Listen

Sometimes people ask to be different, I didn’t.

Sometimes people say how nice it would be to be unique. I don’t agree.

Sometimes... actually most of the time I wish to be normal. To have a run of the mill family, doing an ordinary job, a normal life which most people seem to find boring, these are the lucky ones. The ones who envy me, the ones I envy.

My family isn’t normal, not by any sense of the imagination. We live in a six story house with live a live in nanny to care for my younger sister, a cook, a team of four security personnel, two chauffer’s, a grounds lady, a care taker and two house keepers, that’s it I think oh and the pilot, Frank, he’s a bit of guy funny really- and not ha ha funny!

Ever since I can remember this is how we have lived, my parents, my little sister, me and the staff. I don’t have to do anything, not cook, not clean, not do my own washing. People seem to think this is the perfect life, the life to aim for and wish for. I hate it. I would swap with someone in a heartbeat. In the house that live in I feel trapped, all the staff are lovely and such friendly people, but I don’t call it my home. It’s just where I stay, where I exist and people command how I live my life, what I wear, what time I leave, what I eat for each meal. I feel like I’m in prison, like I can’t take a deep breath without permission.

Tonight is what I consider to be the most “normal” night of the month, if you can call it that the second Wednesday of the month, family night. The only night of the month that we eat dinner as a family, normally a night where most of the staff apart from one of the security team has the night off, so the house is at its quietest. We gather in the dining room, dad at the head of the table telling us about what he’s been doing recently, or updates and changes in the staff, routines for the next month or any upcoming special occasions which we are required to make a presence at. Mum always dresses in her best, like it’s a special occasion, and I guess it is since it only happens times a year, once every second Wednesday of the month as well as Christmas, but Christmas is never as quiet, although we have family time, the house is always buzzing with staff cooking at waiting on us for most of the day. Last Christmas pushed my patients, I wanted to tell everyone to back off, to leave me alone. I felt crowded are claustrophobic, I know its not the staff’s fault and I shouldn’t take it out on them, but I just want to be able to get up, chose what I am doing and what to wear. Whether to wear my blue or black shoes or even some that don’t match my outfit. Is it really that much to ask?

Tonight had been my choice of dinner, the rare occasion that I get to eat anything that I like. On the menu tonight is pizza, delivered from my favourite Italian restaurant about ten minutes away. They don’t normally to take away or deliver, but they always make an exception for Dad. I didn’t hear the buzzer for the back door, only the footsteps of the security personnel on duty coming up the stairs from the controller room, he headed to the back door and I heard it unlock- pizza is here. Faint mummer of voices floated up the hall, followed by the locking of the door and the footsteps of the security guy coming with my pizza.

He entered the door behind me, the smell of pizza flowing in first- yum. My tummy grumbled in delight. He placed the pizzas on the table to my left, “Thank you” I stated before looking up. I froze. He was new. Dad normally tells up about changes like this. He looked at me straight in the eye before smiling and bowing his head. He turned on his heels and left the room quietly. I couldn’t help but stare after him. Faint mummers waved around the table, the sound not travelling into my ears but just floating past.

“Hope” Dad stern voice broke into my concentration, I jumped back to the room.
“Yes Dad” I turned to look at dad, “Who’s that?” I continued.
“That’s one of the new security, Oliver left, Ben was available immediately so he will taking Oliver’s job. Is there a problem? ”
“No- no not at all, I just didn’t know.”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you.” Dad stated, looking at me a little concerned., “I’ve just been so busy and i didn’t think it would be a problem.”
“There is no problem” placing a smile on my face and shrugging the conversation off.
“Good, now eat up before it gets cold. It smells delicious.”

Everyone dug in, grabbing slices and enjoying. Dinner was quite, no surprise, my parents seem to have little to say to each other, and then when they do speak they are normally arguing. They shout at each other behind closed doors, they think we don’t here and yet we do. It makes it worse that they seem to hide it. Sometimes, especially when they first started I would worry that they were arguing about me, that I had done something wrong or was in trouble, maybe at school or something, but they argue so much that I really hope it’s not me who causes it, I try not to think about it if I’m honest.