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“Sometimes reality comes crashing down on you. Other times reality simply waits, patiently, for you to run out of the energy it takes to deny it.”
Taylor Jenkins Reid, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo
Welcome to Belle Mont.
Population: five thousand four hundred and sixty… four? (Psych! I don’t have any idea. I’m not the fucking CSO!)
Just your average – relatively small but tightly knit – and charming village just south of Ardsley in Westchester County, New York. Known for its urbane sophistication, it is the ideal place to start-up and raise fine bright and upstanding citizens to make the world a better place. (Insert snort) Now for everyone, it would seem like the perfect life: friendly community, the best educational system, perfect homes – just the plain perfect life.
That is, if you count being a village mostly driven by people from the white-collar class bracket who live in fancy homes, drive luxury cars and pride themselves of living the picture-perfect families of the American Dream as humble citizens. And by tightly-knit, you get a place where everybody knows each other and ridden by gossips, backstabbings, rumors and more rumors. Of course, being different or nearly perfect doesn’t help either – nobody was safe from this plague that seemed to run over the land. Aside from its charming lake and sceneries, it might as well be the only thing that keeps this town afloat. Something to talk about that would distract from their own shitty lives.
Okay, that was a bit too waspish – pfft! (Insert inside joke) – for the day to start. Though if you were to live here for the last three years, well you’ll begin to think the same way as I do – or even worse.
Let me start again.
It was seven forty-five AM.
The sun was shining. The birds were chirping up in their nest on a tree beside my bedroom window. But for the people of Belle Mont, the day has just barely begun.
Sounds of front doors opening throughout the neighborhood of Silver Crest, greetings of ‘good mornings’ and ‘hellos’ resound through. The slow hum of lawn mowers trimming paths all over their lawns, leaving behind them newly-cut grass with the morning dews still clinging to their blades. Just imagine flying a drone to get an aerial scope and you’ll probably see endless rows of green and freshly-manicured lawns despite the blistering after-effects of a summer drought. Sounds of vehicles pass through as well as the tinkling of bells from the local paperboy while the neighborhood dogs bark in their wake.
Yes. It was just a perfect morning to start a brand new day and make a good difference in the world!
Not the sarcasm.
As if that ever happens to me – much less start happening to me. Take right now for example.
Just fuck it.
Fuck. My. Life.
Scheisse.
I, Ave Michaels, have reached another level of a yet another fucked-up day.
And who wouldn’t be, considering the shitty start of my morning. Make that, since last night’s events.
It all started with a sudden power breakout in my neighborhood. With barely a couple of hours left before midnight, I had settled into a comfortable workflow. Tapping endlessly on my laptop, I had finished tweaking some slight errors on the latest of my manuscript and even had time to indulge myself into some creative writing for fun.
Not that anybody has ever read of it though. Of course it was just something for me to vent out in, a secret place for a piece of me to escape in this barely bearable reality of having to be follow this constant madness called sanity.
And now, it sits on my clustered work table, unfinished and unsaved.
If my thoughts can only be amplified out loud, the whole neighborhood would be shaking and glasses would be breaking by the piercing intensity of my mental screams.
As if that wasn’t enough, I’m running late. Literally.
My alarm clock just had to decide it was the right time to pull the plug. Why couldn’t it just blow up? At least that would’ve waked me up.
I barely had time to do the well-known bed stretch when I remembered the time.
SCHEIß.
Damn, damn, damn.
I only have forty-five minutes left!
In my haste, I fall down my four-poster bed and on my naked ass. The next thing I know I was staring at my ceiling.
Ouch.
I rub my lower back, hoping to put some relief on it. Why the hell did I even think that a simple fluffy carpet was enough to counteract the hardness of the engineered-hardwood flooring? I should’ve added more bean bags.
Okay no time to wallow in pain.
I get up and snatch my robe from the chair beside my bed. The travelling time from my house to the village proper was only ten minutes. I could just get my bike and-shoot! Verdammt! I forgot I had it fixed at The Garage.
There goes my plan.
Oh, what the hell.
That’s it, thirty minutes.
That’s the only time I need to shower, get dressed, put some makeup on so I won’t look like a lifeless corpse, grab a toast from the kitchen and drag my sleepy ass out the front door.
Yeah that could work, I nod, reassuring myself.
I turn to the wall clock by my flat-screen TV. 7:50 AM.
Shit! No time to lose!
