"I'm either my best friend or my worst enemy."
Whitney Houston.
Staring at the words, I feel happy. I feel that the universe has lined these events up as if they were cards, or that the world has put them into verses and bridges as if it were a song. I feel joy sweep my sadness away and life becomes a lot less heavy. It becomes a blessing, not a burden.
Cautiously, Wyatt studies me, trying to work out if I like the gift or not. Hugging him, he sighs out of relief, burying his head into the dip between my neck and shoulder. Rubbing Wyatt's back, I whisper a quick thank you for the present and he reciprocates, by saying 'no problem' and then proceeding to rub my back as well.
After that, someone clears their throat.
"I think it's time for dinner," my mother announces, glaring at me until I realise that I should probably pull away from Wyatt.
Anne smirks, a beautiful sense of amusement shown in her eyes and John grins, holding his wife's hand and whispering something in her ear. Blushing, I briskly walk to the table and everyone follows. Then , we proceed to sit.
The seating arrangement is exactly how mother planned it. She's sitting at the head of the table whilst Anne sits on the other end. Meanwhile, she has me sitting on her left and father sitting beside me. This means Wyatt is sitting on my mother's right (opposite me) and John is sitting beside his son (opposite my father).
Complimenting the food, the Hunter's utter their thanks. In addition to this, they also comment on how nice it was for us to invite them and how they think highly of our family for doing so. The room is hot and the only silence which occurs are comfortable ones. I smile, managing to make an input on certain aspects of the conversation.
"This is going well," I think.
Well, that's until I feel I hand on mine.
My father's hand.
You might recall, that in one of the chapters I stated that one of the cruel remarks that have been thrown my way was: 'Is your weight the reason why your father left you and your mother?' You see, my father did leave us and till this day, the six month disruption his absence caused still hasn't subsided. I don't know much, although I do remember that on the night that he left, I heard him say the words:
"I don't want a daughter who looks like that, Catherine!"
Meaning, the conversation and the reason why he left, was probably because of me.
However, six months later, father returns and my mother accepts him with open arms.
Do I accept him with open arms?
No.
Was I forced to put the on my brightest smile and embrace him anyway?
Yes.
Frustrated, I pull my hand away and turn my focus to my mother and Wyatt.
"So Wyatt," my mother begins. "You're so handsome! I'm sure you have a bunch of girls who flirt with you on...you know...the book with the face on it?"
Mentally face palming myself, I gather all the courage I have. Sighing, I correct her.
"Mother, don't you mean: Facebook?" I ask.
"Oh hush, Valentina," she snaps, directing her attention to Wyatt. "You do manage to find potentials, don't you?"
"I hope not," Anne growls under her breath.
"Mum!" Wyatt protests.
"I'm only looking out for you!" She exclaims. "And Wyatt."
"Yeah?"
"Wipe the corner of your mouth; that's bad manners!"
As the perfect boy obliges to his mother's orders, I can't help but laugh at his predicament. Pouting and pretending to be hurt, Wyatt brushes his leg against mine. I jump and now it's his turn to laugh, his giggle amplifying my embarrassment.
"To answer your question, Catherine, there was actually this person on Facebook who sent me a friend request a couple of weeks ago..."
I freeze, my body turning rigid.
"Really?"
"Yes," Wyatt says. "And when I accepted, they began asking me personal questions..."
I want to die.
"Like what?"
"Questions like: who did you like and is that particular person you like worth it, etc."
"Well that's a shame," my mother retorts disappointed. "You deserve to find someone who's as equally beautiful as you."
"I believe I've already have," Wyatt states. "The next step is for her to realise her inner beauty."
When looking up from my plate, I see Wyatt making eye contact with me. It seems as though
my oxygen had been restricted.
Then, I feel a kick under that table and I stare at my mother's disgusted expression.