Tabitha
Lying on my bed, I look around my spacious room. I flick the TV on and scroll through all the channels.
Boring.
Nope.
Boring.
Ugh.
Nothing catches and keeps my interest. I turn the TV off, and grab my phone from beside my bed. I check out social media, and roll my eyes. Way too much bullshit drama for my taste. I don’t give a rat’s ass who’s doing what with whom. Not my business.
I turn over in my bed, and look out the window. I’m so bored. I just want to do something. Pushing the covers back, I head down the marble staircase toward the sunroom, where I know Mom is.
I find her curled up on the sofa in the sunroom, sipping a cocktail and talking on the phone.
“Ha! I know. Did you hear what happened with Trish and her husband?” she gossips into the phone. She casts a wary eye toward me. I stand patiently waiting for her to stop talking with whichever friend she’s on the phone with. “Lunch, tomorrow?” She chuckles loudly.
I move from foot to foot, and look around the expansive, and ostentatiously decorated room. “Mom,” I whisper. She keeps talking without acknowledging me with anything more than an irritated glance.
“Oh, lunch today? At two? Of course, I can make it, I just need time to get ready.” She sits up straight as if to rise, and places her cocktail on the gaudy glass-topped coffee table. “Hang on, darling.” She moves the phone away from her ear, and looks down her nose at me. “What do you want, Tabitha?” she asks as if I’m interrupting her precious phone call.
“Can I come to lunch too?” I ask, hoping she finally says “yes.”
“God, no! There aren’t any children where we go.”
“I’m fifteen, Mom. I won’t get in the way.”
She scrunches her mouth, and shakes her head. “No other children will be going, so no.” She picks her cocktail up, and sips it again, this time finishing off the contents. Mom lifts the phone to her ear again. “What were you saying?” she pauses and listens. “Oh, it was no one, really. Just Tabitha. I swear, that child is so difficult to live with,” I hear her say as I walk out of the room.
Right, I’m hard to live with! Because I want to spend time with her, and Mom would prefer to socialize with her fake friends than with me.
I let out a ragged breath, and head into Dad’s home office. He’s on the phone too. As I enter the room, he lets out a loud laugh. “Golf at eight tomorrow morning? Hang on a minute, Tabitha’s here.” He looks at his phone, places it on mute, then lowers it to his desk. “Hey, kiddo. You okay?”
“Can I come to golf with you tomorrow?” I eagerly ask.
“No, golf isn’t for you, Tabitha. Wouldn’t you rather hang out with your friends than this old man?”
“Well… not r…”
“Here.” He feels under the papers lying on his desk, finds his wallet, and opens it. “Take this, and go to the mall and hang out with your friends.” He lifts his hand offering me a bundle of bills. “Is that enough? Do you want more?” I look at the money as if it’s filthy.
He tries to hand it to me, but I don’t reach for it. “Dad, can’t I come with you? You can teach me to play golf. We can do it together?”
“No, don’t be silly, Tabitha. Hanging out with a bunch of old men isn’t something you should be doing. Here.” He thrusts the money toward me again. “Go, and have fun. I’m on an important call. Love you, sweetheart.” Dad picks his phone up, unmutes it, and goes back to his conversation.
He swings around in his office chair so his back faces me, and returns to his phone call.
I hear him arranging his golf game as my shoulders droop and walk out with a fistful of cash.
I wonder what Dorothy is cooking today. She’s always nice to me, I know it’s because we pay her and she has to be. I head into the kitchen, and see Dorothy moving her hips and dancing to the music she has playing softly. “Hi Dorothy,” I say as I approach and sit on the kitchen stool to watch.
“Oh, Miss Tabitha you scared me,” she says. “Should I turn the music off? Is it too loud? Are you hungry?”
“No, no please.” I wave my hand at her. “I’m just wondering what you’re making.” I look at the bag