Isn't That What Love Is? (Chapter One)

Sometimes, it's funny. To be born into such a big family but still feel as if they were not your own blood. Where had that warm feeling gone upon each meeting with them? At first, as a child, everything was too fascinating for anything to even make sense or matter. As you get older, however, your flaws seem to stand out whenever they could witness it. Everything becomes harder for everybody as a teenager, for the troubled, it had been a total shithole. Then, everything cools down as you enter your twenties and leave the house, hauling your damaged self-esteem and troubled thoughts along with your beat up old mattress and good for nothing lamp, out of everyone's way. You had hoped to come back a totally changed human being, if possible, even unrecognizable. So they wait until you make something of yourself, hopefully halfway into medical school by now, maybe working for a firm. As long as the money's good, they can sit back and be satisfied at their past attempts to raise you into something good.

So came the day that I came back to that same old welcome mat that sat on top of our brick steps. On the peak of my 25th birthday, almost broke, in need of a serious job (not just a part-time receptionist at an art museum, which was the quickest I could find after art school), and still living in a studio. I was in no rush to spill the disgrace over the phone to my parents, in person, or ever for that matter. A business man involved in oil and a retired lawyer couldn't possibly end up with an art junkie. Thank God for the other two that made it as a Doctor and a celebrity chef (with her own cooking show on the Food Channel, mind you). That would be my older brother Steve and older sister Clementine. But those were The Blue's. Always on top of things, always determined, always wealthy due to their success. What else is on? But little Ava, what would become of her? Everyone else always had the same questions to ask. Mother couldn't bear the thought of lacking an answer. She had recently just graduated at a top-notch art school, she's the Pablo Picasso of the family, just brilliant. This had always been her answer while she knew nothing about my endeavors or lack thereof. I could feel sorry for her, really, if it wasn't the reputation she had to uphold. Somewhere inside me cared a little, though I know for the most part, not a single fuck could be given.

That had always been Ava Blue for you. You could assume it's all one, huge, defense mechanism, but I wouldn't waste my time on it. Even if that was what we were dealing with, I know where I stand, particularly my heart. Art was my life and the world was at my feet with each canvas I stood in front of. Hope runs thin at times, but I get by on it. Some people can't understand things like that, and it's fine by me. People like my parents and the rest of my family, which was, well, hard to be fine by me. So I sighed big and loud, eyeing our massive, mansion of a house with such uneasiness. I barely took a step when I heard a parking lot across the street. Clementine stepped off the white range rover, her preppy of a husband Brett retrieving their daughters from the back seat. Lovely time, really, to run into her earlier than expected. The thing is, small talk does not exist in the family. It was either get to the point or don't open your mouth at all. The Blue's were witty, cunning, and cutthroat, which isn't the best qualities you'd want to come home to. But I don't want to mislead, of course there was love too, I guess. Kindess and warmth, maybe. Well, they have their own ways of showing it.

By now, I could hear Clem's signature walk, her Gucci heels clacking on the pavement. I turned around to face my sister, little Sarah's hand attached to hers as they came closer. Brett was in step behind them, thumbing through his blackberry, their second daughter Layla draped over his shoulder while she slept. Clem slipped off her dark, Versace sunglasses, her blue eyes almost making me wince. God, it's enough that she takes after Mom, but her stare too? She could've seen right through me and sized me up right then and there with her gaze. And the stress of my recent failures could have been hers to take, her knowing I had something to confess to Mom and Dad.

"Clem," I breathed, tugging at the lace of my sweater.

"Ava, good to see you." She cut off, walking past me and up the steps. I quickly followed, trying to avoid as if I had arrived after them. Being punctual was essential, we were always taught. Clem had mastered it so I know she's on time, and what better way to start this unwanted reunion than to arrive on time? The dreadful conversations would come later.

She turned around so fast her sleek ponytail could have whipped me in the cheek. She sniffed around. Oh shit. "Is that-is that...Weed?" She whispered with disapproval in her voice. I tugged at my sweater and wrapped it closer around me, as if it would diminish the scent. My God, why didn't I think of spraying anything on before I came? Fuck, Ava. There goes your decent greeting.

"Ugh, drop that garbage, Ava. I can't believe you're still messing with that crap, for God's sake, you're almost 25." She picked up Sarah, trying to bury her daughter's little face inside her long neck. "Wherever you've got it, keep them away from the girls. It's like second hand smoking!" She hissed before reaching the front door. She obviously knows squat about weed, but that comes as no surprise. The smell only got to my clothes, there's no harm there. It's not strong enough.

"Wherever you've got it, let me have some," Brett winked at me as he passed by.

"Brett!" Clem gestured for him to hurry.

