I'm the Boy, You're the Girl? : The Phone Call 001

          It was a Sunday in January, typically the coolest month here in New York City. I went down to the coffee house opposite of my apartment, I ordered my favourite – hammerhead; A real caffeine fix, a shot of espresso filled with drip coffee. I was expecting a call today. My phone rang. Right on time, "It is time. You'll have to start your training soon. I'll see you in a week." Tuut~ tuut~.

          He hung up. Father is always so dictative and not to mention punctual. I guess it's the reason mom left. Another call came in, "Mom?"

          "Berry- " It was my mom. "Has he called? What did he say?!" My mom, a known designer in the fashion industry, she had always been so composed – when its not related to my father, that is.

          "Mom, relax. He just said that he'll see me in a week,"

          "A week, that's too soon. I'm not ready for this, and you still haven't finished the rest of the winter collection," Winter Collection – My job requires me to wear designer outfits and poses for the camera, in other words modeling.  Ever since I was 10, my face had been in the pages of many fashion magazines. Still my identity is kept hidden. Under the heavy make up, I'm still just a 16 years old teenager with an addiction towards coffee. On the other line, it can be heard in the background, the hectic crowd demanding mom of her attention. "Ah yes –  Berry, we'll talk about this, kay? I have to go, Love you," Tuut~ tuut~

           She too hung up.

          My father had settled all that was necessary to fly me back home – my school transfer papers, my tickets. It was done. Finally, I'm back in my own country again after seven years since the day mom decided to chase after her dreams. My arrival was greeted by Manggis. I remembered that he had been along side my father since before I was born. He was old then, He should be older now, and yet he looked exactly as how I remembered him.

          "Manggis, you haven't aged a bit!"

          "Oh young master, you're just being polite," He replies as he offered to carry my luggage.

          "Manggis, please don't call me young master anymore, I'm not 10, you know."

          "Forgive me, yo – I meant, Master Berry, Shall we?"

          As we were walking towards the car, I remembered that I still had my phones turned off. It was not to my surprise that I had 32 miscalls and 19 messages. Mom. I had left without her knowing, the phone call previously was the last time we spoke. It had always been her who calls me and not the other way around – not that I don't want to, I wasn't allowed.Another call, I picked it up. "Mom,"

         "Berry~" She's crying. "How could you left without telling me? I didn't even say goodbye,”..And whaling.

         "Mom, mom, listen. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I just didn't want to disturb you. I know you're busy."

         "Your dad, he's to blame for all of this, he took you away from me~,"

         "He didn't take me away, I came on my own. Plus, it’s not like I'm not going to see you again,"

         "But- but- the winter collection...”

         "Ah, the car's here, I'll talk to you soon, mom. Love you,"

         And I hung up.

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- END PART 1 -