Not That Perfect

“Honey?” My mom yelled from the kitchen when I slammed the front door shut, shaking the front walls. “Rae, is that you?” She called out.

I listened as she started to walk to where I was, probably just to make sure that we weren’t being robbed or anything. I could almost hear her thoughts, “Oh, it’s probably just Rae. This is such a small town. I doubt thatanyone doesanything bad here.” A smile found its way to my lips, turning the corners of my mouth up into a smirk, “It’s me mom,” I finally yelled back, dropping my sandals down by the door.

My mom appeared in the hallway, walking through one of the doorways with a stupid grin on her face, “Good.” She said, the smile fixed in place, “We just started dinner. You hungry?”

I stared at her for a second, pondering if I was hungry or not. Slowly, I reached my hand up to run through my black-brown hair, quietly shrugging at her question, “Fine.” She answered, turning on her heal to walk back into the kitchen. I watched as she stopped for a moment when she got to the doorway, turning to look at me before she went back to her dinner.

I walked up the stairs and into the room that I had claimed my own. Liv had chosen the other room, just as I had thought she would, and she walked out into the hall when she heard me come up, “Hey,” She said, “Come check out my room. Mom and I already went shopping for a few things.” Liv took hold of my hand as she brought me into her room.

“What do you think?” She asked, a proud smile appearing on her full lips. I nodded, admiring her decorative work. Liv had bought several plants to put up around her room. There was a hanging fern in one of the corners of the room, a vase of white roses were on top of the fireplace, and a vase of sunflowers was on Liv’s oak wood desk, “I like it, but..?”

I nodded, “It’s cute Liv,” I said, “A job well done.” She grinned at my compliment, fiddling with one of the window’s curtains. It always surprised me how much Liv looked up to me, how much she admired me. Just as any little kid looks up to their older sibling, Liv did the same to me. For as long as I could remember Liv had always followed my footsteps; favoring my favorite colors, wanting my clothes, needing my attention. Of course, at times, this had gotten annoying, but I've always felt proud that I was my little sister's role model. And I would do anything to keep it that way.

“Awesome Liv. Now I’m going to have to start on my room.” I whispered, walking back out into the hall.

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A couple hours later my mom walked upstairs and into my room, only to find me setting up a couple of my vanilla scented candles on top of my desk, “Hey Rae,” She said, leaning against the white doorframe, “You hungry yet?” My mom walked into my room, watching as I hung up a painting, “I have food ready downstairs, if you want it?”

“Sure,” I answered, wiping my hands off on my shorts. I didn’t do much in my room yet, as I was mostly waiting for all of our furniture to be sent over, but I liked what I did so far.

Apparently, when I was out, my mom found a bunch of old furniture in the attic, including a white wardrobe and a black desk that she gave to me. I had set the furniture up in my room, leaving enough space for the rest of my stuff, and I had put up the few decorations that I had brought with me. But now, after hours of cleaning and decorating, I finally took a break and followed my mom downstairs.

She had made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, handing me a bowl of it when I entered the kitchen, “Thanks,” I whispered, slowly taking a bite of the tomato sauce covered pasta. I felt as the spaghetti went down my throat, filling my stomach. I wasn’t actually all that hungry, which was surprising. I hadn’t eaten anything today. I took a couple more bites, choking down the pasta until I couldn’t bear to eat any more. Quietly, I set the bowl in the sink and headed back upstairs, eager to finish my room.

“Rae?” I heard my mom call after me, stopping me in my tracks, “Aren’t you hungry?” She asked, holding up my full bowl. I didn’t answer; instead I shook my head, not knowing what to say, “What have you eaten today?” My mom asked, her tone sounding concerned.

I shrugged, “Not much.”

A quiet sigh escaped my mom’s mouth as she looked down at the bowl, probably thinking about what she should say, “Well, do you want anything to drink?” She asked, putting the pasta back down into the sink. I nodded, hoping that this would satisfy her worries. My mom threw me a Gatorade, smiling at me before I ran back up the stairs.