Not Quite the Opposites (camren)

What would you do when all you've known is fleeting? I would say to take everything a day at a time and simply enjoy it while it lasts. That's a pretty decent answer; if you ask me. If that's not enough, well then, excuse me. What do you expect from an eighteen-year-old? What do I know, right? There may be a possibility that I'm an expert at everything temporary. I'm dealing with it. I'm surviving it, at least. You see, my mother, Clara's job involves a lot of travelling - mostly six months at a time. She's a training manager who works for the North American region of an international chain of hotels and resorts. Fancy. Not really. The glamour and the pizzazz of all these expensive ass hotels begins and ends within its...well, more-than-four walls. The company always hunted houses or apartments for us to stay in ahead of time and would give us generous perks if we decided on dining or staying at the hotel for a day or two. It's not that bad of a deal. We don't sponge my mother's benefits up like we're leeches meeting vampires and sucking all their riches. We're classier than that. Well, after our year in Hawaii we were. That was the beginning of our transient-express. And Clara's entire family was all aboard. I'd toot or whistle but I haven't decided on the specific mode of transportation yet. With my mom's job, a place could never reach "boring" status, which could be alluded to being a never ending vacation we could delight ourselves in. It's a perfect set-up for starting over; if that is necessary. Our little mobile life has brought my family and me much closer to each other. Where there aren't enough people we could trust, we could rely on each other and there'd always be that confidence that nobody gets left behind. It was that simple; especially because I don't trust people easily. We were barnacles aboard a sperm whale. And I just decided on my form of transport: whale. A little impossible but a girl can dream. Let her be! Only a week ago, we were in San Diego, California. We stayed for a little over seven months and that was when I met my boyfriend, Gavin Wilson - tall, blonde, fit with an exceptionally attractive deep voice. He'd make a great phone s*x actor. Ooh, la la. Coincidentally, he's on the phone with me. Right now, he's very sleepy and uncooperative, and I've been hearing more grunts and the flapping of his tongue as he salivates his drying mouth. Nobody forced him to but he insisted on following through with a promise he made not too long ago. And I bet he's regretting it the longer we stayed on the line. Time zones are the absolute best! "You should go back to sleep." I suggested, adjusting my head against two stacked pillows to elevate it a little higher. Wriggling my shoulders slightly, I sought to find the most comfortable spot; making sure my phone stayed pressed against my ear. "It's still too early for you to be up. Besides, you have school, too." "No." Gavin declined despite his words coming out breathy and slow - thick with sleep, which exaggerated the depth of his very attractive voice. Yup. Phone s*x artist, I tell you. "I promised I'd talk to you before you go to...what's that school called again?" He was never really good at remembering details and etching them in his heart or his mind, and maybe even his crotch, too. I don't necessarily expect him to remember everything but he had forgotten about my birthday, and we had only been dating for a month then. I had forgiven that supposed "innocent" mistake but I hadn't necessarily forgotten about it. It kind of just sticks to you no matter how hard you try to erase it. It was like a stain that I could not get rid of even if I had drowned it in bleach, dunked it in hot water or just rubbed every other chemical available. Forgiving is only the beginning of it. To forget is the real challenge. Gavin makes up for them though, and each time, he'd make everything explosive. Pow! He is an expert at grand gestures that would definitely swoon any normal girl. What he did to dump sand on the crevice of his mistake of forgetting my birthday? He serenaded me with a song he claimed to have written outside my window and took me to an expensive restaurant after. The problem was, my thoughts persisted and my doubts simmered up to a boil - my ears might have been steaming the entire time. So, am I a normal girl? Maybe not. I did appreciate what he did though. I'd love it if it wasn't a remedy. But it was! Girls are hard to please. Damn right, we are! No, not really. I don't agree with myself. In fact, I think it's easy to keep a girl happy. Hold her when she's sad. Let her rant until her voice is gone. Be gentle with your kisses to let her know you will protect her in her most vulnerable. Listen to her. Pay attention. Hold her hand. And just be...there for her and share her joy. The moment those become "hard" will be the day I will concede. I guess I could say I'm happy with Gavin but I could be happier. He could very well be a safe