Chapter Eight
1170 Words
Who the hell was that guy? He scared me and thrilled me at the same time if the tingling in my nether regions was enough to show for it.
He exuded confidence, charisma and that myseterious sexiness posssessed only by a man who knew who he was,knew what he wanted and was sure he was going to get it. He was strong and confident. I liked srrong and confident.
I thought about all of this deeply as I worked behind my station.
I owned a shop. Well you know that by now. Let me tell you the specifics then. I owned an art gallery of sorts and though it could hardly compare to the wonderful and vast art galleries found in Manhattan or New York, it was pretty okay for the homely beautiful city I lived in.
Art was my life. Art had always been my life. Especially dark arts. Even my paintings....yes I paint. I'm talented too you know. What do you take me for geez?!?! So...as I was saying....art was my life. Especially dark art. I had picked up a very keen interest in dark art at the very tender age of five. I had just dipped my whole hand in a can of paint and what I produced was what the French would call 'magnifique'. Yup. You guessed correctly. My favorite colour is navy blue. That blue so dark that it seemed like black but was actually blue. Hah!. You totally didn't guess it.
I had always dreamt of owning my own art gallery where I could display some of my paintings and other beautiful dark pieces of art. When I mentioned it once in one of our sessions, Will unlike my mother who never took me seriously encouraged me to follow my dream. So I did just that.
After an art degree with a minor in Languages, I struggled to get my shop opened but alas the difference between a beautiful teenage dream and real life was in real life you actually have alot of bills to pay and setting up a mini art gallery,getting paintings and actually restoring and selling them is no small feat.
Laden with the stress of paying for my overprized new apartment seeing as my last roommate kicked me out...thanks alot dude!....my fresh out of college self was set back on the opening of my dream.
I almost gave till Will like the super awesome psychiatrist he was egged me on to get the money to start it. He even offered me the money but like the strong indepedent woman that I had grown to be, I was forced to decline preferring to work for it on my own. He took no offense in it and actually understood.
Working two tiring jobs a day for the next two years,coupled with a loan from the bank and a very generous donation from my father: he refused to allow me refuse his help. He would do anything for his darling misunderstood daughter....I finally opened up shop and I could see the realisation of my dream.
That day was an ecstatic day for me. Of course my mother only had the courtesy to send flowers. She was too busy fussing over my sister as Naomi had finally gotten pudgy nose Max to propose to her. Apparently,a supposedly private engagement was more important than the opening of my shop. The gallery I had always wanted. Anyway,i didn't really even want her there. She would have turned down her nose on everything and acted like having a small gallerry was no big deal at all. I did not want that.
So forgetting my mother and sister, I popped open a very expensive champagne that Will had brought over to congratulate me and drank to my fill.
My father was there. Oh my father. How much I loved my father. Even though my father lived in another city almost 8000 miles away, he and his darling new wife were there to support me. His wife was his high school sweetheart who had left the country to pursue her career. They broke up before she left and by the time she was coming back, my father had fallen into the ploys of my mother and had gotten married to her already.
Just two years after i had started seeking psychiatric help, not that I really needed it, my mother and father got seperated. My dad probably surely had it with my mother and just had to give up.
I don't really blame him though. My mother was quite the handful. Okay you might be expecting my sixteen year old self to be so depressed over her parents getting divorced but to be honest,even then I knew. My dad had never been happy with her even though he had made every effort possible. I was happy if he was happy.
Naomi on the other hand thought differently. She made quite a dramatic show about the whole deal even going as far as running away from home and sloppily trying to slit her wrists knowing fully well my mum was in the room and would save her. She had this notion that life was a fairytale, she would get whatever she wants and mummy and daddy will stay together forever riding together into the sunset on their golden ponies with her giggling by the side. Of course I wasn't in that fantasy.
Bullshit.
My mother didn't take the divorce well either. She then decided to transfer most of her anger unto me even going as far as saying I was the reason why my father left her. Being the object of her scorn and hate was no big deal as I had always received it but it was worse after the whole ordeal. We grew further apart and her and Naomi grew closer with their mutual hate for me.
I thought that would be it but surprise surprise she even hated me even more when my first year of college, my dad got married to his high school sweetheart and I attended the wedding. Going as far as being a bridesmaid. I just loved to piss my mother off. Hehe.
My father was truly happy with Sheila..his new wife and I was happy too. Sorta. Sheila would never be my mother but she was closer than my own mother was.
This gallery was my life. I was just really glad i had the people most important to me with me when I finally acquired it. It's been a year. A tough year. But I am enjoying my dream and no sexy smirking guy would throw me off my game.
"Hey Aria...would you stop daydreaming already? Dr Will called. He wants you to come home?? early" Chantelle inform asked bringing me out of my thoughts.
I looked up at her to see her looking at me with a look that said 'you have alot to tell me'.
Uh oh. I was doomed. She wouldn't let me go without telling her everything
- Writer
