My Living Nightmare

Once I stepped out of the calming hot shower I slipped into a black cocktail dress that ended just above my knee with the help of Camille. It fit perfectly and hugged my body. I hated it. Cam handed me a pair of black high heels that I eyed suspiciously. They were at least six inches long. I doubted I could even manage to walk in them, but I slid them on nonetheless. Camille stayed, because she knew that if I was left to my own devices I’d probably go down in a jeans and T-shirt.

In actual fact I was just waiting for her to leave so that I could change. Skinny jeans and converse sounded tempting…

“Curly,” said Camille said, holding my hair curler in one hand and my flat iron in another, “or straight?”

“How about neither?” I asked hopefully.

“No can do, Alex.”

“Then let me do it.”

“Yeah, I’m gullible, but not that gullible. Don’t think I don’t know that you’ll do something to get out of this. Now, curly, or straight?”

I thought about it for a while, mostly just to annoy Camille, before deciding to go for straight, the main reason being my mom liked it curly. That, and the fact that it was less painful.

While Camille straightened the soft curls in my naturally curly hair, I began to think of ways to get out of the marriage. Obviously, talking to my dad wasn’t going to work. I’d probably end up breaking something more valuable next time, like the scanner or computer or him. Not that I would feel guilty about it in the slightest. Maybe all I had to do was say ‘I don’t’ at the altar. Then again, it could never be that simple. I could run away, but I was still a minor, and the police, after my parents call them, would come get me and bring me back to them.

It seemed whatever plan I came up with was full of holes. Anything I hatched had a dozen of problems and I had no solutions.

I glared at a picture of my parents, grandparents and I, taken three summers before. It was the worst summer I’d ever lived through. I just could not stand the cold and proud attitude of my father’s parents. What made me resent them even more was the compassionless way they put my father down at every given moment, without even actually registering it. They criticized me as well, finding something wrong with everything- the way I dressed, the way I spoke, there was just no winning with them. At first I had tried to please them, but eventually I had snapped, and of course that just made everything a hundred times worse. I “had no manners, no respect” as my grandfather had put it, and what really hurt was that my parents never intervened. And now I was engaged to be married… It was only too apparent who was behind it all.

I took the picture off my dresser and put it into the first drawer available. Camille looked at me questionably, but didn’t ask me any questions. I was thankful for that, and gave her a small smile.

She knew me so well.

“Okay, all done with your hair. Now for your make-up,” Camille said, breaking into my angry, miserable thoughts.

“No way, Cammie. You’re not going to paint my face with that stuff.”

I shrank in my chair, adamant.

“Oh, come on! This is me we’re talking about. I’m a professional.”

“Somebody’s full of themselves,” I joked.

“Alex.”

“Camille.”

“It’s not like I’m going to make you look like a clown. Don’t you trust me?” she pouted, jutting out her bottom lip.

“Fine, fine,” I groaned, turning around to face her. “But not a lot; I don’t want to look like a clown.”
She pretended to gasp and put her hand to her heart.

“You wound me, Miss Saunders,” she said giggling.

I laughed along with her, rolling my eyes.

“Okay, enough now, time to let my make-up genius work. Hmmm…” she said, looking at my face intently. “I’ll use the barest minimum of make-up, just a trace of eye-liner to bring out those stunning emerald eyes of yours, and some lip gloss…”

She got to work and in no time was done. I stood up and looked at my appearance in the mirror. My eyes stood out and my hair fell around my shoulders and cascaded down my back. I smiled and hugged Camille.

“Thanks Cammie! I actually look pretty! Well, apart from the dress; it makes me look like an inedible cupcake.”

She rolled her eyes at me and said, “Alex, honey, are you blind? You’ve always been beautiful. No, stunning. Actually, you’re drop-dead-gorgeous. All the guys at your school have noticed, I’ve noticed, your parents have noticed. Are you the only one oblivious to it? Besides, don’t diss the dress, I bought it for you, remember?”

I blushed a deep crimson and looked at the floor, half sheepishly, half embarrassed, suddenly finding the pattern on the carpet very interesting.

There was no way in hell that I was any of the things she thought I was. Maybe she was far sighted. Maybe I should try to convince her to take an eye test…

The doorbell rang and I heard the front door opening.

Camille opened my bedroom door for me and said, “That was your hint to go downstairs.”

Just great. No time to change.

Ain’t life grand?

