Status: Currently on Hiatus
The Breakdown of Natalie Whitman
Ella Weiss
History was a real waste of time, honestly who cares about old dead people from long ago. I barely care about the presidential election of 2008, why would I care about one in the 1800s? Natalie was really good at history and she offered to tutor me. See, that was so great about Natalie, she always went out of her way to help you. Most people did not see that and only saw her as an arrogant bitch. The thing about Natalie was that she just wanted to be the best, partly because of her mother.
After the daily trek that Natalie had to take everyday, we finally got to her house, her large, lovely house in our lovely little, and quiet town. Her house was absolutely gorgeous, sort of like her family. Her family was the picture perfect family, at least in the pictures. Her father was a tall and rather handsome man, you know for an older man. Her mother was graceful powerful woman. The black sheep of the family was Natalie’s sister Abigail. I only met her once and from what I could tell, she wasn’t exactly welcomed by Mrs. Whitman. It’s amazing, I mean it was her daughter and yet Mrs. Whitman was so hostile. Of course, Abigail followed suit and was hostile right back.
Natalie didn’t really like Abigail either. According to her, Abigail was too much a liberal the perfect recipe for disaster according to the Mrs. Whitman. However, Natalie did admire that she was free from home and did not have to worry about her parents. It was stories like those that made me happy that my parents didn’t really care about how great I did in school, it just mattered if I tried, which I did…sometimes. Contrary to popular belief, I was actually quite smart, even though I didn’t really do my homework. Give me a math problem or a physics problem and I would do it in a jiffy. For fun sometimes, I would verse people online in chess. It was ironic, on one screen I would be talking to a friend online about how lame the chess club was and on the other screen I would be doing the exact same thing I was criticizing. I guess you could say I led sort of a double life. If I were to ever reveal that part of my life, my whole high school career would be over. I would be bullied and harassed and labeled a nerd, sort of like Natalie. Natalie was brave, so she could do it, but I’m not brave. School would be Hell, most likely I would kill myself if I was bullied. So when ever the nerds are asking for people to join the chess club…I always deny, despite of my urge.
My reputation in school was a flirt and I was always seen with boys. The entire football team knew me, very well, I might add. It was something I was not necessarily proud of, but I did it. My reputation among the football team was the girl who would give a blowjob to the star player for good luck. Natalie never knew that about me, and I made sure the football team would keep their mouth shut. Of course, it did leak from time to time and someone found out, but never Natalie. If she did find out, I knew that our relationship would be done. I cared about Natalie and she was a very friendly person, I did not want to lose a person like that as a friend just because I pleasure some boys. The sad part is I only do it because I want to feel at the top of the popularity ladder. The good part was, I was still a virgin, my policy for those boys: always outercourse never intercourse. If they wanted to accept it, then by all means I would comply. If they didn’t, they better go find another girl to fulfill their needs.
As we walked into the grandiose house, there was the sound of piano playing. Like an angel tickling the ivories. I only knew one person that could play the piano to the point of perfection and it was Mrs. Whitman. Natalie can also play the piano but not as good as her mother, which made sense. Natalie told me that her mother had been playing for 36 years, ever since she was only four years old, which in my opinion is amazing. At four years old, I could ride a tricycle and not very well I might add. As we walked through the door and into the spacious piano room, the music hit me. It was so powerful, it made my heart swell and fill with emotion. A chill ran up my spine and the small hairs on the back of my neck pricked up. All I could do was to stare in awe at her fingers as they seemed to glide across the keyboard with great ease. Dancing across the black and white platform they had, it was beautiful hard to believe it was the same Mrs. Whitman. Moving so quickly, but never making a trip up. It was a difficult piece, even though I knew nothing about piano. Just listening to it, it was so quick and dramatic. All Natalie could do was to bow her head in slight shame as her mother reached the final notes and had a smug on her face.