choice but I don't necessarily feel safe with him. "John H. Roth." I mumbled dejectedly, surprisingly able to stop myself from huffing in frustration as my wandering eyes found the two giant boxes pushed against a wall by the foot of my bed. It was out of the way and yet added to the chaos that is my bedroom. The worst part about moving has always been packing and unpacking; and with this family, knowing you will do it again. And although I have developed tricks over the years, the job was simply tedious that my lazy side would constantly nag me into retreating back to bed and put it off for another day. At least, my clothes and the big furniture have been arranged. And that is how you transform a room into a legitimate bedroom. "John. H. Roth. Right. Right." Gavin repeated and I could see him nodding his head in reaffirmation while I could hear the mild crackling on the other end of the line, signaling he did move. "Are you nervous?" There was a hint of disinterest in his voice and if I was a teacher, I'd already failed him in the "paying attention" class. It was, essentially, a no brainer. With his scattered attention, he will forget again. I wish I could listen to the kindest fragment of my heart and allow him even more slack that will be less than underappreciated. And yet, the portion of me that loved myself told me I've given enough. "A little." I confessed, which may have been a little lie. He wouldn't be able to tell anyway. "I've been doing this for years. This shouldn't be any different." Somehow, I felt like Roth High would mean a little more to me than any of the other schools I have attended. Apart from it being in Miami - the land where I was born and raised until I was 14 - I could taste something in the air that I would consider an adventure. That sounded a little too dramatic, and maybe it should have been "I could feel something in the air." Whatever. New beginnings are always exciting but this one felt different and I don't back away from a quest. Yes, I'm calling it a quest and no one can stop me. Unless it meant high school drama, then I am not up for that. I never wanted to waste my time away thinking about wearing the right clothes, saying the right things, or hanging with the right crowd. Blah, blah, and you know, blah. "That's my girl." Gavin commended proudly and I wished, really wished that I could share the same sentiment as him. I felt a smile trace my lips but it wasn't because of pride or any pleasant feeling that my heart could whip up for me. Gavin is a great guy; in his own right, he is. But it just seemed like he'd never be enough for me. There had always been that one missing ingredient, maybe two, that stopped me from falling for him. Then again, I'd never depended on anyone for my happiness and I sure as hell did not seek constant validation. I guess, I'm just hard to please or maybe, he simply will never be enough for me. It could be the part where he cannot challenge my mental capacity and we'd always stay at a level comfortable for him that may be a tad too boring for me. It could be my fault; it could be his. I'd like to think it's the latter but who am I kidding? It may be mainly because after the courtship - if it could be considered as such, he just stopped being the sweet, kind guy I knew. His tricks just don't work anymore. Not that it did way back when. It's been eating me up every single time he says things like that and things like "I love you" or any subtle way of saying it. Instead of making my eyes magically transform into hearts, I cringe as if cold, arctic winds have been blowing against my skin. At times, he makes me all weak in the knees but there's only so much grand gestures could do. I've never quite felt safe with him. Michael, my dad, has always told me not to settle for the guy who could only sweep me off my feet because those are fleeting, and sometimes those feelings merely roam around infatuation. And even if they constantly bang on love's locked door, they're just not allowed in. Mike constantly reminded me to be with the guy who could make me feel safe and secure, and that my heart should be sound; whatever that meant. I guess, I've never really actually felt that before and I guess, the guy could turn out to be a girl. Surprise! Surprise! Yes, that person could be a girl. Gavin doesn't know that, though. Actually, nobody really knows. I'm trying to avoid the "complications", not just within my family but with hers, as well. For all I know, her family could be homophobes. And while I still find guys attractive, my cover is tight. "Lauren, Chris, Taylor, breakfast! Let's go!" That was my dad; yelling at the top of his lungs and by the foot of the stairs. His round face, outlined by his mane and neatly-maintained mustache would flush red and the veins of his neck would bulge out - in danger of bursting. Now that, would be horrific. You could imagine how unfortunate it is to have him wake you up in the morning to get ready for school. Not only would it really get