a horrible attempt at a follow up to:
it’s taken me about… two weeks for this story.
i’m sorry all i have to show for it is a sad attempt at writing.
i have a bad case of writer’s block.
mostly because i don’t really like the idea of this story,
but also because i’ve been really uninspired lately.
aspen blair chanel > > > FU
sunday, february twenty-sixth.
mood: unenthusiastic; reluctant.
hair: top knot (like picture’s).
with: the whole clan.
venue: // twenty-sixth. – dinner.
the pretentious Sam was busy doing magic tricks in the living room.
his faithful followers included Lily, my dad, Darcy, and Ariel
—the ones easily amused.
and everyone once in a while,
Ariel’s gaze would drift towards me
with her pernicious smirk lingering out her features.
and i’d grimace.
so by now you probably know how much
i love Ariel.
and by love,
and by whore,
i was leaning against the wall adjacent to the living room,
watching disgustedly as Sam pulled a quarter from Darcy’s ear,
erupting in a wave of astonishment, giggles, applause, and idiocy.
“so…” Peter cooed, slowly coming towards me with a skeptic face.
“you’ve been unhinged tonight,” he continued.
my head cocked towards him.
“you’re not as pointed as you usually are with these dinners,” he observed.
“again, your point?”
“i’m just happy no one threw any food at each other.”
he scoffed, i could trace signs of frustration scattered across his face.
but i didn’t care.
the inevitable always prevails, it seems.
he scratched the back of his neck like a dog with fleas.
“i don’t like cleaning up your dirty work,”
he spat, turning around to depart.
my lip rose, and my teeth clenched down
hard against each other.
“Peter!” i scolded,
the urge to slap him rising.
he snapped around, a mock grin on his lips.
“somehow i knew this would happen.”
“of course,” i said softly yet provokingly.
“it’s inevitable with your little girlfriend.”
“you know, before, you seemed to like her just fine,” he accused.
“yeah, /if i worked the streets/,” i retorted with obvious sarcasm.
“right, that’s why you were practically gushing flurries of compliments.”
“there’s a big difference in being pretty, and being a who/re, Pete, and i doubt you can differentiate between them.”
he shook his head,
like he was trying to brush something off.
“it’s nice to know i have you support the people closest to you—oh wait, you don’t; me, Darcy, Sam—”
“you act like you’ve changed; like you’ve grown up. but you’re still that same manipulative, opinionated, little bi/tch from two years ago.”
“i’m not that little girl anymore—”
“right! because at least people could talk some sense into you!”
“oh, and you’ve made some pretty good decisions too!”
he shook his head.
i couldn’t tell if he was amused or
“at least i don’t repeat them. what’s your excuse?”
“people are idiots.”
“oh /c’mon, Aspen/. since when are people dependant on /your opinion/? they’re perfectly compatible without you. since when did Darcy and Sam ever ask you for their blessing? when did they ever want your blessing? /then and now/. what makes you think you’re so special?”
my face fell into a straight line,
mostly because i hated myself two years ago,
but also because his words were true.
he continued his tirade,
“grow up, Aspen. this isn’t your responsibility to tell me who i can and cannot date.”
“it is, if it’s a fu/ckin who/re—”
“why can’t you see that i’m /happy where i am and don’t need you/.”
i was silent
his voice boomed although i knew the volume was still moderate,
but still sharper.
“why do you think i’ve moved out? you think this is some sort of game? no, it’s to get away from you.”
my eyes jumped up,
“no, you know that who you’re with, what you’re doing, is all a mistake!”
“don’t preach to me!”
“it’s true though! you know i’m going to give you hell because you /know what the hell you’re doing/!”
he was silent,
but then he said, “what’s it to you?” with a soft, seething, voice.
“it’s always about you, right? your principal preoccupation is to /your/ image.”
“and what if i’m prone to social indiscretion? i still i see things clearer than other people, granted, they’re to a lofty extreme, but at least i can see behind a façade.”
his eyes narrowed, and his voice became smoother, controlling,
“and what if the mask you’re ripping off is actually the face?”
my body began trembling
with something stronger than
anger, passion, spite, vindictiveness,
it was pure bigotry.
“what’s going on, babe?” Ariel asked,
tramping over to us.
she was clearly satisfied.
the glimmer in her eye,
the subtle curve on her lips,
the cocked head,
and then the arrogant and condescending, “babe?”
she heard the fight,
and was obviously basking in her victory.
i stayed silent so Peter used this opportunity to spit,
he grabbed Ariel’s waist and shepherded her towards the rest of the crowd.
but, of course,
not before Ariel snapped around,
and i could detect that she was much too pleased with herself.
“well i thought she was wonderful!” Lily gushed,
her smile was beaming, and i could swear i saw Ariel’s smile reflected.
they both had bad taste.
“yeah, mom,” Sam rang in a robotic tone.
Ariel, Peter, and Darcy had all left.
but i was still stuck witnessing the aftermath of a hurricane.
i was sipping a cup of tea on the living room couch,
trying to calm my nerves from the heated argument with peter,
and Sam was helping his mom clear dishes.
“Ariel is such a nice girl,” sang Lily again.
a robotic, “yeah, mom,” came from an agreeing Sam.
“i’ve never had that Darcy girl treat me that way. she’s just… just… just…”
“yeah, mom,” Sam said frivolously,
this time i could sense some pain
and annoyance lacing his tone.
“well, you know what i mean,” said Lily.
she looked up at me and Sam.
“we have to have Ariel over again sometime, huh?” she suggested.
a reluctant, “yeah, mom,” came from guess who.
Lily tilted her head,
a admiring smile came from her lips.
“cause she’s simply wonderful and—”
i rammed the cup of tea onto the table,
the sound reverberated loudly,
making Lily shoot up in a halt.
i copied her, jumping up from the couch.
“oh, can we all just drop all this praise for Ariel!? /she’s perfect/, Lily, /we know/.”
her neck stretched itself and her head tilted slightly to the side.
i didn’t notice it before,
but she was clutching a kitchen towel,
very, very, tightly; as if nervous.
“i’m… glad you agree.”
“but that’s the thing,” i retorted, with my eyes narrowing.
i could see Sam squeamishly disappear into the hallway.
“i don’t like her, Lily. i don’t think she’s perfect. honestly, i think she’s a big, rich, prostitute. and her hair is flat.”
she struggled to elevate her eyes to the point of connection.
“i liked her…”
i threw my hands into the air,
dropped them to collect my tea,
then whirled around towards Lily.
“i can see that.”
i began exiting the room,
but Lily produced a feeble,
and i stopped.
“yeah?” i asked.
i didn’t bother to turn around.
“i never wanted to be the evil-stepmother that replaces the perfect wife… i never wanted you to hate me.”
i thought of Peter.
and that Ariel bi/tch.
“i’m dreadfully sorry you can’t get your wish…
but you can’t force someone to stop (or start) hating (or loving) someone.”
> > > aspen.