A rush of heat burned her fingertips before she could yank them from the flat iron that unraveled her curls. Now two hours into the task and still not finished, she was beginning to regret the decision to even straighten her hair. As she sucked her finger, her phone slid across the dresser some as it began to vibrate. When the screen brightened and a picture of her mother surfaced on the phone, a quick surge of fear ran through her stomach as she sat the flat iron on the towel she had placed down. It wasn't so much that her mother had such power over her to make her afraid, but it was knowing the reason she was calling that made Chanel hesitate before gliding her thumb across the screen. Before she was able to get a word out, her mother beat her to it.
"Chanel, you were supposed to call back. Are you okay? You didn't call back," her mother said in her newly characteristic frantic way. She'd never really been a helicopter parent. Not so finicky. At least not before...
"Actually, Mom, I...uh. I think I'm going to stay in New York this year."
"What?" Her mother gasped. "But why? You didn't say anything."
"I know, I know. But I just got this new job, and the boss kinda hates me, and he wants me to work tomorrow, so I kind of have to. I mean, I don't have to, but if I want to pay the rent and have a place to stay and..."
"Chanel." Her mother said sternly, indicating that she was talking too much. Or at least she hoped that's what the tone signified, and not the fact that she could detect every ounce of lie she was telling. "You never said anything about a new job."
"Yeah, well." Chanel danced the phone in her hands a bit, staring at the picture that reflected. It was one of her and her mother about two years ago, a little before she'd moved out. Her heart clenched. "Look, I'm straightening my hair, and I kinda want to finish. I'll call you later, okay?"
"You know what I said about using that flat iron so much. It'll ruin your hair. Do you want your hair to fall out?"
"I think I'd look good bald actually. Mom, I'm kidding, I'm kidding," she said as soon as her mother began to panic. Another five minutes passed before she was actually able to hang up. Chanel sighed and grabbed the flat iron, running it down the fine pieces of hair near her ear. Part of her felt guilty, but another part of her felt relief. No, she didn't get a new job anywhere. Nothing came up. Her suitcase was still packed in the corner of the room, her train ticket bought and wasted. She'd packed a week in advance and bought the ticket two weeks early in hopes that it would prevent her from flaking. But here she was straightening her hair for nothing and avoiding her family. Then there was another part of her who told herself that they'd have just put her in a bad mood anyway. And they would have. It wasn't her fault they were so overbearing to the point of pushing her away. None of this was her fault. It wasn't.
When she finally finished, and now in a freshly bad mood, the room was a couple degrees warmer and her neck was already damp with perspiration. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun and unplugged the straightener. As she exited the room to get somewhere cooler before she sweated her hair out, she fiddled with her phone, looking for a distraction. She swiped through her messages before getting to Cara and it was then that she remembered Cara saying something about coming over. Chanel opened the fridge and dug out a breakfast smoothie she'd made the night before. It wasn't very filling, or all too tasty, but hours of unqualified google research told her that this small 'meal' would give her plenty of energy. It was bullshit, but she was too cranky to really care. "Hey. Is the offer still on table?" When Cara finally responded confirming the invitation, she quickly responded with "All right. I'll be over in a bit!" It was now eleven, and Cara was right down the hall, so she figured she could take her time. Besides, she had to mentally prepare for the day if she wasn't to project her shitty mood on others. Taking a quick swallow of her smoothie, she hopped on the kitchen counter and opened Instagram, losing herself in others' lives to distract from her own. Before she could be completely consumed, though, Makayla and Holly entered the room. Chanel smiled widely, putting her phone down. "Hey, you guys. Busy morning?"
"Chanel, you were supposed to call back. Are you okay? You didn't call back," her mother said in her newly characteristic frantic way. She'd never really been a helicopter parent. Not so finicky. At least not before...
"Actually, Mom, I...uh. I think I'm going to stay in New York this year."
"What?" Her mother gasped. "But why? You didn't say anything."
"I know, I know. But I just got this new job, and the boss kinda hates me, and he wants me to work tomorrow, so I kind of have to. I mean, I don't have to, but if I want to pay the rent and have a place to stay and..."
"Chanel." Her mother said sternly, indicating that she was talking too much. Or at least she hoped that's what the tone signified, and not the fact that she could detect every ounce of lie she was telling. "You never said anything about a new job."
"Yeah, well." Chanel danced the phone in her hands a bit, staring at the picture that reflected. It was one of her and her mother about two years ago, a little before she'd moved out. Her heart clenched. "Look, I'm straightening my hair, and I kinda want to finish. I'll call you later, okay?"
"You know what I said about using that flat iron so much. It'll ruin your hair. Do you want your hair to fall out?"
"I think I'd look good bald actually. Mom, I'm kidding, I'm kidding," she said as soon as her mother began to panic. Another five minutes passed before she was actually able to hang up. Chanel sighed and grabbed the flat iron, running it down the fine pieces of hair near her ear. Part of her felt guilty, but another part of her felt relief. No, she didn't get a new job anywhere. Nothing came up. Her suitcase was still packed in the corner of the room, her train ticket bought and wasted. She'd packed a week in advance and bought the ticket two weeks early in hopes that it would prevent her from flaking. But here she was straightening her hair for nothing and avoiding her family. Then there was another part of her who told herself that they'd have just put her in a bad mood anyway. And they would have. It wasn't her fault they were so overbearing to the point of pushing her away. None of this was her fault. It wasn't.
When she finally finished, and now in a freshly bad mood, the room was a couple degrees warmer and her neck was already damp with perspiration. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun and unplugged the straightener. As she exited the room to get somewhere cooler before she sweated her hair out, she fiddled with her phone, looking for a distraction. She swiped through her messages before getting to Cara and it was then that she remembered Cara saying something about coming over. Chanel opened the fridge and dug out a breakfast smoothie she'd made the night before. It wasn't very filling, or all too tasty, but hours of unqualified google research told her that this small 'meal' would give her plenty of energy. It was bullshit, but she was too cranky to really care. "Hey. Is the offer still on table?" When Cara finally responded confirming the invitation, she quickly responded with "All right. I'll be over in a bit!" It was now eleven, and Cara was right down the hall, so she figured she could take her time. Besides, she had to mentally prepare for the day if she wasn't to project her shitty mood on others. Taking a quick swallow of her smoothie, she hopped on the kitchen counter and opened Instagram, losing herself in others' lives to distract from her own. Before she could be completely consumed, though, Makayla and Holly entered the room. Chanel smiled widely, putting her phone down. "Hey, you guys. Busy morning?"