RHK 2||
"So you guys decided to rent a cottage in the woods; far away from all signs of human life for miles, instead of letting us stay at a hotel in town. That's what you said, right?" I asked dad for the tenth time since he had uttered those dreadful words.
I secretly prayed I had heard him wrong, or misunderstood him the first few times he repeated it. He could've been joking; I was up for a good laugh. But as I stood infront of the brick building, no more than 6 feet away from me, I was thoroughly convinced otherwise.
Don't get me wrong; the place was beautiful. There was no doubt about that. It's just... the location threw me off. We were practically neighbors with the forest animals - or whatever other threat that lurked through the woods. I comically imagined a wolf knocking on our door giving us a basket of goods as a peace offering. Yeah. My imagination isn't very bright, or funny.
"Yes Katrina, should I repeat myself again? Or would you prefer I write it on paper instead, so you can read word from word?" Came the smart-asś reply to my question. I frowned, sending an ominous glare to the man I referred to as my father. That smart mouth is going to get him in a lot of trouble one of these days.
I silently watched him as he tried to yank a suitcase out of the back trunk of a taxi, straining to get the bottom half of the bag out. From my point of view I could see why he was having such a hard time, but I chose to keep quiet and let him figure it out on his own. He simply have to turn the suitcase at a different angle, then pull.
The flight from California to Scotland took an entire day; from the early hours of 6:45am in the U.S to the even earlier hour of 2:14am in the U.K. Plus we had to wait another 30 minutes or so for our luggage to be inspected by customs agents. So, approximately, the amount of time spent traveling to Scotland was 12 hours, 49 minutes. Even though the time zone is different here, I can surely guarantee we spent that much time on that plane. Trust.
I snorted to myself. I can't believe I had timed our entire journey to the U.K. I really need a life, I thought depressingly before shaking my head in response to dad's question. "No."
"Then what's the problem?"
I hesitated to answer him. There was no way I could tell him I was frightened by the idea of sleeping out here in the wilderness. I had too much pride for that. And besides, Tyler didn't complain. He just went straight inside with mom the moment he stepped out the cab, unlike me who was still standing outside watching her father tug-o-war with a taxi over a suitcase. And Tyler's the younger sibling.
Sighing tiredly, I mumbled "Nothing." before stepping forward and grabbing the steel handle of the suitcase he was breaking his back for - literally.
"What are you doing, Katrina?" He asked skeptically. He knew the answer, but just couldn't bear the thought of me doing it. I wasn't one to damage a man's pride; especially not my dad. Men have an annoying tendency to believe that any work that involved hard, manual labor can not be accomplished by a woman. Just receiving help from women would insult their egos. Typical men and their logic. I for one see nothing wrong in a man asking the opposite sëx for help; doesn't make a man any less than what he is. But it's not about bruising a man's pride, right now it's about my duffel bag that was buried beneath this suitcase.
"Here. Allow me." I offered, turning the suitcase at a certain angle before pulling.
"I appreciate the help, princess, but this is a man's job and I don't think you can handle this-" the loud THUD! of his suitcase hitting the ground interrupted his sentence.
He stood in silence as I reached for my duffel bag and pulled it out of the trunk. I ignored his impassive stare and focused on the task at hand. Once I had obtained my objective, I turned to dad, who now carried a small frown.
"I could've pulled it out myself, you know." He grumbled under his breath.
He need an ice pack Katrina, because you just burned his pride to ashes! My inner voice began to gloat. She was so feminist.
"What was that? I couldn't hear you."
"Nothing."
"Well daddy," I cooed playfully, grabbing the straps of my bag and giving it a hard pull. "When you're done sulking, I'll see you inside, okay?" I reached up, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking past him. At the corner of my eye, I caught him shaking his head while smiling at my retreating figure. Men will be men.
The large bag bounced uneasily over the rocks and pebbles on the path as I dragged it towards the small stone building. Geez this thing was heavy! The bag was twice my size in width, and the wheels didn't help with lightening the load either.
As I heaved the bag up the wooden stairs, my arms ached from the amount of effort. Damn you gravity; always pulling objects back down to the earth.
"You okay there sweetie?" Mom appeared from the door. "Do you need some help?" I nearly rolled my eyes at her question. If my strained groans and sweaty, red palms weren't clearly showing her that I was in dire need of assistance, then I don't know what would.
"No thanks. I can handle this." I sighed.
"Suite yourself." She shrugged before going back inside.
Once I finally managed to reach the arched doorway, I quickly rolled the duffel bag behind me as I entered the house. I took in my surroundings.
Inside is very decent; wooden polished floor covered by shaggy carpets. A unique cultural design mix of old and new, rare and inexpensive. There's even a neat little fireplace in the living room.
"Katrina! Come in the kitchen, we need to talk." Mom shouted, causing me to stop my advances towards the main room. What could she want?
Resting my bag against the wall, I headed towards the direction her voice came from.
As I entered the kitchen, Tyler ran past me, nearly causing me to trip over my foot when I dodged him. Before I could tell him off, mom spoke first. "Katrina honey, look at these. Aren't they just beautiful?"
I turn my attention to the woman standing by the breakfast island. She examined a vase of blue bells, bringing the blue petals to her face and taking a deep inhale.
"They even come with a message" she picked up a little white card with cursive fine-print writing. "'Welcome Guests. Please enjoy your stay in Scotland.' The people here sure know how to make visitors feel welcomed." She laughed softly.
