The tunes of my life

Talia Cooper is going through teenage life, parental divorce, and bipolar moments. But her life is flipped right side up when she finally receives a letter from her Dad, inviting her to live with him

Tunes, yes that's good, tunes. I quickly pull out my small red notebook filled with doodles and mindless poems, and scratch down 'the tunes of my life' in blue ink on a blank page. I overlap the writing a few times, making it bolder, before underlining the letters and closing my notebook and stuffing it in the drawer of my mint colored desk. 

That is the story of my life. 

~Chapter One~

 Things aren't easy right now. For me, for everyone, for my family. I even think Tubby, my goldfish, is going through a period of depression. He never flits from left to right like he used to, and whenever I feed him he waits for the food to fall the the little blue rocks at the bottom of the tank before scooping them up with his jaws and spitting them out. And just last night he hid behind the yellow seashell I bought for him last year as he watched me throw a book at my Mom because I was mad. Or maybe I was having another bipolar moment, but it was something like being mad. 

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"Talia, I need you!" My Mom yells from the bottom of the staircase, her voice taking on and edge of anger and annoyance. I can just imagine her face right now, her eyebrows scrunched together (annoyed), her hand rapped around the banister, and her left leg on the bottom step. 

I growl, throwing my pen back onto my mint colored desk and angrily pushing my chair back. 

"I'm coming!" I screech, popping up from my seat before stepping over my guitar and pounding my way to my door. I unlock it, and swing it open before shutting it closed behind me. 

"Well you said the same thing twenty minutes ago!" I hear her grumble as she walks away. I roll my eyes, holding in another screech of annoyance as I hop down the staircase and swing around the pole banister. The coolness from the hardwood floors blanketing the wide living space gives the pads of my feet a breath of air, like a gulp of ice water on a 90 degree day. I walk past the leather love seat, coffee table, sofa, TV, and Mom's old office door, before gliding into the kitchen.  I find her wiping away the table with a wet rag, her hands working up momentum as she brings the rag around and around in circles. She glances up at me, giving me a soft grunt and a smile, before resuming her work. I ignore her tart retort, and walk to the sink, pulling a glass from the strainer and filling it with water from the tap. 

"Mom, the kitchen's spotless, I don't think you need to toil away like a slave on that old table." I say, before gulping down the water and setting it on the counter. "Why are you cleaning it anyway?" I ask, folding my hands under my chest. Trust me, Bethany Rye Cooper isn't one to go out of her way and clean the whole damn house. She's a hard working consultant, and trust me, she spends more time cooped up in her office than she does in the kitchen. Every time I either peak into the office while she took a toot, or when I drop off mail for her, the room is always piled up with binders, papers, crumpled up papers, pens, and god knows what else. 

"Clean the cup." She snaps, giving me the glare from the corner of her eyes. She folds her towel once over, before walking to the sink right beside me and rinsing it clean. I roll my eyes defensively and raise my eyebrows, waiting for her to finish her dutiful rag cleaning, before rinsing the cup and setting it on the rack.  

"Sheesh." I mumble. 

"Anyway, I didn't bring you down here for no reason. I need you to set the table and get the food from the fridge. There's the casserole in the oven, but we'll wait til Jo - til dinner." She says, sighing and giving me a smile. I narrow my eyes, turning my head sideways as I study her expression. 

"What's the special occasion?" I accuse, placing my hands on my hips. She slumps her shoulders, closing her eyes in defeat. 

"John's coming over, okay? And I want everything perfect." She says, feeling quite proud of herself for spitting it out. I stare at her blankly. Seriously Mom? The minute you get a divorce you decide to invite your new boyfriend over for dinner? It was just last weekend that my parents divorced. Turns out that Mom had caught my Dad getting at it with a 30 year old clump of b***s and a*s from work, while I already new that Mom was having at least two affairs with John Marium and Brett Schewburt. They talked it over, Mom charged Dad bucks, and I was forced to stay with my Mom. And to my utter dismay, Dad moved to Washington, where he has probably bought a new house, gotten a new job, and found a girlfriend. Things work out that way, mostly since my Dad has some pretty good looks, and he's got nothing but a heavy career ahead of him, he's probably set. 

My Mom's face changes from somewhat relief, to worried and fed up. 

"What?!" She asks, throwing her hand up in the air. 

"Set the table my a*s!" I snap in her face, before curdling the spit in my throat and spitting it on her freshly cleaned table. I don't know why I did it, probably another bipolar moment, but I felt good after it, and I know my Mom wasn't going to like it. 

With her mouth slightly agape, and her face filled with madness and confusion, I booked it to my room. 

~Chapter Two~  

 

 It has been about 30 minutes since I stormed out of the kitchen and spit on the table. Quite frankly, this whole time I'd been trying to forget about everything, everything bad about my life. My Mom included. I thought that she would come up and knock (probably pound) on my door and ask me to come out and talk about what just happened, maybe get me to set the table again.

But I was wrong. 

And now here I sit, with my guitar on my lap, my legs folded underneath me as I lean against my bed, and my fingers strumming chords. 

And now I know why my Mom hasn't come up (yet). It's because she could care less. It's because she doesn't want me to look good unless it's in front o her boyfriend, and she doesn't want my help, unless it's for her boyfriend. 

~~~~

I sniffle, my nose runny from allergies and the result of a few tears. I know I should be stronger, but it's just so hard. 

I bring my cold hands up to the fingerboard of the guitar, and bring the tips of my fingers to the strings. 

"F major-seven chord. E minor. F major-seven, B major." I say quietly, keeping rhythm as the strumming becomes easier. Then I open my mouth, and sing quietly to the tune. 

"Things have been difficult, really, really difficult. But I will brave it some-how-----. Crumpled up journalism, ripped up personalism, but I'll brave it some-how--------." I sing, watching my fingers jump from on chord to the next, then the next, and then the next. I open my mouth to sing the next verse, but am cut short by a rap on the door. 

My neck cracks up at the sound of the knock, my fingers fall from their places on the guitar, and I stare at the door, waiting for a voice. I know who's at the other side of the door, but I won't say anything first. 

"Talia, dinner's ready and john's here now. I need you to come down and introduce yourself." she says softly. I'm surprised she's not yelling at with rage, smoke filing out of her ears like a choo-choo train. 

"I'm not hungry right now. Go ahead an start eating without me." I say, my voice coming out shaky. I hear something shuffle on the other side of the door, and then a load groan. 

"Talia! I know you're mad, but I'm a single mother, and I need a relationship every now and then. Just like teens your age need boyfriends to keep them company, and keep them busy." She says, her voice encouraging and fake. I roll my eyes, setting aside the guitar. I set it softly on my bed, pushing myself off of the ground. 

I sigh, close my eyes, and answer her grudgingly.

"Fine, but I'm just coming down because I'm hungry, not to fulfill your wish or introduce myself." I snap, making my way to my bathroom. 

"Great." I hear her say, it lacked affection, but I guess it was enough. "Make sure you look presentable." I hear her say one last time before she walks walks away and down the stairs. 

~~Chapter Three~~

Author's Note

If you like it, please, please review it and tell me what you think. I haven't fully edited it yet, but it's boogieing along! Please check out my profile and click on my blog! Thanks sooooo much!