I-Good Old, Pennsylvania
Life does not get better by chance; it gets better by change—Jim Rohn. If there’s ever a way to prove his statement correct; I’ll be the subject to test its accuracy. Because today is the day I plan on making that change that will hopefully alter my life for the better.
“Isla, what the hell were you thinking!?” Dad rebukes furiously, snapping me out of my reverie of thoughts. He slams his hand on the table; staggering the cup of yogurt, almost tipping it over onto my lap.
“Geez, stop being angry! I was hungry, okay? Sorry” I apologize insincerely, rolling my eyes in discreet as I rest the ice bag over my eye.
“That doesn’t give you any authority to thieve food from people randomly” He almost yells, whereas I decide to remain mute; annoying him to an extent. You must be curious as of what led to this ridiculous argument. Well, it’s a pretty long story but here goes.
Dad and I have just arrived at the airport in Pennsylvania after a brief plane trip from New York. The plane departed at six, and thus I had to be shook out of bed at four in the morning in order to catch the flight. We hadn’t really grabbed anything to eat beforehand, and I’m the type of person who would go nuts out of starvation. Therefore basically, right as we arrived, I begged dad for some food or else he would risk having me flip out. He refuses, thinking that I can contain my hunger for a couple more hours until we finally settle on our new home; where we’ll be able to unpack and eat.
Being the wayward I am; I decided to steal a bar of snickers from a lady’s purse while my dad’s unaware. Yet, she caught me fishing through her purse and assumed I was going for her wallet that she ended up clouting me on my face and reporting me to the airport security. The thunderstruck expression on dad’s face upon seeing his daughter with two security guards following behind her was absolutely priceless. Although, with my influencing skills on fleek and a wise set of words; I managed to persuade those people that I was frankly only reaching for the bar of chocolate in her bag.
Ultimately, we didn’t end up with a record for larceny, but daddy did end up buying me some yogurt and a slice of cake out of mere fright that I’m going to go bonkers again. Regardless, the preceding incident had seriously killed my appetite that now, even with all the foods set on the table before me; I barely want to touch any.
“Don’t you have anything to say, Isla?” He asks in his thick British accent.
“It’s partly your fault too for not letting me eat. I warned you beforehand” I mutter tediously.
“It’s barely seven! Are you telling me you won’t be able to survive without food even before seven a.m.?” he grunts.
“I barely ate yesterday dad!”
“How in the world is that my problem? Who’d ever asked you to starve yourself!?” Dad sighs out of frustration. I guess he’s right about this, what was I thinking?
I think it’s evident enough my demeanors as a young child. You see, I’m not and I probably have never been a decent daughter. I have always been quite rebellious, unheeding and I often talk back—primarily to my dad and family, which I know is rather absurd. If you question me why though, I have a pretty solid answer.
I have never been exactly fond of my dad.
You see, my parents had split when I was eight. Through, it wasn’t quite an immediate call; it was much of a very gradual process. Bit by bit, both my parents started to fall out of love; they slowly but assuredly lost their ‘spark’ for one another—as mum would tell me. I can ascertain that neither dad nor mom got hurt along the process…but I did and I don’t know whether anyone noticed. I was the kid having to watch two of my favorite superheroes; Superman and Superwoman as they both gradually lose interest in one another and eventually part.
It was very painful to digest at that time and not any less painful at present; I remember I used to ball my eyes out to sleep every single day of every week after hearing of the dreaded announcement. It was a tragedy neither of us would’ve ever expected. It was as if everyone that I ever cared about were suddenly drifting apart and slipping out of my fingertips, out of my world.
In all truths, it wasn’t the fact that my parents are divorcing that’s upsetting me, it’s the memories. It’s the reminiscence of everything our tiny family used to be. I can recall very distinctly when dad would tell me of how he’d chased mum all the way to New York from London, simply to fulfill the very profound and ‘unconditional’ love he had for her. But where’s the ‘unconditional’ love he promised? Where did it go? He sure had been a criminal to his own words, and I’ll loathe him forever for that.
Honestly, I blame my entire family for what’s happened; I mean whose fault would it have been other than theirs?
I clash back to reality. Dad is snapping his fingers in front of my face, trying to wake me out of my utter blank stare. “I thought you said you were hungry. Why hadn’t you touched your food?” he asks, pushing the plate of delicious looking red-velvet cake towards me.
“I’m not hungry anymore” I reply nonchalantly, shoving the plate away.
“You’re going to get heartburn due to disorderly eating like this. I thought you knew better” he says, heaving out a sigh.
I roll my eyes once again, “Not caring doesn’t mean not knowing. Now I’d appreciate it if you’d be quiet, please” I say insolently, folding my arms and shifting my body the other way.
Dad pauses for a moment before eventually speaking up. “You shouldn’t talk back to your parent like that, Isla. You’re being extremely rude-”
“Rude!? So I’m rude!? No, you’re the one who’s being rude!” I narrow my eyes; snapping my head towards him. “If it isn’t for your plans to marry that she-devil, we wouldn’t have had to fly here in the first place! And I wouldn’t end up thieving a bar of snickers from a freaking lady with horrific orange hair! It’s your mistake!” I jolt up from my seat and storm out of the café, drawing the vigilance of everyone inside.
“Get back in here young lady!” I hear dad holler from behind, as I feel more of his heavy footsteps pound on the cement. I understand how it’s incredibly ill-mannered of me to cause a commotion like that, but I can’t help it, nor am I able to stop myself from running as I blink away some tears that just won’t stop flooding out.