This is a story about my life it’s nothing special, but I thought I should share. I have always been involved with the spotlight. When I was a tiny two months old, I did my first diaper commercial. By the time I was ten I had been in several television shows and done plenty of commercials for various products. When I was fifteen I was doing photo shoots for higher end fashion magazines. I never attended a regular public school like all the other children in my area. I didn't have any friends, nobody to go to when I was upset from the pressures of constantly trying to please my mother, my various agents, the whole media in general it would sometimes seem. I was utterly alone in the world.
I am an only child to a single mother, the result of a one night stand I think she secretly wishes had never happened. I think I ruined her life, all her hopes and dreams of going on and doing something with her life and making a name of herself. I think she makes me act and model as a way to live her dreams through me. Sometimes, when she thinks I am busy rehearsing my lines or practicing my audition songs, I hear her sing. She sings old Broadway songs that she used to dream of performing on day on stage in front of an audience. I can’t help but blame my non-existent father for seducing her one night after they both had been drinking pretty heavily and then leaving her the very next morning to deal with the aftermath of having to raise the child she would find out about a month later. When her parents found out, they kicked her out of the house, telling her she had disgraced them both and wouldn’t be allowed back home until she solved her problem. She had nowhere to go, she packed up her few belongings and drove to California where I was born.
I am now seventeen years old. I have yet to make a friend and am still involved with show business. My life consists of hair and makeup then either a photo shoot or filming, there isn’t any time for me to go out and try to meet people my own age. My mother is very involved in my life she doesn’t want me turning into yet another teenage star. After going and doing all I need to do to make my agent and all the people involved in the shoot happy, my mother and I go home where I come and sit on the computer and my mother goes off into her bedroom to do whatever it is she does. We come together and eat dinner around eight o’ clock each night where we talk about our day and then after dinner we both return to our separate rooms for the rest of the evening. My life is very predictable and I like it that way.
My mom and I are sitting down one night eating our dinner when she says to me, “Mallorie, honey there is something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?” I ask, setting my fork down and looking her in the eye.
“You’re acting and modeling doesn’t pay all the bills you know this,” She starts. “As a way to bring in more income, I have been working out of home for about six months now.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about your job?” I demand. “More importantly, why are you just telling me about this now?”
“Because, I wasn’t sure it would last,” She says. “But it is going to last and they would like me to start working out of an office.”
“So you won’t always be around for all my shoots, that’s fine I can drive myself to and from don’t worry,” I assure her.
“The office is in New York,” She says. “We’d be moving.”
“No,” I yell, slamming my fists down on the table. “I won’t move! You can’t make me!”
“Mallorie, be honest what do you have here?” my mom asks me. “You don’t have any friends. And we have no family out here. There is no point in staying here in a dead end place. By moving to New York, we’ll be making more money.”
“What about my acting?”
“You can act in New York,” she tells me. “Please don’t make this difficult, the move will be a good thing, you’ll see.”
*Six Months Later*
My mom and I have finally settled into Apartment 43B, our quaint two bedroom apartment in New York, she is constantly away at work and I sit at home alone in the apartment wasting the day away on the computer, even our eight o’ clock dinners have disappeared. My mom met someone at work too, a handsome fellow who is always stealing her away for dinners and lunches, making it so I only see my mom on the weekends… if I’m lucky. As for my career, I haven’t gotten into acting here in New York, my desire and passion to do so has massively declined. The neighbors who live next door to us have two teenagers, one boy and one girl who appear to be around sixteen and seventeen. The boy is tall with honey blond hair and a dark look about him, the girl on the other hand is the exact opposite. She is short and her long curly locks of hair are a beautiful ebony color. Sometimes at night, when all is quiet and I’m home alone I can hear the music come pounding through the wall, sometimes I’ll sit there and get lost in the pulsing beats of the music. Occasionally, if the pain is really intense, I curl up in a ball next to the pounding music and cry myself to sleep.
One night as I’m sitting there listening to the music and I feel the compelling urge to go over and knock and the door of Apartment 42B and talk to the residents who live inside. I feel as if my entire happiness is depending on this one thing. It is that urge which makes me uncurl myself from my ball, walk into the bathroom and fix my hair, as well as apply make-up to hide the puffy redness crying has caused to my face, write a note to my mom should she get home before I do and walk over to Apartment 42B and knock on the door. After I knock on the door it’s as if all my senses come crashing back to me and I want to dash back home and hide under the covers. My palms start to sweat as I hear someone moving around the apartment coming to open the door. It’s the boy who answers the door.
