Despite the state of rage I was in in prior, Dad managed to hush me down and embed my feet on the ground to keep me from moving around. It’s as if he’s leashed me onto a pole, with his arm as the leash and his figure as the unmoving pole. I, of course, am not very content with this form of restraint, but again, who am I kidding? I can’t do anything about this but put out a partly grumpy and partly bitchy face.
At present, we stand awkwardly outside the airport, hampering the hasty current of people struggling to pave their ways through. Dad has told me to keep an eye for a posh red Audi; which is ostensibly the vehicle Jacqueline is bringing with her to pick us up. Jacqueline, Dad’s dear fiancée, is expected to be around by seven, which is supposedly right about now. I peevishly tap my feet on the concrete as I wait. Geez, where’s this Jacqueline girl at? Perhaps she’s just like me, a person who doesn’t bother with first impressions.
“Move away!” A rude and hectic old man coarsely orders as he bumps his shoulder onto mine; almost knocking my tall and awkward stature to the side–which was luckily prevented by dad’s unwavering grip on my arm. That had hurt quite a bit but frankly, I wouldn’t condemn that old man; I mean he certainly appears very busy and I’m perceptibly hindering his path.
I hate this. I hate having to stand stiff in the midst of a busy street, jammed with an overflow of people having to move their own directions. People all around me are squelching my body by every single angle and I hate being sandwiched within my own folds of skin; it makes me feel uneasy. I also hate the fact that I’m doing this for dad and his utterly stupid expensive wedding in the state of freaking Pennsylvania. Dad knows the fact that I clearly don’t mind not having a mother and I’d rather have it be that way than have dad marry another woman whom I’ve only known for a little over two months. I guess he’s only doing this for the sake of himself to fulfill his silly little interests and satisfy personal lust.
Out of the round corner, a vivid red Audi emerges, before abruptly pulling over in front of us. Out steps an absolutely prepossessing lady seemingly in her forties. A pair of round shades sits neatly on the bridge of her nose, a lavish-looking red Prada handbag is slung across her arm and a pretty red sweater is draped along her neck. Her cheeks are touched with a faint tinge of red, she has her nails polished also in red and her lips had been smacked with matte red. This lady must be a fanatic for red or something; why in the world does she wear all red? I could’ve easily mistaken her for a psychotic Nancy or even a mass-murderer!
“Hey sweetie! Sorry for the wait” The lady says as she scurries towards dad to envelop him in an embrace. “There was a very long line of traffic, you won’t believe it” She mutters exaggeratedly to him. Standing next to Jacqueline, I can ascertain that she’s pretty tall in terms of height; still not as tall to level with me even in those killer stilettos, but still pretty tall—she should be about five foot seven I assume.
“It’s all good” dad responds, giving Jacqueline a soft peck on the lips.
Out from the side of the Audi, out strides a boy who appears a little over my age. I assume he’s the supposed son of Jacqueline’s whom dad had been telling me about for months. Indeed, alike my dad, Jacqueline is a widow herself. She has three children, two of which are twin girls exactly my age, and a son in college whom dad stated to be the firstborn.
“By the way, this is Bryce; my very handsome and one-and-only son” She giggles, introducing dad and I to the boy. Handsome? What a haughty mother she is!—not that it’s entirely wrong to brag about family. But I do confess that Bryce does have a handsome face; but it’s the dreary type of handsome, the handsome I’m not very much into. Regardless, his uninteresting looks and boring personality just kills the overall for me, unfortunately.
“Oh and I assume you must be Isla” She looks at me; pulling out her hand for me to shake. I uneasily reach my hand out towards her, a bit hesitant. In all honesty, her mortifyingly long talons are a disturbing sight—I really don’t look forth to having it dig against my skin when we shake hands. Not to confirm that all long fingernails are disgusting to me, but hers in precise look a bit too untrimmed and pathogen infested.
Yet without further internal debates, I grasp her hand and hastily shake it.
“Hi, I’m Isla. Nice to finally meet you in person” I say, trying to seem gratified.
“Of course, you too. Your father has told me lots about you. I’m Jacqueline by the way, but I’d rather have you refer to me as Jacky” She grins.
Should I say, her nails were worse than I’d initially thought it would be; the margins of her nails were like honed blades—it could’ve sliced down my skin if she’d only gone half an inch further. That simply adds up as a complementary quality to the odds of her being a mass-murderer. She’s the absolute perfect choice, daddy! Why, I think there’s no better assortment of fishes in the water!
“Hi I’m Bryce” Bryce says coolly, pulling out his bizarrely large hand for me to shake. At least his nails are trimmed enough and not polished in blood red paint like his mother’s.
“I’m Isla, nice to meet you” I force out an affable smile. His hands turn out to be surprisingly soft and conveniently warm that it’s rather comforting to touch. Call me a weirdo, but for some reason my hand just wouldn’t want to let loose from the handshake. Bryce clears his throat uncomfortably, motioning for me to let go of my clutch on his hand. And thus, I quickly rip my hand away and giggle near-soundlessly. “Sorry, your hands are just very soft…and warm”
“It’s okay, I get that a lot” He states warmly, confirming that I’m not the only person that’s ever fallen into a brief trance simply of his oddly comforting hands.
“Oh really? So that’s happened a million times before?”
“Yes. Mom tells me to wear products to maintain the smoothness” He implies. I blink twice. I don’t wish to know what strange activities that Jacky of a mother has been impelling her children to do over the years.
“Indeed, don’t you think his skin is just out of this planet!?” Jacqueline pops into sight, groping her son’s hand and rubbing it against her cheek. How weird; how does one boy even survive with a mother like that?
