These Words to Her

It used to bother me about not living with my parents, back when I was young and saw that everyone I knew had a picture perfect family with a doting father and a loving mother who made sure their house was always neat and tidy. As I got older I realised that living with my Aunt Hannah wasn't so bad after all. She wasn't my aunt by blood but she was my guardian and felt like the closest family I had.

The thing that most people don't understand is that when I was five years old I was given the choice: live with my parents or live with my Aunt. I chose the latter option and no matter my tears and tantrums for the first few years following, she never let me go back on my decision, something which I thought I might have hated her for but it turns out, I was very grateful for. She did the right thing by not letting me go back to live with my parents, and it's something that you would think a parent would decide which ultimately made her the best parent option out of the three.

A downside of everything is that I have to go to my parents' house every holiday. It's a downside because it meant that I couldn't be with my friends during the entire holidays because my mother demanded that I was at their house from the Saturday following the day my school breaks up for the holiday until the Sunday before it starts back up again. There's no consideration for what I want to do because as far as they're concerned, my choosing Aunt Hannah over them was the ultimate betrayal and I needed to pay for that. Of course, they have never said that but I know that it's probably beneath their actions because in my eyes a real parent would care about what their child wanted instead of what they wanted, especially when said child was sixteen years old.

To say I was mad at my parents was an understatement. Leah had invited me with her family to go to Europe for a holiday and I had begged and pleaded with them to let me go for this one summer and what was their answer? No. It was the only time I had actually asked them to skip the holidays with them and they couldn't even granted me that one thing. It resulted in some colourful words being said to them down the phone which is why Aunt Hannah was currently downstairs on the phone to my mother while I was upstairs packing for my summer of hell.

"You could just run away with me," Leah suggested as she watched me throw a photo album across the room in anger. It was a sixteenth birthday present from my parents because apparently proving that they kept pictures of me throughout my growing up would be enough to convince me that they actually cared about me.

"I wish, but I'm not as dramatic as you," I said, shaking my head. "Besides, they'd only just find me and drag me to their place."

She shrugged her shoulders and picked at her nails. "Maybe you should tell them your big news over the phone. With any hope, they might disown you and that, my friend, would allow you to come to Europe with me."

"If only," I sighed. It was something that I had thought about but even if I did tell them, they would still make me go to their house and spend "family time" with a bunch of people who I didn't like but had to tolerate. Apparently my parents' friends being around means more to them than spending a little one-on-one time with me did – asides from the fact that I didn't like spending any time with them alone, though. But you couldn't blame me.

A raised voice came from downstairs and I threw the doors to my wardrobe open. Of course Aunt Hannah was getting the brunt of my parents' anger towards my attitude for them, but there was nothing I could do about that even though it was unfair and not scoring them any brownie points for them in my books. She was like my mother and father wrapped into one person despite the fact that she was not related to me by blood or marriage. It's people like her that are beautiful human beings.

Leah got up from where she was sat and walked across my room. "I have to go, Nic. You can reach me anytime, okay?" I nodded and she blew me a kiss before leaving my room and going downstairs. The front slammed shut a few moments later and I heard Aunt Hannah climbing the stairs. With a sigh, I backed away from my wardrobe and flopped down onto my bed.

"Nicole, why do you do this?" she asked as soon as my bedroom door was in sight. I knew she knew I'd heard her but I decided not to answer, instead throwing my right arm over my eyes. "Christ, your mother bit my head off about you wanting to go to Europe."

"My mother bites everyone's head off when she doesn't get her own way. Same with my father," I huffed. "Not even sure why they bother with me most times. It's not like we have great memories during these holidays."

"They're trying, you have to give them that."

"Correction: they think they're trying," I said. "They're actually not." I sat up on my bed and picked up a strand of my hair. "D'you think they'd go mental if I turned up with pink hair?"

She shook her head. "I'd be the one having a heart attack." She walked over to my wardrobe and picked up a pair of shoes from the floor. "Besides, if you did that I'd confiscate these shoes."

I threw my hands in the air and jumped off the bed. "You sound like Brian sometimes," I told her.

"He's still your father."

"But his name is Brian and it's not like he's acted like a father for all these years." I had this conversation with her at least once a year – she just wants me to have some respect for my parents, and I do, but not enough to call them by titles that they did not deserve. I may refer to them as "mother" and "father" on occasions but for the majority of the time it's "Brian" and "Michelle" and no one can change that. Not even them.

She gave up. "Well, they're expecting you in two hours so I guess you'd best start packing." With that, she left me alone.