“H-hello” I stammer.
“Hi,” he says, “you the girl who lives next door?”
“Y-yes,” I stutter, “sorry, I stutter when I am nervous.”
“Why are you nervous?” He asks.
“Because this isn’t the type of thing I do,” I say. “I don’t just waltz on over to some random strangers house and knock on the door. I just—I felt the need to come over here. I live next door to you and I hear your music pounding through the walls and it speaks to me. I wanted to finally come over and talk to you guys. Is there anyone else home?”
“Nope, not right now,” He says. “Why don’t you come inside?”
“Oh, okay,” I say and come inside. “My name is Mallorie, by the way.”

“Well hello Mallorie, my name is Justin,” He says coming in and sitting on the couch. “So, Mallorie do you go to the dear old P.S. 387 with my sister Taleah?”
“Um no,” I say, “I’ve been an actress all my life so I never went to school, I was home schooled instead. My whole life was uprooted when we moved here.”
“Where are you from?”
“Sunny Los Angeles California,” I say.
“Right on,” He says. “I’ve lived here pretty much my whole life. So do you still act or what?”
“Not really,” I explain, “I just haven’t felt motivated to do so here.”
“That’s too bad, my dad’s a film director and my mom produces shows on Broadway,” He says. “And before you ask, we live here in this tiny apartment because my parents don’t believe in wasting money by moving to a house that is bigger than we need.”
“That makes sense,” I say. “It used to be just me who was providing the income for my family. Now my mom works and I’ve been sitting home all alone every day.”
“Sounds lonely,” Justin says, looking me in the eye with his deep blue eyes. “You know, my door is always open. Just call before you come over, here’s my number.”
He grabs a pen off of the coffee table and writes his number on my arm. After that we sit there and talk for hours. We talk about my life in California, his life growing up in New York, our tastes in music and so much more. With everything that he keeps on saying, I find myself falling deeper and deeper in love with him. We are interrupted when his sister Taleah comes home.
“Justin, you didn’t tell me you were inviting company over,” she says curtly.
“Taleah, this is our neighbor Mallorie,” he says introducing me. “Be nice, you’ll be seeing a lot more of her around here.”
“Oh joy,” she says then stomps off into her room.
“I’m sorry about that,” Justin apologizes. “She doesn’t like new people too much.”
“That’s okay,” I say. “I should probably get going home, my mom must be wondering where I am.”
“Let me walk you home.”
“Oh, okay.”
He walks me over to the front door and I open it up and see the note sitting untouched on the counter, a sign that my mom is still gone.
“Do you want to come inside?” I ask.
“Sure,” he says walking inside my house.
“Guess I didn’t have to worry about my mom,” I say trying to hold back how badly it stings. “She’s not even here, she never is any more.”
“I am so sorry,” Justin says, pulling me into a hug.
I can’t hide it anymore and the tears I’ve been holding back for so long finally all come pouring down my cheeks and before long they turn into gut-wrenching sobs. Justin picks me up fireman style and carries me to the couch where he sits us both down and continues to hold me while I cry. He gently rubs my back and tries to soothe my tears.
“I- I’m s-s-sorry” I wail, when the tears finally calm down I say, “It just—it just hurts so much that my mom has always been around and now we move here and I never see her.”
“You’re okay,” He says, “I understand, my parents are both gone all day long and Taleah, she’s always out with friends. I’m home alone all day long with no one to talk to. That’s why I listen to the music because it helps to calm my nerves. In fact if you hadn’t come over to talk to me, I probably would’ve killed myself.”
“Then I’m glad I came over,” I smile. “Is it just me or do you feel the connection between us?”
“I feel it too,” He then leans down and kisses me. “I’ve wanted to do that since you knocked on my door.”
“Wow,” I say breathlessly.
“I should probably get going, but do you promise to come over tomorrow?” He asks.
“Yes I promise,” I grin.
“Good,” he says, kissing me goodbye then walking out the door.
After Justin leaves, I sit down on the couch and smile. My life is finally changing now. I feel a sense of giddiness pulse through my veins as I think about the future. I can just feel the happiness that the future holds. I don’t know where to go from here, but I’ll just take it day by day. Who knows, maybe I’ll even start acting again.