I sighed and left my sanctuary, heading down the stairs, holding onto the banister to keep myself from toppling over. Halfway down I got the feeling that whoever it was that came to dinner that night was going to change my life. I shook off the strange feeling and continued down.

“Here she is now, my daughter, Alexandria,” my dad said to a couple who looked familiar. I thought I recognized them from somewhere but I couldn’t place them. They were around my parents’ age and very good looking. The man had jet black hair and shocking blue eyes, as blue as crystal ice. Excuse my simile; I was in a poetic mood. He was taller than my father. His face was well sculpted and you could tell that he was very fit by the muscles rippling under his charcoal black suit. His wife was petite with chocolate brown hair and dazzling hazel eyes. Her face was almost flawless and tanned. When I came downstairs she smiled a beautiful smile at me. This couple, just like my parents, aged well.
It was only when I stood next to my father that I noticed the boy standing behind my mom. He was a Greek God. No guy on Earth could possibly be so darn good looking. He stood nonchalantly, looking around the foyer. He had chocolate brown like the woman and the same shocking blue eyes like the man, who I assumed was his parents. He turned to look at me and his hair fell into his eyes. I had an insane desire to lean in and brush it away, but of course I didn’t. That would’ve been embarrassing. More embarrassing than the stumbling entrance I'd just made coming down the stairs, and that's saying something. Some girls just aren't meant for heels. I was one of them.

“Alex,” my dad said to me, “I’d like you to meet the Rivera’s.”

I hardly heard at first, I was too entranced in the hot guy’s eyes. Suddenly what my dad said registered. The Rivera’s. I snapped out of it. That’s who they were. I couldn’t believe I couldn’t get to their names. My eyes instantly narrowed and my temper flared. I glowered at my father. How the hell could he do this to me? First he tells me I’m getting married then he invites the in-laws over for dinner hours later without bothering to tell me.
He loves me so much.

Note the sarcasm.

Wait. If those people were Mr. and Mrs. Rivera, then Greek God had to be their son and my… my… my fiancé.

Well. I was definitely never referring to him as a Greek god again.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Rivera,” I said politely, a fake smile plastered on my face, while in my mind infuriated thoughts were swirling all around.

“Oh no, dear, call me Christine,” said Mrs. Rivera.

“And me Phil. Mr. Rivera makes me sound so old,” Mr. Rivera said. Someone’s in denial…

I smiled at them and nodded, saying, “Very well, Christine, Phil.”

“And this, Alex, is Sean. Your fiancé,” my dad said.

My dad had a real nerve.

Sean scowled at that, and so did I for that matter. He looked at me with such a cold stare that I took an involuntary step back. Displeasure seemed to radiate through his eyes. From his manner it was like he blamed me for this marriage. His good looks were wasted on him. Like I wanted to marry him. I planned to do everything I could to get out of this.

“Hey,” Sean said curtly. It seemed our parents were blind to all the tension between their children.

“Hi.” I glared back.

Soon after we were all introduced my mother led us to the dining room. The table was set and a wondrous meal lay out. My parents held small talk with the Rivera’s while we ate. I wasn’t hungry, so I just picked at my food in my plate with my fork. I really wanted to get out of the house. Maybe head over to Sapphire, my best friend. I’d tell her about this whole mess and she’d comfort me by getting annoyed with my parents and help me insult them in every language we knew. We’d get a movie and loads of junk food and ice-cream. Halfway through it her brother would come bother us and in the end the movie would be forgotten while we tried to kill him. Unsuccessfully though.
I mentally shook myself back to reality and sighed quietly. This was no time for dreaming.

I could not take all the chit-chat going on with the adults. My anger was building up. Here I was, stuck in an arranged marriage with a guy who seemed as angry as I was and our parents were discussing golf. Golf for God’s sake!

I wanted more than anything to leave the table, but my dad…

“Alexandria, you’re the splitting image of your father,” said Christine, “although, much ,much prettier.”

I blushed and looked away.

“Uhm, thanks?”

She seemed amused at my sheepishness, if the crinkles at her eye were anything to go by.

“Your parents told us you are a keen linguist?” she took a snip of her water.

“Yeah, I’m fluent in French, and I’m planning on getting lessons on Italian next summer.”

“I’m interested; what’s the motivation between the multilingualism?”

I chuckled.

“I have way too much free time during the week. Besides that, it’ll look good when I apply for college, don’t you think?”

“That it will,” she smiled.

I liked Christine; she was nice and kind, and she made me feel more comfortable around the table, but the fact remained; she was partly involved.

