Beautifully Ruined

ISA POV

THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!

I know that rings a bell to everyone because not a day passes without hearing or seeing news about it everywhere. You may be the son of the soil living in a damn pit on the outskirts of the most secluded and remote place in the world, but as soon as someone calls out those words, your ears perk up in interest! And all of us know a thing or two about it! 

Be it over inflamed fame, astonishing wealth, celebrities with 7 digits in their bank accounts, or the horrendous crime stories that would make you want to curl up in a ball and frolic in the luxury and safety of your unbothered pit for the rest of your life. Or simply the American Dream itself!

You’ve heard about it.

Never in my wildest dreams have I ever imagined myself being a citizen of such a highly praised and ‘mighty’ country. I have always been that kind of a person you would call mundane, boring! Compared to the 4 bedroom townhouse with a pool in the backyard, not far from the busiest, liveliest city in California, I preferred a small cozy 2 bedroom apartment with a malfunctioning elevator in a slightly buzzed city in Cyprus, where the air is fresh to breathe, and the congestion would not make you want to curse every dang time!

Heck! Even a million-bedroom castle far from Rome in Italy was the best because it was located in the middle of nothingness, with trees surrounding the whole grounds. 

Don’t get me wrong! It was nice in America, but I wasn’t cut from the same cloth as people who loved such an inflated lifestyle.

However, looking back at the occurrences of this year, I don’t think I was really in a position to like or dislike something. At this point, I just went with whatever flowed, as long as I could wake up with my head still attached to my neck! That was one luxury I rejoiced for, with every birth of the new day!

A small ding pulled my mind from the reel of all the unwanted thoughts. I got up from where I was scrunched down and headed to the kitchen, where I pulled the heated food I received from a kind neighbor some days back. I picked an egg and blew off the steam a little, before throwing it in my mouth and looking around the house. 

It has been a full week, full 7 seven days and I haven’t really gotten used to this place. Everything had happened so fast that I was having a hard time keeping up with everything, and I couldn’t even begin to describe the turmoil of emotions that roared inside of me every hour I spent with my eyes open. I shook my head to clear the thoughts that came crawling back into my mind, then spotted a trash bag full of garbage by the doorway.

I did a little mental booty dance at the presented opportunity of going outside, even just for a few seconds to dump the trash by the driveway and lock myself in the house for another night. The sight of the trash ignited one memory that had me chuckling softly. That one fateful night, when I did the simple thing of throwing trash outside, became the turning point of my life. Had I chosen to stay inside instead of gallivanting in the dark alleys at an ungodly hour, I wouldn’t have been here. I would still be in Cyprus living my normal life.

Get it together Leigh-Ari.

I thought to myself as I pulled my body from the counter and walked to the door, unclasped the chains and unlatched hooks, then pulled it open and grasped the heavy bag of trash, and hauled it outside. The gentle evening breeze brushed through my hair and engulfed my body wholly, bathing me in its douceur and creating a classic, calm, serene, and feigned normalcy.

I dragged the heavy bag behind me until I stopped beside the two trash cans that were leaning against a small post just a few feet from my driveway. I bitterly lifted it up and stuffed it inside, then glanced around at the happy neighborhood. Kids, parents, cars, it was that kind of place where unproblematic people resides. Mothers who joined community organizations, fathers who worked in the big offices, kids who were driven to school by their mommies or picked up by dashing school buses. A very calm neighborhood if you asked me.

“Miss Jones?” A voice suddenly called out right beside me causing me to yelp out of my skin. I looked to my right to find a lady in her late 30, dressed neatly in a pair of jeans, a huge jumper jacket, and boots, with a hat covering her blonde-haired head.

I glanced to my left to see if there was anyone, in particular, she was referring to, and then looked back at her with a puzzled expression,

“Miss Jones, are you okay?” She leaned forward with a look of concern, and that's when it dawned on me that she was referring to me.

“Oh… Yeah, I… Oh my God, I am so sorry.” I apologized shaking my head and grasping my forehead. There was never a time I was going to get used to all of these.

“Oh no, I just called you out a few times and when you didn’t respond, I figured I should check up on you. Is everything okay?” She asked throwing me a small smile,

“Thank you. I am just exhausted, moving in wasn’t really what I thought it would be.” I replied facing her fully. She nodded her head in agreement,

“I feel you. Are you free tomorrow? It's Maya’s 4th birthday so we are having a little party. You should come, if you are fully settled of course. We should introduce you to the rest of the neighborhood.” She offered with a smile, and it felt rather rude to turn her down, although I was already hating the idea of sitting down with full-time housewives and gossiping about whose husband does what.

If by any chance I got too drunk and opened my mouth, then began reciting about my life, they would surely disperse in different directions, running for their lives!

“That's so sweet of you. Thank you, Mrs. Thompsons, I will be there. Time?” My smile was stretched from ear to ear, 

“Come on, just Rebecca. The party will be at 12.” She announced excitedly,

“Done. I’ll be there.” I replied causing her to clap her hands excitedly,

“They are going to love you. I have already bragged about how cool my new neighbor is, and they all can’t wait to meet you!” 

Great! Just great!

“Oh, that's lovely, Becca. I won’t miss out.” 

We bid each other good night and I watched as she crossed the street to her house,

“And I will be calling you Isa. Bella doesn’t have a spice in it.” She announced causing me to double up with laughter.

That's right. The Cypriot and Italian Leigh-Ari Montreal was gone.

In the US, I was Isabella Jones!