Page 39 of Arianna

Yet, he has kept me in the dark and the French model all over the spotlight.

There goes the green monster rearing its head. It bothers me even more because she reminds me of Andrea Nicolasi. The fashion heiress everyone fawns over because of her beauty and her good-hearted nature. Barf.

Curvy, blonde bombshells with bubbly personalities.

She is also the reason why I changed my hair color to a darker shade of blonde, added more layers to it, and cut my bangs in that trendy style that is all over social media these days.

Curtain bangs, I believe the stylist said they’re called.

I chose that hairstyle, not wanting to look at all like the model-like women he has courted all his life.

Childish? Maybe.

These days, I do whatever feels right with little to no care about consequences.

I like this look on me, and I am contemplating changing the color to a warm brown, but I have yet to leap.

Maybe one day I will.

“Oh, my God. This is it!” The girl sitting next to me shrinks when the speakers begin with the first act of the ceremony. I don’t know this girl. All I know is that she has spent the half hour we have been sitting here taking countless selfies and posting them on social media while also filming herself dancing. Maybe I am too out of touch with my generation, or maybe I am just a judgmental bitch, but it gave me secondhand embarrassment witnessing the spectacle, but to be fair, she is not the only one. I guess this is a popular trend. Huh. Not one I will ever participate in, but good for them, whatever makes them happy, I guess.

Benjamin says I should be less judgmental and more accepting, but sadly that is not in my nature, and I’ve made peace with it.

Weird-dance girl puts her phone down on her lap, turns my way, and smiles brightly. It lasts only a second because the moment I take too long to return the smile, she gives me her back, and I don’t miss how she calls me a bitter bitch under her breath.

Oh, whatever.

This is what separates me from girls like her.

I don’t mumble shit under my breath like a coward.

I will say whatever to whomever in their face.

The loud chatter of the crowd around us settles at the same time the master of the ceremony speaks. “Welcome class of…”

And so, it begins.

* * *

BASTIAN

I vividly remember how my mother used to drag me out of bed in the middle of the night to watch the sky together whenever there was an eclipse or a meteor shower. I was never the kid to be into that type of Astro-shit, but it made her smile, and my mother’s smile was worth ten times more than whatever was happening in the sky.

It always used to happen in December.

Lunar eclipses.

One of nature’s many wonders.

None of it meant anything to me, but it meant a great deal to my mother, and she meant everything to us.

You see, she was an astronomer before she met and married my father. When he started pursuing his political career, she gave up her dream job to become a wife and mother.

My father always felt as if he somehow killed her dreams. For a long time, I did too. However, she was never bitter or treated us as if she missed who she used to be before she became a stay-at-home mom.

She loved us dearly just as much as she loved her moon, stars, and all the shit that hides in the dark sky. She taught me everything she knew about Astronomy, and I would sit in her lap for hours listening to her talk about things I didn’t quite care for yet learned to just to see her proud smile.

That is what I miss the most now that I am a grown man.

---