"Just kidding!" He whispered, of course afraid of the possible fact that my sister could've heard. Poor Brett, stuck with Clem. I could imagine the horror. The thing with Brett was that he had success as a businessman behind the scenes, while Clem, being a top celebrity chef and all, received it front and center. Out in the open. She was all over the place, anywhere that had to do with food. I could say that Brett lived within the shadows of my sister's success, but you know how men can be. Always having the need for the upper hand. And Brett did, before he married Clem, who then got to fulfill her dreams through him. I guess there were some benefits to marrying rich. But knowing my sister, she could have gotten rich and sipped on mamosas on her own, always determined like that. I almost envy it. Almost.

The door opened, out came my Mother in a blue sundress with a martini in her hand. Her voice, always loud and boisterous (she never managed to grow out of it during her court days) could be heard as she greeted Clem.

"Clemy dear!" Her white church hat enveloped the both of them as they embraced. Oh, how I am so unlike these people. "How's my favorite chef doing? Come on in! Oh, Sarah and Layla, Grandmama has missed you so!"

I came behind them, bracing the usual fake smile. Here comes the hypnose overdose. Mom had always sprayed on too much. Perhaps some would transfer onto me, diluting if not taking away the stench in my clothes completely. After Clem and her family made their way inside, I stood in front of my Mother. Despite my slight resentment towards my parents, something in me wished I could embrace her. Truly, truly embrace her, like normal Mothers and daughters do upon seeing each other for the first time in two years. As lousy as my life was, I barely had time, even if home was only a couple hours away. But the desire was only a split second, and everything was back to the way it was. Always has been. A one armed hug would have to do.

"Ava," she said, giving me her thin arm. "I'm in need of an update from you later. Everybody has just been asking about you, dear."

I winced over her shoulder before pulling back. "I sure will, Mother."

It weighs on me like a ton of bricks with each passing minute. I almost can't bare it. I prayed she didn't sense it. That would have been a disaster in itself. A suspicious woman in her 60's is not the perfect beginning to a much dreaded reunion. Relieved that my Aunt Cordelia and the pack of wolves she calls her sons were now coming up the steps to distract Mother from me, I raced to the patio. This whole gathering was happening in the backyard. And why not? My parents spent a great deal of their never-ending energy there ever since I could remember. The space was vast. Years of landscaping and foreign plant hunting pretty much shone through almost every corner of our yard. But I wasn't stupid, of course it was always an excuse to show it off. The stinkin' lavish piece of land, everybody knew. They had the money to do it all, anyway. They always had that. What did everything else matter if you had none of it, made none of it? I guess this motto of theirs had taken a toll on everyone. Everyone but me. If it had, I wonder whether it would have made me that less pathetic or much more of a bitch like my sister Clem. It's the money I need, never the mindset. I could never be narrow minded as they have become.

I stepped out, already seeing my Father underneath his sunglasses, looking much like Karl Lagerfeld, white hair and all. I guess you could say he was classy for a man now reaching the end of his 60's. And those were my parents. How dare anyone call them high maintenance, God forbid. They had class, that was all. Of course, I had to fight the urge to break it to them and tell them to keep saying it to themselves, as if that would have made them believe it any less than I did. I didn't. Then, the whole family pretty much embedded the idea that we were all classy in their heads, therefore taking the advantage that they were born with Godamn silver spoons in their mouths. But class? Idiots, it's called money. If having the cash meant I had all the class in the world, then I might as well have been living a lie. Well, can't do much about that. Let them live that way, so be it.

I mean honestly, I really could have mooched off my parents money. But I had no desire of abusing my pride any more than they had the generosity to give it to me. Then they would have to live with the fact that Ava had gone mad. She went astray, she does not float on money, we must have gone somewhere wrong in her upbringing. Wouldn't want to bring them the agony. If I could still pay my rent and keep food in the fridge, wouldn't you call that surviving? Not my family, they would label it dirt poor living. Having more than one car, hiring a cook and a maid, and having caviar with almost every meal was very much necessary. Of course. Oh, and adding on and on to your already well furnished, museum of a home was a definite must. How did all this make them feel at the end of the day, anyway? You either do it because you've got children, or because you've got none and were doing it for yourself (but even then, who would be putting it all to good use?). Which, either way, made no sense to me.

I came closer to my Father, who was barricaded by my Uncles, trapped in a conversation about business deals and other rival companies. Only in that moment did he seem happy to see me. Probably happy for an excuse to break away from the circle. Conversations that involved all men in the family got intense sometimes.

"Ava, darling." He wrapped his arm around me and kissed my temple, the smell of cigars heavy on his suit. Just like always. "How long has it been? Three ye-no wait, four, five, six..." He started counting on his ring infested fingers, looking lost in thought.

"Two years," I said, saving him the trouble. Who was he to remember but my own Father, anyway? But that's being too expectant, it's my Father, for Chris sake.

"Right, well, lunch will be served soon. If you don't mind, we'd like to snag a word with you, your Mother and I. So don't hide." He gave my arm a squeeze and gave a brief smile.

I gulped, "wouldn't dream of it."

"Oh, the Goldington's have arrived. Excuse me, darling."

