Tu Es Mon Soleil - Chapter 5

The vague sound of clinking plates woke Portia up. Her eyes shot opened and she looked around her dark room. She stretched out her hand to the night stand beside her bed, grabbing the small alarm clock. It’s almost 6. That meant she only got 3 hours of sleep. Less than 3 hours, in fact. 

 

Portia reluctantly got out of her comfortable bed and walked towards the window. She parted the thick curtains, staring at the distance. The sky was still dark. 

 

These past week, she couldn’t get a decent sleep. She’s exhausted, but she couldn’t go to sleep. And yesterday, she suddenly thought that maybe spending a night at her parents’ house in Huntington would be a good idea. She thought that she might could relax her mind a bit in the house she grew up in, close to her parents. But it was all the same. She still couldn’t sleep well last night, and even the slightest voice could instantly wake her up.

 

Is this normal?
Will this insomnia last for a long time?

Should I start taking sleeping pills? 

She inhaled and felt her chest throttled. 

 

Another vague clinking voice from the kitchen downstairs relaxed her a bit. Her mom must’ve started preparing the breakfast there, the same thing she had done every single day for 32 years of marriage. Her dad would wake up in any moment by now and join her mom in the kitchen to have the breakfast together. 

 

Her parents always have their breakfast and dinner together. When she still lived with her parents, she did the same thing. It made every meal exciting, because there were always some interesting stories to tell. It was a beautiful simple tradition.

 

Portia smiled to herself. She better go downstairs if she wanted to enjoy the breakfast with her parents.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Portia was helping her mom setting the table when her dad showed up in the kitchen. 

 

“Hi, sweetheart. You slept well last night?” her dad asked, kissing the top of her head. 

 

“Morning, Dad,” Portia said with beaming smile. “I slept magnificently well last night.”

 

There’s nothing wrong with a little white lie for the good, Portia thought. She really didn’t want to add more burden on her parents' shoulder.

 

Her dad observed Portia’s face carefully. “Your eyes are a bit swollen,” he commented, slightly frowning. “How do you feel this morning?”

 

“Oh, Dad,” Portia groaned, but the smile was still perfectly tugged on her face, “I’m perfectly fine. Don’t worry. And I’ll put some fresh cucumbers on my eyes later. Okay?”

 

“You know your father is always so protective,” her mom said while putting down a plate of home-made sandwiches on the round table in the middle of the kitchen.

 

“I know,” Portia replied. “And that’s because he loves me.”

 

“Honey, you do know that we’re still hoping that you want to come back and stay here with us, don’t you?” her mom asked.

 

Portia squeezed her mom’s hand, throwing her a soothing smile. “I’m fine, Mom. Really. Trust me. I’ll call you guys real fast if anything ever happened.”

 

Her mom sighed defeatedly and nodded. “Okay. You’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. Let’s eat.”

 

She reached for a slice of sandwich and took a bite. “Mm, this sandwich is SO good.”

 

“You want to bring some of those for……. what’s the name of your friend again?” her mom asked while trying to remember. 

 

“Which friend?” Portia asked back. “My friends in the Small Steps?”

 

“Your friend whose wrist was sprained.”

 

Portia almost choked herself. “You mean Ellen DeGeneres?”

 

Portia had told her parents about Ellen DeGeneres, about the incident on the stairs, about her wrist, about Portia who decided to help her out because she felt responsible, even though it was all just purely an accident. Well, of course Portia didn’t tell them about Ellen’s real attitude and the fact that the woman profoundly hated her. 

 

Her parents didn’t need to know about that. Her dad would undoubtedly furious if he knew that her only daughter’s treated like a lacquey.

 

“She’s not my friend,” Portia denied, annoyed because she had just been reminded of the annoying woman. “She’s my friend’s friend. And the only reason I decided to help her out was because you guys raised me well -- to be a good person.”

 

“You do need to help her because you’re the one who injured her,” her dad said. When he saw that Portia was about to say something, he quickly added, “of course it was all just an unfortunate accident.”

 

“Bring some for her,” her mom finally said, standing up and started to search for a meal box in the kitchen’s cabinets to place the sandwich. 

 

Portia sighed in defeat and couldn't help but wonder whether her mom would still give the sandwiches to Ellen if she knew how she treated her daughter. Well, perhaps. Because however, Portia’s the one who made her left wrist sprained. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, Portia was all prepared to go back to New York City. She got into her yellow VW Beetle and placed the meal box on the passenger side. 

 

“You’ve got all your things in your bag?” her mom asked as she always did whenever Portia left the house. “Wallet? Phone? Medicines?”

 

Portia looked through her bag to convince both herself and her mom. “Yep, it’s all here. Nothing’s left inside.”

 

“Be careful,” her dad said. “Always call us whenever you need help.”

“Sure, Dad.” Portia set up her seat belt, waving her hand to her parents and drove the car away from her house.

 

She knew that her parents were extremely worried about herself. Even Portia sometimes found herself worrying about herself. But, it’s all good. She could take care of herself. She’d be just fine. 

 

Portia glanced at the clock on the dashboard and sighed to herself. It seemed like she would be late to Ellen’s place. She hoped the traffic would be a bit friendly to her.