|No Such Thing As A Perfect Match
Author: BrightFuzzySocks PM
This is just a school story. I just wanted to see what people think of it. Ashley is a girl who is obsessed with all things romantic and a sucker for fluffiness. But after an incident that rips her family apart, she is not the same. Can she ever go back to her lovey dovey self? Read and find out.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Family - Words: 2,053 - Reviews: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 11-17-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3075006
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
So as you can see from my very crappy summary of this story that this was just a school assignment and I scored pretty good on it but I just wanted to get some feedback from you guys. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW. DON'T HOLD BACK EVEN IF YOU HATE MY STORY AND THINK I AM A HORRIBLE WRITER AND THINK I SHOULD GO FALL OF A CLIFF. PLEASE BE HONEST. Anyway this is my story. Enjoy :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Ed Sheeran, Harry Potter, X Factor or Hunger Games. They just added effects to my story. BUT THIS IS NOT A FANFIC OKAY.
I glance up at the bright screen in the middle of the room with tears dripping down my cheeks. There is a wad of tissues in one of my hands as the other grasps the fingers that belong to my friend Penelope. My whole body shakes with wails that I try to suppress. I feel raw, cold and miserable like wilting flower in winter. My emotions are naked and exposed as I see Allie and Noah die together on the bed, holding each other until they pass away. There are not nearly enough tissues to stop the storm that is coming out of my eyes. However Penelope doesn't seem to notice the agony I am in now because she is laughing her butt off.
"Shut up!" I shriek through a stuffy nose.
This doesn't seem to help as Penelope doubles over in laughter and falls off the couch in hysterics. Only when I hurl my used tissues at her she stops.
"EWWWWW Ashley! That's gross! Did you really use that much Kleenex? The Notebook wasn't even that sad,"Penelope snorted as she walked her way over to the television to grab the DVD.
"What are you talking about? I wasn't crying because it was sad. I was crying because Allie and Noah had their happy ending. They found their true love," I stare at the DVD case, dreamily.
I started to "awwweh" and coo at the pictures at the back of the DVD while Penelope rolled her crystal blue eyes.
"Ugh. Just go home. I'm tired of your sappiness."
These are usually the responses I get from people. They find me too mushy and over enthusiastic about love, devotion and amour. What can I say? I'm a romantic. I adore romantic movies like Walk to Remember, When Harry Met Sally, etc. I live for them. I live for sappy moments and lingering glances. I look out for chemistry and compatibility. Even when it's not for me; I guess you can call me a matchmaker because when I see two people who are a perfect match for each other, I do everything in my power to send them in the right direction.
I think I get my passion for love through my parents. They are total soul mates. They are like pepper and salt. They are like Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley from Harry Potter. My dad and mom are complete opposites and I believe that is the best pairing ever. As they say opposites attract right? Don't get me wrong, they are like other parents. To be honest I think they're worse. My parents yell and screech at each other until one of them storms out. I don't get worried. They always come back to each other even if it's a week later. My mom and dad would never do anything to hurt each other. As I said they're the perfect match for each other. They love each other like crazy. Or so I thought.
What I didn't see in the interactions of my parents is what ended my illusions about love. I never saw the strained silences or the moments of pure loneliness in my mother's eyes. My dad, I guess you could say, was a workaholic and most of my parent's arguments were about his job. I guess I didn't notice the frustration and anger every time my dad took a call or left for a business trip. I was happily oblivious in believing everything was fine.
My allusions came crashing down one night at the dinner table when my mother uttered the most dreadful thing I had ever heard.
"I want a divorce."
I choked out bread and stared at her as if she had grown another head. My father wasn't as shocked as I was; he just kept chewing on lettuce and had a thoughtful look on his face. Was he actually taking his damn time to think it over?
"What? Why?" I demanded, tired of waiting for my dad to finish his mouthful.
The look my mother gave to me right then was the look that haunted me for days ends. A glance filled with regret, sorrow and helplessness. That moment I realized that love didn't exist. Everything I had ever believed in was a lie. The marriage, the happiness was all just a façade.
The next few days after the dreadful dinner, my house was in chaos. Screaming, yelling and screeching were heard from ten miles away. Plates and glasses lay broken and shattered on the floor with their throwers panting heavily at the side. Only on the day my mother was supposed to leave, the house was in total silence.
Fidgeting with finger, I watch as my father took a seat before me. He's anxious like he wants to discuss something but thinks against it and instead puts the bottle of whiskey to his lips and drains it in front of me. Wow. A new record. He finished a five litre bottle in just one day. I should feel proud or disapproving but I don't. I don't feel anything except wanting to take that empty bottle and smashing it over my mother's head.