I turned towards the patio, where all the Goldington's stood, looking more posh than ever. If Ralph Lauren had an ad with a whole family in it, I could have very well been staring at it. Yes, the event was for family. But the Goldington's were an exception, they might as well be blood related. I could pull up a chair next to Meredith Goldington and she'd know how many times I wet my bed as a child and how many drunken nights I had as a teenager. Everything was a crisis for my Mother, and Meredith was always there to hear it. Wishing my Mother didn't slip her tongue with personal information unless it had been about her is an understatement. I wished she would never speak altogether.

Their daughter, Loraline, found me with her gaze. She started walking my way, a smile golden on her face. She had always been so pretty, so well kept. I'd be lying if I said I never wished to have been even half the woman she was. Out of everyone here, Loraline was the only person I could stand. But even then, she wasn't even family.

"Ava Blue," her eyes sized me up as she beamed, petite underneath her creme colored pantsuit. I didn't need to know the brand, it was already a given that it was expensive. "Is that you? You've been such a stranger! Where have you been?" Her sunshine of a tone turned into venom as she gritted through her perfect pearly whites. "Everyone has been wondering about you, God knows why. I swear, some people just seem to feed on information."

You see why I didn't have second thoughts about her? During my years of growing up with Loraline, she never became half as bad as the "classy" people. Though I wasn't close to her in any way, I could get along with the blonde for more than five minutes and hold a conversation that didn't involve me stabbing someone inside my head countless times. That was something.

"Well, I've learned a thing or two over the years. I'm related to the Blue's, there's no surprise there." She shook her head as I said this, her perfectly shaped bob shifting from side to side. "You learn to live with it."

"But then again, I'm also wondering myself. What's been going on with you, huh? Big things brewing? I can only imagine," her wink as she said this was enough for me to go weak in the knees. "It's been a few years since I've spoken to you, you must have been so busy all this time. Oh, don't tell me, your art work hangs all over museums, you've got galleries-" She was pushing it, but she had suddenly gotten cut off by someone else. Let me pay my respects to whoever it was.

"Loraline?" A tall, broad shouldered man stood next to her, his arm curving around her slender waist. "They're just about to start now."

"Oh, right. We'll have to continue this discussion later, Ava. Oh! So rude of me, let me introduce you to my boyfriend, Cameron McGreggor." Her voice dropped lower, "call him Cam, he's named after his Father. He hates his Father."

He wrinkled his brow and looked down at her, "Loraline."

"What?" She looked back, unfazed.

"Nothing," he shook his head. "Let's just hurry and get seated. Nice meeting you...Um..." he tilted his head for an answer.

"Ava," I answered, coming a bit late. He must've been Australian, his accent was enough to give it away. Well, at least Loraline got something out of those business trips. "Ava Blue."

"Well, Ava Blue, nice meeting you."

I gave him a nod, watching the two walk gracefully down the stone steps to our outside dining table. Talk about GQ in a suit. In fact, now that I looked around, I felt pretty dumbfounded. I should have known. This was a gathering at the Blue residence. If anyone here hadn't known any better, they might've thought I was trespassing. Here I am, feeling worse than I did before I came into town, dressed down in a sweater with a sundress underneath. Realizing this, I quickly shed my sweater, hoping the dress would pass. I quickly loosened my side braid, hoping for wavy, not frizzy.

I took my seat at the far end of the table, right next to my brother Steve and his wife Miranda. Steve was a hotshot too (a doctor), except he didn't boast as much. This was why I chose to sit next to him, plus, he wouldn't judge me. When it came to asking, he knew where people wore their shoes. On their feet, not his. He knew people went through situations on their own, that he was not entitled to say anything about it if he had not been there himself. Not that he wasn't secretly giving off his own opinions in his head. That was my brother, you just never knew. I could've told him that my job as a receptionist was an excellent experience for me, a way to interact with people as practice. He would tell you that you had a point there, not knowing that he secretly thought you were pathetic. My brother isn't fake, nor is he two-faced, he's just, well, polite. If you can even call it polite. It didn't matter, I didn't care for his opinions. Or any of the Blue's opinions for that matter.

"Ah," he finally noticed the person who sat next to him, peeling off his glasses before wiping the lens with the silk table cloth. "Ava, funny you even dropped by."

"Yeah...well." I cocked my head to the side, not knowing how I should go about this.

"I'm kidding, my darling little sister." He broke into a smile, placing his glasses back on where I could now see his big, stern blue eyes more clearly. I wished he didn't even wear it, it made it that much more intimidating. "But you did miss Christopher's birthday."

"Christopher? Who's Christopher?" I grabbed the goblet of water in front of me, taking a sip.

"The fourth installment, or should I say, addition to my family." He said, his iphone lighting up with a picture of a baby boy inside of an incubator as he pressed it. I nearly choked on the water.

