There’ssomething about the morning that calls to me. The early morning air is new. Fresh. The sun rising on the horizon is a reminder that today is a new day. Anything can happen.
I’ve always been a morning person. Up with my first alarm, ready for the day. I think I get that from my dad. He’s also always up early. He used to bring my mom coffee in bed. She’s definitely not a morning person, often needing at least thirty minutes of quiet before anyone can speak to her.
Growing up, I spent most mornings with my father. He would make me breakfast before going into his study to work. Most of the time, I would trail behind him, playing on the floor, reading a book, or doing homework while he worked. He didn’t mind. I think he was grateful I wasn’t being noisy. That meant Mom could sleep in more.
Those were the good days. Now, he seems to be more irritated with me than anything else. Gone is the carefree, loving father from my youth. In his place, a ruthless man has taken his place.
Now, as a newly minted adult, I still choose to wake up early even though I no longer sit with my dad or even have anywhere to go.
Instead, I stare out at the sky, imagining freedom. A life different from my own. One where my safety isn’t always in jeopardy. One where I was a normal girl who could go to whatever college she wanted. Who could date boys and make mistakes.
That’s not in the cards for me, though.
Being the daughter of one of the higher-ups in the Irish mob made sure I would never be free.
But for these few moments in the morning, I can stare out at the sky and imagine a different life. The life I truly want.
Waiting for the sun to fully rise, I bask in its heat a moment longer before turning to head into the house.
I smile when I find Miss Kelly at the stove. Walking behind her, I give her a hug, looking over her shoulder.
“I’m making your father breakfast. Do you want some too?”
Miss Kelly is our caretaker. Growing up, she was my nanny. I spent more time with her than I did with my own mother. Since then, her role has shifted. She manages the other staff on the grounds, but she is also our cook and housekeeper.
“I can make myself something,” I tell her.
“Nonsense. I already made extra bacon. I’ll fry you up some eggs. Let me deliver this to your father.” She waves away my offer.
Before she can grab the plate from the counter, I jump in front of her.
“How about I take it to him since you insist?”
She shakes her head. “Fine.”
Coffee and plate in hand, I make my way down the hall to my dad’s office.
“Saturday will be fine. Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” I hear his voice float out.
Saturday.
Saturday is going to be a disaster. Now that I’m eighteen and graduated high school, I’m required to attend the fundraiser being hosted Saturday. It boasts that it’s a fundraiser to combat child abuse, but that’s this year’s front. Last year’s was breast cancer research. The year before, homelessness.
Really, this fundraiser is a neutral ground for connected members of different organizations to mingle. No, not mingle. To show off their merchandise. The merchandise being their daughters on the table for an arranged marriage.
I’ve, thankfully, been spared from these events. My father not wanting to expose me until I had graduated and became legal.
That ends this week. He says it’s time for my debut into society.
Stepping up to the door, I knock lightly.
“Come in,” he calls out.
As I walk in, I see he still has his phone to his ear. I give him a small smile, holding up his plate and cup.
He motions to the table in the corner as he continues his conversation. “We have already had a lot of interest. The Russians have expressed that they will be sending a representative. I’m hoping for Nikolai, but they wouldn’t tell me who.”
I set the plate and cup down before moving to leave.
