Thursday, March 11

Everybody's changing

His sun rises and sets with you she said, stroked some blond hairs from my forehead and kissed my cheeks. It could have been filled with love, that act, but I knew mother far to well after 10 years to belive such a thing. She was hiding something.

The next day was my birthday, and mother had decided that I was no longer a kid - I had to have a grown up dinner party to celebrate the year gone by. She invited her friends, hairdresser and the women she drank wine with every tuesday afternoon at The Connaught. My friends? Well, I was allowed to invite a few. Amanada was given permission only if her parents were to come with her and Chloé came all the way from Paris with her aristocratic mother by her side. And the three of us sat at the end of the long table, eating macaroons and giggeling while mother tried to entertain the guests by telling the story about how she met Roberto Cavalli once and went on a trip on his yatch. Awful story, a ten year old girl should not have to hear what she did, and Frank looked uncomfortable the entire evening. I felt sorry for him.

Mother slept for the rest of the week, since she swallowed sleeping pills with cocktails. Father figure (at the time, just "father" though) Frank and I started taking long walks. On some rare occations he told me stories about his worktrips to Paris, Milan or Dubai. He showed me some pictures, and told me he would give me the world someday. Promised I would not have to stay in that seven bedroom apartment with expensive jewellry kept in shoeboxes and designer dresses on the floor.

Then he left.


Anonymous said...

Maybe is a start, better than nothing. So I will take it.

Another good post. I do have to laugh because this is sounding eerily like the college graduation party my parents threw for me. It was me, my college roommate, a qausi girlfriend, and 125 of my parents friends and business associates to celebrate MY graduation from college.

Isquisofrenia said...

thank you for your comment
love your blog!

apparellel said...



les jeune fille à les oiseaux said...

i would never want the world.

sanchez said...

Oh your writing invokes such an emotion in me. Its kind of hard to explain.

I love your blog.

Romany said...

Brilliant writing, you should go pro.
Is it a true story, though? :(

s + b said...

i can picture it in my mind so clearly. glad you are back with frank, he sounds like a really wonderful man despite his obvious mistake with leaving. love your blog.

Heather Taylor said...

How sad, my dear.

Joellen said...

I love your writing; fiction or nonfiction? First person? I'd love to know!

Aquiles Damiron-Alcantara said...

Hey bella!

This is thought-provoking, yet mind-seducing.

It happens more often than we think. Growing up, one of my parents' friends would throw birthday parties for his daughters. However, at the parties, there was more beer and and adults than clowns and little kids running around hehehe.

Looking back, I think its funny.

Buenos deseos,

Anonymous said...

A postscript to my comment above...I reread your post, which I find myself doing to your blog more and more.
Parents aren’t throwing these parties for their kids. Sure they buy a cake, slap some candles on it and sing happy birthday, the child gets to blow out the candles out, unwrap some presents, half of which he/she doesn’t play with or want. Parents throw their children’s birthday parties to show off. Hey look at me, the child that I made is turning 1, 2, 5, 10, or 16. And I HAVE NOT FUCKED THEM UP!!! (Well at least that’s what they think)
Hey look how rich I am, we are having a party at Greystone Park in Beverly Hills, a custom cake by Viktor Benes, catered by Nobu, the party theme is periwinkle. Everything must be that color. Good Grief.

Sophia said...

Beautiful post darling. Amazing isn't it? How some promises can vanish into thin air...

Much love,

Susan said...

I love your writing.

Beth Ruby said...

Gorgeous piece of writing.
You are so talented.