"You...you..." I was bewildered. How could none of these people have told me? Some family. Really. "You didn't even tell me Miranda was expecting?! Like, ever?!" I said, struggling to keep my voice down.

"You've been estranged for two years, Ava." The servers were coming out now, all neatly dressed in their uniforms with silver platters balanced on top of one hand.

"And yet, none of you guys had the decency to pick up the phone and call me?" I was livid now. Instead of wooning over his newborn, I was going red in the face, I could feel it.

"Ava, you're overreacting, he was born just two months ago-"

"And how long was Miranda pregnant, huh? Did the nine months just smack you in the head so hard you couldn't remember?" I was not one to bother in the personal matters of my siblings. But this, this. You would think they would've actually tried to reach me. The baby shower, the announcement that it would be a boy, finally, after Steve and Miranda's attempts after producing three girls. Where was I for those? Maybe I was close to tears, maybe I was close to not even giving a damn. What did it matter anyway, I shouldn't have been surprised. I had worse reasons for leaving home early. And I'm doing fine, just fine. Caviar or not, successful job or not, big house or not, I am just fine.

Miranda leaned over Steve, placing an apologetic hand over mine. "Ava, we are so sorry. We should have-"

Then, just like that, I fell from her grasp, retrieving my hand. "It's fine. You know what? It's fine. Don't even sweat it, I should have expected it. It's so like you and Steve, really. Not a problem, Miranda."

My words had slapped her in the face as she withdrew back, slowly sitting back up on her chair. Her pale face was stricken, green eyes roaming the place as a distraction. I forced my tone to be light as air, trying to put it behind me.

"Ava, look-" Steve tried, in attempts to save face.

"So, what happened to him?"

"Huh?"

"Incubator." I said, pointing a finger at his phone as the servers ladled soup into our bowls.

"Oh, well, Miranda gave birth a month early. So you know, the little guy was pre-mature." He said, staring down at the picture once more.

"But he's alright now, isn't he?"

"Yeah, of course. His doctor of a Dad wouldn't have allowed anything other than for him to be alright. Even more than alright, in perfect health." He picked up his spoon and swirled it into his soup.

"That's good. Where is he?"

"He's at home with Sorida. I trust her with him, she's been around since Antonette was born."

"Well, at least I was around for her arrival." I said, slipping my tongue. It just came out, didn't even think about it. This stopped him from putting his spoon all the way into his mouth, which was now closed shut in a tight, white line.

"Ava, really, I know you've got some resentment towards everybody here. But I'm telling you, it's not healthy. Let me recommend a shrink-"

I was no longer paying attention to this, let my brother think he was about to save the day once again. God, I wished something held me back from the urge to just stand up, walk out of this house, and never come back again. I looked around as he ran his mouth, no longer listening. He might not be judgmental, but it always pissed me off whenever he thought he knew what was good for you, good for everybody.

I sighed real loud, "put a sock in it, Steve. I don't need your advice. Not here, not now, not ever." This, thankfully, was enough for him to shut up. Or maybe it was Miranda's hand tugging on his arm, signaling him to just leave me alone.

I took a sip of my water, trying to regain my relaxation. I looked around, people dressed in derby hats and blazers, talking among themselves, laughing at whatever stupid, cheesy jokes my Uncle Lou cracked. I felt out of place, out-of-bounds. Like a fish out of water, when a simple last name should have told me I did, in fact, belong there. I was not like these people, though I had grown up with most of them around me. That was the peculiar thing behind it, why should family even make you feel that way? This reminds me of the time I was five, and it was my sister's tenth birthday. I had been playing outside that day, unaware that guests had started arriving. I walked in, everyone's eyes on me as I stared back. The look on their faces, a look I could not forget, as if I were this foreign thing. It had been a look people had been giving me for years, when I would arrive at events with family. Who was this girl and who did she belong to? Why would she even think of wearing laced up boots at a place like this? Then the embarrassment smacked them in the face upon the discovery that she was a Blue. Yeah, my teenage years weren't a good time for me. Imagine the intensity.

But it had been because I was dressed like a boy, dirty from running around and tripping in places. Every girl there, including my sister and her friends were dressed so girly, so proper. In horror, my Mother quickly called upon my nanny, who then raced to claim me and scrub me clean and force me down into an itchy, puffy, dreadful dress. Had I understood the value of that dress and that my Mother had purchased it from Chloe, I probably would not have run around chasing my cousin Artie's dog in it. You could just imagine my Mother's reaction, Meredith right beside her and all. This feeling, this lack of sense of belonging, always crept up on me. Sadly, I never grew out of it. It stayed with me. Just as I had felt it then, I felt it now, I was so different from them.

