're about to drive eight hours. Maybe drinking is not such a good idea.”
“It was just a sip but…you’re right. You’re right.”
She then fastens her seatbelt and takes out a pack of cigarettes. I watch her with a blank stare as she taps the small package against her palm. She pulls out an individual cigarette and then catches me staring at her.
“What? It’s not until tomorrow. Plus, I need this right now. An eight hour trip with you is going to be stressful. On top of that, I’m driving back to a town I spent my entire life trying to get out of. I’m under a lot of pressure. Give me a freaking break will ya.”
I roll my eyes and look out of my window. I then fold my arms and hopes she gets irritated about me pouting.
“I don’t care if you’re over there pouting either.”
She read my mind like a book. I hate it when she does that.
“Put your seat belt on,” she tells me.
“It’s on already. You would have noticed if you weren’t just...drinking,” I reply sarcastically.
I look over at her in the corner of my eye as she places the cancer-stick in her mouth.
“I hope I don’t die from second-hand smoke. However, I know you wouldn’t do that because you’re my mom and you love me,” I continue with my sarcasm.
“Iva, the windows will be down.”
“Sorry, mom, what did you say?” I then start to fake cough. “I can’t hear you because I’m coughing.”
“Stop it. I didn’t even light the damn thing yet,” she replies.
I cough louder and ignore her response.
“Iva, if you don’t quit this shit…”
I then force myself to cough even louder to the point that I sound like I could vomit.
“If you don’t stop acting like a damn brat…”
Once again, I cut her off by fake coughing until I get my point across, which doesn’t take long for me to do.
“Okay!” she replies and tosses the cancer-stick out the window.
My coughing ceases almost instantly.
“Thanks, mom, for being considerate. I thought I was about to have lung disease.”
“You feel better now?” she asks with a straight face.
“Yes, much better.”
“You’re right sweetheart. I shouldn’t smoke. Give me a hug for caring so much,” she says with an unreadable expression.
I immediately hesitate her offer. There’s something in her eyes that seem dishonest and sneaky, but I can’t make it out. Maybe, just maybe, she is being serious. A couple of seconds later, I give into her charm and lean towards her for a hug. We embrace over the van’s gear shifter. However, as soon as I think that she’s sincere,
“Give me that phone,” she says as she snatches the phone from my hands and leans towards her side of the car.
“Hey, not fair!” I reply.
“You fell for the oldest trick in the book. Mommy wins again, baby. If I can’t smoke, then you can’t be on social media this entire ride. It rots your brain. It’s called…brain disease.”
“There’s no such thing.”
I then puff out air and look outside of my window without responding.
“I still don’t care if you’re pouting,” she says before bringing the engine alive and rolling away from my childhood home.
The drive from Virginia to Upstate New York is about ten hours. I keep myself entertained by listening to the radio and counting trees as they zoom by in a blur. We do talk from time to time as we cruise along. It's just enough conversation to prevent any awkward silences.
Now the remaining day is slipping from us. A fluorescent pink is beginning to devour the blue horizon.
"We made it," my mom informs me.
We take an exit ramp that welcomes us into the City of Rochester. The downtown area, just like any city, appears typical. You have your stores, your cabs, your buses, and your traffic lights on every block. In no time, we cruise through a neighborhood lined with boxy homes. She makes a final right turn on Lakeview Park and then lower speed. She carefully observes all of the addresses as we ease down the block.
"This is us," she says while pulling into a vacant driveway.
This house is boxy like the others with a light-green exterior and red window shutters. There’s a black car parked in front of the house, which belongs to a police officer. My mom beeps the car horn several times. The front door opens a couple of seconds later. A man is standing in the doorway of the house, smiling at us from ear to ear.
He’s dressed casually in a pair of black slacks, and a white shirt with the sleeves partially rolled up on each arm. The navy-blue tie on his neck is loosened as if he just came home from a long day’s work. He hurries onto the porch and down the steps, bringing the vivid smile along with him. My mom rushes out of the van and meets him with an embrace. A moment later, they detach. She takes a moment to study his physical appearance from head to toe.
"Oh my God! I can't believe you cut your hair," my mom’s excited voice is penetrating the windows.
He leans his head forward so he can show off his fresh haircut. His hair, just like hers, is golden-brown and groomed nicely. He then directs his big grin towards me and wraps around the front of the van. He opens the door.
"What’s up kiddo?" he asks me. “Need a hand?”
I look deeply into his green eyes and begin to pull moments with him from my memory bank. He has the same green eyes and golden-brown hair as my mother. I know him, but I haven’t seen him in almost a decade.
"Uncle Frank?" I mutter shockingly.
"Who else would I be?" he replies…