Shreya
"History will repeat itself; when an individual feels like the personal history comes again and again."
I just arrived at the meeting place. And a man wearing a torn, grey jacket passed by in front of me while holding a vintage radio from the nineties. I was not in the mood to listen to it, so I rolled my eyes at the man before entering the building.
Of course, I would never let anybody ruin my mood—Well, it already happened.
Look, I do not like to see what materials were used in the nineties. And that would not change.
"Good evening, Miss," An elevator man greeted me, but I did not have time to be nice since he looked like the type of man that wanted to flirt.
"Floor 45, please." I plainly said to shut him off, and gladly he followed.
I went inside the elevator first. I am punctual in dealing with time. And I bet the liftman noticed it. He pressed the numbers four and five buttons then soft music started playing. Great, I feel like I am inside a spa room.
It did not take long for us to reach the forty-fifth floor; the elevator dinged before the sliding door opened. The liftman standing next to me walked first. Instead, I wanted to say something; I waited for him to get outside the elevator fully. In silence, I had to endure the muscle pain in my ankle because the shitty heels were slowly killing me as I kept walking. I am not the only one who experienced 'Ankle problems' when wearing a Valentino.
As I got near the hotel-restaurants door, a waiter greeted the guard and me. Both are males and look like my father, who recently celebrated his forty-fifth birthday. Oh, coincidence? I am going to eat inside the forty-fifth-floor restaurant. I smiled, realizing that there were two audiences. So, I closed my mouth, forming my lips into a flat line. I do not know what I look like, but I am pretty.
"Good evening, Miss. Did you book online for a reservation here?" The waiter politely asked.
"Yes, I did. A table good for two people."
"May I ask your surname, please? So that I could check--" I did not mind cutting off the waiter because I knew after I mentioned my surname, they would quietly observe me from afar, and I managed to apply everything generally as part of my daily life.
"Owen," I reluctantly replied but continued what I wanted to say anyway, "Now, can I get inside and pick any reserve table for two by myself?"
The waiter and the guard looked at me with their jaw almost dropping. I already expected their reactions. Yet, the guard remembered his job and opened the door for me. I do not want to say thank you cause' I am not a lovely daughter as what my family tells other people, and I make them real. So why am I willing to show people a lie? Society divides people. The truth and lies do not matter at all.
I do not feel better, but I am trying to look better. Fortunately, when the doors opened, I thanked the heavens by breathing in the smell of a scented Japanese cherry blossom candle that swiftly poked my nose in a relaxing way. 'God, if only my family know what conscience is.' I changed my gaze to the hanging teardrop curtains on the window. Beautiful, just the same as a frozen rain in time—reminding myself that when people push you down to a dark, deep hole, you must stay firm so those people will stop. I know that my thoughts may be dramatic at some point, but as a human, it is just a normal state.
People judge me based on what they heard about me from my family; yes, it was and still is a lonely world if you imagined it. I inhaled when I finally reserved a table for two. Good that I can see the beautiful view of Los Angeles.
I watched a few street lights blinking as people prepared to cross to the other street. Heavens, they were children crossing too. It was giving me a mini heart attack for a second.
"Good evening, Miss, would you like me to pour some wine into your glass?"
"Oh, yes, please. I need some of that." I told the waitress, and she smiled at me.
Right, I am sitting alone because I am waiting for somebody that I only know exists online. I do not want to ruin my schedule, but I have to. Plus, I do not want to meet because I just sensed that person must be a fraud, if that makes sense, since everything was part of my idea.
I nodded at the waitress when I noticed the glass had been filled.
"Thank you." I said, but when the waitress was about to leave, I remembered what I should have asked before, "Can I have the menu?"
"Yes, Miss." The waitress left immediately to get me the menu.
While waiting, I focused on the people crossing the street. Trust me; the forty-fifth floor does not make you see the detailed version of it. However, it was still a nice view. 'A sea of lights,' I told my mind.
One thing I wanted to ignore was my family. So people cannot see that there were dozens of things I needed to solve in my family's affair, and I had to do it secretly. The same work as a spy. And why should I even bother acting like one? Because if I let the rest of the family members plant a dirty seed into the business that my deceased grandparents showered with effort, I will be a useless granddaughter. My dead grandparents were the ones who helped me grow since my mother and father disliked having a daughter. My parents wanted four kids, and all of them must be a son, but here I am, their daughter that got left behind.