- Be more careful! her sister ordered.
Emaline had two different ways to react in front of her sister's awkwardness. Either she was angry and moaned, or she mocked her and laughed. Both were annoying.
- I am, Elizabeth answered with a sigh.
Her parents got used to these things, the noise when she knocked over something or even broke it, or when she screamed because of pain after banging a wall. After years of giving advice or scolding her, they gave up. She seemed to be a desperate case. Or maybe cursed, I must say. Everyone would affirm that her life was easy, but there was an accumulation of little increments that made me think she was really unlucky. I'm not saying destiny wanted her to spill flour on the table, I just think that when the day began horrible, it was all the way through, until the moon came in the sky.
- Did you iron?
- Not yet. I'm doing it in an hour.
Licking the spoon after fulling the baking pans, she smiled at her sister who nodded her head, amused, before leaving the kitchen.
Well, “kitchen” is quite a big word. It was extremely small, barely more than four meters large. The table took about seventy centimeters large, and the cupboards, on both sides, measured almost a meter each. There was barely enough space for two in this room. They used to eat there, before. No need to stand up when someone wanted anything. Elizabeth, on the left, could distribute cutlery or water, she just had to stretch her arm to reach the tap or the drawer. Emaline could give everything that was in the fridge, their father, everything on the gas cooker and their mother was back to the huge entrance of the living room, near to the bread.
So, that could explain why we heard someone hit the stools every five minutes. The kitchen was too small. I guess Elizabeth had an excuse for everything.
She stopped what she was doing and froze when the phone rang. It made her really nervous. A phone ring, the doorbell, getting outside. Everything that could possibly make her meet or talk to someone created this nervousness she could not explain. Her mother hang out but she waited, wanting to be sure she would not have to take the phone call. It seemed that it was no one she knew so she finished her activity and went upstairs, into her room.
There she was fine. Actually, she was as melancholic as nostalgic, but I think she felt well in this room. The atmosphere was cosy and, even if she did not sleep there during her childhood, it was full of memories she could not ignore. The posters, cute cats everywhere, hid the white walls she did not want to see. Everything in this house was white and cleaned, and all the furniture was wood coloured. She was tired of that “hospital atmosphere”. Her room was totally different from the rest of the house. It was such a beautiful room. I have to say that it seemed a little childish for Elizabeth, with the cats, the teddy bears, the lava lamps and the figurines that occupied almost all the shelves. She even had a cow Ottoman, with an embossed designed head and little ears. But when she was here, she could be everyone she wanted to be. The little five year-old girl who loved make up and Barbies, the ten year-old one who liked to collect Diddle items, the fifteen year-old one as well, who dreamt of an idyll with a nice guy, and wanted to live a fairytale. She was no more this teenager in her studio, who did not know how to spend time, who could not study well because she did not have any aim, who did not even go out with friends because of this stupid fear inside of her, the fear of people, the fear of the world. This girl who lived a life of nothing. Who lived nothing. Oh God, she would have given anything to be someone else.
Her cell phone vibrated and she took a look at the message. Damien asked if she was fine. She smiled. Damien and her had quite a complicated relationship, if we could call that a relationship. But he was the one. I don't mean she was in love with him - she actually did not believe in love - but when she imagined herself with someone, smiling, it was with him. However, they hadn't seen each other for a while. For a very long time. And when he wanted to see her sometimes, she gave a false excuse, she lied, as she always does. The reason why she smiled at that moment was quite a mystery, looking at this common message everyone send to everyone. She just remembered the months they spent far from each other, when studies separated them. They never broke up like they should have. They just let time do its job. Elizabeth had tried to keep in touch with him but she had been tired of being the only one who wanted that, to be the first to send a text or to say “hello” on skype. So she let it go. And he never sent anything after that. She thought he had forgotten her. But now, when he was the first to send a text, she was happy. Their conversations were quite ordinary, but she liked them. Damien was important, I know it. But she never wanted to admit it.
Answering to Damien, she switched on the computer and took place on the chair. She kinda hated Sundays. Too close from Mondays. She ironed and packed, ready to return in her tiny studio in this big city of Antens, again and again, every Sunday. She was tired of this, she needed something else. The thing is, she did not know what.