Page 75 of Never Have I Ever
Rosalie
I feel like a stranger in my own room.
I haven’t been here in so long. Realistically, it’s only been five months since I last woke up in my childhood bedroom, but the past five months have felt like an eternity. I don’t feel like I can relate to the girl I was five months ago. I’ve changed.
My room is exactly how I left it. And being back here makes me realize how empty it feels. The beige comforter, beige curtains, beige rug. The room of a New York princess.
I remember the first time I ever saw Leila’s house. It was chaos. Color, smells, flavors, mess. It was a home. It was a home with a loving family. And when I went back to my house, I saw everything differently. This wasn’t a home. It was a museum. A gallery of the perfect family. But we were anything but.
I step out of my room, making my way to the terrace. I step outside, seeing my father standing by the table, talking to someone on the phone. He doesn’t even look my way, he just walks back and forth around the terrace. My mother’s sitting at the table, texting away on her phone.
“Good morning,” I say, taking a seat at the table.
My father glances at me and then turns back around. “Hold on, there’s too much noise out here,” he says to whoever he’s talking to and then leaves. What a big happy family.
My shoulders slump, feeling a little deflated that my dad just ignored me. I try to stuff those emotions down and take a bite of toast instead.
“Rosalie. Good,” my mother says, looking up as if she only now realized I was here. “I was thinking, do you want to go shopping tomorrow? You know, like old times?” She smiles at me.
I squint at her, taking a sip of my orange juice. “Mom, we’ve never been shopping together.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, we can make up for that now, can’t we?” she says before looking back down at her phone, texting away.
I shake my head. “No, mom, I’ve got to go back to Redfield tomorrow.”
She lets out a breath, places her phone down on the table, and interlocks her hands in front of her. “Rosalie, sweetheart. What is it about this college? Is this about a boy? Is that why you’re so hellbent on ruining everything we gave you?”
I frown at her. “Ruining? Mom, I’m going to college because I want to. I want to become my own person. I want to design clothes. I want to start my own clothing line. Why don’t you understand that?”
She sighs, shaking her head at me like she’s disappointed. I’ve seen that look plenty of times. She’s always disappointed in me. “I just don’t understand why you feel the need to throw away all the resources you could have,” she says.
“Mom. I don’t need your resources.”
Her brows raise. “You wouldn’t have gotten an interview with Emily Livingston if it wasn’t for the Whitton name.”
I realize that’s true. Only the elite with connections can get a hold of whatever they want and need. But it doesn’t mean I want to be a part of this world.
“Why are you so against me attending college? Travis went to college. He graduated as a business major. You didn’t try to stop him. You encouraged him. Why did you accept my brother’s dream but not mine?”
Her mouth drops open a little in disbelief. “Rosalie. I want everything for you,” she says, placing a hand on her chest.
I let out a laugh. “Sure seems like it,” I mutter, taking another sip of the orange juice.
My mother doesn’t say anything. She’s quiet, silent. Looking at me with an expression I can’t decipher.
She lets out a breath. “I wasn’t always like this, you know.”
My eyes snap towards her, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I didn’t come from this life. I didn’t have what you had,” she tells me. I see a little sadness in her eyes as she talks about it. “I didn’t have food for a month.”
“What?” I ask her in disbelief.
She nods. “If it wasn’t for one godsend of a neighbor, me and my sister wouldn’t have survived.”
I’m more confused than ever. I wasn’t aware that my mother had any family, let alone a sister. “Your sister?”
She nods. “I’m sorry I never talked about her before,” she says. “She died before you were born. It was hard to talk about it.” Her eyes drift closed for a second. “Her name was Kelly. She was my little sister. She reminded me a lot of you, you know,” she says, the corner of her mouth lifting in a small smile. “We were very close. And I was supposed to protect her.”
