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CHAPTERTEN
In the morning, I wake up like I’ve woken up the last couple of mornings.
Alone.
At least I haven’t had any “visitors” to my room today. That’s one thing I can be grateful for.
What I’m not grateful for is an empty house. And when I mean empty, Eli empty. Eleanor’s here, pottering about in the kitchen where I always seem to find her. I would love to know who she is and why she’s here. She should be at home, enjoying retirement, instead of waiting on us hand and foot.
Coffee in hand, I stand in the living room, staring at the huge painting above the couch. The colors are dark blue, red, black and gold, swooping across the canvas in different directions. I squint, trying to find some form of a figure, or even an object that I didn’t see at first glance, but nothing really comes to me. Just this soulless, dark, and I have to say rather depressing, painting.
“I could never understand why you liked that painting.”
Eleanor, hand on hip, whips out her duster and starts dusting already clean areas of the living room. I note, as she’s cleaning, that she’s about the only one who’s not afraid to tell me what she’s really thinking, which is refreshing. I like her, but I have a feeling the old Kendra would have bitten back at that remark.
“You’re right. It’s crap.”
“Then why did you pay over half a million dollars for the ghastly thing?”
My mouth drops open. I paid what?!
I shake that thought from my head, instead deciding on a different tack. “Eleanor, why do you put up with me?”
Her hand stops in midair. Turning, she places that same hand on her hip, her eyes narrowing as if trying to gauge my intentions.
“Seriously, I want to know,” I answer her inner thoughts.
She resumes her dusting, shutting an open drawer with her hip. “Girl, I have known you since you were a babe in arms. You were as demanding then as you are now, but I never took your crap then, and I most certainly don’t now. You may have been a pain in my derriere, but someone had to look after you. Your mother and father certainly weren’t there to do it.”
This saddens me. If I had no parents, then it’s no wonder I grew up to be this soulless lush, resentful of the world and everyone in it. But, even with the possession of this knowledge, it still doesn’t take away one fact.
It’s just… not me.
I wonder what happened to my parents. I want to ask, but I can’t without giving away the fact that I can’t remember anything. So instead, I opt for honesty.
“I don’t deserve you.”
She snaps her head up to me. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve said anything like that to me. Are you high?”
I roll my eyes. If I get asked that one more time, I’m going to scream.
I open my mouth to answer her, but a knock on the door halts my response.
“That’ll be Joyce.”
Joyce? Who the hell is Joyce?
One day I’ll get to find out what the hell is going on here.
One day.
I follow after Eleanor, who opens the door to this Joyce. A petite, bubbly looking girl with a high ponytail and equally high cheekbones walks in with a huge suitcase trailing behind her in one hand and a big makeup style bag in the other.
“Hi Eleanor,” she greets, a big smile on her face as she’s let into the house. She stops when she spots me, her smile slowly slipping. “Hi Kendra,” she drawls, with as much enthusiasm as a person about to get a blood test.
“Hi,” I reply, my smile meeting my eyes, hoping that she’ll see it as genuine. She narrows her eyes at me, no doubt wondering what my motive is. I seem to be getting used to that look on people lately.
“Upstairs as usual?” she asks me, her head pointing to the stairs.
