When the Stars come out to Play

New Home

We drive in silence. I have nothing to say while I am secretly plotting my escape, and Sorensen was never a man of many words. As a teen he was reflective, educated, kept to himself mostly. Oh, he was popular in school; I mean the dude has always looked like a vogue cover model, but it's like he didn't know or notice. At least not that I was aware of. I never saw him with girlfriends, and as far as I know, he didn't party. Of course, he left when he was seventeen, so he might still have done all that afterwards. Sorensen is Dane's son, and he lived with us for two years before his dad passed away. So I had really only known him for a short while. Sorensen lived with his mom until he turned 15. Irreconcilable differences brought him to his dad's door. I was too young and never got the whole story.

Dane, his dad, was great. He got involved with my mom when I was about a year old. I always remembered that Dane took care of me, but DaSouza made sure that I could never really rely on him. She would threaten him whenever he tried spending actual time with me as a father figure. Envy I think.. She would make reprehensible remarks like "Oh Dane, you like em young"? Whenever she was passed out or on one of her drug binges, we'd talk, bake pancakes, do dad-daughter stuff and revert to barely speaking when the She-monster was in the house and conscious. Why Dane ever cared to stay with my mom is a mystery to me. He should have gotten out, he would likely still be alive.

After about three hours of driving we finally pull up in a parking space in front of a sleek modern 4-floor apartment building amid what can only be called a park. The parking space even has his name on it: Sorensen Haeger. I look at him questioningly. "You live here"? I ask stupidly, -duh, his name is on the parking space.- He smiles his small smile, grabs my bags from the back seat -wait how did my bags get here?- and heads toward the glass door entrance. The whole building is equipped with fancy-looking security cameras and pin pads. Someone tastefully designed the entrance hall with shades of whites and beiges. Modern artwork adorns the walls while large flowering plants add the finishing touch. An inviting couch corner tells guests they're welcome to take a load off in the hallway. No letter-boxes, no doorbells, no names, except for the parking space. How odd. The wall slides open, revealing an elevator, though for the life of me, I didn't see him push any buttons. I walk in, stunned by all the "wealth and sleekness". The run-down apartment I used to live in looked like a ramshackle hovel compared to this.

We go up to the 3rd floor, and the opening doors reveal a huge open space. And I realize what I thought were several apartments is actually just one. The area is sparsely furnished with comfy-looking sofas and a huge projector screen. Plants provide the only colourful accent in what looks like a supernova explosion of bright white. Sorensen walks in and drops my bags casually on the floor, making me cringe awkwardly... what if this ethereal-looking place breaks? "Make yourself at home Winnie, your room is up the stairs on the fourth floor, it's the second bedroom on the right. I quickly have to make a phone call, and I'll see supper is served when you're settled in". I am so dumbfounded I don't even react to Winnie. I mutely grab my bags and head to the stairs tucked against the far wall of the living room, leading to some kind of fenced-off platform. Up top, I get the entire view of the apartment below, including Sorensen's office space and the immaculate kitchen on the other side of the living room. The kitchen seems to be a floor lower than the living room but still part of it. The entire composition is so carefully designed, it looks like they created all the rooms from one big white piece, lifted them out and placed them, to fulfil their purpose within the home. A humongous window takes up most of the wall behind the kitchen. Beautiful but who cleans all that? Won't be me! Unless the pay is good...can't afford to be picky.

My adjudicated bedroom is of the same ilk as the rest of the house. White carpets, white furniture, white bed, large windows. Yep, I am seeing a pattern. A frosted glass pane, with frosted glass door separates the bedroom from what I can only imagine is the ensuite. I quickly take a peek and see a large walk-in shower with several shower heads and a big triangular 90s-looking, white, of course, soaker tub with obvious bubble bath capacity. A two-sink vanity finishes the bathroom / ballroom. Let's throw a party in here.

I throw my bags on the bed and have to wonder what trauma Sorensens is dealing with choosing to live in this glaring, all-white, residence. Dude has some serious issues with colour! While I don't really want to be here, I quickly realize the benefits of this opportunity. At least with Rens, I know what I get, and it's only for two years. I can finish my schooling, start some college classes, and earn a bit of money, so I can leave his ass behind, the day I turn 18, never to see him again.

I guess all of you think I am an ungrateful b***h, but that's OK, I'm not here to please all of you. As I empty my two small suitcases filled with my measly belongings, I notice a blue and green plush unicorn. « How in the hell did he find this » I mutter. I remember vividly the day he gave me this plushy, as it was the last day we spent together.