Thanks, @mispaint (Abhi) for the wonderful comments <3
{ Chapter Sixteen: Procrastination is Avoiding the Issue Too Much }
JANICE IS CERTAIN THAT SHE IS ALMOST DEAD. Not the type of death that origins from short circuits in your brain, pauses in your heart, or lapses in your lungs, but when you're so stressed and whiny and so frigging done with your work, that you might as well be.
500 more words, she reminds herself blearily, 499 more words, one last paragraph.
She curses the American education system for bringing mental and emotional torture to their children, as she struggles to complete the two thousand word essay she had a week's time to do but decided to do today.
It wasn't really her fault. She had work. And she played football. (See, she had her priorities in check).
Janice can imagine her history teacher crackling as she assigned the paper, surely hoping that one particular student of her's would pass out and enter coma for the next twenty years.
All she needed left were conclusions, which seemed like the most difficult for her to do. It was like a huge "so what"?
So what that all these people sacrificed themselves to fight a war, which caused more pain than justice? So what people don't realize that war only brings grief, so what that they only do it over and over again?
God, these things were so thought provoking, insightful and deep, that she just wanted to hit it over and over again.
Almost three quarters through, Janice feels like she's in a dire need of a break. Stretching her swollen joints out, cracking her worn out fingers and wincing as she hears the sharp kinks of her muscles clicking back into place, she stands up.
She'd been at the paper for an hour, working hard for the project. Janice seriously reevaluated herself from the lazy person she'd been a week ago.
With her sore neck and blurry eyes, all she can think of is, this is why I don't reevaluate myself.
Yawning, she notices that her Monday night had come to an end, a beeping 1AM peering down on her. She sighs, rubbing her eyes, which were burning slightly from the constant focus on her laptop screen, and tries to get herself up the stairs without tripping and cracking her neck. She succeeds and heads straight to the kitchen.
She'd isolated herself from dinner because of the paper, and the result was a grumbling stomach that made the T-Rex sound like Barbie. She's afraid she'll wake everyone up because of it, so she thought it was in the best interest of everyone, in getting a post-midnight snack. Or dinner course (she's a selfless one, always thinking of others).
It was if the tension in her shoulders evaporated the minute she stepped inside the the kitchen, the ache in her wrists dulled and the cricks in her back alleviated. "Now, let's see if they were considerate enough to leave me any leftovers."
While normally she would treat herself to a recipe from scratch, even the adrenaline that came with just stepping into the kitchen wasn't enough to persuade Janice to do anything more than heat up whatever was left from the meal before in the microwave.
She could've had it worse than the vegetarian pizza in the box (since Janice made most of the meals, they decided not to burn down the house today).
Blinking in a languid fashion, Janice wrestled with her instincts to stay awake before she fell face flat on the plate in front of her and didn't finish the essay that taunts her from a floor away.
"The only history I'll finish is the streak I have of unfinished tasks," she tells herself in between her bites, wondering if she needed to brew a cup of coffee so that the caffeine would do the work of staying awake better than she did.
"Oh, I didn't realize that someone else was here."
That was a yes to the coffee.
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BLENDING IN IS A FACILE VICTORY until you're caught off guard. If you're hoping to avoid someone, be constantly on edge. Consider your paranoia the one thing that will save your neck from desperate situations when all you've got left is to pray (whether you're Muslim, Christian or Atheist etc!).
Fate, destiny, whatever the hell out to get you, will orchestrate a scene (like the playwrights of a movie) and you're screwed even before you know why.
Unfortunately for Janice, her knotted red hair couldn't be missed, like a blazing siren calling out for trouble (but we know this isn't a bad theory) and if there's anything tangible about trouble, it would be the messy haired woman with drool and milk stains on her robe staring right back at her.
"I was just leaving, Aunt Maria," Janice says, already finishing her pizza and swallowing her water quickly.
Suddenly the essay sounds like a boat load of fun, Janice thinks as she puts away her stuff.
