Ciudades Do Destino – 2 – Girl with the Ivory Wings

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Okay, this is part two. Again, this is unedited and posted just so I could hear some thoughts about it… The voices in my head don’t count as ‘other’ thoughts either.

————————————————————————————

“Pricilla, honey… I’m going out, dinner is at the table and there is some orange juice in the fridge.” Her mother called out. No sooner had she said this than the door slammed behind her.

 

Another evening by herself, not a bad way to end the day, she told herself over and over again. She grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. Her favorite show was on; it was about a girl who happened to be lawyer. She was infatuated with her; the way she dressed, her mannerisms, her courage, her self-esteem and the way she attracted guys and dumped them with no sense of attachment. She wanted that, she needed to become an independent person. Looking around for something munch on, she heard the doorbell ring. Who could it be at this hour?

It was still seven thirty but this neighborhood didn’t have many visitors after the gates closed. Carefully dragging herself over to her wheelchair, she rolled down the hall. Upon reaching the door, she was hit with a dilemma. The peephole was too high up on the door and she couldn’t just ‘stand’ and look through it. In the event that someone dangerous was on the other side, opening the door exposed her to unspeakable evil. She swallowed hard, as the doorbell rang. Come one now, there can’t be any rapists or robbers in this neighborhood. There is barely any middle class family here, much less shady characters. As she repeated those words to herself, over and over again, she realized she sounded so much like her mother; a classist.

There goes nothing. She held on to the doorknob, tightly, and slowly opened the door. The hinges creaked.

 

“Pricilla? What are you doing? Where’s your mother?” She heard a familiar voice.

“She’s out,” she stuttered. “Would you like to come in, Nathan?”

He smiled. “Normally, I don’t go into people’s homes but I’ll make an exception if you have some orange juice.”

Looking about, she giggled. “Lemon juice, just so you know.”

 

Finally, it wasn’t perfect, per se, but things were taking a turn for the best. If everything worked out the way she had planned, he’d be out before her mother came back and probably snatched him from her grip. To be at odds with someone who was supposed to be your guardian; an exhausting torture that can only be described as living in a personal hell – torture of the ironic kind.

He walked over to the living room, sitting on the sofa. She wheeled on to his side, after all, she was already sitting on something; be it a wheelchair or a sofa. He sipped on his lemonade while she wondered why she even suggested lemonade. He’s a guy; he needs some sort of alcohol not lemonade or strawberry cool-aid.

 

“So, what made you come over to our neck of the woods?” Pricilla grabbed her glass and drank some water; she wasn’t too fond of acid tasting things much less lemon. “Was it because of the wheelchair? I’ve already fixed it myself.”

“No, don’t worry. I came to talk to your mother about an issue she’s been having with her washing machine.” He evaded her stare.

Knowing full well what was going on, she poked some more. Holding on to her shirt, close to where her heart was, she looked down at the carpet. “So late at night?”

“Yeah, she’s usually home at this time, so that’s why I came over.”

 

Pricilla stopped with the probing questions and realized what everything was about. She wanted to cry but a crying paraplegic only evokes pity not sorrow. Looking around, searching the room, she realized that everything here was like a memento to the greatness of the woman she called mother. Her past was filled with audacious achievements from a woman with nerves of steel, yet, the child she longed for was born more delicate than a piece of paper; a papier-mâché princess.

She heard the door open and out popped her mother. Sniffing in what tears were trying to escape, she rolled herself over to her room. Knocking a vase, she opened the door and slammed it behind her. Locking it, she cried. Holding her face with both hands, she didn’t make it to her bed. How weak, she thought to herself. Was it weak to lose out to her very own mother or was it weak that she would always cry on her wheelchair? Probably, the fault was all on her star, it wasn’t shining like it should be.

*

“Hello?” Cassandra held her cellphone close to her ear, hoping to guess who the caller was. “This is an unknown number, who are you?”

“Cass! It’s me, Jenny!” A squeamish voice replied. She could hear loud electronic music in the background.

“Jen? Why are you calling me so late in the night? It’s nearly twelve!”

“You won’t believe who I saw in the show! Your boyfriend is here with another girl!”

She stopped thinking, her heart skipped a beat, there was something stuck inside her throat; she was unable to react properly to the news. “What do you mea-”

“It’s Lizzy! She’s here with your boyfriend. They’ve been at it for half an hour now, kissing, touching; he’s been fondling her for the last twenty minutes. It’s like they don’t care who sees them!”

Her legs became weak. “How do you know it’s him?”

“I took pictures of them… I’ll send them over to your phone.”

The phone vibrated, a set of ten pictures flooded the chat box. Yes, it was him. How dumb could she be? It was all like she had imagined; he was cheating on her. “I don’t know what to do, Jen… I don’t know what to do.” Her voice was breaking up.

“Come one Cass, you’re stronger than this. You’re smart, beautiful-”

“I’m not… I’m not… I’m just lying to myself about this.” She pressed the cellphone close to her face. “I wanted a perfect life, a perfect boyfriend with a perfect relationship and maybe a few perfect moments here and there. I wanted it all but… but… life can’t give you everything you want.”

“Come on-”

“Why can’t I have what I want? Is it too much to ask? All I wanted was to have someone to love me like I did. I know I’m a retard, I can’t see colors… Who’s going to love a girl whose eyesight is no better than that of a dog?”

“Cass, it’s not like that…”

“It is!” She slid down the side of the drawer unto the cold floor. “Just, leave me alone. I need to think.” Hanging up the phone, she pressed it close to her heart and began to cry. Tears sliding down her rosy cheeks, falling down on her legs; things took a turn for the worse. “Why can’t I have what I want?”

Her hands gripping on her small phone, even tighter, as she curled up on the floor; like a baby in a cold womb. She regretted everything she had ever said, every smile she shot him, every kiss, every night they spent together and every guy she had rejected for him. Why couldn’t she have what she wanted?

**

Pricilla woke up to the sound of birds chirping. It was a gleeful chirp, yet it sounded so far away, echoing from a distant place; almost like a memory. A light fog settled on the ground, like a slight mist running about, akin to water. Large structures rose from the ground – skyscrapers of sorts. The sky was covered by the branches of a massive tree with tiny glittering fruits that made the umbra become one with a starry night sky. As she walked down the long, winding road she noticed someone up ahead. Could it be a ghost? A spirit? A demon? An alien or some interdimensional being? Her imagination was just too big for her own good.

Closing up on the girl, she noticed her long red hair, she was a ginger huh? A ginger spirit? No, it was too early to think of her as a zombie or some ghost bent on revenge. She was wiping her eyes, had she been crying? If that was the case then they had one thing in common, despite their apparent differences. Pricilla stepped on a stone, as it jolted from a side of her sandals; it clicked and crackled on the ground. The girl turned around.

 

“Who are you?” She asked.

“My name is Pricilla and I come in peace, from the planet Earth.” Pricilla replied, holding up her hand, fingers posed as a V.

“I’m not a monster, silly. My name is Cassandra.”

“Oh, well, this is awkward… I even had a speech and all… Well then, now that you’re not a threat… My name is Pricilla, pleased to meet you.”

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