A Blessing or a Curse

Chapter Twenty Six: Reminisce

My life since Ashelle found her mate was just covering up for her so she could go out and see Alabaster, school and homework. She literally went to see him every day and sometimes even skipped school to be with him. Her attention, life and world revolved around him.

Meanwhile my mate is in Brazil and I had no clue when he’d return. It was June 15th and he still wasn’t here. He promised me early June. Half of June was gone. He was late. Really late.
I’ll admit seeing Alabaster and Ashelle all heads over heels for each other and affectionate and nothing seeming to intrude their relationship made me a bit bitter. I was jealous and annoyed and growing impatient.
It just wasn’t fair.

~

It was Wednesday night, the last day of school had been today and I had gotten my report card, which I’m pretty pleased with:
Chemistry………………....83
AP English……………..….90
Honors World History…….97
Gym/P.E…………………..99
Geometry………………….79
Latin…………………….…88
Driver’s Ed……………..…92

I set down my report card and fell back on my bed. I should be ecstatic that my GPA is a 90. I was never naturally “smart” or good at school and I busted my ass this year to do better, but now that I did it didn’t leave the fulfilling feeling I expected. I felt like none if it mattered.
I had no one to share my success with or anything. My father would be so proud of me right now. I know he would. He knew how much I struggled in school, and understood because he did too as a kid. I can hear him now. Saying:

“A 79 in Geometry? That bastard teacher couldn’t take his head out his ass and just give you the 80?” he’d scoff and roll his light blue eyes that looked just like the sky on an early summer day.”Either way I’m proud of you baby girl.”
Then I would reply “My teacher is a total bum. He hates me for no reason!”
“Yeah okay, all your teachers hate you for no reason Loli. Poor you.” He’d remark sarcastically. I inherited my sarcastic tongue from my father, no doubt.
“It’s true!” I would cry “I think its jealousy. All my teachers are like 30 and old and their lives are over while I’m still youthful and have an entire life ahead of me! It is jealousy!”
Then my father would say “Shut up Marilyn.” And roll his eyes and chuckle.
“But at least I passed math. You know how I hate numbers.” I would give a weak smile. “It’s not the greatest grade but it’s a start? Am I right?”
Then my father would give me a bone-crushing hug that would leave me gasping for air and kiss my forehead. “You tried your hardest and to me that’s the greatest grade ever. I’m proud of you.”
“I love you daddy” …I would say.
“I love you too lollipop”…he would say back.

The little scene in my head got me teary-eyed. I really did miss my dad. After all I was his only girl and youngest. I was his princess. We were closer than ever. My whole family was. I think any girl who’s had their father in their life was a Daddy’s girl. Well, at least any girl who had a loving, caring father.

He taught you how to walk, put up with all your crazy expenses, talked shit about your mom with you, took you on stupid trips like to the fucking zoo or fishing even though you didn’t want to, he told you crazy myths about boys to keep us away from them, put up with your bullshit and teenage drama, gave you advice even if you didn’t ask and loved you unconditionally. He’s your dad. Your superman. The very first man in your life.
He molds you and makes you who you are.
How could I not miss that man?
At least that’s how I felt about my dad. That’s just me.

Usually have my parents to praise me or my big brother Daxon to express how much he doesn’t care or Ashelle to suggest we go out to Nora’s Café to treat ourselves but not today. My family was dead and Ashelle had practically forgotten about me for her beloved Alabaster. I wasn’t jealous, but I felt left behind. Forgotten.

I just stared at the ceiling on my bed my throat dry and tears threatening to come out of my eyes. It’d been literally months and months since I last cried and I hated crying. Even when I cried by myself I felt weak, easily broken.

It was like I was drowning in self-pity and weakness. Whenever I told my mother that she’d say “Crying doesn’t make you weak. Écoutez-moi. From birth it has been a sign that you are alive. That you have a soul.”
My mom was quite the philosopher. –Well that’s what Daxon would say. One time my mom was giving us “the talk” she was saying how sacred sex is and your virginity and how you should save it for after marriage and Daxon and my mother got into an argument about morals and shit.

“Mama, if sex was meant for after marriage it wouldn’t feel so good!” he exclaimed.
I rolled my eyes. It was impossible to get dumber than him.
“Daxon taisez-vous! You’re always talking some nonsense! God made sex to feel good because it was supposed to be a sacred gift between to married lovers so they would want to bond in such a way.” She slapped him upside the head.
“But what if you’re going to marry the person you have sex with anyway? Your mate” he crossed his arms.
“Why not wait?” she questioned.
“Why wait?”
“Let me ask you this. If you have twenty old carrots and one ripe, tasty green apple what would you eat first?”
“The carrots. To get it over with so then I can enjoy the apple for last.”
“Okay, so you would wait.”
He shrugged “I guess…”
“So do the same with sex! When you wait until after marriage to have sex with your mate it will feel so much better and you’ll have don’t the right thing. Good comes to those who wait.”
“Mom! That wasn’t even a good scenario!”

And the argument from there was basically lame insults and sad comebacks. My mom and brother were actually pretty close. Daxon was a mama’s boy most definitely. If anyone would even look at my mother in a way he didn’t like he’d freak out. Male werewolves were protective by nature. Especially of the women in their life; mothers, sisters, daughters, mates/wives, anything of the sort.

Me and my mother were a different story however. I was literally the spitting image of her physically. As for the insides we were as opposite as Day & Night, Ying & Yang, Sun & Moon, Water & Fire, Death & Life, Light & Dark, Good & Evil and any other comparison you can make.
I had inherited practically my entire body from her. Head to toe. Same bouncy golden brown hair, Light sun-kissed skin and pink cheeks, pouty pale lips that whenever we smiled it would look kind of awkward and our lips would go thin, same long legs and short torso, same wide hips and skinny fingers and my favorite trait of all, our rare blue-violet eyes adorned with naturally long and dark eyelashes. She was a 40 year old woman, who did still look like she was in her late 20’s when she died. She had laugh lines and creases on her forehead, but still looked youthful. Maybe it’s because she was always smiling. The only difference was she had huge boobs. Plump 36-D’s while a B-cup bra falls off my chest.
I got my dad’s tits, I guess.

I sighed again and turned to my side. I missed my mom and brother too. I missed them so much.
I wish I could say goodbye one last time. I don’t even remember the last words to my brother or my father. Just my mom.
Life was so different without them. So incomplete. Now I felt lonelier than ever.
But for some strange reason, when I thought of their murderers, the rogues who took their lives I can’t even get angry. I can’t even get mad. Just sad, but not angry. I feel like if I were to ever face their killers I would retaliate or try to. I would just walk away.
But I never know until I’m put in that situation.

Hopefully I’ll never face their killers. God can deal with that mess. I wouldn’t be strong enough to. There’s only so much I can take, and I doubt that was a part of how much my brain and emotions could contain.

I sat upright and reached into my nightstand and pulled out the locket my aunt and uncle gave me on my 16th birthday. I let in dangle from my hands loosely as I observed it.
‘Espérer’ it read on the back. I hadn’t worn it since I turned 16. I just shoved it into the draw of my night stand and forgot about it.
I put it on again for the first time in months. I think I’ll start wearing it more often. In memory of my family.