Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
He takes off muttering, “not worth the trouble anymore, it’s over.”
Just like that a year of being in love is gone. So is his picture-perfect straight nose.
The next day at school, he told anyone who would listen I broke his nose while he was eating me out because I was pushing so hard on his face. I didn’t correct the lie. I didn’t care. Heartbreak numbed me, I guess. Or maybe I didn’t care what anyone willing to believe his lie thought. I knew my truth.
I thought I would be with him forever. Then forever only made it to third base. Bobby is in prison now. Serving time for a break in at his workplace. Not his first incarceration. He likes to steal things apparently and he doesn’t seem to be very good since he keeps getting caught. I dodged a bullet getting away from him. Doesn’t mean it didn’t suck at the time.
Mariella held me while I cried, rented every comedy she could find, and ate popcorn and snacks with me every night for a week. Once we ran out of good comedies, she moved on to action movies and it became our new Friday night ritual. Movie, snacks, and sisterhood. When I moved out, it became a thing to have Dia join us for movie night.
When Bobby was arrested, Mariella somehow learned of it first. She brought home cupcakes from a local bakery, and we celebrated. It’s not in my nature to celebrate someone else’s pain. I can’t explain why I did it, but I did, and I enjoyed laughing at his troubles. Plus, frosting makes everything feel better, right?
Maybe it’s why I have bad luck in love now. Karma of sorts for finding joy in his misery. I was wrong to enjoy his downfall. Some wounds cut deep. I thought he was someone special. I thought we had this love. The kind like my parents.
I was wrong.
We were far too young, immature, and I was naïve. There was no way it would last even if we had sex.
I can see it clearly now. In the moment, I was shattered. He was the first person I opened up to. I shared my secrets, my insecurities, my dreams. He wasn’t mature enough and neither was I. We weren’t meant to be.
Sure, I’ve dated since then, but not much. I don’t mind being alone. Connection matters and so far, I haven’t been lucky enough to find someone I can build a friendship with.
The doorbell rings and I smile to my sister as she spritzes my hair with holding spray and I give my makeup a mist of setting solution.
“He’s on time,” she mutters. “That is an improvement over the biker boy.”
“Oh my God, Mariella, stop it.” We both laugh. “He was late because dad and a few of his brothers literally ran him down on his way here. They had their chat, and he came to the door just to say, ‘I’m sorry I’m late, but I can’t do this.’ And ran like he was afraid for his life!” This was a lesson in don’t date bikers of any type. He rode a sport bike for crying out loud, but that didn’t give my dad any reason to think he was safe for me.
“I like dad’s way of doing things, chase them off but with respect to face you.” She states before leaving me at the vanity and going to let my date in.
“Hello,” she greets as I exit my room.
At my front door stands Johnathon wearing a pair of dress slacks, a button up shirt, and a Mister Rogers sweater. His hair is parted to the side, tamed by gel, with his usual round framed glasses over his hazel eyes, and a smile bright taking me in. I grin in return making my way over as he extends his hand holding a small bouquet of flowers.
“Johnathon, meet my sister, Mariella.” I introduce stepping up and taking the flowers, “these are beautiful.”
“Not as beautiful as you, Maritza,” he states as my sister groans.
“So original this one,” she chastises. “You two have fun,” she tells me with a sarcastic tone.
“Stop,” I whisper, “this matters.”
She gives me a fake smile as I move in to give Johnathon a side hug. He presses his lips to my temple. He smells nice at least. I’m not sure how I feel about this sweater thing he has going on. I’m no fashionista but I’m not sure this is a trend that needs to return.
I pass the flowers on to my sister, “put those in water please. We’re headed out. I’ll keep you posted on where I’m at and when I’ll be back.”
“I’ll track your phone; don’t you worry about that.” She reminds me but looks at Johnathon. “Can’t be too safe these days.”
I want to laugh. I don’t. She’s not going to track my phone; she’s going to track my necklace. The little locket serves a dual purpose. Not only does it hold a picture of my sister, brother, and I from my childhood, but it contains a chip where my sister, the computer genius, can track me. Safety is big to her and knowing what she went through, I get it, and I won’t ever put her in a situation to worry about me if I can help it.