I heard footsteps and loud banging coming nearer and nearer. I glance at my father. He is as white as snow and is twitching like an overheated ferret. The noise finally comes to stop right behind me. Dad just straightens up and leaves the room without sparing a glance at the person at the back of the couch.
"Ashley," My mother started.
At that I whirled around and snapped, "Save it."
We looked like opposites. My mother was dressed in her finest clothes with gold earrings and necklaces. Her suitcase beside her was bulging and there was a cardboard box to carry my grandmother's hand painted dishes. My hands were empty and I was dressed in black drab. It seemed like we were miles apart already.
My mother cringed at my sharp words and carried on, "I'm sorry. I don't know why but God has led me to this path. I need to take it. I can't just keep living like this in silence and isolation."
I snorted bitterly and snarled, "Right. Wasn't one of God's Ten Commandments thou shall not commit adultery?"
That was the last thing I had said to her before she took all of her possessions and left the house, taking the idea of family with her. After on that very night when my dad and sister finally went to sleep, I seized the cross in my room and threw it down. It crashed into tiny itty bitty pieces. I didn't feel any better.
Neither did my dad, to say the least. He started drinking much more, going out to bars in the daytime and skipping work to party with a bunch of twenty-five year old girls. My sister couldn't handle the stress of having to deal with him so she soon moved out. Leaving me alone and depressed.
I wasn't the same anymore.
Instead of beaming at happy couples in the hallways, I glared and muttered, "Why bother?"
I had become sullen and distant from my peers. I didn't care about the stuff I usually got so enthusiastic about. Like Harry Potter or the X Factor. I wasn't even jumping up and down when Ed Sheeran released his new album or when Peeta and Katniss kissed in Hunger Games. As if they really loved each other. I bet after twenty years of joy Katniss will probably go for Gale. Whatever. Who even cares about that stuff?
A few months after mom had disappeared, I came home from school one day to see my dad on the leather couch drinking wine with some woman, who didn't look like she still had her baby teeth. However that wasn't what was so shocking. Dad's appearance was completely startlingly! After the divorce, Dad had gotten into another relationship. A relationship with sweats and bad hygiene. He wouldn't comb his hair or brush his teeth. But now, he was totally clean. He was wearing a light purple button down shirt with dark pants that were ironed. His black hair was smooth and I think I smelt cologne. Needless to say, my jaw hit the ground.
"Oh Ashley! Come meet Matilda. She works in my department."
Was my dad blushing?
The woman, whom I assume is Matilda, took my hand and wrung it once before letting go and beaming, "It's so nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you!"
I narrow my eyes and give her a glance over, debating if she was worth my father's attention. She had long chestnut hair but her roots were black. Her makeup was too much; it was hard to know if she was trying to win a beauty pageant or a clown competition. She wore a long ruffled black skirt and a baggy white t-shirt with an orange bandanna around her head. There was a huge hoop earring on both of her heavily pierced ears and countless amounts of dangling necklaces hanging from her bony neck. With her around, we wouldn't even be able to hear our own thoughts just the clinking of her jewelry.
Smirking, I made up my mind about her and opened my mouth to make a nasty comment on her hippy clothes when I notice the love-struck expression on my father's face. It was full of happiness, adoration and excitement. I had seen that look before. In movies, obviously, and on other people. It was often directed to someone who that they loved. My dad used to look at my mom like that. Now, it was directed to Matilda.
I used to believe that people had soul mates. That for every person there'd be someone else out there to complete them. Like they would find each other one day, fall in love and bam, they would spend the rest of their lives together. But what if that's not true? What if people can fall in love over and over with other people? Does that mean our fighting and searching for affection and love from a particular person is useless? Maybe all those stories of true love and romance are just a bunch of fat lies made to trick people like me. I used to love to watch and read romantic comedies. I thought they gave me the inside truth about love and they did, sometimes, give me lots of advice that I found useful. However I have learnt so much more from watching my parents break up and witnessing my dad get over the divorce. The most important lesson that I have attained from this whole experience is that maybe there is no such thing as a perfect match. Maybe we are all just lonely people mixed together that can't make it through life without love.
I glanced at Matilda and noticed that she also had the same doting expression as Dad. They were just staring at each other, beaming and oblivious to my presence.
I couldn't help myself; I gushed, "Awwweh."
So yeah that's it. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK.
And also I wrote this story at like 1 in the morning and I was a little sleepy so if you see any mistakes let me know okay?
BUT YOU'LL HAVE TO REVIEW TO DO THAT. PLEASE REVIEW.