One
"You never know when you're gonna meet someone."
–Daughtry-
Gainesville, Florida
June 2016
Inhale...exhale...inhale...exhale...
Do you have any special rituals in the morning? If yes, do we have the same thing? People say this is one of the effective things that can generate a positive aura, especially to welcome the day that people hate the most. Monday. Yeah, a day when I'm not a student struggling with a bunch of journals and having to spend a long time in the library.
Apart from that, I'm happy that my life journey has changed for the better than 14 years ago. Even though I had to go through various thorns that could infect my feet, in fact, through the efforts of my mother and her trusted psychiatrist, I was able to get out of that black hole. You don't need to have many friends to be yourself when there is one crazy woman who is now your eternal roommate.
"I'm Emilia Hall," said a blonde-haired girl, holding her hand and finding me sitting alone in the corner of the new student reception hall. "Why are you alone? Why don't you join them?"
I shrugged my shoulders without returning the outstretched hand with bright red nail polish.
"What major did you register for? Oh... wrong... what's your name?" Emilia asked
enthusiastically without feeling offended by my cold attitude towards her.
"Elizabeth Khan, majoring in business administration management."
"I'm majoring in journalism, isn't that great? You'll see me on television in four years, friend," said Emilia proudly, like a campfire burning in the dark forest. "What if we become roommates? I've found a nice room that's suitable for the two of us. You probably haven't gotten a room yet.
She gaped me before I answered her sentence; the enthusiastic girl was already pulling me towards an apartment near campus.
I smiled as I looked at the apartment we had lived in for almost four years. Even though I'm in a different major, he always approaches me during lunchtime to ask how I'm doing or whether I've finished my essay, like a lover who pays more attention. All this time, I have always responded bitchily to limit my distance from many people. However, slowly but surely, Emilia never gave up on showing she was worthy of being called a friend.
"You're a good friend, Em," I praised when she worked on my final assignment, which had been postponed due to an annoying fever for four days.
"That's the point of having a friend, Lizzie. If you need anything, you can call your wonder woman. Go to sleep and dream of me with Robert Pattinson."
"Oh, Damn!"
Looking closely, many people call us the most romantic lesbian couple. Hell! Even though I have childhood trauma, I will not violate my God-given nature. In essence, women are for men, and vice versa. It's like a negative pole meeting a negative pole; they will repel, right? But I also don't want to justify humans who choose to like people of the same sex. We live in a liberal country that upholds freedom, including sexual matters, even though sometimes religious issues are still racist.
As good as our friendship was, there was one thing I couldn't tell that girl. For some reason, it feels embarrassing if other people know that I am a sexual abuse victim who has PTSD—especially the incision wound, which turned into a thin keloid on the left collarbone. Sometimes, there is a fear that Emilia will leave me and label herself as a prostitute.
Ah! Why do you say that, Lizzie?
Packaging things before moving to a new apartment close to the office is a busy day. It's not complete if I fill my things without listening to Daughtry's music, which has been a favourite since high school. The characteristic voice of Chris, the vocalist, and his guitar strumming made me fall in love with every song he sang. Not long after, the device that was playing music stopped for a moment when a text message came in. I grabbed a box wrapped in a blue case and found the name Emilia sending a fairly long message.
From: Emilia
I will come home at dawn and go straight to our new apartment on Sunday morning. Can you pack my things too? Not much was packed, only the clothes in the cupboard that you put in a cardboard box. I've filled the rest since graduation yesterday. Hehehe...big thanks sis
After replying to the message with the word 'Ók', it was my mother's turn to call. Ah, my day will be as busy as the president.
"Hey, Lizzie. Are you busy?"
"Well... not bad for someone who will be an employee. Can't Mom come to the new apartment in New York? For dinner, for example?"
I hope my mom, who is super busy with her new family, can spare some time. Even at graduation yesterday, he immediately returned to Jacksonville after receiving news that my half-sister - Lily - had suffered a broken bone in her right leg after falling from a tree. I don't know what the reason is if the mother refuses her eldest child's request.
"I am sorry, dear."
I already guessed!
"You know that your little sister still needs treatment after surgery for a broken bone, right? What if your Daddy comes? I will cook your favourite food like last Christmas."
I remember last Christmas that my mother cooked too much La Vigilia - a dish of seven types of fish from Italy. As a result, I suffered from itching because I consumed too much shrimp and squid together. The rash will certainly come without permission if the mother cooks it again.
"Lizzie?" Mom's call shattered my image of seven types of fish waving before my eyes. "Are you still there, darling? You want to be taken by your Daddy, right?" he asked again.
"Will?" I thought for a moment. "Okay."
"Is that okay? I could tell from your tone you looked annoyed."
Of course!
If she knew I was reluctant to be with men, why did she still tell Will to attend if his presence was a burden? For God's sake, why does she like to tie men up in marriage for the third time? Isn't she fed up with a second husband who is more suited to being called a bastard?
"I said it's okay, don't make me change my mind."
"Okay, what time are you leaving? I'll tell your Dad."
"Ten o'clock."
At nine in the morning, the freight forwarder had already removed the packed boxes to be sent directly to New York. Dad, I mean William, came two hours ago and chose to stand like a useless human being. I don't talk much to William if he doesn't talk to me first. Maybe you will mock me, 'How rude of you, Lizzie!'
Oh, come on... Which man can be trusted in this world? Just try to name one. There aren't any, right? They are just humans who like breaking women's hearts mercilessly. If anything, I would kiss their feet and bend my knees like a slave.
When I'm in this awkward position, my fingers must be busy opening cellphone applications to divert my mind. Occasionally, I glanced at the middle-aged man in an old flannel shirt, watching the goods transporter go by. After transporting the last item, I felt him dare to approach me.
"So when will you start working in New York?" William asked.
"I thought mom already explained it to you, Will," I answered curtly as I put my cell phone in my back trouser pocket.
William just nodded, scratching the back of his neck as if he had been checkmated.
"Ah, take me to the supermarket to buy some groceries later. Besides, Mom hasn't sent any money to my debit card. You brought your credit card, right?"
"I'll do anything for you. I can buy everything for you, but can you eliminate this awkward atmosphere? And don't keep your distance from me, please! I'm still your Daddy, Elizabeth!" Willian said, sounding annoyed.
Hearing William's words, my mood suddenly changed. I wouldn't say I like this kind of atmosphere. He always started everything by emphasising that he was my father who should be loved like George. No! No one can replace him in this world.
"Don't start, Will, you are my Dad, at least you can be called that," I said, unafraid. "So that you know, I don't like all the men who are my mother's husbands apart from my biological father!"
I stopped when I was at the end of the door and turned around to look at William sarcastically,
"And thank you for the money you will spend on me. I will pay it back."