The Music to His Lyrics

Emma POV.

Then, one morning, everything changed. Mr. Sinclair, Travis, and I waited at the front door as a black car pulled up into the driveway. Herman, our chauffer, stepped out of our car, and proceeded to opening the door to the back seat. He tipped his hat, and out walked a woman and two younger girls whom I assumed were her daughters. The woman had high cheekbones, large lips, and hazel eyes. She had her hair tightly wound up into a bun and wore a violet hat adorned with a peacock feather that matched perfectly with her dress, adorned with a frilly hem.

“Alan!” she cooed, batting her eyelashes and gesturing towards Mr. Sinclair with a little wave of her wrist. She would have almost seemed pretty if it weren’t for her crooked nose along with all of the heavy makeup.

She strutted towards Mr. Sinclair in her high heels, and planted a kiss upon his cheek, leaving a smudge of lipstick. Travis and I glanced at one another, both with the same look on our faces. There was something about this woman that didn’t sit well with us. The little girls giggled behind her. “These are my girls,“ she said, placing her hands on their shoulders. “This is Claire,” she was the tall and lanky one with frizzy blond hair and freckles. “And this is Audrey.” The other girl, chubbier, with her mother’s auburn hair, was from the woman’s second marriage.

Mr. Sinclair bent over and beamed at the woman’s daughters. “Nice to meet you,” he said warmly. The girls just frowned at him, and hid behind their mother’s skirt. Mr. Sinclair shrugged his shoulders, stood up, and introduced us accordingly. “These are my kids. Travis and Emma,” he smiled. I couldn’t help but smiling back. He introduced me as his own child, not as his step-daughter. Mr. Sinclair then turned to us and said, “This is Joanna, and she’ll be living with us from now on. She is your new stepmother.” Joanna smiled stiffly, and said, “I know we’re just going to get along so well together!” without the least bit of emotion in her tone.

Travis and I squirmed awkwardly in place. There was something about Joanna that made us uneasy. We weren’t precisely sure, but we were bound to find out. After Joanna moved in, things began to change around the Sinclair household. I shared my room with the stepsisters out of courtesy, and to please my step-father. When I led them up to the room, their first reactions were, “You expect us to live here?” Claire chimed in. Audrey crossed her arms and frowned, “But it’s yours. Why should we have to share?” I was shocked at how rude the two of them could be, but learned to ignore their comments.

Mr. Sinclair grew to become tired all of the time, and soon acquired a terrible cough. I often heard him coughing heavily at night, going into fits where he would become so out of breath, he would have to take medication using an aerosol machine. Yet, he would refuse to rest. He refused to stop playing with Travis and I. He was always very involved in our lives, until one day when we heard the news.

We stood there, speechless, clothed in black, surrounding the coffin as the priest continued saying all of the wonderful things about my step-father, who I loved as though he were my father. He even allowed me to call him ‘Daddy’. I blinked the tears out of my eyes, and glanced towards Travis. His face was red. He had been crying as well. Joanna stood there solemnly, her mascara running and a handkerchief in hand. Claire and Audrey were sitting Indian-style on the grass, pulling up weeds from the ground, damp from that morning’s rain shower. I looked back at the coffin, and muffled back a sob. He was such a wonderful man.

Even after my step-father died, I had a spark of hope that things could stay as they were, with Mr. Sinclair in heaven, we could still be a family. I still had Travis, and as much as I hated to admit it, I had Joanna and her daughters too. Then, even more change followed. I was moved into the room that used to belong to my Nana, which was half the size of my original room (literally a large closet with a bed in it) so that my step-sisters were given more space. Joanna fired the house staff, save Herman, who she needed to drive her around seeing as she had her license suspended.

I was given the house duties which I took relentlessly, but carried out nonetheless. Joanna yelled for Travis and I whenever she needed us, smacked me and never laid a finger on either of her daughters, and claimed everything we owned as hers. She repainted the house, had the kitchen re-done, had a swimming pool built, and bought a small puppy. So many unnecessary renovations were carried out, it was if she was going out on a spending rampage. She refused to pay for private school even though she was perfectly capable of affording it for the four of us, and instead squeezed in a weekly trip to the salon for herself.

It was the day that Travis and I walked through the door after walking home from school when I saw that giant stone abstract piece standing in the center of the living room, taking the place of our father’s prized possession: the grand piano he had played on the first day I arrived at the Sinclair household. Travis clenched his jaw and balled his fists. My heart sunk, and tears welled up in my eyes. It was at that moment, that I knew nothing would ever be the same.