Thursday, November 19, 2015

Thursday Taster 70: Parallel Slip

Hello and welcome to a new Thursday Taster, the day when awesome writers all over the blogosphere come together to give you tasty bits of their last fiction. You can find the list here.
He was already out of the car with my bag, somehow I was the feeling that he wasn't really my father, not the man who had told me when he had left my mother and why he was so scared, but Michelle's father. I had almost asked him. But even with suspicions, I had to be careful today, if he was just having a multiple personality disorder of some sort he might want to reconsider sending me back to live with my mother. I also needed time to process the last information. I wondered if I should study some genetic too but in this universe it was way less advanced than on the other. I needed to take things one step at a time and the main problem, right his minute was my mother.
It was almost 9am, the main activity were in the afternoon, there was no way she would be gone before 1pm. I didn't even know what my father meant by "within fours hours".
Was there a way to predict my blackouts, did he figure out something during the only week I had spent under his roof?
She was waiting in front of the dormitory's front door, in a very smart suit, arms crossed in front of her. She had that face of mean teacher that would defy anyone to try talking to her.
"So it's your big day," she said as a greeting.
"Yes it is," I answered.
I was carrying my backpack and my father had my suitcase. She didn't bring anything, even if most of my stuff was still at her place. I wondered if it was because she was certain to bring me back home with her tonight and didn't want to bother packing to unpack or if she just wouldn't help me at all to achieve what I had set my mind about. She turned on her high heals and entered the building. It was dark and not really welcoming. She stopped at the front desk.
"May I help you," the receptionist asked.
"I have a room booked here," I said. "My name is..." I hesitated, I didn't know why, I was back home but I had almost said Michelle. "Frederique Astenberg."
The receptionist fiddled her way through envelops. My name started with an A, alphabetically I couldn't be too far from the beginning. She turned around to check a list on the wall.
"I don't have your name on my list," she said.
My mother smiled. What had she done?
"It's Astenberg with a A," I said trying to have a look at the list myself. "I think I'm fourth."
"How yes, here you are," the receptionist said.
I refrained a sigh of relief. There was no way I was going to give my mother so much satisfaction.

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