“You’ve been skimping on your piano lessons, Natalie Ann and on your homework. I am sensing a bit of indolence, perhaps.” There was a groan from my best friend as she approached the grand piano and sat down, as if she knew what was to come. As if what her mother just said was some secret language that only Natalie and Mrs. Whitman could understand, Natalie placed her fingers over the keys anticipating something. “Play me Frederic Chopin-Trois Valses Op. 64 No. 1, or for you simpleton: Minute Waltz.” Ouch, my mother never called me a simpleton, the worst she has ever called me was an idiot and it wasn’t real that serious. Natalie stubbornly sat down at the seat and before she started, she turned to her mother and told her that she had to help me, to which her mother responded to turn around. Natalie then looked down at the keys and placed her on the keys. A metronome was on a nearby table and Natalie began to play. Beautiful and amazing as the music swelled and seem to go around and around. I was mystified by the music, but to Natalie’s mother, a veteran in music, apparently Natalie was playing wrong. Finally, Natalie banged the keys and turned to her mother.
“I’ll play it later, right now I have to go help Ella. Please mother…I mean I can’t keep Ella waiting.” Mrs. Whitman grunted a bit and then let her leave but not before warning her that she would eventually have to play that piece. Stomping up the stairs, Natalie led me to her room. “Sorry about that, my mother is crazy sometimes.” Chuckling, I told her no problem. I already knew Mrs. Whitman was slightly off her rocker. There had to be a reason, but Natalie never said anything.
We walked into Natalie’s room. It was a very conservative bedroom, a bed, a desk, a bookshelf and a crucifix. No posters and only pictures of her family. No personalization. Only the comforter was made up of pink butterflies, the rest of the room was boring and plain. Both Natalie and I jumped on the bed at the same time and quickly began studying. Boring pages filled with boring material about boring crap I don't care about. After about five five minutes of rotting my brain, I worked up the courage to ask her something.
“Why is your mom the way she is?” Silence enveloped the room as Natalie just stared at me and played with a piece of her hair. Then, a shrug and she quickly changed the topic to the Gilded Age. Natalie was really good at keeping secrets about everything; I highly doubt that Natalie did not know anything about her mother. I knew almost everything about my mother, where she went to school, who her first boyfriend was, and all those details. That’s how a relationship should be, but I guess there were some skeletons in the closet. Well, I guess the same could be said about me. Hopefully she would never find out that I could play an instrument too: the flute.
After the daily trek that Natalie had to take everyday, we finally got to her house, her large, lovely house in our lovely little, and quiet town. Her house was absolutely gorgeous, sort of like her family. Her family was the picture perfect family, at least in the pictures. Her father was a tall and rather handsome man, you know for an older man. Her mother was graceful powerful woman. The black sheep of the family was Natalie’s sister Abigail. I only met her once and from what I could tell, she wasn’t exactly welcomed by Mrs. Whitman. It’s amazing, I mean it was her daughter and yet Mrs. Whitman was so hostile. Of course, Abigail followed suit and was hostile right back.
Natalie didn’t really like Abigail either. According to her, Abigail was too much a liberal the perfect recipe for disaster according to the Mrs. Whitman. However, Natalie did admire that she was free from home and did not have to worry about her parents. It was stories like those that made me happy that my parents didn’t really care about how great I did in school, it just mattered if I tried, which I did…sometimes. Contrary to popular belief, I was actually quite smart, even though I didn’t really do my homework. Give me a math problem or a physics problem and I would do it in a jiffy. For fun sometimes, I would verse people online in chess. It was ironic, on one screen I would be talking to a friend online about how lame the chess club was and on the other screen I would be doing the exact same thing I was criticizing. I guess you could say I led sort of a double life. If I were to ever reveal that part of my life, my whole high school career would be over. I would be bullied and harassed and labeled a nerd, sort of like Natalie. Natalie was brave, so she could do it, but I’m not brave. School would be Hell, most likely I would kill myself if I was bullied. So when ever the nerds are asking for people to join the chess club…I always deny, despite of my urge.
