Juilliard or Else (7 page)

"Then, machines started beeping." I looked back up at him. "You were ripped from my arms and I was shoved out of the room. I had no clue what was happening. My wife and baby were in a room with loud, beeping machines. I lost it. I started pounding on the door and shouting to be let back in. I was then escorted to the waiting area because I was scaring the other soon-to-be mothers." My dad took another big breath of Central Park air. He shut his eyes to gather more thoughts and when he opened them, he continued on.

"I sat in the waiting room for about an hour before your mother's doctor came to tell me she died as she suffered from hemorrhaging. There was just so much blood that they couldn't stop it. So up until you were six months old, it was just me and you, kid," he chuckled and nudged my shoulder. I softly smiled at him. A little family with a small boy walked in front of us; they were all laughing without a care in the world. The mother called out to her son as he ran fast ahead of them. The dad playfully scooped him up to give a raspberry on his stomach, and the little boy giggled and screamed. They were a picture perfect family. Did I ever have that?

"I ran into Caroline again at a charity event and she was a completely different person; she was all dolled up, just like a woman of New York City. She even talked differently…more proper sounding. She no longer went by Caroline – just Carol."

The final pieces came together; I didn't have my dad's dark brown eyes or his thinning brown hair, and Carol had bright ocean blue eyes and white blonde hair. I had more of a softer blonde with caramel eyes. I wondered what Shannon looked like and if I received any of my looks from her. My dad must have been thinking the same thing, because he pulled a small picture out of his pocket and handed it to me. I peered at the old, worn-down photo and realized that I was looking at my birth mother.

I had her hair color with the same caramel eyes and her nose, too. My dad always took my nose away from me when I was little saying,
"
I got your pointy little nose
."
She had that same little nose. I couldn't help my tears as they trailed hot streaks down my cheeks. This woman right here in this little photo was my mother and my dad was right – she was so beautiful. I traced her face with the tip of my finger, trying to connect with her somehow. I wish I could have met her.

"She loved the name Abigail and wanted to call you Gabby. Believe it or not, she also loved going to ballets." He reached out and took my necklace between his fingers. "This was Shannon's as well." My heart sank and then shattered into a million pieces. I had something to keep close to my heart – something of hers that I could always cherish. I couldn't believe he gave me something like this.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I kept my head down, wanting to know why he could keep something like this from me.

"Carol couldn't have children and she didn't want to adopt. We wanted to wait until you were ready, angel."

"Don't you think you should've told
your
daughter that her mother isn't really her biological mother? Dad!" I felt angry, but I couldn't get my anger to boil up. I just kept still as possible, staring at the picture of my biological mother. The thought crossed my mind as to why Carol couldn't have children. Plenty of lonely children needed homes; why not adopt?

"I know I should have told you earlier on, but I couldn't."

"That doesn't make it okay, Dad."

"I know – I'll always regret not telling you sooner," my dad huffed and checked his watch. "Come on. Carol is probably wondering where we are, and you need to get going to your new place soon." He stood up from our bench and grabbed my hand, not waiting for a response from me. I tucked the picture of my mother in my pocket. Kids laughing throughout the park made me wonder that if Shannon was still alive, would my childhood have been happier?

When we came out from the park, I saw Carol standing with the door open to her
Bentley Mulsanne
; of course she had to have the flashiest car in town. She had my giant purple bag containing my ballet slippers and leotard, and she carried my black leather jacket across her arm. As we approached her, my dad took my jacket and slipped it on my shoulders for me.

"Thank you, Daddy." I smiled at him. Carol cleared her throat at me, knowing very well I used daddy instead of father like I learned in my etiquette school.
I looked directly in her eyes, "Yes, Caroline?" Her eyes widened in shock and she looked at my dad with a disturbed gaze. "Yes, he told me everything," I snapped as I stepped towards her. "You never lay another hand on me." Finally, I felt like I had some sort of power over her.

I turned back and stood up on my toes to kiss my dad's cheek. I gave him a small smile and then climbed into the car. I shut the door and looked out the tinted window, seeing neither of them saying anything to each other. Carol turned away and walked to the other side and slid in next to me. Tension filled the expensive car along with Carol. She usually brought it wherever she went. I don't know how long I stared out the window until Carol finally started talking to me.

"Abigail," she said in a whisper.

"Don't, Carol," I barked at her as the car pulled away from the curb.

"No, Abigail, listen to me."

"You're not my mother." I glared at her.

"You're right, I'm not. I wish I was. I very deeply wish I was." I snorted; her expression went a little more miserable than usual. Carol's eyes were pleading with mine, asking for forgiveness. "I'm sorry I smacked you; I don't know where that came from." She reached over and brushed my cheek with her fingertips. I tensed up at her soft touch.

"It doesn't make it right, Carol."

"I know. I'm very ashamed of myself that I stooped that low to do such a thing."

Silence then remained in the car until we reached my apartment. My apartment was about a seven minute drive from my parents' house, plus it was close to the school, so I didn't have to worry about a driver taking me there. As the car came to a stop, Carol reached over and grabbed my arm. "Your roommates should already be here or on their way. It's apartment 22A with a gorgeous view of the park; you'll like it." She held out a key to me and I took it.

