Contracted Marriage

2. Bad news

I don’t know why I called the police, I swear I don’t.

I was so shocked the only thing I could do was tell someone. Also this person happened to be the police.

Don’t they say to call 911 in case of an emergency? Wasn’t this an emergency? I mean it’s not every day your father marries the evil step mother, or is it. It is totally an emergency according to me.

Also I don’t have friends or close people I could call to complain to of my personal misfortune.

I was too busy trying to please my father and keep him safe from all those conniving gold-diggers to think of making a single friend. Or maybe there is one.

There is this guy in my class I happen to borrow a pen from every single day or lesson, am not sure which. I think he carried extra just for me. There might be hope for me after all.

Who am I kidding, my social life is doomed.

No hope at all.

Sorry mama.

No, am not an introvert and Yes I can stand the presence of annoying, sweaty disgusting human beings. And no, I am not a spoilt brat. From all I have told you do me seam spoilt?

No? 

I don’t think so either; actually I think I have lacked a lot. And that is going to change.

As I was explaining to the very understanding lady police woman on the other line of my misfortune, someone snatched the telephone from me. Very roughly and rudely I might add. I had not wished the good lady a good night either.

What might she think me now?

Why people lack manners is beyond me. When I saw who it was, I was not surprised.

My older sister Denise, I know what you are thinking.

I know I might have said something about being the only child, but c’mon, I girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.

I might as well be the only child because I cared enough. And also, I am the one telling the story it goes my way .

Denise was your typical queen bee. She is not in high school, but queen bee all the same. She is hardly at home, and by hardly I mean I have seen her twice this year. I can count the number of times she has come home since mama left. I do not think I need my toes to count or my left hand; let’s say this is her third time.

The two occasions she came home, was to take her Ferrari (my Ferrari) , since my father said I did not want it, and the other was to return it a day later because I had threatened to remotely blow it up with her inside.

She took the bait surprisingly and now, it safely parked in the garage.
So here she is cutting off my very important ranting to a stranger about my family affairs’. I do not understand her, not now not ever.

“What are you doing?” Denise asked me.

I wonder if she knows my name.

“Ah, being a teenager?” what could I say to my very close sister.

“Well father says you were calling the police on him” she was so nonchalant saying that.

I bet she had places to be; things to do that needed my father’s help if she is doing this for him. She had also not noticed the teenager thingy, I just turned 20. She definitely had no idea about my age either I guess I was definitely not thinking straight.

“Okay.” She gave me back the phone (someone gasped behind me) and went upstairs without a single glance their way.

I was wrong, she did not want anything. I wonder why she is here then.