I take my phone and open my clock app.
Verdammt, why didn’t I use this instead last night?
That’s right, coz I was too stupid to do so! I shake my head. Well, no use bitching over spilled milk now.
I tap the timer app, setting it at 10 minutes.
Okay. Time… set, GO!
I rush to the bathroom. Not bothering to check my zombie-like appearance in the mirror by the sink, I hang my robe by the door and jump right into my claw-foot tub. I grab the shower head and turn one of the knobs, scalding myself with the hot water. I grab a loofah hanging by one of the knobs and my favorite shower gel from one of the built-in shower shelves. I squeeze an adequate amount on the loofah then scrub every inch of my body.
After making sure every inch of me was wrapped in soap suds, I rinse them off, loving the smell of berries and spice after the evening rain and the silky-smooth feeling of my skin.
Too bad, I can’t stay in my shower forever. With a sigh, I turn the shower off.
Shower, check!
Next, getting dressed.
I reach for my towel only to feel nothing but air. Fick, forgot my towel!
Brushing off droplets of water from my body, I climb down the tub in nothing but my birthday suit.
It’s not like anybody can see me anyway.
I go over the sink and open a drawer beside it. I pull out a small case containing my contacts and carefully –with careful as a generous word – applied each lens to my eyes.
ARGH, it stings! I cry for a bit.
Once that was done, I pick up my toothpaste and squeeze a generous amount on my toothbrush. I rapidly brush my teeth, the foam forming a Santa beard around my mouth and chin. I gargle the foam inside before spitting. I take my robe by the door and went out of the bathroom.
Ignoring the small puddles of water made by my feet, I step into my closet walk straight to the rack by the left.
I open the drawer and grab a simple loose black V-neck shirt and a pair of light-washed cigarette jeans. I reach to another drawer beside it and take out a pair black of bra and panties. I take off my robe and let it drop around my feet.
In a methodical manner that would’ve made the US Army proud, I put on my underwear then my shirt, making a knot at the bottom, and jeans before leaving the closet.
Clothes, check!
Hair and makeup – still in the process.
I rush to my antique vanity dresser with its intricate designs lining the mirror’s edges and appraise my face.
Yeah, I’m gonna need a couple of minutes to take all the eventual shock in.
Just slowly take a pee-GAH!
Why do I keep scaring myself so early in the morning?
I cringe at the pallid complexion of my already pale alabaster skin. My long dark ash-grey hair was in disarray. The areas around my hazel eyes were dark and slightly puffy.
I eye my colorless cheeks and pale pink lips in disdain.
I groan.
UUUGHH. This needs a lot of work.
And here I thought all I needed was a lip and cheek tint and a couple of swipes of mascara and eyeliner.
Okay, shock over. First, the face. Ze canvas. La cara, mi lienzo.
I gather up a bottle of tinted moisturizer, my trusty creaseless concealer, dark-brown gel-liner, cocoa brown eye shadow, blush and my pierce-du-resistance, a tube of lip tint.
I pick up my brushes. I can do this. It’s just like those makeup tutorials on YouTube – only I have to do it like I’m on a time-lapse.
Let’s get started!
Ten minutes later, I lean back and assess my face once again. The dark shadows underneath my eyes are almost non-existent, my hazel eye color as well as their upturned shape are emphasized by the gunk I applied on my eyes. My eyebrows are full and nicely shaped. My cheeks and lips are no longer pale but have a pleasant rosy color – with my lip tint having a gradient effect on my lips and giving them a just-recently-sucked-a-cherry-lollipop effect (no added sexual innuendo to those dirty-minded people – wink-wink).
It’ll do, I nod to myself. It wasn’t like I’m going on a red carpet event or anything.
RRRING…RRRRING, I almost jump at the alarm on my timer.
Scheisse!
I open my jewelry box and take out my leather wristwatch, some black beaded bracelets, a thin braided leather wrap-around bracelet and my favorite go-to Alex & Ani charm bracelet.
I tie a small black satin-and-lace ribbon choker with an intricate rosette charm dangling in the middle on my neck.
I lift a random bottle of perfume and sprit a bit on my wrists, elbows and neck.
I cough as the mist caught at my throat.
I raise my hands to my long damp hair, catching whiffs of my perfume’s sweet and spicy floral scent. I try to finger comb it. When that didn’t work, I pick up a brush and try to make the stubborn strands conform to every stroke. Ugh, even my hair is a rebel. I don’t know if I should be proud or not.
