~ Chapter Two: Perfectly wrong ~
On the other side of town Lucia was in the kitchen arguing with her son Tito, who ironically, towered above her at an awkward six-foot-three. Lucia had been trying to convince her son that she’s only ever tried to protect him from his father but he wasn’t having any of it.
“YOU divorced HIM!” Tito declared with a deep tone.
“Do you never listen child?!” Mum said, shaking her head in disagreement.
Tito’s father had moved back to Spain, the family’s home town, when Tito’s sister was three years old. She doesn’t know much about her father and insists if he couldn’t find the time for her, then she has no time for him in return. The family are of Spanish nationality and both his mother and sister can speak fluent Spanish, however Tito refuses to speak the language and struggles to get along with the family. Tito hates living in a house of females and yearns to fly out to visit his father but doesn't have the money to go and his mother wont allow it.
“I AM protecting you. You’ll learn that one day chico tonto.”
“I don’t speak Spanish! What does that mean?“ he demanded.
“Silly boy” whispered his sister who stood vulnerably behind the kitchen door as she peaked her head round.
“I beg your pardon Sara?” Tito asked sarcastically.
“Oh calm down Tito, she’s simply translating. Princess go back to the living room; everything’s okay- don’t worry. Listen Tito, I don’t know how many times I’m simply going to have to tell you this. Your father doesn’t want anything to do with you: either of you. Ring him. Go on.. call him and see what happens.”
“In fact, why don’t you arrange a time where you can spend a holiday at his house. I’d like to see what’d happen. Now.. I have to go back to work, this argument, again, has been pathetic and you seriously need to do some growing up. Go and do your chores and homework. I’ll be home after five, take care of your sister” Lucia said slamming the door behind her.
“Selfish bitch.” Tito muttered to himself as he rolled his eyes.
After she took her hand off the door handle, Lucia inhaled and slowly exhaled trying to calm herself down, for she had been arguing with Tito since she picked him up from school earlier that day, but this was nothing new for the Garcia family. Lucia paced down the bare pavement that led to a crowded street that literally overflowed with screaming kids. Unfortunately the family couldn’t afford to run their own car so she stepped up onto the bus stop, just in time for the number 42 bus to take her back to the ‘Royal Oakley House‘, the local private school that she’s blessed to be employed at for it literally pays for food on the table and the clothes her children wear.
Back at home, Tito stumbled up the stairs full of anger, to do the only thing that keeps him sane in his home; to play music. He jumped onto his bed, collecting his guitar from its bag on his way. He threw the strap over his head, leant over the side of the bed, pulled open the drawer, scattered about until he finally found a pencil and began expressing his anger through music.
His sister, Sara, wandered into his bedroom to find him scribbling words down on a piece of paper whilst tears rolled down his cheek. Although Sara acknowledged her brothers sadness, she has learnt through experience not to mention it.
“You know, for someone who is self-learnt, you really do make incredibly beautiful music. Mum does love you, you know Tito.” Sara said softly.
Tito mimicked his mother. “ "my beautiful children" I know Sara. I’m sorry for always arguing with mum, its just, I don’t fit in here like you do. I’m the rebellious child. You fluently speak Spanish, keep up with the family’s culture and are a good student at school. You’d be at that posh private school mum works at if she only had the money.”
“Money doesn’t matter- family does, which is why you should show some more appreciation for mum. She does everything she can for us. It wasn’t her fault dad left. If he wanted anything to do with us, he would’ve got in contact by now. You know as well as I do, he doesn’t care about us.”
“I know... I know.” Tito exhaled softly and continued strumming on his guitar. Looking down he mumbled “You’re far to wise for a thirteen year old Sara.”
They both giggled as the phone began to ring.