“So Alex, what do you think about the marriage?” Phil asked.

Whoops, big mistake. I mean, c’mon, who asks a question like that in a situation like this? It was true what they say, men are clueless.

“The honest truth?”

“Of course,” Phil said, nodding.

My dad shot me a warning glance, which I promptly ignored. I leaned back in my chair and thought about it.

He did say honest…

“What do I think about it? What do I think about having absolutely no say in whom, when and how I marry? Hmmm… This is a tough one… I- hmmm… Well I think, for one, that it’s never going to happen. If you guys think, for even a second, that I’m willing to marry precious Sean over there just for the sake of Saunders United and Rivera Corp then you’re obviously all on crack.”

My mother took a sharp intake of breath. Christine looked shocked, Phillip dismayed, and yet they still seemed understanding. My dad look positively outraged, though, and for the first time this evening I actually smiled.

Again, he did say the honest truth.

“I’m really interested to know though who came up with this brilliant arrangement. Because, quite frankly, this is the stupidest idea I have ever heard. The last time I checked my calendar it wasn’t the Middle Ages. And, by the way Mr. and Mrs. Rive- I mean Phil, Christine, could you please explain to your son that, clearly, I am not the one to blame,” I continued in sarcastic tone. I wasn’t mocking them, though; I was making a mockery of my situation.

“Je ne suis pas amusee! Apologize Alexandria!” my mother had an odd habit of suddenly switching languages when she was seriously angry.

So I was probably in a whole heap of trouble. Oh, the joy.

“Pourquoi? Je ne suis pas desolee,” I said. I wasn’t going to apologize for something I wasn’t sorry for saying.

“Alexandria Michelle, you will do as I say!”

“Absolument pas! I’m not a robot for you to control! And stop calling me Alexandria; I happen to know my name! Quite well, I might add.”

“Tant pis. This wedding will be going through; the contract was signed fifteen years ago. Your grandfathers will not undo it without starting another feud.”

“And when were you planning to tell us this, dad?” Sean’s voice surprised me.

“It was a tad bit obvious, son. We will not force you two to marry until you have both completed your college tuition, but it will happen.” Phil spoke calmly.

Marry? As in a wedding? This cannot be happening.

This is all a weird dream. A nightmare. Any minute now I’ll wake up and get ready for school. It’s all just a dream.

“I am not marrying her!” Sean didn’t raise his voice, and yet it cut through the room. Surprisingly I felt a little hurt by that. What was wrong with me? Okay, I admit I wasn’t the world’s prettiest girl, or the nicest either, but what could possibly be so bad? Especially if he didn’t know me.

“There is no argument up for sale.”

“I refuse to marry some airhead who I don’t even know! She’s probably like every other girl. There’s no way in hell I’m marrying her.”

The son of a bitch called me an airhead. An airhead! Who does he think he is? Who the hell does he think he is? Conceited, arrogant ass!

“Hold up Mr. Full of Himself, what gave you the idea that I was like other girls? For your information I’m not like all the other preppy sluts you’ve probably dated, I actually have morals!” I shouted.

“Don’t you talk to me like that!”

“Sean-” Phillip attempted to butt in without much success.

“I’ll talk to you how I damn well please!”

What I wouldn’t give to get rid of Sean. If this is what it’s like and we’ve just met I wonder what it is going to be like after the wedding.

Oh my god.

Please, on all things good and holy tell me that I did not just think about what things would be like after the wedding. There will be no wedding. There can’t be.

“Listen Alexandria, don’t think you can get away with this,” he warned in a dangerous voice.

“Children-” Christine tried to get a word in edgeways.

“Oh please, I’m so scared!” I laughed.

“You should be.”

What was he going to do, call his friends for me?

“God, you’re so full of yourself! Like I’ll ever be scared of a brainless oaf like you!”

“Would you two please calm-” mom tried to interject.

His eyes flashed menacingly.

“You’re such a bitch.”

Oh no, he didn’t.

Now they stop trying to interrupt.

Why weren’t our parents saying anything? Er, hello, he just called me a bitch! What, did they think this was some sort of bonding thing? I seriously doubt he meant that as a term of endearment.

“I already know that. And for your information, flattery will get you nowhere.”

“You are the last person on Earth I would ever want to flatter. You’re an ugly and sarcastic bitch. You’re nothing but a scared little girl with tons of insecurities pretending to be little Miss Perfect,” he said, looking smug.

