Bold Decision
I stared at the opened excel sheet; the numbers sat still while talking flowers danced in my mind. My hands, itching to hold a paintbrush and splash colors on the white sheet in front of me. Ah, so boring; working in front of a PC was tiring.
“Amalia,” a soft female voice disrupted my everyday thoughts, “Mrs. Blake is calling for you.”
I looked at the pretty Maria whose smile never left her face, her red hair neatly tied in a bun. How could she keep on smiling like that? Was she not bored doing the same things all day every day? Or was she faking it? I smirked, just like me then.
Or well, she might just love the job she’s doing, unlike you.
In my head, I rolled my eyes at my inner self who always made annoying remarks. I returned Maria’s smile and made my way to the lift.
I walked down the corridor, staring at my black Louboutin heels, not bothering to look at the people passing by me. My mind was at war—numbers versus colors. I have been working here since my graduation, regretting each day about the choice of career I’ve made. I wanted to make mom happy, yet this place didn’t feel like home to me.
You should run away; it will serve her right for pressuring you to work.
Shut up. Is this how you want to make mom happy?
I sighed as the nicer inner me popped into the conversation.
Well mom doesn’t care about my happiness, why should I?
A mom always cares about her child; you’re just ignorant and selfish.
“Stop—” I swallowed my word as a man hurried by me, nearly bumping into me.
“Sorry,” he muttered, an intoxicating rich fragrance lingering in the air as he scampered off.
Look where you’re walking, young man.
Amalia should probably look in front of her instead of staring at her shoes.
I turned around to look at the man, ignoring both voices in my head; dark hair, dark suit with the perfect height—was he six feet or something? That were all I noticed before he left from my sight. That scent... somehow... felt nostalgic; I knew that smell yet I didn’t know.
“Such a nice scent,” I murmured as I marched towards the personal office of Mrs. Rosalia Blake. I knocked at the door, twice. No response. I slowly opened the door, and peeked in.
“Amalia, my darling, come on in,” she exclaimed in a bright tone as she removed a folder from her organized shelf.
“You asked for me?” I asked as I took a seat on the swivel chair, my eyes visiting the whole room. The office wasn’t new to me; the same white walls and wooden parquet. What I loved the most in that room was the client-seating area, a large window pane behind the white leather couches. Ah, how I wished to be outside painting the clouds.
“Yes, dear,” she started, her almond-shaped eyes, vivid as the emerald stone in her ring, “I would have promoted you to the personal assistant of a very handsome young man.”
“Wh-what does that mean?” I frowned.
“Now, now, don’t worry about it. He didn’t take up the offer,” she laughed, “anyway dear, you have been here for almost three months now, what do you think about the job? Are you getting used to it?” she asked.
Tch, the same thing again, “I think it’s okay but—”
She cut through my sentence, “Don’t you like it here? The atmosphere, the staff?” she beamed.
Why was she going on with that? I was tired of hearing this, “I do, but mom, I’m not suited for this,” I confessed.
The excitement in her eyes died.
Did I do the right thing?
You had to tell her, right, sooner or later.
“Amalia, what do you mean?” she scowled.
My heart was pounding fast; I clenched my fists, my nails piercing into my sweaty palms.
“Mom, I don’t want to be an accountant,” I stated, loud and clear.
“But you did your studies in accounting. What do you mean you don’t want to be an accountant?” she queried, a frown on her pretty face, “Amalia, answer me!”
“I want to be an artist.”
“A what?” her eyes were wide opened, “Amalia, an artist?” she questioned.
What was wrong with being an artist? It wasn’t like I was doing drugs.
“Amalia, don’t make me laugh please. You have done your studies in this field; your grades were good, so why an artist?” she scoffed.
Tch, I should have known. Mom would never agree.
“Accounting is plain boring!”
“Amalia,” she exclaimed, “and you think being an artist is—”
A knock on the door cut the flow of our conversation. I was finally able to voice out but my whole body was numb.
“We’ll continue this tomorrow; I’ll be home late today.”
I nodded. With my fists clenched, I returned to my desk to continue the boring tasks assigned to me, while mumbling shits throughout my working hours.
The evenings after work were my favorite time of the day. Margarette had already filled the bathtub, put in petals of roses and lit the scented candles which gave off an exotic aroma—just like I loved it. I put on a relaxing music on my phone, unzipped my black skirt and unbuttoned my white shirt. The petals danced as I settled in the warm water. “This feels so good,” I said. I processed everything that happened at work. I couldn’t believe I actually told mom that, guilt sitting on my chest.
Amalia, you have the right to voice out and make your own choice. It’s your life after all.
Well, you should have known better before choosing the accounting field.
Amalie was right. It was my own choice that has brought me here today. I chose this field.
That’s fine, your past choice doesn’t determine your future.
You cannot hurt mom and dad as well. You can’t be ungrateful to them.
Choosing your path, your happiness, or setting boundaries do not make you ungrateful.
