"No matter your problems, face them with a bright smile and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream," nana once wisely told me. At the time, I was barely twelve and thought that I could summon a unicorn if I just believed in myself.
A decade later, despi...
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Mark's point of view
~~~~~~○ a couple of hours earlier ○~~~~~~
From all the stories I'd heard about ideal parents, I thought that one could only get the perfect couple to watch over him. From the emotional support to the help no matter what, I believed that the full parental package is meant for everyone. I've learned the hard way, though, that the perfect couple is far from being real, and that the one I got is as far from ideal as it could get.
From all the parental versions that I could have gotten, the bossy entrepreneurial type I was thrown at. Nothing is ever enough, and no one is up to the standard. All the effort I used to put into my studies and work was never enough for my parents to pat me on the back. A step taken forward is always an incentive to keep pushing, and no pause is ever allowed in the rulebook of the Williams.
Up to this point, I'd always ignored their nagging standards and tried my best not to break the parents-son bond. I even moved out of their house to limit the interactions we'd have, thus bringing our quarrels down to a minimum. Now that they've crossed the red line, however, I'm more than willing to knock everything down.
"What was that performance about the other day?"
"Darling, I don't understand what you're talking about." My mother puts the magazine down as she gets up to kiss me. "I'm glad that you're finally home, though."
"I'm not here to catch up. Why are you doing this to Maeva?"
"Doing what?" she asks, her eyes shimmering with confidence. "The girl is overly sensitive."
"Was she supposed to thank you for all the nice things you called her?" I ask, my fists clenching at the memory of that cursed night.
"I see that she hasn't skipped the opportunity to run to her prince charming." It amazes me how my mother can switch from being an overly sensitive friend to a merciless nemesis. She's always loved Maeva. She was the daughter she never saw in Julia, and so she grew fond of her. From gardening sessions, gossip marathons and fancy dinners, the two of them seemed to get along well. However, and when she's left, Maeva seems to have shaken everyone and everything, including my mother's temper.
"She hasn't talked to me ever since the party," I explain, pained that I haven't seen her face for what seems to be an eternity.
"Good. She's learning, then."
Suddenly, and as I'm about to hiss at her for talking like that, the door flies open revealing a worn-out version of my father. He freezes in place as he sees me in his house after the raging fight we had last time we met under the same roof.
