P.S. I Love You (An Arranged Marriage Story) Chapter 1

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Chapter 1

Life sucks, and then you die. That's my personl motto. And so far, I'm doing a great job of living up to the first part. Mhm, my name is Talesia Latrach, you can call me Tilly, I'm 16, and I'd like to welcome you to my personal hell. I was born and raised in the good old Windy City. Scratch that- I was born and pretty much raised myself in Chicago. A bit more accurate. Let's just say...I don't see too much of my parents. My dad is always out doing drug deals or whatever for the Latino Bloods. And then there's my mom. It's not that we don't get along, it's just that we don't talk to each other. So basically, I know nothing about her, and she returns the favor. Which is why I was completely surprised when I woke up this morning to the smell of...chocolate chip pancakes? Mmm...my favorite.

I got out of bed and walked down the hall into the kitchen. And tada! There's my mom, standing in front of the old oven in our cruddy excuse of a kitchen cooking, in fact, chocolate chip pancakes. Correction- burning them (but it's the thought that counts, right?). She must have heard me walk in because she turned around and gave me a hug. Weird. The last time she hugged me was..um..eh, better not try to think that far back. Might hurt myself.

"Buenos Dias, baby girl," she greeted me. Ok, this is really strange. She attempts to cook my favorite breakfast food (which I had no idea she knew what it was, but I guess it's a plus), then she hugs me, and now she's calling me "baby girl". Ha, something's up. I wonder what she broke of mine this time.

"Morning, ma. What's the occasion?" I asked as I sat at the table.

She turned to face me, akwardly playing with her fingers. She seemed nervous.

"Um...just...you know, making my favorite daughter breakfast! Because I love you, and want the best for you, and...that's what good moms do. Make breakfast. Yea."

Lies. She is SO hiding something. Can't figure out what though. Whatever.

"Whatever you say, ma." I just let it go. I'll figure it out later.

I walked into the living room and plopped down on the old comfy sofa and yawned. Wonder what's on TV. I flipped to Vh1. Top 20 video countdown. Eh, it works. Poker Face by Lady Gaga started playing. This song cracks me up. "Can't read my, can't read my, no he can't read my poker face, blablabla." Yeah, bitch, doubt you can read his either. Hence the term, poker face. I chucked silently to myself.

I started to doze off when I heard the apartment door click shut. Probably my dad, back from early morning business. *coughdrugdealscough* I was too lazy to open my eyes though.

"Hola, how'd it go?" I heard my mom ask.

"Well, I'm alive, so I guess it went well. Thankgod we have Mr. Collins in L.A. Great lawyer. Get's us out of all the trouble. Owe him the world."

Blah, retarded drugdeals.

"Oh, speaking of Mr. Collins, have you talked to Talesia about the arrangement yet?" he asked.

What arrangement?

"Um...no...I...I was scared to tell her. Lo siento, but I just couldn't do it. Maybe we should tell her together," my mom said.

What are they talking about? Why would she be scared to tell me? Oh god, does it have to do with Felipe? He's annoying, but he's still my brother. I swear I'll kill my dad if he got hurt in a damn gang errand. 18 years isn't enough to live.

I sat up on the couch.

"Ma, dad, what are you talking about?" I asked.

They looked really surprised. Guess I wasn't supposed to hear that conversation.

They exchanged wary looks and then motioned for me to sit at the table with them.

"Mija.." my dad began, " You're not going to be happy about this, but it's how things work.."

I started getting worried.

"Stop, does this have to do with Felipe? I swear if he got hurt doing anything that has to do with that fucking gang I'm gunna kill someone," I started screaming.

My mom was crying and shaking her head. What's that supposed to mean?

Dad gets really pissed when I'm "disrespectful" to the Latino Bloods.

"Now you listen here, Talesia, don't get a smart mouth with me. This gang is GOOD, we're like family. You're brother is following after me, and you don't get a say in that," he yelled right back.

I was convinced something happened to my brother. Screw this, I thought as I started crying and stormed off to sit back on the couch.

"I didn't say you could walk away!" My dad said in an agitated voice.

And I didn't say you could go get my brother killed, jackass.

Then the front door opened. What?

Oh. Speak of the devil. It was my brother. And he was perfectly fine. Oops.

I jumped off the couch and hugged him, crying my eyes out.

He just stood there, looking really surprised. Even though we're really close, we weren't raised in a very affectionate household. A few seconds later he hugged back and started rubbing my back.

"So...I guess they told you about the marriage?" he said slowly.

I froze. What marriage? I stopped hugging him and turned to my parents.

"What is he talking about?" I asked.

"She doesn't know?" Felipe asked.

"We were about to tell her, but she freaked out thinking you were hurt," mom said.

"Oh..um..oops? That explains things. Well. I'll just be going. Um. Yea." And with that he walked back out the door.

"Ma, Dad, what are you talking about? What's he talking about? Arrangement? Marriage?"

They stayed silent. And then it clicked. Arranged. Marriage. My eyes went wide.

My mom spoke. "You're getting married. And you're meeting your fiance tomorow night. And you will cooperate."

What the hell? What happened to the whole " I love you and want the best for you" thing? Ha, I knew it. Just an act. Like every thing is.

I took in a deep breath.

"Fuck you both," I said very slowly, " I am not. Repeat. Am NOT. Getting married."

And with that said, I went to my room, being very careful to slam the door extremely hard.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Dec 23, 2010 ⏰

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