The Prince's Temporary Wife

A Boring Start

It has been a year since I last saw my mother. A year since I last shed a tear. A year since I last talked so loud and boisterous about jokes and happy things. A year since I last lived my life to the fullest.

Everything was normal, if you subtract the frequent tantrum throws, the zombie feeling, the blank stares. If you take them all, I'm a normal 24 year old. A normal 24 year old that's working herself to death.

Distraction.

Work.

It's served me well. It helps avoid the pain of losing something that was once a big part of you. Because of it's soothing massage that squeezes sweat and toxic out of my body.

And after all this time, it made me forget. Made me seem to let go, made me adopt, made me adapt.

But it failed where it hurt the most.

It failed to make me accept.

I sighed, the day's work done. I turned my work station off, the humming of the coffee machine stops, the beans stacked beside it in clean cases. I left the shop and entered the back door that led to the locker room.

I took my hat and apron off, slowly slipping out of my work clothes. Carefully hanging them neatly on the steel hangers that was void of any clothing except these. I glanced down the row, visualizing how everyone's filled with party dresses, school uniforms, spare casual wear, coats...

"Stop thinking about it and go home," I said to myself, my voice ringing and bouncing off the four walls of the room.

I sometimes envied people who had everything. I envied people who had things I could never have. The most of it was, I envied their freedom.

I slammed my locker door involuntarily, disrupting the flow of my thoughts.

Man, this is going to jam...

But I didn't bother. I'll have time to fix it tomorrow.

Tomorrow...

Thinking about it made me think about food.

Not what you're thinking.

I'm not gluttonous. I don't think about eating that way.

Ever since my mother died...

Woah, died.

A wrong metaphor to say.

Ever since my mother left, we're bombarded with problems, problems of how we would live, how we would survive.

I had to sacrifice everything I have to feed my brother and me.

Then that little flash bulb above my head lights up, my brain machine remembering something.

The Sale!

I peeled my wallet off it's comfort, the old brown leather soft and warm to the touch. And I check.

Only a little left.

I rushed off, running to the nearby grocery store by the corner.

After picking the things I would need, I payed the cashier, grabbing my purchases off the counter. She gives me a little smile and I just nodded.

Plainly nodded.

Smiles don't exist in my world nowadays. They're old school. What was modern to me was frowns, nods, stares, and ears that only listened to the music of bills and clattering of coins.

She widens her eyes at me, but I left anyway.

Who would bother what people thought of me?

No one cared. No one scolded. No one reprimanded. The best part of it was, no noise.

I was welcomed by the chilly air that blew past me, howling into the night. But nothing could penetrate me. I walked, watching everyone in the streets pulling their coats close to their body. I watched as they coated themselves with warmth.

I, myself, coated ice closer to my body, my chest, my heart.

Anything to freeze the pain and hurt in. Anything to stop time flowing. Anything to stop feelings. Anything to stop the train of thoughts about family, happiness, joy and love.

And I knew the right thing to envelope myself with. The cold darkness of melancholy and the murky depths of frozen life, that everyone's afraid of.

Anything to keep pity at bay.

I trotted past the quiet medical university, that was dark as my heart.

The ghost of playful college students running, inspecting, studying, laughing, and walking home roamed the massive structure and rolling, vast green lawns. I saw my friends. The crazy supportive ones that never leave your side kind of friends, waving, singing, talking and dancing. I watched them and suddenly, I couldn't see myself with them.

I couldn't picture me doing things along with them.

I couldn't depict anything that dripped of grins and heart-warming feelings.

I continued, burying the old scar of the old days, deep beneath my heart. I continued home.

Continued to my home that was void of anything that resembled life.

At least it was neat. At least it was kept clean. Just as how it was in the golden days. How it was when my mother was alive.

****

I opened the door to my sleeping brother that had his text books piled one after the other. He was slumped on his back on the worn out couch, his pencil rolling over and over on the floor. I shook my head at how he looks like.

I dropped my bag on the rack, the wood creaking to and fro. It would take another fix to bring it back to normal.

But then again, my life isn't normal.

I woke him up and he shot with a start. "Hey!" He cried, "You startled me."

I smiled, gathering his things up. "Come on, get to your room." I said.

He yawned and nodded, grabbing his books from me. Saying a quick good night, he entered his room.

I remained in the living room, thinking deep.

Deep about food.

Deep about tomorrow.

Deep just as my mother's grave.

Deep as how my life was.

Under a pile of problems and loose ends.

I distracted my thoughts for a while, opening a novel that lay on the floor.

Opened to the very first page.

Open to the acceptance of life.

Open to the possibility of love.

Open to the chances of feelings.

But none can ever deny that...

The front page is a boring start.