20th March, 20??
Eve of my sixteenth birthday.
Dear Dia,
Can you believe it? We are together once more after five whole years. Uhm… I understand how you must be feeling now, I mean I would definitely feel the same if someone who considered me a close confidante pushed me away for five years.
You must understand, I had just lost the one person who loved me more than anything in this world, my mom. You should remember since we spent the last days with her, we kept her company, shared our secrets with her but it wasn't enough to keep her… here. I know it wasn't anyone's fault but the cruel hands of death who couldn't leave my mom for me.
She had died of the devil called "acute lymphoblastic leukemia". ALL for short. This bastard is a type of cancer in which the bone marrow makes too many lymphocytes (a type of white blood cell), it's symptoms are tiredness, fever, easy bruising, ear and nose bleeding with lots and loads of pain. Hers had been recurrent, the damn thing had gone into remission after the first treatment years ago. I think I was 6 then and because of that, she couldn't give me a sibling.
When the goddamned thing came back, she hid it from me and dad, not quite well though. I would sometimes go to her room and find her all bedded up with her temperature as high as the scorching sun. Or the times, her nose would start bleeding, even those rare moments her face would suddenly squeeze in with pain. Dad was hardly around and mom made me swear not to tell him about this things. She promised me that she was fine and I trusted her, besides I was 6 when it first happened so how was I supposed to know that the blasted thing was back.
If she would see me now, using such vulgar words, she would give me that 'mind-your-language' look and shake her head causing her blond curls to bounce. The night she was hospitalized was a trauma that has kept me awake at night for years now. She had started bleeding as we ate in the dining, first it was from her nose, then her ears and finally her nails. She had been oblivious until drops landed in the bowl of cereals she was having. I had tried to force her to eat real food but she had insisted on cereals.
I watched her raise her hand to touch her bleeding nose only to see her fingers bleeding too. And then, I heard it, that guttural scream that has haunted me ever since. She clutched her stomach as she screamed, smearing blood on her cream nightgown. I rushed to her side, tried to touch her but at my touch, she screamed more. Dad was away on a business trip and I didn't know what to do, mom frantically clutched every part of her body in fail attempts to reduce the pain. Mrs Jones, our nosy neighbor came banging on the door, apparently she heard the screams and never have I ever been more grateful for her nosiness as I was that night.
She called 911 and in a matter of minutes, sirens and red-blue flashes filled the night. Quivering like a drenched cat, I stood aside as they loaded mom in a stretcher admist her cries and screams. Almost at the door, I found my voice and my questions came out more like a shriek than words as I launched towards the stretcher.
"Where are you taking my mom? Is she going to be fine?"
It was Mrs Jones who responded, she told me that my mom would be fine and I could visit her the next day. I blatantly refused to sleep at her house while my mom slept in the hospital, so I stood my ground about staying wherever my mom was. Mom couldn't speak but she grabbed my hand and her eyes said it all… 'stay'.
Mom died three months later even with the best treatment. Chemotherapy. Radiation therapy. Immunotherapy. Nothing worked. I had known that she would die cause I browsed the hell out of the godforsaken ailment. There was no cure and the survival rate for an adult like her was about 30-40%. The doctors said that it was a miracle she had survived the first diagnosis and lived as long as she did after that.
I'm sorry, Dia for the tears I'm leaving on your pages but I hope you understand why I did what I did. Life without her has been hell and I hated myself for not keeping the promise I made to her on that last day we read year 11 Dia, to her. She made me promise to keep talking to you but I couldn't just form the words. Each time I tried, your pages end up soaked with tears.
It's my birthday tomorrow Dia, so I shouldn't be feeling as down as I am but each year is hard without her beside me, sometimes I wonder if I should be celebrating at all but dad and this bitch who's trying to be mom keeps throwing parties for me. I guess I will have to fake a smile and live through it yet again.
Goodnight Dia.
21st March, 20??
Happy birthday, Annabel Mace.
Dear Dia,
It's my sweet sixteen birthday or should I say my bitter sixteen birthday. Somehow it feels like I should introduce myself even though we know each other. More correctly put, we used to know each other. It's been five years and I think an introduction should be in order.
