meant to be yours | d.w

7

I have been told brief accounts about what Kristy was like as a teenager, but most of the time I got the same answer from my now late relatives: She was reckless.

My parents refused to tell me much, but I was able to figure out some answers. Every Friday night was party after party, but of course she had her parents wrapped around her finger. I think that's why my mother hates Kristy so much. She could get away with things my mom never could.

Once Kristy graduated she was helpless.

Her grades were a mess and her parents had caught onto her lies, and double life. One second she was surrounded by the folks at the country club, the next she was taking a swig from a bottle of strong, bitter whiskey. She was kicked out of the house at eighteen with nothing but the clothes on her back and a box of cigarettes.

I don't know how she managed it, but she got herself together and managed to be able to go to college. It wasn't the most prestigious school, due to how limited colleges were for women in. But the university of Oklahoma was enough for Kristy. And the rest is history.

She somehow managed to become a receptionist at a law firm in Tulsa—where she finally decided to settle down. She didn't settle down by choice though, I don't even know why she chose Tulsa. The only assumption I can make is that she had no choice.

"Second, I'm gonna have you pick up Will every day for however long it takes for you to shape up. I'm not playing around peach, you either get your act together or it gets worse. And then lastly, I want you to promise me one more thing."

I listened attentively, almost on the edge of my seat for what she was about to say next.

But I don't think anything could mentally prepare me for what she said next.

"Promise me one thing...don't fall in love with Dallas Winston."

I sat perched under a tree, quietly reading while the leaves in the tree bristled silently. The tree was close to being bright green, but it just didn't quite make it.

Fall was months away, but Rebecca wanted nothing more than for the forest green leaves to transform in a warm orange as soft as the sunset. The air feels like nothing but pure heat, being in the mid nineties almost everyday. The weather was for once nice today at precisely two thirty. Summer was usually unbearably hot with the occasional thunderstorms.

Rebecca despises thunderstorms.

The book I was reading sat in my lap as I repeatedly flipped through the pages. This one was a classic favorite for Rebecca, although many find it to be quite unsettling book Rebecca found a sense of admiration between the pages.

Of Mice and Men: the novel of dreams.

This was my sixth time reading the book. I was unsure of why I liked it so much. Maybe it was how the characters were immensely well written, or perhaps it was the immaculately well described setting.

But what Rebecca truly admired was how the ones we attempt to try and protect the most, are usually the ones who end up dead.

At the moment she was reading the part where Lennie got himself in a fight with Curly.

"Lennie looked helplessly at George, and then he got up and tried to retreat. Curly was balanced and poised. He slashed at Lennie with his left, and then smashed down his nose with his right."

I wanted to scoff at how much of an idiot Curly was. It must be exhausting to do all that fighting for revenge against people who have what you don't. I couldn't imagine putting all my energy into something like that.