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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the island and rests her elbows on the smooth marble surface. She groans rubbing at her temples. ” I have a massive

 

 

 

 

 

 

throws the soaked up wine cloth in the sink then walks over

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

I said flatly, mildly irritated that she forgot I was allergic to citrus. Then again I should not be surprised,

 

 

 

 

 

 

head to school Arabella.” She sighs grasping

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

I said, planning to buy my favorite vegan salad on

 

 

 

 

 

 

up or do you need a ride? I have a meeting in a couple of hours and I

 

 

 

 

 

 

dancing around with the many different materials before I got scolded by her for disarranging the color theme.

 

 

 

 

 

 

because those materials knew more of my feelings than either of my parents. So I’d do it over and over again

 

 

 

 

 

 

off.” It

 

 

 

 

 

 

as though we were more like 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

 

 

 

 

 

 

day I dropped you off in kindergarten. My perfect little girl is growing before my very

 

 

 

 

 

 

to point out that it was not actually her who had dropped me off in kindergarten but

 

 

 

 

I nodded. “Right.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

so now she wants to talk about father?

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

make no effort to answer her. Her eyes tear away from me to look at the clock 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 utters, grabs her bag and

 

 

 

 

 

 

to where mother was a few seconds ago

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

at me and read my

 

 

 

 

through my phone as

 

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