Oh, My Cynical Love

Standing up slowly, I glanced at my reflection in the full-length mirror that stood before me. I touched the white satin ribbon around my waist and curled my nose in disgust. The beautiful wedding dress surely wasn’t meant for me. It should only be a dream. I wasn’t prepared to get married; I was only a teenager of sixteen. This surely must only be a dream.

I clenched my fists, holding tightly onto the thin dress, my eyes watering a bit as I took in my appearance. This wasn’t my future. It wasn’t my dream to be married at such a young age, and then play the role of a stupid house wife for the rest of my life. I wanted to write for a living; book after book, until my imagination ran dry. But that wasn’t the life that had been set out for me.

My parents had done everything in their power to make sure that “a young, hand man that’s well off - - financially, of course” would notice their daughter and take a liking to her. That was all they cared about - - money, and what they’d get out of this marriage. They wouldn’t listen to my plans, my aspirations; no, they were just silly dreams and jokes for me to be thinking about. My mother had said that my job was to have “good, respectable qualities, as a wife should have.” I had replied to her that making her daughter’s life miserable like her own was not a “good, respectable quality,” and earned myself a slap to the face.

The fact that society was so blatantly forcing the idea of young husbands and even younger wives, was to me, absolutely ridiculous. But nobody listened to me, or my thoughts. Who was I? What importance did I have that people should stop and listen to me? After all, I was just a sixteen-year-old girl who was scheduled to throw her dreams away on the 21st of April.

“Sarah!” my mother practically shrieked when she saw me scrunching up my dress.

I jumped, startled, and turned around to face her.

“You’ll wrinkle that dress with such carelessness! Take it off, immediately!”

“Gladly,” I mumbled under my breath.

We were going to meet Kyle’s family that afternoon, just as a small get-together the day before the wedding. Apparently my parents were old friends of the Mason family, but I couldn’t seem to remember them. All I knew was that I was marrying their son.

I had met Kyle once before when he had stopped at our house. He brought roses with him, and showered my mother with compliments as she greeted him. The entire evening, she treated him as if he were royalty. Although he masked himself with such charming manners, he repulsed me. He had such bittersweet personality; it was sickening watching him, and listening as he offered to help my mother with the dishes and silverware after dinner. He was most likely just putting on an act, and then when we were married, his true ways would slip out, like a monster waiting to pounce on me. And that certainly was not something I was willing to put up with.

Arriving at the estate at quarter after 2, I was stunned by its enormity. I had never been to his family’s home before, and the beauty of the manor and the gardens surrounding it could’ve blinded me. The house was large, maybe two or three floors high, but it wasn’t as massive as it was tall. It left acre upon acre surrounding it, giving room for the astounding gardens. The gardens spread out across the lawn were filled with beautiful flowers, weeping willow trees, and shrubs. Although the surroundings of the house were dazzling to me, I still couldn’t get over the fact that they belonged to him.

We were greeted at the door by a butler, I suppose he was, who ushered us into the main hall. Displays of surreal art hung loosely from the walls, and no matter how long I stared at the pictures as we waited for Kyle and his family, I couldn’t seem to figure out what the artists had been thinking when they’d painted the pictures.

At last, the ideal family floated into the room; they walked with such an aura as if to make it known that they were superior to our family. Mr. and Mrs. Mason were dressed as if they were a million-dollar couple pulled right out of the 20’s, while Kyle’s attire suggested that he didn’t care enough about this meeting (or us, for that matter) to at least dress decently. He looked as if he’d just woken up, his dark brown hair messy and sticking up in random spots. His shoulders drooped, making him appear bored, and his hands sat lazily in the pockets of his pants. His facial expression was lively, though, and he smiled when he saw us.

Sauntering over to my mother coolly, Kyle gave her a light hug, greeting her. He shook my father’s hand politely, before turning to look at me. Although I was glaring right through him, the chipper expression never left his face.

“Nice to see you again, Sarah,” Kyle said, smiling at me and stepping forward to give me a hug.

