Can life itself hate you? Not a living thing but the idea of life. I wonder about that often. Humans as creatures view life as fickle but carelessly prance around pretending otherwise. We are careless with our own gifts that our parents or creators or whatever supernatural occurrence that decided to bless my body and soul with the gift of life. I'd not notice for some time how I lived with my own self-pity or how I allowed myself to crumble into such a miserable state of being. Was it perhaps how I acted in high school? A rude and bitchy loner who spent her nose in the books every day. Perhaps it was my lack of any meaningful relationships.
A tapping on my shoulder shook me back to the real world. I spun my head to see the perpetrator who had shaken me. I didn't recognize the guy. He was tall, maybe six feet, give or take an inch or two. His short brown hair was a mess spiraling out from the center or I guess what could be considered the center top of his head. I stared blankly back at him; his expression was one of—worry? I suppose I was spacing out. He rested his hand on my shoulder. A sigh I never meant to release pried its way out of my lips into the audible airways. His look of worry turned to a scoff as he walked away. He was probably just trying to hit on me anyways, If that sigh didn't scare him off my personality would have. I'm not exactly an elegant lady or spread my legs slut. Sex was something I never tried, lack of any relationships and such.
Another sigh found its way out of my lips as I rose from the table. I couldn't fathom why I bothered to appease my mother and leave the house to socialize. Then again, better to be here in a coffee shop then stuck in that dumb resort that pairs single women in their early twenties. Women in this day and age were expected, no, lawfully required to be married at the age of twenty-five without exception. One loophole existed, if a woman couldn't reproduce, she was no longer to be bound by marriage. The law never explicitly stated anything about child birth and some couples even go their whole lives without children. Although, with the current state of things, I wouldn't be surprised if they added an addendum to that law.
My head swiveled to the glass window on my left, trying to gauge something or other of myself that might possibly outweigh my lack of charm. Average height for a twenty-year-old girl I think, not fat or athletically built, but skinny, could absolutely manage a size four dress. Hmm, maybe not actually. I was well endowed in the chest area. My breasts weren't backache big but they were noticeable and decent cleavage was easy to pull off being a 32C. I wasn't exactly an hourglass figure, there was for sure some curves but not super curvy like a model would have to be. My greatest failure however lay with my ass. The new fad for men was to appreciate a woman's butt, although heaven only knows why. Being an introvert spending too many hours of the day reading books and not really working out caused a flat butt to develop. Nothing special to mention with my pretty average head and face. Pale blue eyes were probably the most prominent thing about my features. I refused to wear makeup. My hands being not nearly steady enough for that I often just lied and said I hated the idea of being glammed up. The lightly bronzed color of my locks delightfully covered up for my lack of noticeable facial features. Flowing, pin straight hair, stretching down to bottom of my shoulder blades. I didn't like it any shorter or longer than the area of my shoulder blades so I would have to get a cut soon.
A buzz in the back pocket of my skin-tight jeans was, without a doubt, my mother calling to inquire about my time in this wretched cafe. I decided to ignore it and head home. Being only twenty I didn't see the point of forcing myself just yet to find my partner. The walk home was short but long enough to give me time to think about my situation. Perhaps I could entice my mother to wait another year before having me shipped off. Any argument I could establish in my mind, was unfortunately, fruitless. The future of escaping the resort of mating and drunk men trying to feel up as many women as they could, couldn't be postponed another year, at least in my mother's mind.
The front door was open ever so slightly to our moderately sized estate. My family wasn't one of large income but we did above average. Father was a doctor and doctors were in very high demand, especially after the war. Suppose that's only natural considering five sixths of the human race got wiped out. Mother was a simple housewife. She didn't do anything other than manage the house, cook, clean, etc. the usual duties of a domestic housewife. I was an only child with nothing special about me or any super out of the ordinary, well, what you could call ordinary now, life. Regardless, it was still nice. I love my family and I enjoyed my childhood. Although coming of age I suppose life starts to like you a whole lot less.
