Fated to be Yours (3 page)

Looking around at the space I call my home, I decide that a good cleaning is in order before I leave for the week. Not that it’ll take long. I’m not a messy person and I don’t usually have people come over so nothing is ever out of place. But I love the reward of my house smelling of citrus afterward so I clean as often as I can.

A few hours pass by me with ease as I dance and sing along with the songs from my playlist. The Swiffer duster is acting as my microphone while I belt out each note from every song. I’m a bit of a nerd when I’m lost in my music, but it’s a lifeline that I can’t live without. Getting lost in the lyrics, imagining my life being told by my favorite songs and pretending that they’re singing about me or to me is my reality escape.

Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer is blasting through the speakers when all of a sudden the music dies and my phone rings. I walk over to the dock to grab my phone and look at the display, loudly groaning when I see that it’s my stepmother calling. The phone rings once more before I reluctantly answer the call I already know I don’t want to take.

“Hi, Sharon.”

“Tessa, how are you? It’s been a while since we’ve talked last. I figured I’d check to see how you were doing.”

I close my eyes and let out a hushed sigh. She and my dad have been married for a little over eight years, a few months prior to my high school graduation. My dad never really kept in contact with me after the divorce. There was the occasional phone call but after about a year it stopped altogether. It wasn’t until after he married Sharon that I really spent any sort of time with him. And even then, our time together was quiet and strained. I tried to get along with his new wife, but Sharon had other ideas. Our contact has been as minimal as possible since Sharon has made it very clear from the beginning she thought I was a nuisance. She was his new life and there really wasn’t much room left for me so I kept my distance and only came around when I was asked.

“I’ve been really busy lately with work so I haven’t had the time to talk to anyone. How’s my dad doing?” I say quietly into the phone.

“He’s the only reason why I’m calling in the first place. He’s working on another large case again as usual. He asked me to call you and see how you were doing. You know how his schedule is. He’s always in court about something or traveling somewhere because of it.”

I sigh and can’t help but wonder why he doesn’t just call me himself? Why does he always have her do it? “I know. Well, you can let him know that I’m alive and well. I’ll be out of town with my boss next week on a business trip so you can let him know that too.” I purposely omit telling Sharon about London. Knowing her as well as I do, I’m not in the right frame of mind to listen to her gloat about her many trips around the world that she takes with my dad. She always loves to rub it in how they go anywhere and everywhere as they please and that I don’t have the means to do so. It doesn’t help that she looks down on my job, calling it menial work. Something no self-respecting individual would make for their career, according to her.

“They’re taking you on a business trip? You’re just an assistant. What could you possibly do?” she scoffs.

I hang my head and run my fingernails across the edge of the kitchen counter. “I help take notes and prepare everything for the meetings. I am very helpful during these business trips. Kara brings me all the time when she goes.” My voice is small and I can’t help feeling like an insolent child.

“Personally I think it’s a waste of company money but I suppose it’s their call.” I can hear her flipping her magazine in the background, telling me that she’s already bored with this conversation. “I will report back to your father that you are well. Goodbye, Tessa.” Sharon ends the call before I get the chance to say goodbye back to her. I gently put my phone on the counter and hang my head in my hands. Whatever happiness and excitement I had before Sharon called has vanished into thin air. It’s a specialty of hers. She’s always looking for new ways to bring me down and remind me of where I stand in life. With my mood now dampened I decide to resume cleaning, only this time without the luxury of losing myself in the music.

Another hour passes by and my living room slowly illuminates from the street lights outside my window. Only then do I realize it’s now nighttime and I haven’t eaten anything all day, again. My stomach rumbles at my neglect as I walk over to the bread box to make a toasted English muffin with peanut butter.

As I walk in circles around my tiny kitchen area waiting for the muffin to toast, a song jumps out at me and I absentmindedly hum along to it. Once again, music comes to my rescue, slowly relieving the tension that was brought on by my impromptu phone conversation. Don’t ask me why Jumper by Third Eye Blind pops into my head at that moment but it definitely reflects my mood perfectly right now. I can understand the feeling of being out on a ledge, seeing there is no escape and wondering if anyone genuinely cares. I know all too well about having the past haunt you, torment you every single day, reminding you of who you are and where you came from. What I wouldn’t give to escape that past and build a better future.

For now I’ll settle for my other way to escape reality. I grab my meager dinner and trot over to the couch, flopping unceremoniously onto the cushions and tucking my feet underneath my body. I page through my Kindle to find my newest book acquisition and lose myself in the story of two star-crossed lovers, destined for each other, overcoming all obstacles while finding their elusive happily ever after.

Sunday greets me with bright sunlight peeking through the curtains in my bedroom window. The hard, unforgiving floor is cool underneath my heated skin as the images of my recurring dream play out in my mind. Why can’t I stop dreaming about this guy? I don’t even know who he is, but he is a constant presence in my subconscious. I pick myself up off the floor and jab at the alarm, silencing the annoyingly loud buzzing that is aiding my headache. I quickly shower and ready myself in record time because for once I’m actually excited to do something.

With my lazy day yesterday I was able to pack all my luggage and necessary items for the week, except what I was going to need for this morning. I decided that my laptop bag would double as my carry-on, only because I ran out of room in my suitcase and didn’t want to check another bag. I gently place my laptop in a zippered pocket, along with my Kindle to keep me entertained during the long flight. We have a layover in New York for a couple of hours before we head to London so I’m definitely going to need something to do there. The files that I had to run and get from the office yesterday, which I had forgotten in my haste to leave on Friday, are secured in another zippered pocket, along with the flash drive containing the digital versions. Last, but not least, a bag of chocolate covered peanuts is tucked away into a side pocket, my guilty pleasure.

