Once Upon A Wedding…
This is it, I breathe unevenly, a condescending façade to my face. A rivulet of sweat trails down my temple, plastering a spring of curly hair to my side.
The ambiance around is frustratingly cheerful. And this is not a good thing. A slow, throaty growl rises with viscious tempo in my throat. As I clutch the silvery-white train that flows
behind my step-mom-to-be, I sneak a cursory glance at the sabotaged Hugo Boss stillettoes that she’s wearing, tacked artfully with lycra.
I watch, positively revolted as her collagen lips pull back into a sickening bright pink smile. Her heavily made-up, barbie-doll face is glowing with excitement as she takes a step onto the
long stretch of carpet. Her smile is still frozen stiff on her face as she gasps, and crumples into a heap of billowing material.
The audience gasps in synchrony, and hold their breaths in anticipition. The silence is broken by dad racing towards her, his hands stretched out. He wraps his hands around her slender waist
and pulls her up, but her heel is stuck to the carpet. As the two stand in the middle of the gathering, tugging and pulling at her shoes, my face went red trying not to laugh. The snickers had
to be covered up by a pretend coughing fit. Few people in the audience had the guts to burst out laughing.
Step-woman is now red as beau-di-joice wine as dad rips the carpet along with her precious stilettoes. Dad inspects the pieces of lycra that have now fallen off. His expression twitches ever
so slightly. He looks up straight into my eyes. I portray confidence, yet I’m trembling inside. I smile sweetly, then cover my lips and go, “Oops.”
Dad’s vein pulses, his eyebrows furrow in and his jaw tightened, “We’ll deal with this later you little rat.”
I press my hands to my hips and meet his stare evenly, “Stop embarrasing yourself dad.” And I turn around, head high, and march out of the giant ceremonial building.
Good, that witch deserves it. She just bombarded my freakin’ life abd stole my dad from me, treats me like crap too. I am going to make her wish she never glanced twice at dad. Just
I march furiously into the pub and slap down some cash for a double glass Vodka. It stings my lips as I down the sharp, angry liquid. After three or four more glasses, I’m beginning to feel
slightly woozy. The images in my brain fuzz like an irregular TV screening.
Sucking in the sweaty, smoky air, I smooth down my ridiculous pink dress. Which I’d worn on purpose so that I looked my worse at witchy’s wedding. Like I give a damn anyway.
This tall, gangly looking guy eyes me side-wardly. His fog grey eyes regard me curiously.
“What you looking at?” I snap icily.
Gangly grins crookedly. As if he’d just told a really funny joke, “I’m lookin’ at you.”
“Well don’t!” I snarl.
“It’s kinda hard to miss a chick in a hot pink dress. If you want the truth.”
“I never asked for it. Bog off!!”
“Public property. I aint needing to go anywhere.”
“And stop talking like a farmer, gosh!”
“I don’t need to take orders from a watermelon.”
“Say again freak and you’ll find my fist in that ridiculous face of yours.”
Gangly whistles as if he’s really impressed. Slowly, lingeringly, he unbuttons his Diesel shirt and pulses his muscles infront of me, they look like freakin’ mountains! “You wanna try?” He
I growl and get to my feet, storming out, but not before flashing him “the finger”.
At home, Dad and steppy are packing for their honeymoon. Which means tagging “us”, my little brother and I, along . They’re both conversing furiously.
The second I show myself, Dad is blocking my way and jabbing his finger in my face, “You’re in big trouble young lady.”
I roll my eyes, “Go on. Amaze me already. And you know what dad, quit trying to act like you know how to parent me. It’s kinda lame.”
He’s shaking with rage. I smile victoriously, and retreat to my room, locking the door and indulging in heavy metal music. Aahh!!
I plan to make steppy so fed-up with me, she’ll divorce my father by the end of the trip and get out.
I threw open my cupboards and pulled out clothes to stuff into my luggage bag. I included some stuff I got from April last year.
“Catalina get the hell out of there. We’re leaving!!!!”
I obeyed and joined them at the front in my tightest jeans and top.
“You’re not wearing that,” steppy said firmly.
“Are you short-sighted? I am.”
“Don’t talk you your mother like that!” Dad burst, aiming for my face, but slapping the air instead.
“She’s not my mother! She will never be!” I yelled. “Now can we get to that stupid place so you two can get lovey-dovey and get off my bloody case!!”
They were silent. Dad looked at me, “When we get back. I am grounding you for bloody life you monster.”
“Look who’s talking.”
Steppy wiped her forehead, “Baby lets just go.”
“My father is a grown man Charlene. I’m freakin’ sure you’re not that short-sighted.”
A very embarrased Steppy turned away and dad grabbed my hair and shoved me into the car. “I’ll report you you handle me like that. I hope mom’s watching what you’re doing to me.”
Dad froze and muttered through stiff lips, “I hope so too. So that she can see what a disgraceful child you are.”
“At least my mother cared about me!”
He slammed the door on my face, and then smooched Charlene all over her face. Gross.
We arrived at the Beach Lodge at night. Thomas was asleep. Charlene carried her up to the lodge whilst dad opened up. I barged in before all of them, bagged my room and shut the door. Then I
switched on the radio and pulled out my laptop.
The two of them banged and shrieked. I paused it for second and looked at them angrily through the door, “I’m on holiday aren’t I?” They didn’t answer, stupids. I turned up the music and
logged onto my e-mail.
