Couldn't Be More Different



You’re quite calm about all of this; I mean, I expected a vase or two to be thrown across the flat, or you on the phone continuing a previous dispute with your mother.” Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest as she skeptically watched me bent over a suitcase, packing.

I straightened up and walked toward my wardrobe, pulling out more articles of clothing to fill my suitcase with. I turned around, facing her, and sighed. “It’s complicated. I never argue with my mother, I don’t have the heart to.” I folded the last of my shirts and bottoms into my bag, zipped it closed, and collapsed onto my bed.

“That woman has complete control over your life, Deli. When are you going to stand up for yourself?”

“I’d say… probably never,” I sighed, staring blankly at my ceiling. It was true that my mother had a say in all aspects of my life; the clothes I wore, my diet, the friends I hung around, the boys I was into… none of that appeased her until she had it her way. It wasn’t until I left for school in London four years ago that I was granted freedom to do and be what and whoever the hell I wanted…and those past four years had been wonderful. But now, back home in Canada four years later, I had to put a show on for my mother, as the prim and proper daughter she’d always wanted.

“Even so, marrying a complete and total stranger?! I'm sorry, but you need to draw a line somewhere. What if he was sketchy, or had a crazy fetish, for like…” she turned her head slowly towards me, eyes wide with horror, “stealing women’s undies,” I rolled my eyes and threw my pillow at her.

“Oh please. If my mother had the choice of picking my suitor, which I’m sure she did, then he’d be prim and proper just like the kind of person she thinks I am. So now I have to dress up all pleasant like and meet my fiancé for the first time, as well as his family, over dinner. I don’t even know his name, for Christ’s sake!” I covered my face with my hands and groaned loudly. Yes, you heard correct, I was getting married. But this wasn’t a typical marriage. This was arranged.
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First story, yay!