I looked over towards the center of the table. Then I noticed someone staring right in my direction and when I looked, the pair of eyes had been staring straight at me. Startled, I sat up in my chair, wondering what it was that made them look that way. I squinted my eyes, finally realizing that it was Cameron. Or Cam, whatever Loraline said. I fiddled with my napkin, looking down at my now cold, untouched soup, trying not to be so awkward in this already awkward situation. I looked up again, but this time, I myself couldn't take my eyes off him. His gray eyes...his light brown hair, curly but you could tell it had been combed back...a hint of 5 o'clock shadow...his defined jaw line...the way it always flexed (how did I know that?)...and there, it flexed. I tore my gaze from his, a weird feeling hanging in the air. Who was he?

He tore his gaze away from mine before looking down as Loraline whispered something in his ear. He nodded and smiled at her, helping her out of her seat as she stood up. She picked up her fork, banging it against her wine glass, catching everyone's attention as we all looked up to face her.

"First off, I just wanted to thank the Blue's for inviting us to their wonderful home and making us feel welcome." She beamed at Mom and Dad, who smiled back in return. "And for always treating us like family."

I took a sip of my water, taking in some ice before chewing it. Some people turned to face me. My jaw froze as I looked at everyone, now aware of the noise I made. I took my napkin, dabbing my mouth with it and quietly spat out the ice. "Sorry," I whispered. This day couldn't get any better. The spotlight was too flattering, I could die.

"I didn't know Ava was here," I heard my cousin Rachel whisper to my cousin Artie. I was crimson by now. Of course nobody had noticed me.

"So, as I was saying. My boyfriend Cam," she took a deep breath as she looked down at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Is now my fiance. We are getting married." Her grin broke into a humongous smile as she flashed the ring on her finger. This was followed by a couple gasps, ending at everyone clapping like mad. Cam stood up, wrapping his arm around her and kissing her cheek.

"We are so proud of the both of you, Loraline. I feel honored to have watched you grow up over the years into a beautiful, successful woman. My husband and I wish you and Cam the best of luck." My Mother said, the noise from everyone dying down.

"Thank you, Mrs. Blue." She answered.

"And when will this wedding be taking place, dear?" Meredith looked up at her daughter with stars in her eyes.

"Oh, on the 29th of June, Mrs. Goldington." Cam answered for the both of them before suddenly looking back at me again. It threw me off as I turned to the filet mignon that was now on my plate. I picked up my fork, trying to look as hungry as ever. I stuffed my mouth, looking slowly back up at him. But he was now too transfixed in all the questions people had for him, like how he had popped the question, where he had done it, and all the little details I couldn't care less about. Good, it was getting weird.

"And you can call me Mother now, Cam." Meredith said, taking a sip of her wine. "Imagine that, an Australian in the family. Why, it couldn't get any better." She winked at Cam who laughed at this along with everybody else.

Later on, after the servers had cleared the table and had started bringing out pots of coffee and platters of pastries and cakes, my Mother stood up out of her chair. As soon as I realized that she was headed in my direction, my palms clammed up. Has the dreaded moment finally arrived?

"Ava, may I have a word?" She said into my shoulder.

"Now? But we just got to dessert-"

"It's fine, neither you or I need the calories anyway." She rolled her eyes, adjusting her hat back on her head.

I sighed, a little bummed that we had to do this now. I stood up out of my chair and followed after my Mother.

"Where are we going?" I asked as we were getting further and further from everyone else.

"Inside, dear." She turned around, flashing me a forced smile.

The walk was long and agonizing, up steps and down steps, past exotic flowers and fountains, a walk down stone path ways and past statues and carved bushes. Who needed all this? When we got inside, she led us into my Father's study, the most private room in the house. I gulped, wondering why she chose this place.

She carefully lifted her hat off her head, revealing her Jane Fonda haircut, blonde and perfectly shaped. She placed the hat on a leather chair, sitting down on the one opposite from it.

"Sit, dear." She gestured to the sofa next to the bookshelf. "I've missed you, Ava."

"Oh, well..." I had not expected this beginning. "I've...I've missed you too."

"You left home so early and this is the first time I've seen you in two years." I really hope this soft side of her wasn't a blanket to hide her curiosity. I bet she wondered whether I proved her wrong and turned out to be something more than just an art junkie living in a studio. Which is what I was. I knew my Mother, I knew she had the tiniest bit of hope that I had turned out just as she expected, and this wasn't even the saddest thing about it. She's waiting for me to admit that she was right, that I had come to her for a second chance. Well her waiting would not have an end to it because never in a million years would I have the heart to do something stupid like that.

"How are you doing? What are you doing?" She asked, eyes pinned at me and nowhere else. This made me squirm. "With your life, I mean."

"I'm fine," I breathed, wondering why the room had gotten so small all of a sudden. Maybe it was just me. I was seventeen again, trying to hide facts from my Mother about where I went on Friday nights. In this case, what I had been doing with my life. It wouldn't have made a difference anyway, if I had told her the truth and that the truth was fine for me, she would not accept it. Even if I went about my situation as if it was normal living for me, she would have died with the doubts that I was even her daughter. "Just fine, really."

"Details, honey. I need details." Her hands clawed out in front of her in motion. "We're talking about two years here, and lack of communication over those years."