I'm Annabel Mace, daughter of Taylor and Miranda Mace. I'm an Aries, obviously with aquamarine as my birthstone and jonquil as my birthflower. I love reading and writing. Romance and fantasy are my favorite genres. I also love reading poems especially short verses like those of Terres Michael, F S Yousaf and Raymond Carver. Their poems are usually short with powerful emotional lines that strike a cord each time I read them. When I lost mom, I felt particularly at home with the poem "Loss" from Terres Michael's " Mementos of Michelangelo (Dark Emotions)" collection.
I turned sixteen today. As you know, Dia, I'm quite sensitive about my age so I don't write the year in the date section. You should remember why, it was in year 8 Dia. The year Collins, my stupid cousin came visiting with his family. Apparently he wasn't educated on privacy and boundaries even as we were the same age then. He didn't know this of course until that day I saw him reading my entries without my consent. He had gotten so mad that I have been deceiving him for years thinking that I was a year older that he pulled out the last two letters on your cover. On your leather cover was pinned "My Diary" in a metallic pin. He removed the "ry" and from that day you became Dia.
I still have not forgiven him for that but at least he introduced me to you, Dia and I'm grateful for that but don't tell him I said that. It was actually mom who convinced me that calling you "My Dia" gives me a more personalized relationship than others have with their diaries. After that experience, I had stopped writing the year of my entries since it could be traced back to my age and started calling you 'Dia'.
Turning sixteen is supposed to be sweet. It's that age that one becomes a young adult and should be treated as one. You are probably saying 'tell that to your dad and new mom'. Yeah I know, they don't see me as an adult but to hell with what they think, I'm going to do whatever I want, whichever way I want and whenever I want. There was only one person who cared what I did and she's no more, therefore I will try to make this bitter sixteen sweet for me.
I wasn't surprised when dad called on the 15th of this month to ask me what I wanted for my birthday with false hopes of landing the subtle blow that he won't be home for my birthday. He hardly ever comes home and I get that his busy trying to provide for us but can't he prioritize me. It was better when mom was here at least she knew how to drag him back home but since her demise he had kept his distance. I don't even know if he married Felicia, the clown downstairs who thinks she can replace mom, for love or for me. Felicia Burner is my father's supposed love who he married three years after mom died. Can you believe that, three years, it's like they were a thing even when mom was still alive and the fact that she was dad's secretary confirms my suspicions. She was a single divorcée mother who was looking for a new man to help take care of her and her stupid son, Henry. And my father just happened to be that man.
She is nothing like mom with her orange short curls, brown eyes and freckles. And she always smell like those cheap ass perfume sold in that local store down the street. Mom had been like a celebrity with her white-gold blond curls which I didn't inherit, her blue eyes which nature was kind enough to give me, her small pout red lips which I have, her radiating skin that I don't have and her perfect body which I have, thank goodness. She smelled of lilies, Madonna lilies to be exact as dad had told me once, sweet, heady, rich and intoxicating. I guess that was when he still loved her.
Dad marrying Felicia had been worse but having a brother through that wedlock, Henry was the worst. He is every inch his mom, same hair, freckles and that fake ass smile they think I'm buying. Thankfully I'm two years older and dad thinks I'm supposed to look after him like he's my little brother but Henry Burner doesn't need looking after. Our neighbors and some girls I have heard whispering in the halls, say he's cute and kind but I don't know how someone can be cute with baby curls orange hair and freckles. He has a lot of friends which isn't surprising since he was going to St. Nicholas High, before I was enrolled. I guess people fall for that his fake ass smile which I know is bull.
I was going to keep silent as those other years when dad asks me what I wanted for my birthday present but not this year. I just told him that I wanted to talk to Dia again and not surprisingly, you were delivered the morning before my birthday. In a pink and cream wrapped box containing you, a letter my mom had written for my sixteenth birthday, a small red box- a gift from mom, a black slim box- a gift from him and a note saying;
"Happy Birthday, Sweetheart,
I'm glad you want to talk to Dia again so I took time to get you that perfect sixteenth diary your mom always envisioned. A leather diary, made of pink calf leather and hot printed with floral and mandala engravings, personalised in gold with your initials 'A.M' on the cover. The interior is composed of a precious paper lined with a dusty pink color without lines; a space for the date of entry, the title if you want to and the liberty to write as much as you want in an entry with it's 600 pages capacity.
It's a gift from us but my personal gift to my precious jewel is in that black box, I hope you like it. I'm sorry that I won't be there but I'm sure Licia will throw you an amazing birthday bash. Thank God I remembered the red box and letter mom had given to me for your sixteenth birthday, it's in this box too and contrary to what you think, I love you, my precious jewel.