Verdammtnoch mal!
I glance at the wall clock.
Forget the hairdryer! I might as well let it dry naturally.
Like a bird’s nest.
After a hurricane blew over it.
In the Amazon forest.
I slip on my favorite brown-plum Timberland boots that I have left by the foot of my bed last night.
I rush to the door, snatching my customized leather-and-canvas satchel bag and faded ripped denim jacket on the way.
Once I was outside the safety of my room – with room as an understatement considering it’s the pool house–I dash around the pool and to the front yard. Hey, I think I can make it after all!
I was safely by the front gate when I hear a stern coughing sound behind me.
“Ahem.”
Or maybe not.
I whip my head around. “Daisy,” I force a smile.
Standing in front of me, barely reaching my shoulder was my family’s most trusted housekeeper Daisy. I wasn’t exactly sure when my family exactly employed her. All I knew was that she was long working here before I got sent into this hellhole.
She was slender in stature, her short wavy hair peppered with grey streaks. Suspicion hovers over her kind warm face and brown doe eyes. Her posture was stick-straight as always, her black cotton blouse was crisp always with not a wrinkle in sight. Same goes to her white cotton slacks. Her sensible black leather flats were spic and polished, a thin silver bracelet was the only adornment on one of her dainty wrists. Even when her thin lips purse, they can never hide the laugh lines wrought on either side showing she had lived the past 50 years of her life in laughter.
“The mistresses will be coming down for breakfast soon. Would you like me to set your plate up in advance?” she inquires, always so formal.
I frown at the mention of my aunts. Not really a fan of their sermons or their nagging and self-righteous lectures of what a Darrell much less a proper young lady must act, blah-blah-blah. I inwardly roll my eyes. I didn’t waste the last thirty minutes rushing up and about for nothing!
“Gee,” I pretend to look at my watch, tapping the small glassy surface. “Look at the time. Maybe next time, Daisy. Bye.” I make a slight wave as I turn my back to her. I make a move for the gate. I turn the knob and opened it ever so slightly.
“I knew you were gonna say that. That’s why I prepared this,” says Daisy.
I turn around just in time to catch a glimpse of the mischievous glint in her eyes before they disappear. She holds out a black paper bag to me. I take it from her, glancing through its small opening to find a few finger sandwiches inside it.
I look at her questioningly. She must’ve understood my question before I said the words when she explains further.
“Your breakfast. Don’t worry, it’s Nutella and banana slices as well as ham and grilled cheese. I know you have a certain dislike for cucumbers. Also, I included some apple for your fruit and a bag of skittles.” She adds a conspiratorial wink.
I give her a cheeky smile in return. Leave it to Daisy to know my food preferences – and by that I mean junk food, chocolate, anything sweet, spicy and high with calories – over my family’s tasteless vegan ones. Of course, she was one of the very few people who ever cared what I eat or not to criticize what and how much I eat.
What can I say? I love this woman!
I walk towards her and peck her cheek. “You’re the best. Thank you.”
She chuckles at my display of affection.
As far as everybody in this household was concerned, I wasn’t the type to show my affections to just any member of my cold pretentious family. And yes, I consider Daisy as family.
“Hm,” Daisy clears her throat, reverting back to her housekeeper-mode. She brushes some nonexistent dust off my shoulders in a maternal gesture. “Well, best get you going. I already had Peter ready the car for you. He’ll drive you to school in time.”
I chuckle and walk straight out of the door.
‘Where are you?’
The preview read as I as I scroll down my messages. I tap the box ‘Tea’ and see three more messages containing the same three words.
I quirk my lips. Leave it to Tia to be the sensible and upstanding student with the perfect attendance on her school record. It was still an unsolved puzzle of how two unlikely personalities like us could fit.
The model student and the rebellious most-likely-to-dropout-soon student.
The angelic saint and Rosemary’s demon spawn.
That’s us.
Of course, that didn’t stop the teachers to hope she would eventually rub off on me. To set an example over my deviant ways. They gave up a year later when I still stayed the same.
‘Coffee Day. Went to grab some coffee.’ I watch as my username, ‘Rebel’ pop up with my reply.
I sip the hot liquid down my throat.