In walked my Father. I wanted to fake a death on this damn sofa. My life was full of perfect timings.

"George, talk your daughter. Please." My Mother turned to face him. My Father stopped next to his beloved table, where his liquor sat. He lifted the lid off the crystal bottle and poured himself a drink before walking around his desk and sitting down. I was now facing both my parents front and center.

"So, my dear. Have your so-called dreams been able to take you anywhere?" He took a sip, a slight smirk on his face. I was not about to give them the satisfaction that their daughter had failed in their eyes. Not because I craved their approval, but because I wanted to slap them in the face with my disintegrating dignity.

"I work in a museum-" I started, my voice tighter than intended.

"Honey, we're not trying to press on you, no need to get defensive." My Father said soothingly. Oh, the deception.

"Are your art works hanging there at least?" My Mother looked so hopeful, it almost broke my heart. I had wished this was true myself.

"No, but, but, let me finish!" I insisted as my Mother opened her mouth to say something else. "I've painted tons of art work, all worth seeing in a museum. And it will be up there, I am working on it."

The two sat quietly, looking doubtful.

"Honey, I have a position open in my company. It's not too late to jump at the chance-" My Father began, which only made me realize why I hadn't bothered to keep in touch over the last few years.

"It's, it's...it's all about money, isn't it?" I said, my face growing hot. Nothing had changed at all.

"Well how do you live, Ava? Tell us how you are getting by without it." My Father's brow was now crinkled. I winced at this.

"I get by just fine, Dad. Because unlike you, Mother, and the rest of this Godamn family, I don't breathe, eat, or sleep on money." I was talking quickly now, my patience well abused. "And to top it off, yes, I live in a studio." My Mother's eyes were ready to fall right out of their sockets upon hearing this.

"Where did we go wrong, George? Where did we go wrong?" My Mother quietly whispered to herself as she shook her head with eyes closed, forehead resting on her hand.

"On everything." I couldn't help whispering back.

"Everyone's been wondering about you, Ava. What do I say to them now? That my daughter paints and lives in a shack? While my two wonderful children are the epitome of success? No, no, that will not do. What will the others say? What would they think?" My Mother ran her mouth now.

"Nothing. You are to tell them nothing." I said firmly. I didn't care for people's opinions just as much as my Mother did. "And it's not a shack."

After moments of silence, I looked up. My Father stared at me and my mother was massaging her temple. I was supposed to love these two people, I was finding it hard at the moment.

"Are you," my Father sighed. "Are you happy?"

I looked up, not sure if this was a trick question. I hesitated, picturing the studio back at home, how it represented all of me so much. Colorful and full of character but unorganized and lonely. The way I got up every morning, went to work, went home, and painted, dreaming of the attention of galleries that I had always wanted so bad. The whole process repeated itself day by day. I came home to nothing. I fell asleep alone and woke up alone. "Yes...yes, I am happy."

I hope it was convincing. My Father tapped his fingers on the desk, raising his eyebrows at this but not saying a word.

"I'd be lying if I said that that's all that matters..." His eyes met mine, a look of disappointment across his face. A look I had seen many times and have come to know so well. "Lydia, we have to get back out there. The guests will wonder about us." He stood up and walked towards me. "I can't force anything more, Ava. This isn't us eight years ago." He slowly leaned down and planted a kiss on top of my head. I closed my eyes, trying to find something inside me, a feeling filled with sentiment. But all I got were regrets of coming here and inappropriate language jumping around inside my head.

He sighed as he got to the door and turned the knob. "Don't...don't be a stranger now."

My Mother got up and snatched her hat, following my Father out the door. Just like that, I was left alone to sit there, wondering what just happened. I sat up, slinging my satchel over my shoulder. I walked out of the study, turning towards the double glass doors leading out to the backyard. I peered through the glass, looking down at all the people there, all highly dressed, sipping on imported coffee through expensive and elegant china. They all belonged there, they really did. Funny, for a split second, I almost wished I did too. I shook my head, turning away and heading for the door.

"Oh, Ava!" Someone chirped behind me. I turned around, finding Loraline standing before me, looking flushed with an envelope in her hand. "You're leaving? Why so soon?"

"I...I have to take care of some things at work, someone called in." I said, trying to force a smile as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "You know how...how work gets."

"Oh yes, I would know. Running a firm is more exhausting than it looks!" She smiled. I wish I could relate. "Well anyway, before you go, I wanted to make sure I gave you this." She handed me the envelope, which had her and Cam's monogram in the front.

"It's an invitation to our engagement party next week. I really hope you could join us. I haven't seen you in forever." She reached out and rubbed my arm. I looked down at it for a while before smiling at her, the first truthful smile of the day.

"Yeah, sure. I'll try to make it." I answered.

"That's good. Well, I'll let you go now. Cam's probably wondering where I am." She held her arms out to embrace me. After the hug, she turned to walk out into the yard.

