One (Heather); Safety
"And you."
"Take care, now."
"I will. Love you Mum."
"Love you too dear."
"I'll call you Friday, okay?"
"It's not my name, but okay."
"Mum! You know what I mean!"
"I know dear. Don't worry if you're too busy."
"I'm never too busy to talk to you Mum! See you later!"
"Bye love!"
"Bye Mum!" I hang up the phone and sigh; I miss my Mum something cronic. Living in America has made me see just how much I relied on her. I haven't really gotten used to being here, and I still make a very conscious effort to sound English, although I've picked up enough American slang! I sigh again, losing the sigh to a yawn. Tim was up until the small hours drawing, and I find it kinda hard to sleep without him, so I stayed up writing. Yet more poetry. I've been writing a lot of poetry lately, all similar in morbid, twisted, genre. Strange, really, because I'm actually happy! I mean, I'm married to the guy I love, and to make life just that little bit better I'm considerably better off than I used to be. I feel secure now, like I can go on living, because there's nothing to stop me.
But --and why the hell is there always a but in the good times of my life?!-- there's a little something 'out', something just not quite right. I've felt this little niggling nervous feeling ever since the 'incident' with Amy and those chains she couldn't see. I mean, I feel secure, yes, emotionally and financially. I haven't felt the urge to run away from the relationship or anything. But I don't feel safe. I find myself looking over my shoulder when I'm alone, or walking down the street. That could always just be my paranoi about the media, and the fact reporters will insist on just appearing from what seems like absolutely nowhere!
I yawn once more and get up, stretching. A few tendons pop and I pull a face; I've gotten so out of shape! That does it; I'm going to do some dancing! I used to dance all the time at home, alone, to various songs, and I did dancing with 'Circular', but for whatever reason, I haven't been back to the group since the wedding. Perhaps I'm just subconsciously worried that the guys aren't going to want to accept a 'Mrs Burton' as opposed to the 'Miss Lloyd-Gale' I once was.
Guess that's just me and my paranoia! I chuckle wryly to myself and run upstairs to get my CD holder. I haven't looked in it for a while, to to be honest I haven't a clue what weird and wonderful CDs are lurking in there! I pick it up and take it downstairs, pausing long enough to grimace at my reflection in the hall mirror. I look atrocious! My hair has finally returned to it's usual 'golden blonde' colour, and I can't stand it! I just can't be bothered to go and get it re-dyed to another colour. It's gotten far too long for me to risk dying it myself!
I shake my head, pulling it back into a pony-tail. Gross! I select an unlabled burned CD from the holder, wondering what on Earth is on it. I put it in the hi-fi system and press play. For a moment there's no sound but the click and jumpy whirr of the CD player as it debates whether it really wants to play the burned English CD. When it finally decides it will, I'm reduced to semi-hysterical giggles by the opening track.
"Why a hello and a howdy, we're so very glad to see you, coz we're getting kinda rowdy and we've got a lot to say..."
'The Mystic Knights of The Oingo Boingo' and their Acapella Ditty... Sigh! Still laughing I flick the track forwards, and can't help sniggering at the next track aswell; Little Girls. I shake my head, still giggling. Quite Danny, quite...
Contents ; Chapter 2
