Page 5 of The Proposal Pact
I. Never. Wanted. This. Life.
The words slowly register in my brain as I finally speak them out loud. “I never wanted this life.” The hand that was hovering over the blouse drops. And I’m left here, standing half-naked, surrounded by the sea of polyester death when I admit the truth.
What am I doing with my life? What do I want? Like, really want? Not what I’ve always thought I needed to do. To be.
No.
WhatIwant? Do I even know?
Nearly tripping and falling face-first into the heap of clothes, I rush into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror.
Long, dull brown hair. Dead, soulless brown eyes. Frown lines on my forehead…
“Change. I need change,” I say to no one at all, but we’re not going to judge here, okay? “Where are my scissors?” As if possessed by something, I start ripping open every drawer in the bathroom, looking for a pair of scissors, but there are none.
“Damn it.” I shut the last drawer closed and run into the kitchen, going straight to the fancy butcher block with fancy knives that Vassar gifted me last year for Christmas.
As if I ever had the time to use any of them on an actual meal. I guess, I’ll give the scissors some use at least. Snatching them out of their spot, I rush back into the bathroom, gather my long hair into my left hand and…swoosh.
What looks to be around a foot of brown hair drops to the peeling linoleum floor. But I don’t stop to look at it, because I see my panties and slide the scissors right through the sides, cutting one and the other off until they fall to my feet, mingling with the hair there, andI stride out of the bathroom my gaze set on the thin, dresser where I keep all the rest of the suspects.
Black, gray, beige, and white panties.Wow, how original, Sophie.
When had I stopped buying only neon-colored ones or the ones with crazy patterns? The crazier, the better. It was almost as fun as trying out new, small bars with Gracie.
As if these cotton panties did something to personally offend me, I take out my frustrations and my scissors on them, slashing through the whole pile. I keep cutting and cutting and cutting until I feel something prickle at the corners of my eyes.
But I don’t stop. I don’t stop until there’s nothing bigger than two-inch pieces of scrap left in the place of the life I created for myself.
I decide that even two inches is too much and go to cut some more when I hear my phone ringing the tune I’ll never be able to ignore. It’s the only color and magic I’ve clung to over these convenient, practical years.
Gracie is calling. She’s the only one with a special ringtone to her name. But I did promise my oldest niece—Victoria, or Vee for short—that I’ll find a fun one for her when she gets a phone.
Scrambling over the heaps of clothes on the floor, I rush to the bag I dropped by my heels and dig through it until I find my phone at the bottom.
“Hey! How did it go? Did they all fall at your feet when you presented them that masterpiece?” Grace doesn’t waste a second as her cheerful voice sounds through the phone and that little prickling feeling at the corners of my eyes manifests into more.
I finally break down, falling to the ground. Tears streaming down my face as I sob into the phone without saying a single word. She knew how much my work meant to me, how many nights I stayed up to finish that damn program without getting as much as a thank you in return and it all just finally catches up with me at the sound of her voice.
All of it. All the wasted years.
I know how precious every moment in life is. I know it! Yet I wasted so many of mine chasing the dream I never belonged in.
“Expecto Patronum!Sophie! What is going on? Why are you crying? Say something, please!”
I want to laugh at her never-ending use of Harry Potter words instead of curses, but I can’t even manage that. When I still can’t form any words, she continues. “That’s it, I’m getting on the plane and coming to you.”
I start to cry even harder because I know she would. I know my Grace would get on that plane and come see me just to make sure I was okay, but she’s newly pregnant. She shouldn’t have to take care of me too.
Everyone always is. That’s why I needed this damn job. I needed to show everyone that I can take care of myself.
“I never wanted this life,” I manage to push out through the wailing. “And now I lost all the magic and my panties.”
“Um…can we back it up a bit?”
“There’s no backing up, Grace. I don’t have any panties,” I cry into the phone.
“Did you just say you don’t have any panties? Like…underwear?” she asks, confused.
