A Girl's Guide to Being Jilted | ✓

03 | In Which An Invitation is Extended

A loud crashing sound from downstairs pierced through the fog of sleep surrounding my cognition.

I rolled over and unconsciously wiped at the line of drool that escaped my mouth and trickled down my cheek.

Some muffled words followed the crashing and I groaned.

The voices continued so I blinked my eyes open and sat up clutching my head.

I massaged my temple and took in my surroundings through the grey light coming from the window behind me.

The silhouette of the dusty posters of BTS and Naruto reminded me that I was back in my old room in 13, Jackson Drummond Lane, Ernest, MI.

I groaned and took in the sight of my old room. It was quite big with a raised platform that held my bed. Back when I was young and super into ships I called this particular place the ‘Captain’s Area’.

The ‘Lower Deck’ was just the same way I left it eight years ago. Clothes were strewn everywhere, my stuffed animals scattered around and yesterday as I entered I swore I saw what looked suspiciously like a half-eaten sandwich. An eight-year-old half-eaten sandwich.

There was my reading desk, an office chair that my parents had let me keep because I fixed the swivel, a dresser and my closet that had a SpongeBob SquarePants poster on it.

I had spent a good chunk of last night making this room a bit more habitable and now I was bone-achingly tired.

The voices from downstairs got louder and I groaned again. “What the heck is going on this time?” I mumbled to myself.

Peeling the black and white checkered duvet off me I got up and looked down at myself.

The comfortable Dartmouth sweatshirt and blue shorts I’d managed to change into before collapsing on my bed were now badly creased and I spotted one of my brown toes sticking out from my socks.

I shrugged and ran a hand through the thick tangle of my black curls.

I didn’t bother much with the sight I presented as I walked down the stairs to the Lower Deck. The rarest creatures to find are girls that looked good waking up in the morning.

As I opened my door the voices became clearer. They were the voices of my mother and stepfather.

I tried to rein in my anger as I slowly descended the stairs in the semi-darkness and walked to the kitchen where the voices emanated from.

The first thing I saw was my mother and stepfather on two different sides of the kitchen island and what looked like a pink magazine on the counter between them. The bright kitchen lights stung my eyes and I had to blink the pain away.

“All I’m saying is you shouldn’t live your life based on what is written in a stupid magazine,” my stepfather whose back was to me was saying, gesticulating with his thick hands.

My mother gave this big gasp, widened her eyes and dramatically put her hand to her chest. She was about to reply when her eyes looked up over her husband’s head and spotted me.

“Ducky, come over here. I need you to settle something,” she waved her hand in my direction.

Every part of my being was telling me to back off from getting involved in a squabble between my mom and Lloyd plus I was still smarting from my mother’s snide remark yesterday. All of these led me to remain under the doorway.