I cautiously approached the ajar door hoping maybe my mother was recently out and simply forgot to close the door. Nothing was out of place in the foyer. That sight put me at more ease. Barely audible were subtle voices from the kitchen. Couldn't make out what they were talking about but I could make out one of the voices being my mother's. The other voice however didn't father, but it was easily discernible that it was a man's voice. At least they weren't arguing and having a simple and civil conversation, at least it seemed as such. I left my purse on a table where we usually left keys and such when we first arrived home. I turned to head over to the voices. The conversation seemed to be in the kitchen or perhaps dining area.
As I entered the dining area, I could see mother talking to a strange man—maybe in his mid-twenties. I didn't recognize him but he looked professional, suit, tie, well groomed, clean shaven but the five o' clock shadow was coming in. His skin wasn't exactly pale but a slightly tanned Caucasin? Mother must have caught a glimpse of me with her slight head turn to smile at me. I walked over taking her smile as an invitation. Upon closer inspection of the man, I got to notice his dark hazel eyes, and scars on his face. Sword cuts by the looks of it, maybe a serrated knife, hard to tell. A thin one donned on his left cheek striking all the way down from the left of the eye socket to his jawline. Another tiny horizontal cut on the man's nose. His hair was a dark shade of chestnut, possibly often confused for black. The hair had to have been recently cut, being way too short I could make skin tone of his scalp poking through the hair strands.
My mother broke the silence first that my presence had created in all of its awkwardness. "Sweetheart, this man's a soldier. He's got a very secure job now and he's quite handsome. Don't you agree?" She spoke sweetly hoping to earn my favor. I jerked my head to face her. Burning anger seethed from my every inch. Mother's sly smile quickly disappeared.
"I apologize for my mother," I directed at the nameless soldier whom she thought not worthy of a name.
"Apology accepted," He replied mockingly. I was ready to reach across the table and slap him for his smug response. "Now that that's out of the way, allow me to introduce myself in a more proper manner. I'm Angelo,"
I cut in, raising my voice, "Italian? You tried to pair me with an Italian mother!?" Angelo sat quietly listening in. I could tell he was processing what I could possibly mean by that.
"Emily please! You're being rude to our guest. Apologize." My mother scolded in reply. It was obvious to tell she changed from appeasing me with smiles and kindness to her usual disappointment and discipline.
"I will not mother. You're always trying things like this. When will you let me move at my pace!? I have another five goddamn years. You act as if I have mere months. Love isn't supposed to be like this!" Even screaming at her I still felt bad for our guest. He didn't need to be caught in the middle of my fights with mother. I turned to him with a softer expression as my mother rebutted. I tuned out my mother and I hoped my expression was enough of an apology. It seemed to be enough as he gave me a slight nod and a smile.
I snapped back to mother and shook my head. "Mother I know you mean well but please just stop this." With the last remarks I headed out to my favorite place in the house, our backyard gazebo. Many a night and day I'd spend in my little outdoor sanctuary, cuddled up reading a book, talking to father, arguing with mother. I half expected this haven to experience another argument between mother and daughter but to my surprise, it was Angelo who followed me out.
"I was hoping to get away from you both," I blurted crunched up into a ball on a comfortable armchair.
"I can see why."
"What would you know?"
"I fought with my father plenty." Angelo scoffed. "I wasn't invited here to court you Emily, if that makes you feel better."
"Why else would she bring you here?"
"Drop the disrespectful tone, raise your head and look me in the eye. Manage that and I'll tell you."
A singular low-pitched grunt pushed out my lips as I raised my head with a shake to brush my hair away from my face. I stayed otherwise perfectly still; my arms still tightly slung around my legs close to my chest. "Why did she invite you here?" My disrespect was still present but I held back enough that it seemed to appease him.
"Your father. I'm one of his patients. We chatted up a lot during my time under his care and he invited me for dinner this evening. I've arrived rather early and your mother struck up conversation. I merely obliged. Satisfied enough to drop the bratty act?"
