The Cynical Bookworm

Every story has a beginning, a page one, if you will. A story never starts in the middle of all the action, unless it’s a Greek tragedy, of course. So, if this story of Freya Adair and Alec Nylund is to be told, it must start at its beginning. At the beginning, as is expected, neither knew what they were getting into. The two of them were merely aware of a dinner that they had to attend for their parents’ sake. So, without further ado, let their miserable story whisk you away.

Freya had never seen her stepmother stand at a stove. She had been convinced that Marjorie was not even capable of turning it on, let alone producing something edible from its use. However, much to Freya’s surprise and amazement, Marjorie moved around the kitchen in a flurry while various dishes cooked on the stove. A pot roast sat in the oven and the custard was in the refrigerator cooling. Marjorie looked odd, with an apron around her waist, pearls around her neck and her manicured nails hidden by large oven mitts. She was putting in extra effort for Marcus’ guests tonight.

“Do you need any help?” Freya asked.

“Oh, I’m fine here. If you could set the table, you’d be a life saver, Fray.”

Freya nodded, left the kitchen and navigated through the new home to find the dining room. Two weeks in this house and Freya still got lost. Marcus had inherited the house from his parents, which was the only reason the bank had not taken it away. It was Marcus’ in every sense. Freya placed the silverware at the table and just as she finished, the doorbell rang.

“Freya, could you get that dear? Your father’s still upstairs.” Marjorie called from the kitchen.

Freya smoothed her green cocktail dress and made her way to the door. Marcus’ dinner guests were usually stoic, cold businessmen, just like him. However, Marcus expected Freya to at least appear friendly. So, Freya put on her widest smile and opened the door. However, what stood behind the door surprised her. A man and a woman stood with smiles on their faces and a bottle of wine in the man’s hand. Behind the couple stood two more people who appeared to be the younger versions of the couple. The boy had the same dark hair as the older woman while the younger girl had the woman’s grey eyes.

“Hello, we’re the Nylunds.” The man said.

Freya continued to smile as she said, “I’m Freya and welcome to our home.”

Freya guided the family into the formal sitting room where she found Marjorie and Marcus already standing there, looking like the most wonderful of all hosts. Freya went to stand by them and knew she looked out of place. She looked nothing like her father who was all angles and sharp points. His dark hair and dark eyes were nothing like Freya’s auburn hair and green eyes. She was a carbon copy of her mother, her real mother.

“Jonathon, I’m so glad you could make it.” Marcus said as he enveloped the man, Jonathon, in an embrace.

“Well, I suppose an introduction is in store?” Jonathon said.

“Yes, most definitely.” Marcus said with a nod. “This is my wife Marjorie and our daughter Freya. She’s starting school at Columbia in the fall.”

“This is my wife, Ileana, our daughter Olivia and our son Alec. Olivia’s in high school and Alec will be a sophomore at Columbia in the fall. Look at that, our children end up at the same college. What are the odds?” Jonathon said with a hearty laugh.

Marcus laughed along and soon the room was filled with awkward laughter.

Dinner was not as awkward as the initial introduction. Ileana and Marjorie discussed a film the two thought was divine. Marcus and Jonathon reminisced on their childhood. It turned out that Marcus and

Jonathon had both gone to school together in Deer Pointe, Maine. Olivia texted from under the table, very indiscreetly while Alec and Freya sat bored out of their minds.

“So, what brought you back to Maine?” Jon asked.

“I was sure that we needed a change in scenery and its Freya’s last year before she goes away to college.” Marcus answered.

“Liar,” Freya thought. Marcus could pretend that it was a mere move but Freya knew, given the current economy and stock market that Marcus' company's shares were plunging into the toilet. Freya merely took a sip of her water as she smiled at her parents and their company. Alec watched the red-head and smirked. She’d be an easy lay. If he was going to have to miss a date with twins tonight, he had to be compensated somehow.

