Wanted Always (Xander Barns) by Sarah Tork Read Free Book Online Page A

responses that equally sting
her. I dream of a day
when I leave her in such a state that she’s unable to mumble a coherent
sentence; maybe then she’ll finally turn off the bitch switch and become a
mother.
    For once in her life.
    Back to the dress. It isn’t just a
dress, and the shoes, they aren’t just shoes. I love them, love them
enough to go sit in the corner and stare, just stare. Glancing around the
party, sitting in the corner and ogling my shoes seems like more fun,
especially as this next person charges over to us.
     “Marisa, I thought that was you!”
Gwen, Mom’s best, best, best friend exclaims happily, as she glides towards us
in her flowy, peach–colored, spaghetti-strapped cocktail dress.
    “In the flesh,” I say to her as she joins
Mom’s hip. Mom smiles at her best friend and then turns back to me as a
different look transforms her happy, genuine expression.
    Forced tolerance?
    I don’t know. I never know if it’s real or
forced. I think it’s easier if I just assume she’s being fake for the greater
good of our surroundings. That is, until we’re behind closed doors, and then
that’s when she’ll let it rip.
    Well, I definitely won’t give her the
chance to express in her loving tone, how much of an embarrassment I am to her
and the family. There won’t even be a room for us to go to, because I’m not
leaving this party room for anything other than to use the facilities.
    There won’t be, ‘A word Marisa’ or ‘I need
to speak with you in private!”. I’ll be like, ‘You’ve got my email, send me a
letter!” I laugh inwardly at the thought.
    I hope that isn’t obvious.
    “So Marisa…we haven’t seen you for a long
time. What have you been up to? Where have you been?” Gwen asks.
    I should have come up with a script about
what I am going to tell people; I’m certainly not going to tell people that I
work at an ice cream parlor for horrible pay. I haven’t changed except for a
few small details regarding my personality, in which I regard as monumental.
Anything that involves growing and changing as a person for the better is a
success in my book. But for these women standing before me with newly threaded
and penciled-in eyebrows, casting an obviously discerning eye every two
seconds, my accomplishments aren’t really accomplishments in their opinion. I
bet that they’ll think whatever it is that I’ve been doing since leaving is
pointless. I haven’t moved to a better place. My financial situation hasn’t
moved for the better; my career certainly hasn’t moved for the better, and I
don’t even have a man to at least say I have a man.
    Fail!
    So I’m not going to tell them what I’ve
been up to really. A lie should ward off their interests for now; or I’ll just
bend the truth, enough to satisfy their urges to depress and humiliate me.
    Control your claws ladies, this girl does
not want to fight. Not that she can’t if she has no choice, but really, who’d
want to fight in such a pretty dress? And let us not forget the shoes, these
shoes are too good not to feel special in, not even for a second.
    “Oh, I’ve been around the neighborhood,
here and there. You know, nothing really that special going on,” I reply
nonchalantly, like it’s all nothing to boast about.
    Mom looks back and forth between Gwen and
myself, confused as to what is going on. For one, why we are even having this
conversation? Why the hell is Gwen bothering to talk to me? I mean, I did break
up with her shining-star prince of a son…whatever. I should have been hated on,
yelled at, told how it was, that I was so lucky, and that I didn’t deserve the
five years I ruthlessly stole from her precious pookie bear .
    If that ever comes up, I’ll just tell her
why her special little man stayed with me for so long. The extra little bit
that he could never deny. I’ve got great lips.
    Not even going to elaborate on that one.
Think about it and let it simmer. Do you get it now?
     But would