It's been a week since we moved in this place called Madrid. My Dad started to hunt job for his artistry while my Mom is stuck here and is taking a work from home.
Today, me and my Mom decided to clean the house a bit and wash our clothes. Some of the furnitures like the sofa has been moved from another angle as well as the table. The cleaning day was filled with unnecessary squeals because of some spiders which I am really afraid of. We saw some of them at the back of the closet and at the vases ugh.
"Martina, can you please arrange the clothes outside?" She said, pertaining to the washed clothes that is needed to be serve with proper sunlight.
"Sure, Mom" I then grabbed the basket containing our clothes and head to the backyard.
While separating each, a modern black car suddenly parked at the house nearby. The car was filled with boxes just like ours so maybe they will move in here also. A boy around my age got out from the car with his mom I believe. He have black hair and white complexity, a height taller than mine for a couple of centimeters and a frown in the face.
"I don't wanna live here! Please get me back home!" The boy shouted, tears flowing down his cheeks—now on full red.
Both his parents are now on their feet, consoling their son.
"This is our new home, Sebastian. We can never go back there so please try to understand our situation specially your condition" the woman said, holding both of his hands. She's wearing a beautiful white blouse and plaid pants with her black sneakers on and her brownish hair up in a ponytail.
So the name's Sebastian...
Instead of budging what both of them said, he marched his way inside their new home—his shoes thumping hard.
I can never blame him for what he acted because for once I'd acted that way also. We are just children! My age is 14 and his on the same range, we tend to misunderstood everything and feel like the world is always against us.
Both of his parents let out a sigh and started to arranged their boxes while I got back to where my mom is. She's cooking something in the kitchen—something I'm well familiar of. My favorite...
"Casserole?" I popped in, my eyes on full circle, a wide smile painted on my face. This is my favorite food ever, wanna know why? Well, my mom loves to cook anything since her mother thought her to. One day she decided to ask me what I want for lunch—I really don't know what to say jaja. I'm 5 years old and barely know anything! And as if God is helping me to pick something, a casserole commercial on the television played.
"That! That!" me pointing the tv screen.
"Oh mi niña wants casserole? Casserole it is!" she joyfully replied, placing me back to the couch and made me believe that if I behave in place, I'll get what I want.
Ever since that day, I feel like this dish is made just for me. That's why in every birth day celebration I have, she makes sure to cook that.
"Your favorite" my mom said—still paying attention to the pan in front of her. I sat on the counter and waited for her to finish. The aroma was so good it makes my stomach growl in excitement.
"So far what do you think about Madrid?" She then asked me.
"I knew in my heart that this place can never replace Portugal easily but surely this place still feels like home. A home as long as both of you and dad is here with me—that is all what matters for me now" I sincerely stated, taking the time in the world to describe how I feel. My mom's face changed when my mouth delivered the word 'dad'. I knew that they can never mend their broken hearts once more back to what it used to be—all I'm hoping for is to at least for them to be inside this house with me.
Long silence.
Only the sound from the cooking pan surrounding us.
It was sad—knowing that you can't do anything because you were just a child.
After a long deafening silence, she let out a big sigh then moved the dish to the two big white bowls on the table. "I heard we have a new neighbor. Why don't we hand this to them as a welcoming treat shall we?" She asked me with her smile—the smile we knew isn't genuine enough. But instead, I still agreed to her. She then holds my hand with her one hand and the other holding the bowl of steaming hot casserole. By the time we reached their lot, they still aren't finished in moving in all their things.
"Hola!" my mom greeted them.
"Oh, hello" Mrs. Beautiful greets back, putting down the box she is holding.
"Hola" her husband said. They both jog to meet us and of course having them near us feels really really awkward.
"Good morning. We heard your family moved in here also—My name is Clara Argent and this is my daughter Martina, your new neighbors" she flashed a smile before continuing. "Oh! We prepared something for you. It's a casserole by the way"
"Wow, how nice of you! You never really have to but thank you so much" the woman beams with joy when she saw the casserole my mom handed them. "I am Jessica Alvarez and this is my husband..."
"Mark Alvarez" her husband finished for her then shortly after offered his hand for a shake.
"Our son, Sebastian, is kind of uncomfortable moving to another place that's why he's upstairs—locked himself in his room" Jessica explained.
"It must be really hard for the kid to adjust, which is totally normal. We just moved in here last week also. Everything's unfamiliar and new to us but in time we know we can adjust and blend here"
After the short conversation of my mom and the newbies, we got back in to our house—the new family continued their moving and us ate in silence. Dad said he'll be coming home late for he will be on an important meeting.
"I'm gonna head upstairs, Mom" I said.
"Okay. I'll be right here if you will be needing something" she said, washing the plates on the sink—her aprons on and her hair up on a clean ponytail.
I marched my way to my room and plopped myself on the bed, staring right up at the ceiling for God knows why.
Blank.
My mind is blank.
And suddenly I realized that the aching one is from my heart. It was far away from a reason for me to cry but it just felt longing—empty and miserable.
"You shouldn't have married that stupid guy, Clara!" my mom's mother shouted back at her. I was in my room that day, locked up and eavesdropping. "You live like a princess when you are still in our arms but guess what?! He couldn't do that!"
"I love her, Ma. I love Arthur so much" she defends—crying her heart out.
"Love can't feed you, Clara. Love can't live you, Clara. Use your mind, for God's sake!"
I can't continue thinking about this anymore. I pushed myself to stand up and shake it all off. Wiping the tears that have escaped from the corner of my eyes. Why does these has to happen to our family? We are so perfect once upon a time but then it all came crashing down like a miserable meteorite.
Breathe, Martina. Breathe...
When I grabbed ahold of myself, I opened my diary and find a pen. To fully shrug all these memories, I focused on the brighter side today.
Dear diary,
Today, I was surprised when I saw the new family who will live next to us. They are kind of rich, I can tell by their things and clothes.
I sniffed.
We gave them some of my favorite casserole and I think they loved it. Tho, I was pretty curious about the story behind them or does they really have a story behind them. I hope they aren't like the story of us because that would be so sad.
Anyway, I am still looking forward for our new neighbors. I want to make new friends in here. I wanna be friends with Sebastian.