When I went out to supper, dad and steppy looked strained. Aha. They tucked into to dinner. “This tastes disgusting!” I spat at Charlene. Actually it tastes pretty good, but she don’t need to
know that. I got up and pulled a noodles out of the grocery bag.
I think they learned to just shut up and keep it in. Everyone engaged in light coversation whilst I called Annie, my friend, and spoke to her in a shrieking loud voice, laughing my head off
at everything she said. Well in truth, no one was one the other end, but like I said, no one needs to know that.
I returned to my room after an oily noodles supper and pushed a movie into the drive on surround sound. It was Avatar. 3-D. Perfect in pitch darkness, a bowl of hot popcorn to finish
The movie was about, over three hours long. When I returned to the kitchen for another cooldrink, everything was still. It was two in the morning.
A plan formulated in my mind. I smashed the water tap with the hammer lying ontop of the cabinet and then started shrieking. “Dad!! My waters broke!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
He raced down, half asleep, witchy at his side. “H-Huh?! You…”
“The water!!!!!!!!!” I shouted, pointing to the gushing water that was pooling over the floor now.
He glared at me, “You did this on purpose didn’t you.”
I shrugged, “Fix the tap,” I said, and went back to my room to complete the few minutes left of Avatar.
In the morning, I found the tap fixed, and paper towels all over the floor. I smiled and reached out for the cereal, ‘accidently’ spilling it over the water.
I went into my parents rooms and banged on the door. “Get up!! I want breakfast!!”
“Get your own!” Dad roared.
I hit my fists angrily against it, “What’s the point of a new freakin’ mother if she can’t make me breakfast?!!!!!!!!!” I turned and ran out of the lodge, grabbing dads wallet off the drawer.
After a huge, expensive milkshake, croissant and yoghurt bowl, I strolled back just in time to find them getting ready for the beach. I tossed dad his wallet and went to change up.
The day was warm and bright. Perfect for swimming. And perfect for throwing her sun-tan in the bin, after using it of course.
We sat there in the burning sun, Charlene screeching as her skin turned hideous red.
I turned the other way and smirked.
“Whoa! What you think you’re doing?”
I looked up into the face of Gangly boy from the bar. What the fish is he doing here?
“This must be fate,” Gangly grinned.
“No,” I snarled, “This must be a curse.”
“You got me,” he said, clutching his heart as if I’d injured him. “You broke my heart girl.”
“I don’t give a shit. Leave me alone. Get the hint and go find someone else to annoy.” I stood up and made my way to the ice-cream stand.
Gangly followed, “You’re like stone girl. What you pre-menopausal or er…getting your thing or somethin’?”
I thrust my fist out and he ducked impulsively. “Yikes. You fierce like hell.”
I grabbed an ice-cream and shoved the money into the ice-cream dudes hand.
Gangly grinned again, “Someones got a temper like George Bush.”
Livid, I snatched his shirt, balled my fist up… and then burst out crying.
Gangly’s eyes grew wide, his posture softened and he pulled me from my fighting stance, into his arms. “Get…away…from…me,” I stuttered, sobbing like an idiot. What the hell is my
Gangly tightened his grip on me and patted my back. “Hey now. What’s wrong? I didn’t mean it when I said you’re stone. Just trying to…”
“I know you idiot!”
“What were you doing to your mom?”
“She’s not my F***** mom!”
“Gee. How was I supposed to know?”
I shoved him away and sat on the sand, folding my arms around my knees. Tears were dripping down my face.
I didn’t reply.
“So thaat’s why you looked all garish yesterday.”
I snarled, but nodded.
“Look, you gotta stop being all snappy and edgy. What’s up? Please tell me?”
I looked at him fiercly, “You not my moth—”
“If you want me to kiss you to shut you up then I will happily oblige.”
That shut me up. I sighed, the flames dying down. “My mother was murdered last month,” I stammered, shuddering yet again. “Murdered infront of me. We were hijacked and the guy m…m-m-mutilated
her body. I loved her. So much. And in under five bloody weeks my arse of a father remarries a bloody plastic woman. What the hell am I supposed to do?!!”
He was silent, listening, “My name is Paul,” he murmured eventually.
“Hate that name,” I said, scrunching up my nose. Then I chuckled, I couldn’t resist it. “I’m Catalina.”
“Scratch like a cat too. Catalina, all I can say is, I’m sorry. And you’re absolutely right to hate this new chick’s guts.”
Finally someone on my side.
“But it aint her fault. She din’t exactly do anything.”
“I hate her!”
“Obviously. The only solution is, come stay with me.”
“You’re insane,” I growled.
“You’ll get used to it.”
I peeled open my melted ice-cream and poured it over his head. Then I burst out laughing. Paul grumbled, “You’re so annoying.”
He pulled open his Pepsi can and chased after me, showering my hair with icy cool-drink…
And it’s a few months gone past. I still hate my parents. I still annoy them. But I’m a bit chilled. I can’t handle it. And I’m distracted by a boy who throws jelly-beans at my window in the
night and blows a Vuvuzela to get my attention at school.
When I think back to it, I realize, all I ever never needed was someone to confide in. Someone on my side. Someone to sympathtize with me. And it made my life so much easier to live
If I could advise anyone in a similar state, I’d tell them the silly, but effective way. And guaranteed it works. Now I look in the mirror, and smile geniunly, no malice, no anger, no
evilness, no pride. I’m actually lying. But no one needs to know that eh?
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