He looked at the girl until she lifted her green eyes from her plate. She was as bored as he was. When the pair locked eyes, Alec sent her a smile that would typically have melted chocolate. It was a panty-dropper, for sure. However, this time the only thing that dropped was his own smile. Freya sent Alec a glare as cold as ice itself.

"I was just telling Freya how she'll love Columbia." Marcus said.

Freya raised an eyebrow, only half interested in the lies her father was spewing.

"Really?" Jon asked, turning his attention to Freya. "What are you majoring in?"

"I was planning on doing a major in English Literature and a minor in Astronomy." Freya said.

"Astronomy? What an interesting choice." Jon said while Marcus narrowed his eyes. They had never agreed to a minor in astronomy. Marcus had told Freya she could have her English major so long as she went to Columbia and did a double major in economics. This was not part of their deal. Freya was in need of a talk.

"I like to be well-rounded." Freya said with a smile. She knew she was pissing her father off and that thought alone widened her smirk.

"What about you, Alec?" Marcus asked the dark-haired boy who would surely not be getting laid tonight.

"I'm doing a major in political science."

"Alec here will be taking my place when I croak."

Alec gave a tight-lipped smile and nodded. He had no choice in the matter; he had his life set out for him the day he left the womb. He was surprised his father had not chosen a wife for him already.

Freya saw Alec's smile and knew it was forced only because she had sent plenty of her own forced smiles. She tilted her head to the side and wondered, why the forced smile?

Dinner passed and soon Freya was clearing the table and seething. Her father had insisted on being the arse that he usually was. It was another day where she missed her own mother. She missed the woman who read to her every night and built forts with her to fight off evil dragons. She missed Rose Marie Adams.

“If you look at a plate long enough, it might clean itself.” A voice said, interrupting Freya’s nostalgic recollections.

She turned around to see a smiling Alec. “I was just thinking.” She said before grabbing the plates and heading toward the kitchen.

Alec quietly followed Freya into the kitchen where the two stood alone.

“So, how long have you been in Maine?” Alec asked.

“It’s been two weeks.”

“Do you like it so far?”

“Not really. I don’t enjoy the smell of rotting fish.” She said shortly.

“Oh, you haven’t seen town then. There’s a ton to do.”

“I’m sure there is.” Freya rolled her eyes as she placed the plates in the dishwasher. She knew where this was going.

“I could show you sometime. We could go out maybe.” Alec said, putting on his dazzling smile.

“Look, Alex was it? I’ve been nice because my father wants me to. I don’t think I’d like to go anywhere with you, not even the seventh circle of hell with Dante himself. You’re not my type. I prefer men who don’t use women like Kleenex.”

Alec glared at the girl. “It’s Alec and sweetheart, I wasn’t planning on dating you. I wanted a quick fuck and that’s all you looked like.”

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen, nursing his wounded ego. Hopefully, he never saw that girl ever again.

Freya let out a breath and left the kitchen as well. She climbed the stairs and was headed towards her room but the light in Marcus’ study stopped her. Confused, Freya went to the door only to hear her father.

“Listen, Jon. I know how business has been. But, if you could just lend me some I’d be grateful. I’d pay you back.”

“I’ll give you the money, Mark. Let’s talk payment methods.”

Freya rolled her eyes. Of course Marcus would try to find someone to loan him money. Marcus did not care for anything other than himself and his image. In his eyes, nothing else mattered. Her mother had not been like that. Rose had been a lover of nature, the person and literature. Where Marcus was shallow, she was as deep as Marianas Trench. If only she hadn’t passed away and Freya had not been forced to live with Marcus.

Freya steered her mind clear of her loving mother and assessed the damage that had been done. She doubted Alec would tell his father that she had been rude to him. She did not like Alec or his father Jon. Jon seemed like a blonde version of her father and Alec was a sleaze. Freya still waited for her Mr. Darcy, knowing well enough that love stories and love were just a work of fiction.