The power of love

I woke up around 8am. I rubbed my eyes, feeling rather tired from last night. Being asleep for only 4 hours really wears you down. I trudged downstairs, where I heard my mothers’ voice blaring into her phone mostly likely. I wandered into the kitchen to see my mum speeding around the kitchen, her cell attached to her ear. I gave her a soft smile before grabbing a mug off the side and pouring coffee into it. My mum’s voice shot through the kitchen, echoing through the house. “And where is Emily? She is meant to be there already.” I looked over at the mad woman. She pulled the phone away from her ear. “Madison, I have to go and sort something out in the office.” She said, covering the mouthpiece on her cell. I nodded my head, taking a sip out of my coffee. “And your father rang earlier, wondering what time you were going there’s today.” I shrugged my shoulder, taking another sip. The warmth of the coffee slid down my throat, making me feel better about leaving my mum for 2 months.

“I’ll ring him in a bit.” I muttered. My mother kissed my cheek quickly, before walking out of the room. I know what you are thinking; any mother whose only child was leaving her for 2 months would be making the biggest fuss in the world over them. But my mum would rather be in work, making sure that everything was perfect, then saying goodbye to her daughter. Mum walked back in and gave me a smile. “Ring me tonight when you get there.” She said, before waving and walking out. I sighed as I heard the front door slam. I walked back upstairs, my mug tightly in my hands, before walking into my room. I pulled my phone away from the charger and rolled down my contact until I hit my dad. I pressed the green button, showing me it was ringing him. I held it to my ear and waited.

“Hello?” My dad’s voice rang through my phone. This was a voice I was so used to hear during my childhood, and then suddenly disappeared when I hit my teenage years. It’s the first time I’ve heard it in about 2 months. He was busy, looking after his newly born son, Jake.

“Hey dad.” I said, sitting on my bed. I placed my cup on the side and ran my finger through my brown hair. I looked over at the already packed bag that sat in the corner. From the outside view of my room, that one tiny bag was nothing.

“Ah, Madison.” That was something else. Everybody called me Madison. Not Madi. My mother hated everyone who shorted my name down. She liked Madison, not Madi, and what she says goes. “I guess your mother told you that I called.” My mother and father had a very tragic relationship. They never got on, even when they were with each other. They would be at each other throats.

“Yeah, she told me you rang before leaving for the day.” I said, playing the edge of my quilt. Things weren’t awkward between me and my dad; it’s just that we didn’t have the strongest relationship. We got along. Many people have told me that I’m a lot more like my father than my mother. Which I appreciated a lot. I’d rather be more like my dad, then my mum. Anyone would rather be my father then my work-obsessed mother. “What time would you like me round?” I asked. I could imagine my dad twisting his lips to one side and running his fingers through his hair, trying to work out what time.

“Anytime would do, sweetheart.” I sighed. That made it a lot harder for me to pick a time. When he says that to me, it always make me feel bad. It means that he’d rather me come now, because he knows I’ll be stuck at home and be bored, but I’ll get to his house and nothing will be ready.

“I’ll be round soon.” I muttered, before saying our goodbyes and hanging up. I threw my phone against my pillow and laying my head back.

It was going to be a long summer.

~~~~~

As I threw my suitcase into the trunk, I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I shut the trunk and leant against it. I dialled my mother’s number and lifted it to my ear. “Anna West.” She answered ever so professionally. I twisted my lips to one side; I hated my mum when she went into manager mode. She took everything too serious.

“Hey mum.” I said, swinging my keys around my finger like a cool kid. “I’m about to leave now.” I informed her. Liked she cared anyway. She sighed and then I heard something I hear every time I’m on the phone to her.

“Look sweetie. I have to go. It’s havoc here. Give me a text when you get there. Love you. Bye.” And with that she hung up. I rolled my eyes, before slipping my phone back into my pocket. I jumped in my car, and taking one look at my house, something that I will be happy to get away from for 2 months. I backed down the driveway and suddenly my head was dream world.

My mum has never been the same since my dad left. Or even the fact that she kicked him out. They were always fighting, my parents. They never got on. When they were younger, they loved each other. And then I came along and ruined it all. I was a clingy child. I always had to be with someone. But I guess that was kinda my mum’s fault. She never showed that much affection to me really. My dad was more of a mother than my own one. But the thing was, my dad used to spoil me. I guess that’s why they split up. It was my fault that they fought. But I noticed things when I grew up. My parent’s waited until I went to bed before they argued. Then they would scream at each other. But once when I woke up to get a drink, I caught them. But they didn’t know. I heard screaming and I sat down on the stairs listening in. I remember everything they had said that night. One line standing out more than the rest. “I’m more of a mother than you are!” My dad. He was the hero of my day. Except the day he left. Then he let me down. That’s when my mum became a work-alcoholic. She never had time for me. Ever. She still doesn’t.