"You will be fine, El," Pa starts. "After all, your ma and I never married out of love, but look at us now, so in love," he finishes with his brown eyes taking on a dreamy look.
He takes my left hand in his, squeezes it as a way to reassure me but I am far from reassured. A foreign emotion claws its way to my throat and I make a sound between a choke and a sob. Why me? Why us?
I steal a glance at Pa's face, there's no sign of laughter. Instead, I'm met with lines that have etched deep into his forehead, sunken eyes from lack of sleep and cracked lips.
The tiny mole on his nose seems to have grown bigger but I know that it is just my imagination. His shoulders are hunched, his eyes hold great wisdom, they have seen things. His movements are slower than they should be as if he has thought long and hard before deciding to move.
When did Pa become this old? He looks to be somewhere around his mid-seventies when he is ten years younger. And I wonder if they had lied when they said, Black don't crack. Because Pa has cracked or will crack soon unless I agree to this.
A weight settles on my shoulder, the idea in itself makes me shudder involuntarily. This request that he asks of me will change my life forever but I know that I will do it. I will do anything for him to be happy again.
"I'm doing this because I love you." I place a kiss on my father's forehead, towering over him with my 5'11 height, one of the qualities that earned me modelling gigs before I quit. "I hope this works out well."
"I love you too and it will. I won't set you up for this if I wasn't so sure." His eyes water a bit but he doesn't shed any tears.
I sigh deeply as I sink into the worn-down chair in this dilapidated office with chipping paints and rat-infested ceilings. If I look closely, the mould that has formed on the ceiling will have a more definite form. Sometimes, it's a map, other times, it's any shape my mind eye can conjure.
"Say hello to ma for me," I say when he stands up, "I'll swing by next week."
He sweeps his coat to one side so he can place a hand on his waist. We stare at each other but he doesn't say anything. I have not been home in days, in weeks; it reminds me too much of all we have lost.
Pa finally sighs in defeat; he can already tell that they will not be seeing me at home this weekend or next. He blows a kiss in my direction and I return it without looking him in the eyes. I am a bit angry at him and myself for the things that I cannot change.
His fragile footsteps are slow and calculated but the wooden floor still creaks under his weight. Some of the nails of the floorboards have gone missing, a little misstep and you will be slapped into oblivion by the unforgiving wood. I sigh softly, the whole place needs renovations.
At the door, Pa turns around to face me, waving lovingly at me as if to say he knows he has asked too much from me already. And I send him a smile that is the opposite of what I feel on the inside. I have to do this for them. They have already done enough.
When he is gone, I locate my black handbag on the floor, the hand me down from Ma that I have owned for three years now. My fingers brush the brown envelope and I withdraw them sharply as though it burns. I shove the file deeper into my bag, wishing this is a dream so I can wake up and declare this a nightmare. But it is not; this is real.
I make my way out to the front of this single-storey building, stopping to stare long and hard at what used to be our favourite place in the world. The letters, N PAR hangs precariously from the building. It used to be ANN PHARMA written in gold letters but the other letters have fallen off.
Pa says it is named after Ma whose full name is Annika; she is his good luck charm. When Ma had gotten tired of correcting people for mispronouncing her name, she had decided to go by Ann instead.
Only Pa can pronounce her name correctly, he says it means grace unlike my name, Elna which means beloved.
I shiver a bit as the cold evening air lashes angrily at everything in sight, pulling my coat tighter to my chest. Ignoring the catcalls that are thrown in my direction, I start the short journey to my apartment.
* * *
Thank you for checking out my story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed creating this fictional world and if you do, be kind enough to leave me a review. Enjoy!
The wedding is a small one, held in the backyard of my new home with my handsome husband. He is white, British to be exact. Pa must have left out those part or maybe if I had gone through the file like Pa asked me to do, I would have known.
I wake up to light caresses on my face and a hand squeezing my ass. I moan but keep my eyes shut, afraid that if I open it, he might stop. He runs the edge of his palm between my buttcrack, creating friction that has me raising my hips to get access to more of his touches. His fingers pinch my clit before dipping into my wetness. My eyes fly open and I forget all about keeping quiet.
"You are beautiful. You are strong. You are awesome. You are tough, you are not the student body president for nothing," I say the last bit in a low tone and laugh.I should be proud of myself and ignore my husband's treatment of me. I am tough, the first female student body president my school has had in the last thirty years, it's a big fe
I don't recall how long I stand there after Brandon leaves but it's long enough for my legs to ache and my knees to feel like jelly. I crumble to the bed and in annoyance, put my hair in one big, messy bun and unbutton the first three buttons of my gown.To hell with Brandon and my attraction to him. I am so over him. My body seems to disagr
When my eyelids flutter open, a head full of blond curls is fussing over me. I blink twice and my vision clears. I see now that it is the bimbo who was touching Brandon, I shriek and push her off me. How dare her? She can touch, even have Brandon but not me.A small yelp escapes the bimbo's
A yawn escapes me, I blink to clear the rest of the sleep in my eyes with the back of my hand going over my mouth to prevent another yawn from slipping out. I swipe at the errant strand of hair over my face, putting my messy curls into a bun with a few tendrils falling out as I move into a sitting position to observe my environs. This is a new place.
His gaze on me forces my eyes to return to my fingers on my lap. "Why did you do it?""Because..." A sigh leaves my lips and I start all over. "I know you won't touch me and when she offered, I could not say no, my body wanted it. I need to feel like a woman."
Once the door of the private jet slides open, I am blessed with a view of the limousine waiting for us. The chauffeur in black suit is standing by the side, a hand on the door handle, ready to open up. I chuckle at the sight, I have never had a chauffeur, I don't even have a car and I can't help but think about how much my