you up to your feet in lightning speed but it would also guarantee ringing in your ears that may just be preceded by having high-pressure water being flushed in just seconds prior. If that doesn't do the trick, there's always yanking your foot until you painfully and pathetically land on your butt on the floor with a resounding thud and a groan out your lips. Awesome start to mornings. "Be right there!" Chris, my 16-year-old younger brother, was first to answer Mike in a lower voice just to show his respect. "In a minute!" Taylor, our youngest at 13 years old, seconded with no such rush in the tone of her voice. She was apparently, taking her sweet, sweet time - as always. Taylor had always been the "stereotypical" girl, who takes the longest to get dressed. Oh, and then, there's me and I had been lying in bed, dressed and ready to go. And I happen to be the oldest. 18 and still trying to begin senior year. Oh, what joy. I have been held back a year but I regret absolutely nothing! The year in paradise was well worth it but the struggle to get my brain to start loving textbooks almost made me change my mind - almost. I was supposed to be downstairs around 15 minutes ago but Gavin decided to uphold his promise and called before I could breeze through the door. He has impeccable timing. I had to move for me to realize that our relationship of four months had been slowly going down a whirlpool and there wasn't help in sight. We weren't even past the so-called "honeymoon" stage of the relationship and I was just about ready to move on from him. While my siblings had teary goodbyes with their friends and well, Chris' girlfriend, I was trying to wear my best fake frown. I even added a tear in it - just to make the act believable. And, man, was it difficult. Best actress goes to...Lauren Jauregui. Thank you. Thank you so much. I'll conclude my speech with the best sarcastic grin my lips could ever make. You're welcome, world! Now that I think about it, I felt terrible that the relationship might be one sided but I'd always wanted to be the person who loved less. Because I'd do everything in my power to avoid letting go. But so far, none of my efforts have paid off. It's a lot harder to be the one in control as I thought and breaking somebody's heart is never easy. I held onto a smooth, slippery ledge without any groves I could sink my fingers in to be able to stay afloat. Floating isn't always a good thing though. To me, it's only an illusion of a certain high, like a drug, that is momentary and when it wears off, you come crashing down to the ground. That was Gavin's charms and general appeal to me and I've been holding on too long, my hands are killing me. "Hold on." I mumbled before pressing my phone against my chest. "What they said!" I yelled as I faced my partially-opened door, having no other response to my father's summoning us. Hey, they didn't leave me with much options. With that, I heard a chuckle and I am pretty sure that it was Mike, eliciting a genuine smile from me. "I should go." Phone against my ear, I stood up and scanned the room to find my backpack, which I found by the foot of my desk. "I'll call you at lunch or something. Go back to sleep." "Fine. Fine. Have a great day at school, babe!" "Thanks." I grinned, racing to the bathroom just to make sure I had not smeared my make up or tussled my hair with the way I was positioned in bed. "I really should go. By-" "Wait, Laur." "What's up?" Stitching my brows together, I paused beneath the doorframe that led to my adjacent bathroom and I could feel the lower temperature caressing my skin within the confines of the tiled space. "I love you." And...there it was. I froze as my shoulders raised defensively; holding my breath as my frantic heart struggled to function. I'm pretty sure that's not how you should react to a profession of love but my body just does that all the time. Guilt would creep in after the initial shock. Doubts about the sincerity of his feelings weren't pestering me considering his confession always sounded genuine, and each time, I'd lie my way out of it. I mean, I love Gavin. I care about him a lot. I just...am not...in love...with him. While caring may not be pushed aside as something lesser than actually falling for someone, it's just not enough to sustain a relationship. I care about my friends but I don't want to be mutually exclusive with them! If the right one suddenly just popped in, wouldn't that make it more complicated than it already is? But for now, while I am not ready to break his heart, lying was the way to go. "I love you, too. Later, babe." I mumbled absentmindedly - lost in my daze, and in the same fashion, I pressed the digital red button to end the call and slipped my phone in the back pocket of my black jeans. It hadn't been that hard to keep up with a conversation with him and instead of actually finding ways to get over all my reservations, I've been slipping away. Everything would go smoothly until he says those words to me or