"Oh, and Loraline," I called out as she turned back to face me. "Congratulations."
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I drove back to Manhattan from East Hampton with a feeling of relief, glad to be miles and miles away from that place. The only luck I had today was the empty parking space right by my building, it was always hard to find an empty one near my studio. I walked down the sidewalk, feeling haggard despite the great weather.

"Miss," an old man who looked worn out but had the kindest eyes stopped me in my tracks. "Would you care to buy a flower?"

I looked down at his bucket, which was filled with red roses. My heart fell. I reached around for money in my pocket. I had enough money to pay all the bills and necessities, but never to splurge or go shopping. In a way, I really am broke, yes, but never broke enough for something like this.

"You know what," I said, now taking out my wallet. "I'll take half of them."

The man looked as if he had just won a million dollars, I couldn't help but smile back. "Oh gee, thanks so much."

"Mhm," I nodded as he handed half of the roses into my arms, taking the 20 I held out in front of him.

"Good karma to you, Miss." He called out as I walked away.

"I need all the good karma I can get," I looked back, lifting my hand up, fingers crossed. Boy, do I need it.

Once I reached the fifth floor, I walked to the end of the hallway, unlocking the door to my beloved studio. I went in, sighing as I kicked off my shoes. I took a good look around the place, smiling to myself at the thought of Mother if she ever decided to drop by for a visit. It would've been so grand. I walked over to the sink, pulling out a colorful, lopsided vase from the cupboard. After filling the vase with water, I slipped the roses inside, putting them by the window sill where the sunlight caught them. I laid my elbows on the counter, chin rested on my knuckles, admiring the flowers.

"You guys are so beautiful, what are you all doing in a place so drab as this?" I whispered. "You're the only company I've got, really. At least you aren't human beings, then you would've had to grow up with parents. If they were like mine, you'd all wish you were...flowers instead." I sighed, sitting up. "Wouldn't mind being a flower myself right now."

I peeled off my sweater, taking a look at the half-painted wall in my kitchen/laundry room. There were little flowers on it, all carefully detailed. I slipped off my dress and grabbed my paint spotted overalls, which was draped over my chair. My one kitchen chair. I put it on and got to work, kneeling down and picking up the paint brush that laid on a newspaper. And I sat there for hours, lost in something that made me forget about everything. I wished it was always like that, like painting over reality and never seeing or feeling it again.
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"Hello?" I said, picking up the phone after it rang several times.

"How'd it go?" My friend Nadine said bluntly over the line.

I broke into a loud sigh, setting down the half-eaten biscotti in my hand. "Take a guess, why don't you?"

"Well I told you to at least bring something for them! Like a, a...A bottle of champagne. Or, or...A plant! Old people like plants, don't they? Even if you don't like your parents so much, the least you could've done was buy them a Venus fly trap." Nadine chuckled to herself, chomping on her gum.

"If I bothered to get them champagne, it would've been way cheaper than the ones they already have. And they don't need plants! They've got some in every corner of their freaking mansion, don't even ask about their yard." I fumed, swallowing some biscotti.

"Did you get money from them?"

"What? No!" I snapped, my face scrunching up. "You know I would never do that."

"Well, it would help you. Take the bastards' money, serves them right!"

"I don't need their help, besides, they're not willing to give it to me. Unless, I surrender myself completely and do whatever they ask, like throw away my painting career and join my Father's company."

She sighed now too, quiet for a while. "I mean, I don't get it. Your art work is great...I have no idea why no one's been interested."

"Because they suck, Nadine!" I buried my face into a throw pillow as I sat on my tiny couch, my words coming out muffled. "Because I suck!"

"I don't know what you just said but I have a feeling that you just put yourself down again. Look, my boss is coming. If you want, I can stop by after work."

"Please do, I need someone to release all this craziness to." I whined, feeling almost like a child.

"Alright, I will. And no more drinking wine out of a box!"

"You know how I do, I keep it classy like the Blues!" I said, smiling over the phone.

"Okay, classy girl," she laughed at this. "I'll see you in a couple hours. Bye!"

"Bye, Nadine."

I hung up the phone, deciding that my body was in need of a serious, relaxing, hot bath. I stood up from the couch, grabbing my purse from the coffee table. I headed for the bathroom, dropping my purse on the chair next to my claw foot tub and grabbing the new bubble bath set that had been there for weeks. After letting the water run and dunking almost half the bottle of soap down the tub, I took off my clothes and climbed in. The events of the day would not erase itself, but this certainly helped. I laid my head on the bath pillow, closing my eyes and staying motionless for a good five seconds. I reached for the loofah underneath my purse. I saw an envelope sticking out of it, remembering that it had been the invitation to Loraline's engagement party. I took it, carefully tearing it open. It was a card, with a glittering crystal ball and a fortune teller looking down on it, hands all over the place.

"Let's see what the future holds for Cam and Loraline," I read the captions aloud. "Huh, isn't that fancy?"

