Awkwardly Yours

Alinta

Hi. My name is Alinta Jackson, and I am socially awkward. I might unknowingly hurt your feelings, injure your pride, escalate a delicate situation and I most likely will make you want to throttle me.

If it was up to me, that's exactly how I would start the painstaking horror called 'Pleasant conversation’. My Adopted sister and best friend Darcy however, would have none of it.

I thought of myself as a polite person. My sister informed me, that I had good intentions, but I had the propensity to make a grown man cry and not for pleasant reasons.

“Alinta.” she'd say as her ebony braids twisted with a life of their own around her shoulders.

“You are awkward, but who cares.” she always had the ability to make me smile even on my worst days. And on this day, I really needed her. Picking up my phone in the console of my beat up, black 1999 Toyota Mark II, I dialed her number. She answered on the fifth ring

“Who do I have to kill?” her usual answer in her New York drawl rang out over the phone and I smiled.

“If you could murder Dear Mr. Dwight from next door who thinks that being 38 and having a job means he is an eligible bachelor. Then be my guest.”

“That cow spit! Is he still taking over weird female friends to his apartment and bothering your sleep?” I laughed humourlessly,

“Last night he seemed to be going with a ‘’Corpse‘’ theme so he started shouting ‘’ride me you sexy ghost!‘’ I barely

got three hours sleep.”

“Why don't you tell the Landlady?” I heard her shuffling on the other side of the phone, she was no doubt getting ready for her shift as a doctor.

I huffed dramatically. “I did! But she's smashing booties with him so she said I should wear ear plugs.”

Darcy chuckled. “First of all stinky pinky, don't call sex ‘’smashing booties‘’ call it…”

“Don't!” I cried pulling the phone from my ears. My cheeks warmed with the thought of some of the interesting words she generally used.

Tentatively putting the phone back to my ears I listened if the coast was clear.

“Or you can call it…”

“Save my ears Darcy!” I banged my head against the steering wheel.

I tried again to fix my ear to the phone hoping that she had stopped.

“Alinta! Are you listening to me?”

“Yes. I'm listening. But if you say one word that has to deal with male genitalia or the process of making a baby I will hang up.”

Darcy sighed. “Baby doll you need to get some.”

“Please can you not start about my virginity?”

“Fine” Darcy huffed.

“Are you at the funeral yet?”

I sighed, the weight of what I had to do today slammed back on my shoulders. The momentary reprive I had found In the safety of Darcy's voice was now gone, replaced with a heavy dread.

“I'm sitting in the car outside the church. I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there too. What are you gonna do without me stinky pinky. You'll have to talk to people ”

“I know‘’ I pouted

“And this funeral thing reminds me of mom”

Her sharp intake of breath made it clear that she was also affected by mom's sudden death. Two years was not nearly enough to lose the stinging sensation when Maria Jackson's name was mentioned.

Mom adopted Darcy when I was 5 and she was 10. We were inseparable since then. If you saw Darcy you'd see me. She always made it a point of her duty to shield me from the real world because she knew at such a young age how evil it could be.

We never talked about her old family, but I knew she had scars from her past.

“You can do it Alinta.”

“Darcy, I admire your faith in me, but you well know that before I leave this funeral I will leave behind at least ten angry people.”

“Yes, but you'll leave some intrigued. A guy might even want to ask you out.”

I laughed . “We both know how that's been going for me.”

“Don't worry Alinta. One day someone will see your awesomeness.”

“Yeah I hear ya.” I looked out the window at the darkening sky. Angry clouds glared at me from their perch as if to say ‘even we the clouds are mad at you.’

I stuck out my tongue at them. I new I was behaving in a childish manner but I couldn't help it.

“Did you wear the dress that I chose for you?”

“Nope” I popped the word

“Crazy woman! You know that I have better style than you. Why are you so stubborn”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm not stubborn, I'm just an independent woman.”

Darcy snorted and I heard a car door lock in the background. “What ever makes you sleep at night. Please tell me that you wore black or some dull color”

I winced running my hand through the thick strands of my long brown hair.

“Yeah… about that. I'm actually wearing yellow.”

“Girl don't play with me.”

I breathed out heavily. “Sorry sweets I'm actually wearing a very bright yellow silk blouse and my black pencil skirt with ballet flats.”

“Why do I even bother” she grumbled irritably.

“I gotta go sis. Seems like it's about to rain and the funeral is going to start in…”

I looked at my watch. “Shoot! I gotta go! Love you bye!”

Hastily existing my vehicle, I crossed the street as if aliens were chasing me. I ran up the steps to First Baptist Church and opened the lofty doors.

DANGER!!! My mind warned me. More than thirty people stood in the lobby taking turns to sign their names in the guest book. Distinguished looking men and women in dark designer suits and dresses, pearls and bags that could probably buy my one bedroom apartment milled around. My arm pits started to create rivers and my hands got clammy at the prospect of having to have conversation with any of them. Why exactly did I go to the funeral of my Aunt's husband. She didn't care about me and I had no clue who the fellow who had to put up with her was. If I looked at the expensive looking people as any indication though, he was someone rich.

Turning towards the door again, I decided to stand outside until the crowd dissipated. My hand had just connected with the handle, freedom was a few steps away when I heard a voice aimed in my direction.

“Alinta Jackson, is that you?” Pretentious chatter stopped. I could feel eyes boring into my back. Ah yes… I knew that voice. Pasting on what I hoped was not a grimace but probably looked like one, I faced my mother's sister. This was the second time that I had the utmost misfortune of meeting her, the first time being at mom's funeral. Her harsh calculating gaze scanned my body, a socialite smile playing at the edges of her vixen red lips that looked botched and twisted from one too many lip fillers. Oh well, who was I to judge. As long as she was happy with the outcome. I felt the walls closing in and my heart rate picked up as it always did when faced with speaking publicly.

“Aunt Phoneix. I would say that its nice to see you…. ag--ain b--but I won't lie. Your presence is quite unpleasant. And that fur thingy that you are wearing that you probably call style is just a dead animals skin wrapped around a fake Pretentious package.” I cursed myself inwardly. And the verbal vomit had begun.

Her carefully sculpted eyebrows rose high on her forehead, nearly crashing into her bottle created blonde hair. And her twisted lips rose in what she possibly thought was a scowl. Her cheeks couldn't help in the action, they seemed stuck in place, too injured by botox to give aid in facial expressions.

“I see you haven't changed since the last time I saw you.” She sneered.

My cheeks and neck itched, my throat began to close up and black spots danced before my vision as I battled to stay calm. I was mildly aware of people watching us from all over the room. My fingers dug into my palms breaking the skin. I needed air right now. My eyes darted from left to right looking for a bathroom, looking for some solace. A blurry neon sign loomed on the right and I ran passed my aunt on shaky legs towards whatever it was.

I heard Aunt Phoenix calling my name from far away. My heart rate accelerated. Pulling at the door, I entered and immediately crumpled to the ground.