things that would remind me that I wanted - or needed - my freedom back. Looking at myself in the mirror, my eyes scanned up from my naturally wavy dark brown hair, my make-up adorned face, down to my black shirt and ripped jeans. Grungy had always been a definition of my typical everyday ensemble. I've never been one to follow the latest trends, nor do I care for them. I've always just worn what I felt and wore it with pride. To me, what's hot in the fashion world simply hide the person within that is suffocated by all the lies and masks they wear in the hopes of looking cool. A deep breath in, I mustered a genuine grin just to psych my mind into thinking that it was going to be a good day. After all, as William Ernest Henley once wrote in his poem Invictus, "I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul." A new start. A new dawn; the beginning that had been awarded to me yet again, and I am going to make it count. But then, there's always a different way to seeing things; the opposite side of the spectrum. Where there's a positive, you can be sure that you'll find a negative; nothing is absolutely perfect. My travelling life had prevented me from cultivating a bond with other people apart from my family. Not only am I quite the cynic but I don't necessarily spend enough time with friends, too. If I am not mentally challenged, I don't bother. Well, unless I wanted to have a good time and party the night away, intoxicated. I have friends but I've never really felt the need to invite them to sleepovers. I've never really found a natural flow with them; something that would come second-nature unlike Taylor. The kid could befriend any kind of human being and she would almost always become their best friend. I've always thought you should only have one best friend; an exclusive, deeper friendship that would set them apart from the others. I wanted a profound connection with their soul that would make me believe I've known them all my life. I have never had that. What I do have, though, is a hefty number of transcripts from various schools in the last four years. No, I have not been expelled and no, I have not been suspended. I actually enjoy doing my homework and going to lectures. The worst misconduct I have done was not even detention-worthy. There's a huge part of me that has always wanted to play sports or something fun but I couldn't really commit to anything with all these sudden announcements of yet another "family trip". To me, there's always the thrill of moving but the strain of my desperation to want normalcy make it a little harder to be completely happy. I've never really gotten used to the concept of "permanent". Well, except for my family life. We're back in Miami and this stop was supposed to be different. At least, that's what my mother said. We've gone to visit my grandparents and several places we once frolicked in. Apart from nostalgia, I just have not considered this place as home in a long time. But I am definitely open to change. There was no way I could get rid of the thoughts pestering my mind. I simply shook my head firmly in an attempt to, but to no avail. And instead of simply allowing all the desolate riddles of my mind to precede my day, I trudged downstairs to join my parents for some much needed distraction. "This is going to be the last one in years, nugget." My mother, Clara, who was in slacks and a dress shirt she'd wear under a blazer, assured me while affectionately holding on to my chin and wiggling it gently. Clara and I were sat around our little round table, waiting for breakfast in the tenth apartment we have moved into in the last four years. The reason why she felt apologetic, guilty even was that she was the only reason why we never had a permanent home in almost half a decade. And even with a multitude of reassurance and less complaining, she was still ravaged by remorse. Mothers. Clara stared into my eyes, oozing with compassion and gave me a quick peck on the tip of my slightly freckled nose. I scrunched it up affectionately and hid my green orbs behind my eyelids; allowing the smile that was forming on my lips to break free. I was quite amused considering that I happened to recall the same speech at least once a year. It was impractical as far as our social lives are concerned, but then, we followed our matriarch willingly. "Mom, you know you could have considered leaving us with dad while you traveled the country to pursue your incredible career." I suggested dramatically; slightly tilting my head to complete the mischievous look that I delivered with a smirk. "We went as far as Canada last year. I mean, Canada, mom." I raised my brows as a challenge as I watched for my mother's reaction. Apparently, it was a sensitive subject and it was quite insensitive to joke about it. Clara brushed her dark brown hair to drape behind her shoulders. She let out a tensed huff and immediately, remorse riddled my heart for the slightly unpleasant comment I had just made. But then, Clara