My lack of enthusiasm must not have impressed him, because he became silent and stepped away from me, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

After a few minutes of listening to our parents converse about the following day, they decided that Kyle and I should spend a few hours together. Obviously I wasn’t thrilled about this decision, and my quiet groans of dissatisfaction must have alerted my mother, because she would continually glance in my direction and glare daggers. At the moment, I would’ve been happy if these glaring daggers were real.

Kyle decided to take me to a park that he had apparently loved as a child. It was dark by the time we got there, and the stupidity of Kyle’s decision began to set in as the temperature continued to lower. We started walking along a small path that led us across a meadow to a small man-made beach. There was a light breeze blowing, and I shivered, scolding myself for my choice of apparel.

“You look nice, Michelle,” Kyle said unexpectedly, but so quietly that I could barely make out the words he’d said.

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked away.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asked, and in my head, I was screaming that yes, I was indeed freezing.

“No.”

“But you’re shivering… Here, take my jacket,” he offered quickly, and took off his jacket.

“I’m not cold!” I spat, turning away from him as we reached the beach. The water was glistening with the reflection of the moonlight from above. I walked onto the small pier and watched as a few baby ducklings swam by silently.

“Isn’t it pretty?” Kyle asked quietly from beside me, causing me to jump.

I glowered at him, before saying sharply, “Don’t scare me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly, his expression becoming somewhat nervous.

I turned back to the still water and mumbled to myself, “It is pretty.”

“Are you ready to get married?” he questioned suddenly, disrupting my peace.

“It’s not like I have a choice,” I muttered, becoming agitated. “I have to throw my life away for you.”

“Why are you being like this?” he demanded, but he looked more hurt than angry.

“Because… because you’re acting stupidly. You act all nice to my parents, and then you try to give me your coat? And I have to get married to you tomorrow, and I barely know you!”

“That doesn’t make any sense whatsoever,” Kyle said harshly, before sighing. He turned and walked down the pier towards the beach, watching the ducklings dive under the water and come back up.

I rubbed my temples with my fingers, closing my eyes.

He slowly made his way back up the pier, watching the boards below him move each time his feet stepped onto them. He looked back up at me, sadly.

“Maybe… did it ever occur to you that I’m just trying to make things work? I’m trying to be nice, and polite to your family, and you. And you know, the thing is, I’m not forcing you into this marriage… my parents are forcing me just as much as yours are forcing you.”

He looked away, frowning as he bit his lip, and suddenly I felt bad. I hadn’t really considered his point of view when looking at our situation. But it wasn’t as if he was going to lose his dreams for this marriage.

“I’m sorry, Kyle. I didn’t know that’s how it was. I just - -”

“What? You thought I was a heartless, self-centered idiot? Yeah, I know. The glaring really starts to get to you after about five minutes,” he trailed off dejectedly. “My parents had nothing but good things to say about you. They told me you were beautiful, and you are. They told me you were polite, and kind… but I guess it’s just to everyone but me… They also told me you were a fantastic writer with great potential, but I don’t think I’ll get to find that out now. My parents decided we should be married because they thought that we might actually get along with each other. And apparently - - obviously - - they were wrong.”

I sighed, looking down at my shoes. I felt ashamed of myself. I had shaped an image of Kyle before I’d really met him, and he was none of the things I’d convinced myself he was.

“I’m so sorry… I just - - I didn’t like the thought of being married at sixteen… I have things I want to do with my life. Things I’ve been dreaming about for years. I don’t want to just throw them away,” I murmured quietly.

“I wouldn’t make you give up those dreams, Sarah,” Kyle said, looking at me. I could tell he was frustrated, but that he was trying to understand.

“My parents would.”

“They’re just trying to give you a good life, Sarah,” he said quietly, “though they may not show it in the best ways. And we can make this work.”

“Yeah…” I looked across the lake, closing my eyes. I felt him reach over to take my hand, cautiously, and I let him. “We’ll make it work.”

Thanks, if you read this.