"Wait," Aunt Maria calls out as Janice turns off the tap. There's a brief hiatus as Janice stares down the metal sink in distress, not wanting to stick around with her aunt. She doesn't think she could without popping a vein or something. "Janice, please, just give me five minutes."
Short, brusque, professional. "I'm actually still trying to complete a paper, Aunt Maria. If you could just postpone this until tomorrow, that would be nice."
"Janice, two minutes, por favor."
Janice is unaccustomed to the pleading note in her Aunt's voice, which is customarily snooty or demanding, causing her to unintentionally hesitate.
After a few beats of silence, she feels as if there's really nothing left to do at this point except to sit down and listen, taking into account that this would do poorly is she prolonged this anyways.
"Two minutes," Janice states before she puling out her chair. Even more unsettling about this predicament was that Aunt Maria truly looks nervous, a sharp contrast to her almost endless supply of confidence. "So what is it, Aunt Maria? I really do need to go."
"This won't take long," her aunt promises, taking a seat opposite of her niece. "It's just, I wanted to apologize for my actions the other day. Actualmente, just for the entire visit."
That's a first. Janice agrees with her thoughts, and nods her head. "It's cool. Whatever. I talked with dad about it and I think whatever needed to be talked about was. Is that all?"
"But it's not alright, no bien del todo," insists her aunt, and Janice is beyond confused.
"Look, you've apologized and dad's explained—"
"Your dad is not me, Janice. He may have an inkling of what I was thinking, but he won't be able to explain my rash and immature behaviour. Quite frankly, neither can I. Not only was it out of line, I think you have the wrong idea of why I was such a, well, witch to you," Aunt Maria looks at Janice's face and laughs humourlessly. "Yes, I can see from your face that you're substituting another word that rhymes with witch. I can't blame you."
"Honestly, it's alright," Janice presses.
Again, Aunt Maria shakes her head. "Janice, you know bits and pieces. Listen, I know I'm no role model. I have two kids that I can barely look after without going mentally insane and my husband, while bless his heart, never really does anything. It's not like I'm pitying myself, I love them all. But it kind of builds up on me."
Janice sighs, comprehending there was probably no way out of this without brutal talk-to-face discussion, so she cuts to the chase, hoping that it makes it less stifling. "I understand that you're going through harsh patches of life. We all have our own demononi's, as people call them. Even worse so since we're a Diablo." This sparks a smile from her Aunt. "But that doesn't give you the green card to say whatever you please. What you say does affect me, Aunt Maria. I am not carved of stone. I may not have your blood in me, but I have your spirit. Why is that not enough for any of you?"
Aunt Maria deliberates over this.
Frankly, Maria never saw Janice in this light, but her words rang like a broken telephone in her mind, as if chopping parts of the message finally got to her. "I-I've never thought about it like that. I guess you know my cousins and parents aren't exactly too keen on you."
"Rub more salt in the would," Janice says, but nods her head. "But this I am aware."
"I think we just look at the white of your skin and the red of your hair and we refuse to look skin deep."
Janice wishes she had more pigment; that the sun kissed her skin so much that she was as bronze as honey suckled combs. She will do anything to straighten out that her being pale does not mean she thinks she's any better or worse than her siblings.
If only these words would get through heads, skulls, brain's and stick to the walls inside. She is just Janice Diablo; not another ordinary Caucasian girl whose parents were people that didn't know how much they shone like the yellow star in Janice's solar system.
Janice picks at her nails. "What's this sudden spurt of redemption you're pulling off, anyways? Did dad put you up to this?"
Aunt Maria sags her shoulders. "There have been a few... complications in the way that I view you and your father's parenthood, but it is my own husband that has told me I am a bit pushy."
Janice read that as, I'd probably only high five you if it means with a fist and over a cliff, but remains stoic.
"Of course," her Aunt continued, Janice shifting her chair to face her fully, "I realize how infuriatingly wrong this must be. You endure our closed-minded criticism, and I push on you a lot."