narrowed her hazel eyes at me in a lighthearted manner. She had a smile on her face, something that I was hoping to see amid my ostensible failure of a joke. It was what I expected if I'm being totally honest - well, minus the sigh. Albeit slightly bothered by the quip, my mother was aware I was merely joking to ease her worries. She knew me that well - thankfully. I love her so much but I think what she does is completely berserk; not her actual job, it's the moving too much part. It looked as though it is taking a toll on her and I had to say something. "At least we're back in Miami." I acknowledged, interrupting her desire to speak up and give me a multitude of reasons why she dragged us along as evidenced by the sharp intake of breath. "It can't be as bad as Canada, eh?" I said, mimicking the "stereotypical" Canadian accent as best as I could while I c****d my brows repeatedly. Again, just as I had expected, my mother let out a laugh and sent her head back. I love it when I make her laugh, or smile; even the faintest ones make my heart swell. My younger siblings and I have a tight-knit relationship with our parents; something that I would wish upon every family. We openly discuss most everything with them, even our romantic lives - well, except for s****l i*********e, or c****s to make it sound more awkward, nerdy even. That conversation about that subject has been one sided, with our parents constantly reminding us that if we absolutely can't wait, we have to be protected or something like that. I refuse to actually remember that day and up to now, I could still feel the gracelessness of that conversation prickling my skin into shivering in a mixture of disgust, shame and utter discomfort. The constant moving wasn't the reason why we became so close; if anything, it brought us closer to each other. We were just raised that way, to depend on one another and know that no matter what happens, we will always have each other. I did develop an independence that a lot of people don't understand which made them assume that I'm this mysterious - for the lack of a better word - b***h. I never craved belonging to cliques, the popular crowd or simply a group of friends. I'd rather be by myself than have to deal with shallow little problems riddling the high-maintenance teenager crying: the world is against me. Gasp. Nevertheless, that did not mean I don't enjoy a good company; no man is an island, after all. Furthermore, my disinterest did not mean I wasn't susceptible to the desire of pleasing others because I liked their company. I'm a person. I sometimes crave another human being's presence - well...sometimes. I am not necessarily living a double life. I am a good daughter, I feel like. But I do like to have fun and enjoy myself. I mean, there's nothing wrong with that. It's just sometimes, I end up with the wrong crowd; much older crowd that were not necessarily adults or...responsible. Gavin is a year older than I am and I have found myself hanging out with his friends instead of the ones belonging to my grade. I have been drunk a couple of times in the last year, I'm not proud about it but my parents' trust let me get away with them. They trust me to make the right decisions. I guess I don't deserve autonomy. Although, I do feel a painful knot in my stomach when I recall all those times I went behind their backs and unknowingly disappointed them. Oh, the gripping touch of my conscience. Of all the places it could smother, it always had to be my gut. "Yes! Canada!" Chris groaned, emphasizing the name of the country as he walked in with his signature side swept hair. "Mom, I don't mean to be rude, but you've been telling us the same old story for like four years. I bought it for a year but that's where I draw the line, Mrs. Manager Extraordinaire." Feigning austerity, he c****d his thick brows with a smug look on his face and crossed his arms over his zip-up hoodie. Clara looked at me curiously while I answered her by shrugging. Shooting my brows up high as the corners of my mouth tugged downwards to express my indifference, my hands found their way on my lap where the tattered fabric of my ripped jeans attracted most of my attention. Chris stood behind Clara and swung his arms around her from the back, embracing the slightly apprehensive woman who appreciated the gesture immensely. Planting a tender kiss on her temple, he then pressed the side of his head against my mother's as he sighed contently. "Good morning, mother." He greeted jovially, grinning cheekily. Chris subsequently sauntered over to my mom's right to pull up a chair. Descending on the seat, he lifted his knife and fork, and lightly tapped them against the wooden surface, displaying his juvenile nature. "Dad, I thought breakfast was ready?" He jeered lightheartedly with no intention of holding his laughter in. The round table had five emerald French dinner plates, five sets of silverware and water goblets around it. The middle was still empty as we waited for our dad