"I'll like it because you won't be there to yell at me all the time." I glared at her once more and ripped my arm out from her grasp.
Not bothering to say good-bye,
I turned my head and climbed out of the car, seeing Andrew at the back of the moving truck waiting for me.

"Hey, Andrew." I smiled as I approached him and his waiting crew. "It's apartment 22A; here's the key, just go on up." I pointed above me. The other men opened the big truck door and started unloading my things out of it. I looked back at the car to see Jordan, our driver, wave me over. Carol's window rolled down and she had her laptop open on the armrest in front of her, her manicure fingernails clicking away on the keys.

"Your father has a dinner for his firm next Saturday. I will email the information to you. Good luck, Abigail." The window rolled back up and the car sped off, and just like that, she was gone.

Finally feeling free, I tipped my head back to breathe in deeply, and for once, I actually took the time to smell the scent of freshly baked bread in the air. I listened to the cars honk at each other and the squealing brakes as the taxis passed by me. While the workers unloaded my things, I turned my head to have a glance around at my surroundings in my new neighborhood. I saw a guy wearing a hood standing in front of a dumpster a little ways down in the alleyway, watching me. Before I knew it, I smiled at my first stranger with kindness.

I was dead nervous as I made my way inside the building where I saw our own doorman whose name was Michael. I introduced myself and he asked if I needed anyone on the approved list of people who were allowed up to my apartment, and I just told him my dad, David, for now. Carol could soak in my anger a little longer. I knew if I let her come up into my apartment, she would definitely change it around and voice her opinion on my décor skills, unless she had already decorated it herself.

I stepped into the waiting elevator Michael held open for me. I was a nervous wreck to meet my roommates who must think I was a spoiled brat because Carol wouldn't let us stay in the dorms on campus. I shut my eyes and focused on the motion of the elevator that was taking me up to the twentieth floor.

I stood in front of the white apartment door and stared hard at the gold numbering of 22A. I heard the other two girls' muffled voices inside the apartment as they waited for my arrival.
Take a deep breath, Abigail. They won't bite
, I told myself, but this was a huge deal for me. I'd never hung out with girls before; I was never allowed to have friends if I wanted to dance. Now I had roommates. I gripped the cool gold knob and gave it a twist to reveal my new place.

As I stepped inside, I was taken aback by the large amount of space. Right in front of the entryway was the living room with a red couch facing a big flat screen TV on the wall and some black sitting chairs on either side of a black coffee table. I approached the gorgeous floor to ceiling windows that covered the entire living room, showing me a breathtaking view of Central Park. We were on the twenty second floor and this is what Central Park looked like from up here? I could live with this, even though Carol the bitch picked it out.

A sliding door led out to the balcony with three lounging chairs ready for us, thanks to Carol's doing, I was guessing. She'd want to make sure we got nice and cozy in
her
living arrangements. However, an ashtray sat on the little table with one cigarette burning away the last bit of tobacco. I knew Carol didn't put that there.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I looked out at the top of the green trees of Central Park and heard the girls hush each other. It was all quietness now in the living room. I was sure they were listening for me, so I continued to walk around, knowing my boots were making noise as I moved around the spacious living room and then ended up back at the window.

Then I heard them talking. "Do you think that's her?" one asked.

"Yes, and be nice, Jade," the other answered in a loud whisper.

"I always am, dumbass," the other scoffed.

I stifled my laughter as they came out of the hallway and around the corner to stand in front of me. Butterflies ran through my veins and landed in the pit of my stomach as they both stared me down.

They were both striking in their own individual way, and with very different types of faces. The girl who stood right in front of me had red hair with brilliant green eyes. Her hair wasn't the kind of bright red you'd usually expect, but softer. She was thin like me, but had legs that looked miles long in her white skinny jeans and black heels.

The other girl had black as night hair with a pale face and wore black clothes. She was standing behind the redhead with her arms folded at her waist.

"Hey you, we've been like dying to finally meet you," the gorgeous redheaded girl said to me with a little smile.

"Yeah, you took freaking forever to get here, too," the black-haired girl said while moving out from behind the other to stand at her side. I was shocked at her beauty. Who knew darkness could give off so much light?

Dressed in complete black from head to toe, her skin was very pale with beautiful, shiny black hair that framed her face. Black eyeliner was drawn around her ice blue eyes, making them stand out clearly from her pale face; they reminded me of the Caribbean ocean against the white sand.

Ignoring her friend, the beauty in front of me started talking again. "Just ignore Jade." She gave Jade a shove at the shoulder. "I'm Rachel Dawson or Ray as Jade here calls me. We've been friends since we were toddlers." She smiled happily at me again, showing off her pearly straight white teeth through her pouty lips.

Giving a small wave, I said, "Hi, I'm Abigail."

"Abigail?" Jade raised a brow, "Oh, hell no. That won't work for me, you sound like a grandma. You got a middle name or something?"

Rachel elbowed Jade in her side. "She's Jaiden Monroe by the way. She's just the daughter of Satan; ignore her PMS stage." Rachel smirked.

"Too far, Ray, plus it's a dude's name," Jaiden whined. "Just call me Jade."

I'm definitely going to need to get used to them if they bickered like this back and forth. I was only used to Carol's bickering at my dad and me. Now I had roommates. I thought of what my dad told me not too long ago about my name. "She loved the name Abigail and wanted to call you Gabby," my dad's voice rang through my ears.