I opened the card, reading the message. "Come join in our engagement at The Ritz-Carlton Hotel in New York, Battery Park. We'll be dancing with the gypsies on this enchanting night, and we'll take a look at the future through..." God, it had Loraline written all over it, who loved everything with themes. But fortune telling? And gypsies? And crystal balls? Was this an engagement party or a Halloween party? I sighed, "whatever floats their boats."

Then, my eyes flew down to their names. "Cameron McGreggor..." I read over a couple times, biting on my thumb. "Where have I heard...?" I shook my head, closing the card and shoving it back into the envelope. I scrubbed myself with the loofah, wishing all the regret and stress would rub off me too. Wishful thinking, of course.
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"I'm coming!" I hurried to the door, someone knocking uncontrollably on the other side of it. I opened it, finding Nadine standing before me with a bottle of wine in her hand. She was dressed in her work clothes, which were now wrinkled in a few places.

"Brought some real wine," she came in, handing me the bottle. "In a bottle."

"Hey, don't diss the three thieves bandit." I pointed a finger at her, smiling as I closed the door. I walked to the cupboard, pulling out two wine glasses.

"Is someone having a Halloween party?" I looked back at Nadine, who had picked up Loraline's invitation from the kitchen table as she sat down beside it. "Or, an engagement party."

"Yeah, a family friend. Well, she's almost my age, I think a year older." I sat down next to her, placing the two filled glasses in front of us.

"Weird." She said, closing the card as she raised the glass to her lips before taking a sip.

"Yeah, but what's even more weird was that her fiance kept staring at me."

"Was he cute?" She asked, getting excited.

"He was attractive-" I stopped. "Nadine! He's getting married! Don't you start." I gently smacked her arm.

"Things aren't official once he has kids, Ava." She swirled her wine around.

"That," I said, crossing my legs on the chair. "Is a horrible way to think."

Nadine, being the spontaneous, dark haired woman she was, shrugged at this. Her and I were so different that it made for a perfect friendship. We met at art school, except I was a student and she was just there on weekends because she had gone through a phase in which she became attracted to the artsy types. Of course, none of her relationships lasted, but our friendship did. Every time I made fun of her for it (she once dated a guy with blonde dreads who went by the name Bob Warhol, claiming he was a mixture of both Bob Marley and Andy Warhol), she never failed to remind me that we never would have met if it weren't for her being there. Which would result in me telling her she had a point. She had a blunt tongue, and I had a blunt mind. Which was perfect, because all the things I couldn't say myself, she was there to say it.

"I don't know, maybe we've met somewhere. I mean, he does look somewhat familiar. Maybe in my past life, when I did something incredibly horrible and was punished by being reincarnated into the daughter of two horrible people." I shrugged, getting up to grab a bag of chips from the pantry that bore nothing but ramen noodles and canned spaghetti O's.

"They couldn't be that bad," Nadine raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows at me, obviously clueless of what my evening had been like. "As long as you're rich, all's good, baby."

"Yeah, except that none of that 'rich' stuff is me at all. I have no access to that and you know it." I poured some chips into a bowl, wondering why were even having this conversation. "Besides, you've got two awesome parents. You have no idea what it's like."

"People who run a hardcore Italian restaurant and think they're still in their 20s is not an awesome thing." She shook her head, her earrings jingling. "Not to mention, they call every five minutes of my life. Bugging me, and asking when the hell am I going to get married."

"Well you have that over me, and I have this over you. I think my parents are horrible and you can't stand yours either. Let's drink to that." We both made a toast, knowing that even if this studio was cramped and I had nobody but myself to count on, I was in my element. No lavish lifestyle in East Hampton could ever win me.
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I climbed into bed that night, watching the shadow of cars outside dance through the windows and up my ceiling. I turned to my side, looking out the window which showed the best part about my studio, the wonderful view of New York City, shining bright. I waited for my eyelids to become heavy as thoughts ran through my head. Just as the view of the city was nothing but a thin slice of light through my eyes, a thought occurred to me. I quickly opened my eyes wide, sitting up suddenly. I pushed the covers aside and pulled the latch on my lamp, the room filling up with light. I walked over to the bookshelf facing my bed, my eyes scanning the spines of all the books I had. I scanned the second row, my eyes stopping on a spine that had 'Ross School 2002-2003' engraved on it. I pulled it out, walking back into bed right after. I felt a gap in the middle as if something had been inside the yearbook. I opened to the marked page, a letter slipping out of it. My eyes fell to the picture on the left page, my heart stopping as I felt dumbfounded. There we were. I looked up at him as he looked down at me, the both of us smiling and sitting underneath a tree. I gasped, putting a hand over my mouth. Why had I not remembered? I read the caption on the photo that had caught my attention, whispering it aloud.

"Ava Blue, grade 10, holds hands with Australian exchange student Cameron McGreggor, grade 12, underneath a tree."