to finish preparing the most important meal of the day. He did not want any help, and even then, we still offered. Mike just takes pride in feeding his family. "Settle down, Chris." Speak of the devil. Mike walked in with plate containing a pile of pancakes in one hand, and eggs and sausages on the other. "Where's your sister?" He queried with stitched up brows as he perched the plates down to the middle of the table, beaming at them with such pride upon setting his hands on his hips. His little babies that we were about to eat. I felt like such a cannibal. If housewives exist, my dad is their counterpart; the male version. Immensely supportive, he happily gave up his career as a bank manager just so we could all be together and salvage whatever normalcy we could in our lives as nomads. That's just how my father is; generous and kind with the sweetest, Santa Claus grin painted on his lips. His built is quite qualified for the job, too. I once joked about him working as a mall Santa on his free time, which he simply laughed off. I would have completely understood if Clara left us with dad while she goes away and does her job. But then, I would miss her, too. It'd be too lonely on her end, and my dad's. They have a beautiful dynamic that I cannot fathom the thought of ever separating them. And where's the fun in being sedentary? Travelling is fun; except the making friends part. My family all looked at each other meaningfully, telepathically communicating before we all bellowed in unison. "Taylor!!!" It had become some sort of tradition to call for Taylor, considering our youngest was always last to come downstairs. It could be her much longer hair, her intricately make-up painted features, or her preppy choice of clothing; whatever it is, she was never in a rush. Some could say she's lazy but I prefer calling it leisurely and relaxed, almost eradicating stress early in the morning. That is, until we yell for her, which would irritate me if I was in her place. "I'm here. I'm here. Calm down, family." Taylor ambled in through the arched doorway, holding cartons of orange juice and milk. Her long and straight light brown hair was clamped in a ponytail and swaying ever so gracefully as she moved. "I come bearing beverages." She announced as she playfully batted her eyelashes and did a curtsy upon setting them down to the table. Settling on the chair next to me, her usual spot, Taylor suddenly pulled her head backwards as she frowned in a realization. It was as if we all could silently talk and she was slowly catching on. Essentially, we found her assumptions were completely accurate when she expressed them in words. "Wait. Were you guys just talking about Canada?" Perplexed, she glanced at me and I bobbed my brows while maintaining a grave look to confirm her suspicions. "Seriously, I was sure I was going to lose a toe or two from frostbites." She muttered dramatically, just as I did earlier, topping it up with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, stop it." Mike sternly interrupted, reprimanding us. He had been so stressed out about us going to yet another school; more than we were, and spent weeks, if not months finishing the checklist he began more weeks prior. "You three better be ready in thirty." He threatened to which my siblings and I hurriedly shoved food in our mouths without another word. As promised, we were all piled in my mom's van half an hour later. Yes, it's a van that could sit 13 people. My parents figured we'd need that monstrous vehicle for when we move. And apparently, they were right about that. Sitting behind the driver's seat, my eyes were aimlessly staring at the world that had been swooshing past outside. I could see houses, trees, fences and even lamp posts and yet, my usually curious, scrutinizing eyes were never focused on them. I was simply up in the clouds, wistfully musing. It was a beautiful morning and I wished it preceded my day; that the sun's rays continued to shine down on the bleakest of circumstances. The mild rumbling of our car was in a chorus with the low music that had been playing in the background, coupled by voices of my family, going through everything we had set for the day. But what did John H. Roth have in store for me? I didn't know. Oh, and today is a Friday on the first week of school. It happened to be my first day in what seemed like the hundredth educational institution I've moved to in four years. I should get used to curious, judgmental eyes by now but no amount of chanted mantras could stop nerves from inundating my being. It devoured my limbs until it brimmed my suffocated chest. It didn't bother me in a way that would make me question the person that I am. I just simply loathed it. I mean, mind your own business, stranger! I knew there was simply no sense in worrying for something that had not happened yet but I just couldn't help it. All I could do was close my eyes, take a deep breath and hope for the best. Miami, I hope you have something good for me.