I sit patiently on the couch, glancing down at my watch every few minutes in the hopes time has sped up.

10:45 am.

I let out a sigh and bounce my leg up and down, staring out the window of my living room. The noise of the city buzzing by my window distracts me momentarily. My neighbors are yelling again and I can hear a dog barking down the street, probably at another squirrel running by as it gathers food for the winter. The leaves are starting to turn and my street is lined with vibrant colors of green, yellow and red. As much as I detest the drab and dreary winter months, I enjoy the prelude of fall, nature’s one last hurrah before plunging us into freezing temperatures and a never-ending blanket of white.

Loneliness starts sinking in as I watch a couple cross in front of my first-floor window. They look so happy and in love. The guy pulls her close as a gust of wind kicks up, blowing the hat off her head. He laughs as he chases it down the street. She stands there, holding her stomach while grinning from ear to ear as he gently places it back on her head. She gets up on her tip toes and leaves a kiss upon his lips, causing him to smile when she pulls back. They lace their fingers together once more and continue their journey down the sidewalk.

“I want that,” I murmur to no one but myself.

As the couple disappears from my sight, I shake my head to pull myself out of my newly depressed thoughts.
What time is it?
It feels like it’s so late in the morning. Kara should be here by now. I mean, I must have wasted at least ten minutes just staring and daydreaming out my window.

10:48 am.

Ugh! I’m going to drive myself nuts if I keep this up. So I get up and do a final once-over on the apartment, making sure everything is unplugged and the heat is turned down. I’ve already arranged for my mail to be held at the post office while I’m gone. Not that I get much anyway, but I don’t want it to look like I’m gone either.

My lamps are on a timer, which is programmed to turn on at six o’clock at night and then stay on until ten o’clock. It gives the appearance of someone being home; a trick my grandma taught me when I was little. It used to amaze me when her living room lights would magically turn on. She would tease me and say it was her special Grandma magic and it only happened when she had her good little girl visiting her. I would crawl up into her lap and she would tell me all kinds of stories about her childhood and my mom growing up.

After my dad had left, my mom changed and started to pull away from me. We would drive down to visit my grandma, but as soon as we get there she would spend the entire time locked in her old bedroom. The only times I would see her was when she came out to get something to eat. Otherwise, it was like she was a ghost. You could feel her presence but never really see her. My grandma would keep me busy and ease my mind by letting me ride the metro with her to take me shopping or she would show me how to bake a cake from scratch. She even allowed me to stay up and watch The Benny Hill Show reruns that would come on around eleven at night. She would try to explain to me that my mom was just sad and how I needed to be a big girl and help her out.

After a while, our visits to my grandma became few and far in between. She would talk to me on the phone at least once a week until it got shut off because my mom didn’t pay the bill. The last time I spoke to her she sounded so sad. She couldn’t come up to visit me because she didn’t have a car. I remember the desperation in her voice, wanting to do more for us. If I had known it was the last time I was going to talk to her, I would have said so much more than just making idle chatter. I would have begged her to let me stay down there. I would have promised the moon and the sky, been the best girl in the whole world if she would just take me away from the loneliness and isolation of my house. But instead we talked about what we always talked about: how school was going, what new adventures I’ve managed to find around my house, or if I’m helping my mom out. The ordinary and usual things we’d discuss.

And then a couple months later a policeman came to the door to let us know she had died in her sleep. I remember clinging to his uniform and crying into his shoulder. My mom came to greet him, looking completely disheveled and didn’t show any emotion when he told her the news. She just nodded her head and retreated back into her room. The policeman asked if I was going to be okay and I couldn’t do anything but nod my head. Once he closed the door and left, I sat with my back pressed against the closed door and cried. I was ten and my whole world was shattered again.

There’s a knock on my door, breaking the silence and halting my dark thoughts. Placing my hand over my heart as it beats a mile a minute, I walk over to the door and open it. Kara bounces into my entryway, grinning from ear to ear.

“You ready there, Tess? Let’s get this party started!”

I fumble with my purse and laptop bag, slinging them one by one over my shoulder while juggling my suitcase and keys as we step into the hall. A quick flick of the key in the lock and we are on our way.

“I’m really looking forward to this. Thanks again for bringing me with. I’m sure you don’t really need me, but I appreciate you doing it anyway,” I say as I tuck my hair behind my ear.

“Of course I need you. And I wouldn’t dream of going over there by myself. I need backup and you’re it, Chickie.” She throws her arm around my shoulders and we walk out the front door of my building. My steps falter when I see the waiting limo parked in front of us.

“A limo? Really?” I stand with my mouth gaping open. Kara smiles and nods her head while shoving me to the massive car. “I’ve never been in a limo before.”

“Well, now you have. No sense in paying for parking for the week at the airport. Besides, this is way cheaper and the company’s paying for it. Now come on!” Kara grabs my hand and pulls me as the driver opens the door for us. He takes my bags and places them in the trunk and then shuts our door once we’re inside.

Soon enough, we’ve pulled onto Hiawatha Avenue and are heading towards the Minneapolis-St Paul International Airport. It’s not far from my apartment, which I’m grateful for, and traffic is pretty light for this late Sunday morning.

The loud jet engines alert us to our presence at the airport. Kara hasn’t stopped talking since the door closed and I’m grateful for the distraction she brings. I’m nervous about this trip, but I don’t want her to know. Having never flown on a plane across the ocean before, I really don’t know what to expect. I did, however, bring a bunch of mint-flavored chewing gum. I read an article once that said if you chewed gum at takeoff and landing it’s supposed to help with ear pressure. I just can’t believe I’ve never heard of it until now. It could have saved me a few times when I’ve flown with Kara previously for meetings around the country. Plus I figured at the least the mint would help calm my stomach.