"Maria, I get it. I do. Dad losing his wife and then getting a child that's not even of his race? That's like a weird share of grief. I just can't deal with it anymore. I'll take your rejection, I'll take your arguments and your stupid criticism, but please don't make me think that my own mother, or non-biological one, disapproves of me, too. Not my brother's parent. Not my dad's wife. Not my mom."
"Janice, did you know that I see in you so much of her?"
Janice takes in a sharp breath. She hadn't meant to bring up Giovanni, especially not with the person in front of her, but lately it seemed like her mouth had a motor of her own, and she didn't know how to cut its engine.
Maria's eyes glistened, but she drawled on. "She was one of my only good friends. I know it is not often you and I get along. I do not with many people. But she was amazing; she had spirit, a wild glaze over her eyes that welcomed life and loved everyone in it. God, the chemistry between her and my brother was beautiful. When she died, I-I needed someone to put my grief on. I know my actions are inexcusable, but when my brother got you, a daughter not even of their love, I felt like he was replacing the memory of Giovanni. It is not a good enough answer to your questions, Janice, but all I can explain."
"Is that why you reacted so strongly to the necklace? Because you thought I didn't deserve it?" Janice guesses, coming to terms with this.
I feel like I'm in the middle of a court confession, she sigh, with a hysterical client at 2AM arrested for peeing out a moving car.
"Yes," Maria reluctantly admits. "I know it was rude, what I'd said, but I couldn't bear to see it. If only that chain did not bear so many memories..."
Janice hasn't taken off the 'gracious' chain since her conversation with her father, and even though she felt no guilt for prancing it around, she did feel a weird source of anger. "Papa told me that Giovanni associated great, great memories with this. She had her first marriage anniversary with my father. She had good to reminisce this chain with. To deny good memories because we are too cowardly to face the bitter is not fair to her."
Janice breathes heavily. "It might seem like I'm getting all worked up over nothing, but this is ridiculous. Prove to me that you regret being such a rude person. Prove to me Giovanni knew what she was doing when she befriended you."
Aunt Maria swallows the thorns collecting in her throat. "I-I'll try, Janice."
Janice reaches over tentatively to cup her aunt's hand, looking her dead in her eyes. "She is a part of our life, whether you or I like it or not. In other words, Aunt Maria, I'm wearing this necklace and you're going to learn she's not a fantasy. Cut her out and you'll never be able to glue her back in again."
"When did this generation wise up so much?" asks her speechless Aunt.
Janice only flashes a weary smile, rubbing her sleep clouded eyes.
Maria stands up, Janice following. "It is getting late, sorry to have kept you waiting. I initially came here for baby milk but got a little side tracked. Always remember you are learning, Janice. You've taught me things today I should've learned before you needed to."
As Janice is at the doorway of the kitchen, only turning around to say one more thing. "We learn from your history, mistakes, and your failures. So even if we make the same repeated problems, we know how to handle it more. That's why history is important. We won't know what we're doing wrong or right if we didn't have it. Good night, Aunt Maria."
Yeah, Janice is totally going to ace this essay.
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A/N: Wattpad just promoted Straighter than Parallel Parking on its official Twitter site, AND the story is not only at #30 Humour [11/17/15] but it's also AT 18K? What on Earth? Thank you so much, guys. This is unbelievable!
Please leave a comment. I actually WILL reply to them if you'd like me to! My inbox has been cleared and drop by my message board if I'm still late in responding. Sigh, this chapter is a filler because I needed you guys to know family means a lot to Janice and to justify why Aunt Maria is so crabby and annoying. Trust me, there's a significance between this and a new chapter coming out!
Again, thank you so much. YOUR COMMENTS ARE THE ONLY REASON I CAN STAY AWAKE TO EDIT AND WRITE CHAPTERS. THANK YOU FOR THIS MOTIVATION, YOU LOVELY PEOPLE. Maybe we can get to 20-30K by the end of next week! Love you all.
Regards, Sarena x