"Look, I have an hour-long appointment with the bathroom, and I'm already running late. What do you need mom?" I didn't mean to sound rude, but I didn't want to stand there and hear meaningless things about flowers and greeting cards. I just want her to get straight to the point so I can soak my sore muscles in a nice, hot bath and go to sleep. I spent an entire day on a plane of over 50 noisy passengers. I deserve peace and solitude right now.
As if getting the message, she dropped her smile and put on a serious facade. I didn't like that look; it meant bad news. Whatever she had to say was definitely going to upset me.
"Right. Well, I went online and researched some Universities for you to apply for, and..." she stopped, biting her bottom lip nervously.
My eyes narrowed at her strange behavior.
"And?" I pressed for her to continue. I wasn't liking where this conversation was going.
"Don't be mad, but the University of Glasgow is starting a hands-on training program for the summer. I've already signed you up for it." She pulls out a sheet of paper from her handbag and holds it out to me. "It starts tomorrow, well technically today, so you'll have to get up pretty early in the morning if we want to get there on time."
It took a while to process everything she just said. It took even longer to realize she was holding a print-out copy of the program's schedule infront of me.
"Are you serious?" I gave her an angry 'WTF' face. How does she expect me to not be mad? If anything, I was beyond pissed. I had already made plans to try out different careers first before going to college. Now she's expecting me to go along with this idea of hers and be okay with it? I don't think so. Hell no.
"Now sweetie, I know this is a lot for you to take in, but please stay calm."
"Stay calm?" I frowned. "When exactly were you going to tell me about this?"
"That's why I'm telling you now; so you can get adjusted to the idea. Trust me, you may not like it now, but in the morning you'll think differently..." she tries to plea with me but her words fall on deaf ears.
She's only adding more fuel to the fire.
"A few hours isn't enough time for me to 'adjust' mom! Did you even consider asking me how I would feel about all of this? This trip, the University, maybe even my life that you seem to be running for me?!" I asked hysterically, fists balling up tightly in rage. I could feel my nails digging painfully into my palm.
She gaped at me with an open mouth, taken aback by my sudden outburst. She quickly composed herself before directing a stern frown my way.
"Katrina Jasmine Stuart, I know I've raised you better than this. You know better than to talk to your mother that way." She admonished. "And sweetie, everything I do, all the choices your father and I have made, they've all been for you. Of course I care about how you'd feel."
Yeah, right.
For as long as I can remember, my life has always been controlled by mom. What school should I attend? The kind of friends I was allowed to hang out with. Even stooping so low as to choose the ideal boyfriend she thought was right for me.
Mark is fine -- took me a year to develop feelings for him, but I still would've liked him. He has a good GPA, he's a great football player and he has an amazing body with a face you'd kill for. Mark's the whole package deal. Any girl would be lucky to have him as their boyfriend. I just wished we had met under different circumstances. I didn't need my mom to hook me up with Mark -- who just so happens to be the son of one of her dear friends. What a joke.
"I'm sure you cared when I told you about my dream of being a writer, or an artist." I quizically said, lips curved in a mocking grin as I crossed my arms over my chest.
She furrowed her eyebrows, her chestnut eyes suddenly seared with anger.
"We've talked about this before, and I've told you those jobs won't benefit you, or anyone. Why are we even arguing about this?"
" Gee mom, I don't know," I feigned ignorance. "Maybe because everytime I tried to get my point across to you, you never listened!"
"Katrina," she warned, her voice seemingly low.
"No more, mom" I went on. For years I've been holding this in, forcing my emotions back to keep myself from speaking what was on my mind. I couldn't stop all hell from breaking loose, and I wasn't going to. "I'm not a baby anymore. I'll be eighteen next month; independent enough to make decisions for myself. And what I decide to do with my life is entirely up to me!" I emphasized me to make sure she understood my point.
I love my mother, but I've had enough of her being so over-controlling. There's only so much a person can take.
"I'm just looking out for your future!" she hissed. "It's my obligation as a good mother to want what's best for her child. Why can't you see that becoming a nurse will be better for you?"
"God, it's a waste of time trying to get through to you." I gave up on trying to reason with her, throwing my hands up in defeat. "Why can't you just accept the fact that I don't want to be a nurse, like a supportive mother? Maybe if you looked at some of the things I've drawn, or written, you'll see I have the potential to -"
"Enough of this bullshiť," she snapped, banging her fist on the counter beside us. The counter shook under the force, causing the flower vase to topple over, spilling the blue bells and water out onto ceramic tiles. I stepped back, gasping as the vase shattered with a loud Crash! against the floor.
I could only stand in shock as I took in the mess.
"Mom, y-you -"
"Drawing plain doodles and writing fancy words isn't going to get you anywhere in life. Instead of complaining about this great opportunity to enroll in a University here, you should be grateful. At Glasgow you'll have a higher chance at getting a well-paid job. One that's much better than being a damn artist, and an author!"
The room went quiet after that. The only sound heard was her heavy breathing after yelling so hard.
Dad shortly came in the kitchen, Tyler followed behind him.
"What's with all the yelling? Did something break in here?" He gave me a concerned look and reached a hand over to wipe something off my face. "Katrina, malyshka, why are you crying?"
I faintly felt tears running down my face. Not bothering to answer him, I kept my gaze on mom. She was obviously upset; running a hand through her wavy, blond hair as she walked over to the sink.
I could hear dad talking again, but I couldn't make out his words. I didn't want to hear them. I wanted to run away; away from my family, this house, this country. Everything.
Without thinking about the consequences of my actions, I pushed past dad and ran out the front door.
He called after me, but I was already sprinting down the trail. Far enough for his yells to become a distant sound.