N/B: I might have a surprise for you.
Love,
Dad."
The pink leather diary became you, my year 16 Dia. I'm glad dad knows that I question his love for me and his surprise was more of an embarrassment, really!. I had been walking to class when my birthday party was announced, inviting everyone to come. I was still finding my way in this new school and the last thing I needed was to be thrown into the spotlight like that. After that I heard the whispers;
"Who is Annabel Mace? Does she even go to our school? Do you know her, she is said to be in tenth grade? Where does she live?
And the worst of them all, when Mia Hover and the Divas stopped died in the tracks and she asked,
"Who the hell is Annabel Mace?"
Susan Sams, popularly known as Suzzy, a fellow Diva was the one who whispered in her ear and the whole school knew who I was in a matter of seconds when Mia screamed;
"That bitch who stepped on me on her first day, how come she gets to have her birthday party announced to the whole school!!!"
The fury was clear in her face when she added with a voice cold as ice;
"Get ready girls we are crashing that party"
Eyes turned to me then and I dashed to class. The story of me stepping on that low-life had trended for a while and the whole school knew about it since no one messed with the Divas and went scot free. Congrats, dad you just made my birthday a very memorable one.
I really have to go now, Dia. Licia as my dad called her, who is he even fooling? Can he love her that much? She wants me downstairs because the guests are arriving, amongst them will be the infamous Divas whose plan is to crash my party. Talk later, bye.
22nd March, 20??
Post-birthday trauma.
Dear Dia,
Surely you would think that writing to you the evening of the day after my birthday meant that all went well… far from that actually. Things has been so bad that I couldn't hold a pen, talk more of writing.
After mom's death, birthdays lost it's meaning to me. It became a reminder that she's no more with me. I find myself counting how many years it's been rather than how old I am. The first three years has been horrible but at least I had grandma and grandpa. I was living with them since dad couldn't take care of me and handle his business at the same time. They really tried to help but they weren't mom, on my birthdays grandma would bake an amazing chocolate cake with few candles unlike how mom makes sure the candles reflect my new age.
I would smile for them and the neighbors they invited only to cry myself to sleep later that night. Then Felicia came into the picture, like every new lady of the house or should I say gold digger, she tried so hard to make me like her. But one thing they don't get is that they can never ever replace the former lady of the house. Dad was there during those two years with Felicia when I celebrated my birthdays. With him around, I had to behave, keep my attitude at bay and smile at everyone.
None of them, not dad, not Felicia, not even my grandparents, knew how exhausting it is to smile when inside you're broken. Mom would have understood and I think you understand, Dia.
I wasn't planning on smiling yesterday, I was ready to make Felicia regret every effort she put into throwing my party. The party had started by 6pm but I didn't come downstairs no matter how many times she banged on my door until it was past 7pm. It had taken me time to get ready especially after talking to you. Felicia had suggested for me to wear my pink gown but I was planning to do everything she wants in opposite. I had dressed in my red flared gown that ended on my knees. It's bodice was styled with red jewels, one shoulder was sleeveless while the other hand was flared like my skirt. I was wearing the complete set of personalized jewelry, mom got me. Yeah, I wasn't exactly patient as to open it after my birthday party, inside the box was a necklace, a pair of earrings and a bracelet. All in gold with my name 'Anna' as she liked to call me engraved in each. I even had my curls pulled up to a bun just for my earrings to be visible, I mean who wouldn't like to show off. Dad had gotten me a designer watch, the best any daughter would ask for but his gifts won't make me forgive him, so I didn't wear it and probably never will.
As I walked down the stairs as majestic as I can, my black stilettos clicking on the tiles, one by one every eye turned to stare at me. I knew I was beautiful with my blue eyes, raven hair, red lips, gorgeous body and all but descending those stairs with my head held high like a princess, and confident that my mom was with me through her gifts, I felt powerful. I watched as mouths dropped, jaws slacked, drool escaped, drinks fell, cups overflowed and movement froze. Did you know the best part, Liam Denvers had just come in when I started for the stairs and even he froze with the door halfway closed, even the Divas were struck speechless.
The spell was broken when the bitch Felicia grabbed my arm to question why I took so long. After which, she had the guts to tell me that I look as beautiful as my mom, who the hell does she even think she is to talk about mom. I left after that rather rudely to go greet some guests. I forced a smile as I greeted our neighbors, my classmates, my teachers who were obviously there to chaperone, even Michelle and her odd group-the only people who treats me nicely at school, came.