“Uh, yeah” I chuckle uneasily.
In conclusion, they are not quite the best set of people in the world for me to be living with the rest of my life, but not as horrific as far as my imagination goes. “I suppose we should hop in now, shall we?” Jacky queries as she whips up her keys and tosses them over to dad, “You drive honey. I’ll be your Google Maps” she winks, patting him on the shoulder as she buckles herself on the passenger’s seat.
We swiftly squeeze our excessive mounds of luggage and bodies inside the car, before dad gears up the engine and wheels away. It’s either that they live distant away from the town center or we have been circling around the entire town perpetually, because dad has been driving for upwards of forty minutes and we are not there yet. I can’t help but be agitated to an extent towards the fact that dad and Jacky are persistently talking loudly about their marriage plans, how they envision everything to be and all. I do understand that the two are very ecstatic about it, but can’t dad at least acknowledge how I’m terribly hurting just listening to them converse from here, in the backseat?
“Hey, don’t worry. I know exactly how you feel” Bryce whispers as he nears me.
My red eyes stir away from the window to look at him. “Yeah right, that’s what they all say when in truth, you barely understand a thing” I gag.
“Look here sister-in-law, I’m going through the same thing as you. My mom’s a widow too”
“At least you have two sisters whom you share the pain with” I scoff internally.
“Two sisters whom I share the pain with? Hardly. Communicating with them girls is like communicating with a nuclear bomb, they are prone to detonate regardless of whatever guiltless things you do or say—somewhat like communicating with you” He implies.
“You’re shadier than an umbrella” I say, elbowing him lightheartedly.
“Now that, I don’t get a lot” He chuckles.
“Isla honey, your room is on the second floor on the left side—across from the twins’ bedroom. If you’d like to start organizing the space for yourself, you are welcomed to do that now. The room is all yours” Jacky hands me my keys, after she finishes unloading our belongings from the boot of the Audi. I nod at her and quickly sprint up the cascade of carpeted staircase with my bags of clothing hanging down my arm; almost tripping along the way.
“You know darling, I sure had hoped for her to share a bedroom with one of the twins” I hear dad mumble to Jacky; making me decelerate to enable bits of eavesdropping.
“Why so?” Jacky queries confused, still whispering.
“Isla is not very content about all this, and thus I thought perhaps having just one of the twins accompany her day by day may help make her feel more welcomed here” Dad sighs.
I roll my eyes to myself before continuing my dash up the stairs. Praise the mighty Lord that I was lucky enough to not be compelled to share a bedroom with any of those people, I would’ve gone mad if that were to happen. I halt before a large bedroom door with my name scribbled on a piece of paper that stuck to it; I assume this must be it. I slot the key and turn the lock, cracking the door open to a simply embellished minimalistic bedroom just for Isla Pendleton.
I pitch all the belongings I held in my hands into the space inside, letting the bags disseminate all throughout the rugged floors before I jam the door shut. Had I mentioned of how amazingly wealthy their family is? Despite the fact that the house may not be the largest building you’ll come across in the neighborhood area, the interior is probably the most damn luxurious. My room is designed in a very minimalistic concept with a bit of a contemporary touch; the walls are paper white, the floors are of marble and the large bed in the center of the room is well designed for two. The marble floors are partly carpeted with grey rugs, and on the walls in oppose to my bed, there hangs two huge empty picture frames. Although, nothing else stands out to me more than the large ass window by the side of the wall in front of me that overlooks a room in our neighbors’ house.
I can grasp how their sole purpose of having an oversized window likewise is probably so that I won’t have to have the lights flicked around noon due to the sufficient natural sunlight radiated through to here; therefore, we’ll ultimately be more energy efficient. Despite the green movement thing their family lives by, I’d personally rather have a more ‘enclosed’ and ‘private’ space for a room. “Isla, come meet Daphne and Delphine. They’d just gotten home!” Dad hollers from the other side of my bedroom door, knocking subtly on the wood. Daphne and Delphine? They must be the twins. I’m not very jovial about meeting people in general but having acknowledged the fact that they’re just about my age, instills a bit of interest in me.
“Give me a minute!” I reply; observing his harsh footsteps as they gradually diminish. I quickly disrobe, flinging away the iron stinking attire I had clinging on me. You see, I’m not the tidiest or most orderly person in the world—but I do look forth to being that. Just as soon as merely my undergarments remain, I realize that I hadn’t prepared a fitting ensemble to alter into. I sigh as I spin backwards and haul my arms down to fish through the pool of clothing contained in each stuffed bag. A floral and thoroughly mottled dress that hangs a tad inferior to my knees seems just about suiting for the occasion, and thus I single that one out. Right then, I hear an almost inaudible thud from across of me.
I tilt my head up slightly only to find out that our perverted young man of a neighbor has been intently ogling me as I undressed, from the room in the building across. He seems to have taken notice how I realized what he was doing, yet he persists to stare at me through the lenses of his handy binoculars like an idiot. For a split second, he gazes up from his binoculars to link eyes with me and give me a ‘thumbs up’. I glare at him with menace as I march towards the window lividly. I stand before the big ass piece of glass, still in mere undergarments and whip up both my middle fingers to form a cross; letting him know how much of a pest he’s being using my two favorite fingers. Then I draw the blinds in and start assembling pieces of clothing on myself in an all-casual mood, as if nothing’s happened in prior.
Perhaps if I weren’t in the circumstance I’m in, I would’ve been more protective over my modesty and be thoroughly flushed with utter humiliation if any grown male specie were to see me in just underwear. But with the dominance of pessimistic ideas revolving around my head and more troubling issues to contemplate to myself at the moment, I barely give a fuck.
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