I gasped, my hands tightening into fists on top of the table. I should not have to take this from him.
I really wanted to hurt him. To give him a shiner or two…

“Shut up,” I told him in a bitter voice.

…castrate him, cut off his head and feed him to the dogs… wait, what did the poor animals do to deserve that?

“Oh, struck a nerve, have I? So why are-”

“Son, this has gone far enough. Apologize now-” my father started to say in a stern, heated voice.
A stray tear ran down my face, surprising everyone at the table, me especially. Getting up, I looked at my parents with such loathing in my eyes.

“Excuse me. I’ll be taking the DB9 out for a spin. Hopefully I’ll crash into a tree and end up in a coma. Or, if I’m lucky, die.”

I left the dining room in a flourish and took my keys off the hook in the foyer. My hands shook. I could hear someone following me, but I ignored it and quickly walked to the kitchen, through the back door and into the garage. I passed my parents’ cars and walked to my red Aston Martin that I’d gotten for my 16th birthday. Yeah, I know, I probably sounded like a grade A snob. I was not, but I guess I’ll always have to prove it.

Putting the key into the ignition I started up the engine. Stupid jerk. As if marrying someone my parents chose for me wasn’t bad enough, my future husband had to be the biggest jerk on the planet.
Linkin Park’s Encore vs. Numb blasted out of the stereo. I turned it up and pressed the button on the remote hanging on my keys to open the garage door. Looking in the rearview mirror I reversed. Knowing my parents would be looking out the dining room window I floored the gas- my melodramatic exit.

I drove into the night, not paying attention, just getting as far from the house as I could. Once or twice I thought someone was following me but I dismissed it; I was just being paranoid. Too much James Bond films.

I stopped the car when I got to a park. I hadn’t been here in years. The park was empty. It was getting late and the sun had already set. Getting out of the car I walked across the green grass to the swings. I used to love swinging. When I was younger Camille used to bring me here all the time and push me until I was high enough. Then I’d ignore her pleading and jump off, always landing in one piece, and then tripping over my own feet when I tried to run back to the swings. Camille was more of a parent than either of my parents ever was, though back then she was just my babysitter and a kid herself. She was the one who would put a plaster on my knee when I scraped it. She was the one who took me out for ice-creams and took me to McDonalds. She was the one who planned birthday parties for me and kept it a surprise, and she was the one who interrogated my first boyfriend. Poor boy was scarred for life.

I had long since swapped my heels for the emergency pair of high tops I kept in my trunk. And Saph had called me insane… Walking back as far as I could go while sitting on the swing I jumped. At first I was going at a slow pace, but steadily the tempo rose and I was going high.

For a while the day’s events were erased from my mind. All I knew was that childish and sweet taste of freedom and exhilaration.

Eventually it came back to me.

I thought my parents loved me, but what did they do? They marry me off to the first available rich guy’s son. An arranged marriage. An arranged marriage. No matter how many times I said it, it never, not even once, sounded right. I had no say in this; I’d have to go through with it and marry a jerk. A very hot jerk, but a jerk nonetheless.

Oh, dear god.

What was wrong with me? I can’t believe I had just admitted that Sean was hot.

Why not? It’s the truth after all.

No, it’s not.

Someone’s in denial.

I am not.

Are too.

I’m not.

Are too.

I’m not.

You are in denial, Alex. You just don’t want to like him, even though you do.
Who are you?

I’m a voice inside your head.

No, duh!

Well, what do you want me to say?

…

You don’t know, do you?

Not exactly.

Hey, you changed the subject!

No I didn’t.

You did.

You do realize what I’m doing, don’t you?

Of course, what kind of internal voice would I be if I didn’t?

This means I’m crazy.

No, it doesn’t, everyone has arguments with themselves inside their heads. But to be honest, you are crazy.

Oh, just great. Isn’t this superb? This was all Sean’s fault.

Hey, you can’t go pinning this all on Sean.

Let’s get this straight, I don’t like Sean, you do.

How incredibly smart of you. You do realize that I am you.

Holy crap.

“Damn you, Sean Rivera!” I screamed into the night at the deserted park. I suddenly felt reckless and jumped off the swing, not going to the trouble of trying to land properly. I closed my eyes and readied myself for the impact. Just before I hit the ground I felt idiotic.

This was the stupidest thing you’ve ever decided to do, Alex!

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

I hit the ground with a thud and moaned in pain. I certainly did not expect it to hurt so much.