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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

wine cloth in the sink

 

 

 

 

 

 

I asked purposely. I observe how both Gertrude and mother stiffen

 

 

 

 

orders Gertrude. ” Pour a glass for Arabella as well.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m not an 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 surprised, my

 

 

 

 

 

 

or at least eat before you head to school Arabella.” She sighs grasping the glass of orange juice Gertrude handed to

 

 

 

 

out what looked like pills from her bag and popped one in her mouth before

 

 

 

 

 

 

buy my favorite

 

 

 

 

 

 

and she turns to me. “Is Gwen picking you up or do you need a ride? I have a meeting in a couple of hours and I

 

 

 

 

 

 

state. I remember the younger me dancing around with the many different materials before I got scolded by her for disarranging the

 

 

 

 

 

 

back then, because those materials knew more of my feelings than either of my parents. So I’d do it over and over again until she stopped

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 wanted

 

 

 

 

 

 

strangers than being actually 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 be up. I always lost the argument

 

 

 

 

 

 

Like the first day I dropped you off

 

 

 

 

 

 

it was not actually her who had dropped me off in kindergarten but Gertrude but

 

 

 

 

I nodded. “Right.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

in at work earlier than expected, he has

 

 

 

 

 

 

she wants

 

 

 

 

 

 

while they act like the best parents when they’re, not. Sometimes

 

 

 

 

 

 

again. ” I should be going now. Arabella don’t stay out late and if anything comes up at school, I’m one phone call away.” She

 

 

 

 

 

 

mother was a few seconds ago and reaches for the empty glass. Her head lifts and her eyes connect to

 

 

 

 

Don’t look at me like that Arabella. You know your mother loves you. Your

 

 

 

 

 

 

stare at me and

 

 

 

 

my phone as I waited for Gwen to

 

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