My reputation in school was a flirt and I was always seen with boys. The entire football team knew me, very well, I might add. It was something I was not necessarily proud of, but I did it. My reputation among the football team was the girl who would give a blowjob to the star player for good luck. Natalie never knew that about me, and I made sure the football team would keep their mouth shut. Of course, it did leak from time to time and someone found out, but never Natalie. If she did find out, I knew that our relationship would be done. I cared about Natalie and she was a very friendly person, I did not want to lose a person like that as a friend just because I pleasure some boys. The sad part is I only do it because I want to feel at the top of the popularity ladder. The good part was, I was still a virgin, my policy for those boys: always outercourse never intercourse. If they wanted to accept it, then by all means I would comply. If they didn’t, they better go find another girl to fulfill their needs.
As we walked into the grandiose house, there was the sound of piano playing. Like an angel tickling the ivories. I only knew one person that could play the piano to the point of perfection and it was Mrs. Whitman. Natalie can also play the piano but not as good as her mother, which made sense. Natalie told me that her mother had been playing for 36 years, ever since she was only four years old, which in my opinion is amazing. At four years old, I could ride a tricycle and not very well I might add. As we walked through the door and into the spacious piano room, the music hit me. It was so powerful, it made my heart swell and fill with emotion. A chill ran up my spine and the small hairs on the back of my neck pricked up. All I could do was to stare in awe at her fingers as they seemed to glide across the keyboard with great ease. Dancing across the black and white platform they had, it was beautiful hard to believe it was the same Mrs. Whitman. Moving so quickly, but never making a trip up. It was a difficult piece, even though I knew nothing about piano. Just listening to it, it was so quick and dramatic. All Natalie could do was to bow her head in slight shame as her mother reached the final notes and had a smug on her face.
“You’ve been skimping on your piano lessons, Natalie Ann and on your homework. I am sensing a bit of indolence, perhaps.” There was a groan from my best friend as she approached the grand piano and sat down, as if she knew what was to come. As if what her mother just said was some secret language that only Natalie and Mrs. Whitman could understand, Natalie placed her fingers over the keys anticipating something. “Play me Frederic Chopin-Trois Valses Op. 64 No. 1, or for you simpleton: Minute Waltz.” Ouch, my mother never called me a simpleton, the worst she has ever called me was an idiot and it wasn’t real that serious. Natalie stubbornly sat down at the seat and before she started, she turned to her mother and told her that she had to help me, to which her mother responded to turn around. Natalie then looked down at the keys and placed her on the keys. A metronome was on a nearby table and Natalie began to play. Beautiful and amazing as the music swelled and seem to go around and around. I was mystified by the music, but to Natalie’s mother, a veteran in music, apparently Natalie was playing wrong. Finally, Natalie banged the keys and turned to her mother.
“I’ll play it later, right now I have to go help Ella. Please mother…I mean I can’t keep Ella waiting.” Mrs. Whitman grunted a bit and then let her leave but not before warning her that she would eventually have to play that piece. Stomping up the stairs, Natalie led me to her room. “Sorry about that, my mother is crazy sometimes.” Chuckling, I told her no problem. I already knew Mrs. Whitman was slightly off her rocker. There had to be a reason, but Natalie never said anything.
We walked into Natalie’s room. It was a very conservative bedroom, a bed, a desk, a bookshelf and a crucifix. No posters and only pictures of her family. No personalization. Only the comforter was made up of pink butterflies, the rest of the room was boring and plain. Both Natalie and I jumped on the bed at the same time and quickly began studying. Boring pages filled with boring material about boring crap I don't care about. After about five five minutes of rotting my brain, I worked up the courage to ask her something.
“Why is your mom the way she is?” Silence enveloped the room as Natalie just stared at me and played with a piece of her hair. Then, a shrug and she quickly changed the topic to the Gilded Age. Natalie was really good at keeping secrets about everything; I highly doubt that Natalie did not know anything about her mother. I knew almost everything about my mother, where she went to school, who her first boyfriend was, and all those details. That’s how a relationship should be, but I guess there were some skeletons in the closet. Well, I guess the same could be said about me. Hopefully she would never find out that I could play an instrument too: the flute.
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Comments would be great...playing the flute...is an innuendo