Okay, you might be wondering what was the use of me rushing around in my room trying not to be late and yet end up here. And yes, to those lucky few who guessed it right, I wasn’t worried about school. I mean come on, a rebel worrying about being late for school? Isn’t that a bit incongruous? I, for one, am not a person to tarnish a sacred title.
Anyways, today was a local coffee day. In this special holy day, every café in the village offers a steaming cup of coffee for half the price and free refills.
I mean, come on, only a fool would pass that up!
Of course, having that steal of a deal means certain sacrifices. For me, it was waking up earlier than usual before the whole place is packed in.
Peter, the family driver, a stocky man in his late forties had just reached the village proper and on the route to my school when I had him stop over to the first café I have seen. I grab one last sandwich, leaving the rest for him as I hopped out of the passenger seat and went directly inside the café. I made an order, found myself staring at an exquisite piece of heaven and the rest was history.
Aaah, I sigh. Nothing beats a nice freshly-brewed cup of coffee. No. Make that, a nice free refill of a freshly-brewed cup of coffee.
I take another sip and moan.
Tea: Really?!Coffee?! Class is about to start in ten minutes!!!
I sigh and set my mug down the wooden table.
Rebel (Me): Relax. I’ll get there eventually. Ish. P.S. What’s your poison?
Tea: Tell that to Crankston. Forget coffee. Quiz – remember?!!
Honestly, I can barely remember.
I try to recall the class from yesterday. It was something about Roman history, then some ridiculous bullshit from the teacher and additional blah-blahs and shit from the rest of the class. Really, it was a hazy memory, too mundane to even earn a lasting part in my mind. I didn’t tell Tia that though. She might give me a mouthful of sermons for not paying attention in class – again.
I return my attention back to the cup of heavenly ambrosia on my table and take another sip. I tip my head back, savoring the heady flavor.
I open my eyes to see the barista who served me earlier standing sideways from me. He shoots me an amused smile.
“Anything else I can get you?” he says.
He was kinda cute with a boy-next-door charm about him. His twinkling blue eyes and crooked teeth show a goofy look about him. And he wasn’t bad from the body area too. He was lanky but there was a hint of some muscles. His hands and the inside of his wrists were slightly veined, probably from all the work with the coffee machines.
I don’t know about you, but that was a bit of a turn-on.
Insert, bitch-Woof!
I was still staring at him when he asks again.
“Miss Darrell? It’s Darrell, right? My buddy over there,” he nods at the other barista working from the counter, “told me he saw you once at the Founder’s Ball.”
And like that, I felt a splash of cold water hit me. Wait, make that caffeine shooting through me.
Great, one of them, I mentally groan. Not that anything’s new.
I check him out. Probably a new resident or a clueless snoop. Not that either one would make a difference.
As far as I know, I’m the invisible and mostly overlooked member of my family. That, coupled with a different last name and my appearance, no one would ever guess I was a part of my ever-elegant and sophisticated blood relatives.
“Anyways,” he says, pulling me back to reality. He tousles his sandy brown hair, his expression sheepish, “I was just wondering that is if you’re free or anything, you would want to go out sometime -maybe catch a movie– with me?” he adds, hopefully.
Uh-huh, that’s cute.
I give him a bored look, my eyes sizing him in what one might call the elevator-stare before settling them on his face again. I raise an eyebrow as if saying, You gotta be kidding me.
He shuffles at his feet, obviously getting the hint that I have no plan to answer his question even more go out with him.
Rebel (Me): ‘On my way.’
I didn’t bother to look down my phone as I send the text and down the last of my coffee – my mood spoiled. I still stare at him, challenging him to say something.
He mumbles a quick excuse before going back to the counter.
Yeah, you better go.
The stare-down victory was short-lived when another message pops up.
Tea: What a relief.
I can still make out the sarcasm in the text as Tia rolls her eyes. I curl my lips at the picture.
I pick up my bag and walk straight out the door. I put on my BT headphones and connect it to my phone’s Bluetooth when-OOMPH
I bump into a wall of bricks – wait make that a hunky wall of a human being judging from the cottony surface of his shirt– on my way out. I hardly looked at his face but that didn’t stop me from staring appreciatively on his well-built chest.
VRRR…VRR, I feel my phone vibrate.
“Scheisse,” I breathed and proceed to unlocking my phone, seeing another message from Tia.
“My bad,” I call out behind me while I make a short trek to school.
YAY!
Kill me now.
Copyright © 2019 by Andrea Cassandra Lei MeñosaAll Rights Reserved
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