I sighed. I was fed up. I have been doing the same tasks since I’ve joined work, there was nothing new. I wanted to go far away; create my own path, make my own story.
Wait! The personal assistant of a very handsome young man? What did mom mean by promoting me to a personal assistant? It wasn’t like I wanted to be one.
Ugh. Seriously my life was getting worse day by day. I pressed my head against the bathtub and closed my eyes. That pleasant fragrance of the dark-haired man filled my mind. A mysterious man with a mysterious scent. That scent? Where have I smelled this perfume before?
A notification popped up on my phone, returning me back from my thoughts.
Noah: Coffee at six?
I responded: Sure thing. See you.
Thirty minutes of soaking in the bathtub, I got out; rinsed myself in the walk-in-shower, and returned to my room. I did a little dance as I pulled up my blue jeans, tucked in my white shirt and tied my wavy hair into a low ponytail with a white silk bow scrunchie; put on my white sneakers, grabbed my purse and ta-daa, ready to meet Noah.
I entered Coffee Connect, the strong smell of coffee and the soft music playing in the background welcomed me. That place was not only cozy, but smartly organized and built. There was a section where you could socialize and another, for study and relaxation. I walked in the socialization section and noticed Noah waving at me. I sat opposite him and the waitress came to us with one Belgian iced coffee cream, one cold chocolate and two croissants.
“Thank you,” we said in unison. Noah had already ordered the usual.
“Hello miss who never comes on time,” Noah said in his deep voice.
“Oh please! I’m not even that late,” I responded.
“Yes, yes. You’re only fifteen minutes late compared to normally.”
He made a silly face, making me roll my eyes at him.
“How’s it going at work?”
“The same boring things,” I said, stirring my cream into my coffee, skipping the conversation I had with mom.
He gave me a soft smile, not bothering to ask for more details as he knew I didn’t like what I was doing. He was the only person I told I didn’t want to be an accountant. Noah was my best friend after all. He has been my only friend—apart from Amelia and Amalie—since we were small. His father and mine were family friends; and we often have dinners together.
Noah told me how nervous he was for his very first surgery today which, thankfully, was a success; and how the girl he has a crush on wouldn’t even bother to look at him again.
“Well, well, don’t give up,” I encouraged him, “you have to at least talk to her, else you guys won’t even be friends.”
“You think?” he tilted his head.
“Of course, do your best,” I gave him an approving smile.
Noah was handsome; his messy blond hair was pushed back, revealing his thick eyebrows and baby blue eyes. Any girl would like him given his kind personality and his handsome features yet he was a loner; he wasn’t the type of person who’d do the first step—that’s the more reason why Alex and I were his only close friends.
You’re a loner too.
Yes, yes, I knew that. I finished my croissant and coffee quietly, dreading the thought of returning home.
“You okay? You look pale,” Noah queried.
“Yes, I’m fine, just tired.”
“Shall we head back? You can relax at home, it will be less noisy today, right?”
“Uhhun, only Alex will be home,” I agreed.
Amalia, let’s run away.
What? What were you talking about?
Exactly! Amelia can you hear what you’re saying?
Let’s. Run. Away. Before mom returns home.
Seriously? Is that even a good decision?
Definitely; we’ll be able to create our own path, and Amalia will be happier and freer.
Nope, nope. Definitely a big no!
Girls stop it—
“That’s good then, let’s go,” Noah said, bringing me back to reality.
The chirpings of the crickets accompanied us as we walked back home.
“Will you miss me if I go away?” I asked.
He stopped and stared at me; his hair looked more golden as he stood under the street-light pole.
“And where are you going, lil miss?” he asked, hands in his pockets, a faint smile on his face.
“Running away—” I placed my hands on my mouth to prevent the words from coming out on their own.
Amalia, you fool. What was I thinking?
His smile faded and the seriousness on his face spelled trouble. I had to laugh it out.
“That was a joke, no need to take it seriously,” I chuckled and walked forward, “come, let’s go.”
“You want to run away?” he asked, a frown on his handsome face, his eyes analyzing me.
“Noooo,” I replied, “I was joking.”
“You okay? You want to talk?” he kept at it.
Now I’ve done it. He wouldn’t let me be at peace. I sighed. If it was like that, I might as well tease him a bit.
“You’ll help me escape?” I asked playfully.
“Then you’re serious?”
Seriously Noah?
“No, that was a joke,” I persisted, rolling my eyes.
Would he seriously keep this up?
He stared at me, his blue eyes confused and concerned. That boy. I had myself to blame. Stupid Amalia. I knew how he was yet my tongue got loose.
“Noah, that was a joke,” I said again, calmer, to assure him.
His eyes were fixed on me for a good few second, “Okay fine! Just had to make sure cause you’re a bit crazy.”
His tone didn’t sound convincing at all, though.
“As if I have the guts to do that,” I chuckled.
Oh well.