Felicia the gold digger, sure knew how to spend my dad's money. Everything was… too perfect. There were balloons, ribbons, confetti, birthday cones, etc the entire place was decorated to perfection in hues of blue, pink and purple. My favorite colors. Outside the pool was full, so was the hot tub. She even had a barbecue and ice cream stand set up. One long table, the size of a conference table held displays for various types of snacks and confections ranging from cupcakes, chocolate bars, candies of all sizes, color and shape, biscuits and even chips. Another table held birthday cards and gifts from all these people I don't know, I think that if it was up to them they would probably have brought nothing but the demands of society which dictates what we do had them wrapped around its ethics.
I was on my way to the punch table when I saw him. Standing there like a hot modern Greek god was Liam in a black leather jacket unzipped showing off a black tee that clung to his perfectly sculptured body and black denim jeans, it's edges were stuffed into his black glossy leather boots. The strangest thing was that he was looking at me, of course he was looking at you, dummy. I was hot, beautiful and smart, the perfect girl anyone would want as a girlfriend just as I have always been until mom died and I lost all my coolness.
He said as I ignored him to scoop a drink from the punch bowl;
"If I had known that you were this beautiful, I would have brought a gift but I hope this will do"
He handed me a card he had confessed that he stole from the pile on the table. I had looked up as I collected the card from him. His dark hair was messy like he just raked his hands in them and dear God, his eyes-black like a deep hole sucking me in. I have been crushing on him right from the very first day I laid my eyes on him even though he was in eleventh grade with a reputation for being a player but staring into those dark pools, I fell in love.
He ensnared me more when he gave me that devilish smirk that brands his reputation. I don't know how long I stayed staring like a moron unable to utter a word but it felt like forever until damned Henry snapped me out of it when he told me it was time to cut the cake. He had left still grinning after he said;
"See you around, Mace"
I have always hated my surname, but hearing Liam say it, it sounded so sexy even though it felt like he was talking to a guy.
Whatever plans the Divas had, they were yet to put it in action and I was scared of whatever twisted plans they had in store. My cake was vanilla flavored with chocolate frosting. And I was allergic to vanilla. I didn't know and the dumb bitch didn't ask, (Dia don't even give me that crap about never talking to her cause that's bullshit). She should have asked me if I had any allergies before running to play mummy.
The cake was shaped like a heart with sixteen candles, she must be desperate for my approval seeing as she stole mom's tradition. All it took was a bite to wipe that genuine smile I had after listening to strangers sing me "Happy Birthday" and blowing out my candles as I made my wish. Immediately, I tasted the vanilla I screamed. In a matter of seconds, the symptoms ensued, my mouth tingled, my body started itching, rashes started appearing, my lips swelled, my lungs felt closed up, I couldn't breathe, my skin turned into cherry and my stomach got really upset that I heaved right there and then all over the cake.
People screamed and made for the door, but my plight was far from over. The Divas blocked the door as Mia took the microphone and began;
"Well, well, well, what do we have here, should have known this was a dysfunctional family, daddy is always away, mommy is dead and stepmom wants to kill her stepchild. Typical Cinderella story but next time Felicia try to do it with more discretion, that's it party's over guys, BOUNCE!!!"
I watched as Felicia rushed to do what I don't know exactly, what was she thinking that she can lay hands on the mayor's daughter and not regret it. Mia wasn't even afraid, she just stood there daring her as Henry held his mom from making the biggest mistake of her life. People ran, some fell, more screamed as my throat swelled and I turned redder. After a while with her signature devilish smile on her face, Mia dropped the mic and catwalked away.
Stupid Felicia now turned her attention to me, she kept asking me if I was okay when the bitch clearly knew I wasn't. She instructed Henry to call 911 and that's when everything turned black.
I woke up today to voices I knew well, dad's. He was here but he was yelling at someone… something about if anything happens to her, you will not live to tell the tale, before I dozed off again.
I had awoken again to see Felicia standing on the end of what was not my bed, biting her finger. I was wearing a dull green coat known for patients in a room that wasn't mine and smelled like antiseptic. It didn't take long before I figured that I was hospitalized and daddy was here. So, my anaphylaxis had scared him out of his busy schedule. The first thing I had requested as soon as I woke up was you and dad has been hovering around since wondering what I was writing when I should be resting so I have to end our chat here, Dia.