Several steps further, we reached my home.
“See you, take care and good night,” he stated.
“You won’t come in?”
For the first time, I was hoping he wouldn’t as I had plans to make but I still had not to make it obvious because Noah was smarter than I thought.
“Nope, I have something to do, see you later.”
“Right, see you, bye,” I waved to him as I placed my right thumb on the lock to open the entrance gate.
The lights in the garden were on. I went towards the garage and only Alex’s car was parked. Mom and Damian were still at work as it was Friday. They always return home late on Fridays. Dad was currently working away from the country and Camelia was probably at her boyfriend’s place.
The perfect opportunity, Amalia. No one’s home.
Well, Alex was here but I could still make it after he’s asleep. I ran to my room; took my bag and put in it some clothes and my purse. That would be it; I could buy any other things I needed later.
Amalia, this is not a good decision.
I ignored Amalie’s voice. All that was left was wait for Alexander Blake to sleep. I walked to his room, slightly opened his door, my eyes searching for him. No one. Where was he now? I descended the stairs slowly. I proceeded to the kitchen where the light was on. Found him.
“Hey sis, already had dinner?” Alex asked, as I entered the kitchen.
“Just came from the coffee shop.”
“You guys went without me again,” he complained.
“You were at work,” I rolled my eyes at him.
“Well, whatever,” he smirked and continued stirring his juice.
“Want juice?”
“If you’re making, then definitely,” I said as I sat on the bar chair, my face resting on my palm, looking at him; a wavy hair strand fell on his eye, making him blink.
Alex and I had the same almond shaped green eyes; not as bright as our mother though.
“This brings back memories. Remember when mom and dad used to return home late when we were younger?” he reminisced.
“Uhhun, we would play hide and seek at night.”
“Ah good old days. Want to play hide and seek tonight?”
Uh oh. Seriously Alex? Tonight? I had plans, bro.
“What are you? A child?” I laughed, “I have some works to complete.”
He smirked, “Well okay, can you switch on the TV then, I’ll bring the juice and snacks. You can complete your works after we have the snacks.”
“Huh? Why do I have to switch it on?”
“Why not?” he rolled his eyes, “or you can do the dishes.”
“What? Nooo! Dorothy will do it tomorrow morning.”
My brother raised his eyebrows. I knew what that glare meant.
“Fine, fine. I’ll switch on the TV,” I pouted.
“You better do,” he smirked as I left the kitchen.
Stupid Alex. I went to the living room and put on the TV. Sitting on the couch, I realized how much I would miss him. Alex was closer to me than Damian and Camelia. We were just three years apart after all.
I remembered how I would sleep in his room when I was sad and he would tell me a story—the same story every time. I chuckled. I could do anything for him. My heart stung when I thought that Alex might hate me for what I was about to do, but I was doing it for me. It was the first time I was actually thinking of doing something seriously.
“Here you go,” Alex handed me the glass of juice, and placed a tray full of chocolate cookies on the table.
“Thank you.”
We spent our time together—laughing and reminiscing about our good old days.
It was now or never. The clock showed 11:30 PM. With my bag on my back, I peeked out of my room. So dark. All the lights were switched off. Mom and Damian haven’t yet returned—didn’t hear the car. My head was slightly throbbing, my palms were sweaty and my stomach was churning.
“Tch, maybe I’m too nervous. Calm down, Amalia, calm down,” I murmured, rubbing my palms against my jeans.
I walked slowly towards the backdoor and got out on the patio. The warm yellow lights, the cozy couches and the fireplace—the memories I have from here would always remain with me. My heart sunk, but I have to do it because mom would never approve of me being an artist. She would be ashamed that her youngest daughter wasn’t a lawyer, doctor or accountant; but an artist. I had to get away from here before she returned back.
Amalia, calm down. You have to talk to them. This is the worst option you can choose right now.
It definitely is the only option, unless you want to sit in front of that PC again, complaining throughout the day.
“Amelia is right, I have to go. I’m doing this for me, not for anyone else.”
I made my way to the small gate in the backyard, unlocked the door and got out of the Blake Mansion. I was finally free—out of the bird cage.
We were living in the suburb of Iris City, the biggest city in Freesia, mainly renowned for its beautiful purple lake which could be seen from our terrace.
The road was quiet at that time though, only the sound of the night could be heard. The pounding in my head became more severe with each step I took. Black spots appeared in front of me. My body felt weak and my eyes became heavy. I dropped my bag on the ground, leaning against a wall to support myself as I fought to keep my eyes open. I was unable to move a step forward.
What was happening to me? Was I this stressed about leaving home? The world was spinning faster. I couldn’t force myself to stand up anymore. My legs gave up, ready to hit the ground but a strong arm was wrapped around my waist and another under my legs. I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes to see who was carrying me. I was conscious yet I wasn’t—I was slowly fading away. Was I in the hands of a good person or a bad one? I didn’t know...
