Wanted Always (Xander Barns) (8 page)

“Sorry.” I move to the next tray and peer
in, preparing myself for another disappointment. But I blow out a sigh of
relief when I see a selection of roasted potatoes. I hold out my plate happily
for that. The next tray has some sort of lemon infused fish. I hold out my
plate and ask for a little bit. Even though I don’t like fish, it’s still
better than going hungry. The last tray, I’m praying, praying hard, that it’s
something good. I stop in front of it and peer in reluctantly.

It’s pasta!

Thank God!

But what kind of pasta? It doesn’t look
like your typical pasta.

“What is that?” I ask the older man, who
also looks like he’s on the cusp of retirement.

Trust Mom to pick a place that employs
senior citizens, making them work for practically nothing while being made to
work like slaves. Mom doesn’t give a shit; she doesn’t care as long as she gets
what she wants. Who cares who suffers?

“Eggplant—” he begins to say.

“What?!” I moan, horrified.

“Lasagna,” he finishes saying.

Eggplant lasagna?!

How could she?

I’m crying inside; it hurts so bad. All
I’ve got on my plate is a tiny bit of salad, nasty onion covered chicken,
potatoes, and a small piece of lemon fish, which I hate. That’s right, I’m
admitting it right now: I fucking hate fish and am eating it only under duress.

Fucking eggplant lasagna.

This is a tragedy. I physically hold
myself together; my neck urges itself to twist around and scour the room yet
again for Mom’s traitorous face and give her the death glare of all death
glares.

For fucking eggplant! For fucking onions,
and for fucking squid. And let us not forget that nasty-ass fish, which she’s
practically forcing down my throat with her expensively manicured, clawed
fingers!

Bitch!

She obviously took my hate-list of food
and made an entire buffet out of it!

“No, thank you.” I jerk my plate back and
turn away from the buffet table and come face-to-face with Ben’s table, where
Ben is happily munching on his overloaded plate while talking with the people
seated next to him.

That bastard loves and eats all kinds of
foods. He isn’t picky with food like I am. He isn’t picky with lips either; you
know, just pointing it out.

He picks this beautiful moment, while I
look like I’m on the verge of cracking, to look up and make eye contact.

This is not happening.

He breaks eye contact and looks down at my
plate; a sneer breaks across his face and he begins to snicker. Taylor, one of
our parents’ friend’s kids who is our age, looks up at the sound of Ben’s
laugh, follows his line of sight to me, glances at my plate, and he too bursts
out laughing.

“All your favorites, right, Marisa?”
Taylor laughs out loud with food in his mouth. “Come join us.”

I narrow my eyes at them, and my jaw
clenches at the sound of their laughter. “No, thank you. I’m going to sit with
my sister.”

“You’re going to sit at the kids’ table?”
Taylor asks in astonishment, looking between Ben and me. Ben stops snickering
and leans back in his chair, looking at me, waiting for my next answer.

“That’s right, the kids’ table. Where I
belong!” I tell them and walk past them with my plate of food. I see Ben from
the corner of my eye shake his head, and then the sound of Taylor’s laughter
takes over as I make my way back to the kids’ table.

“Dude—” I hear Taylor say, but the rest
gets drowned out by the music, so I don’t hear what else he’s going to say to a
clearly exasperated Ben.

I wish I’d walked away a little slower. I
want to hear what they are talking about.

Probably about me, and how I’m so stubborn
and childish at the same time.

Hopefully about how hot I look tonight
too, and how much he screwed up when he kissed that slut.

Probably not that, but a girl can wish
can’t she? I arrive back to the table, all the kids are already there, happily
eating with no problem.

How come, out of everyone, I’m the one who
had a freaking picky eating problem? Why am I always the one who has to be
different? And not in the good way, more like always-the-cause-of-trouble kind
of way.

I place my plate down, and smooth my dress
as I sit carefully. I dig into the salad first, as it looks to be the most
appetizing.

“How is everyone doing here?” Mom’s
high–pitched, fake happy voice towers over us while I eat the first forkful of
salad. I look up and her eyes are wide and excited.

Everyone mutters a ‘good’, hoping that
would be the end of it; but it isn’t, because her eyes settle on me.

I didn’t join the ‘good’ mutters with
everyone else. Clearly, she’s waiting on my horribly disrespectful manners.

It is time to be fake, not because I’m a
hypocrite who says she’s never fake, but because I want to have some fun. And
what better way to have fun than to play with Mom’s emotions while everyone
around will be watching?

I put the fork down.

“The food, oh my God, it is absolutely
amazing. I don’t know how you did it all, simply wonderful. So good!” I
practically yell in faux joy, also using a thumbs-up to illustrate how yummy
the food is.

Mom’s eyes narrow for a moment before
returning to the fake enthusiasm she must have mustered up before coming to my
table.

What is she up to?

“That’s lovely, I’m glad you’re enjoying
it!” She yells back, looks away, and moves along to the next table. I glance
around the room and it seems like everyone is staring. I look across the dance
floor to the other side, at Ben’s table. He isn’t looking, but his body seems
to be shaking with laughter. He looks up and instantly makes eye contact with
me; his stature and attitude seem to tell me he rather enjoyed the brief
spectacle Mom and I made.

Like always.

I look away scowling. I glance at my
table; everyone is staring at me too. “What are you guys staring at?” I pick my
fork back up and become very fascinated with my salad.

“Marisa, you guys are so funny, you and
Mom. I’ve missed it,” Darcy says, giggling. Jennifer, Ben’s sister, joins in,
as do Cameron and Johnny.

Just great.

“Whatever,” I mumble, and take a mouthful
of salad.

****

Over the next fifteen minutes, I manage to
clear my plate, sans the onions, which I carefully place on one of the smaller
plates that each table is scattered with.

I am so hungry; I can’t believe I actually
ate the fish. The kitchen attendants come back out and clear the empty plates
on each table. I check my phone for any messages when the DJ begins to play a
familiar dance track. Darcy squeals overjoyed and turns to me, her eyes wide
with excitement.

The lights in the room dim as the colorful
party lights hanging over the dance floor turn on, flashing over the entire
room.

Uh-oh, I know that look! I begin to shake
my head, when Darcy gets up all of a sudden and grabs my shoulders.

“Marisa, this is our song!” She
practically shouts. Jennifer gets up beside her and jumps up and down, nodding
her head. I glance around the room and see everyone getting up to go to the
dance floor.

I pat my stomach in a soothing sort of
way. “I just ate so much; I don’t feel good. Maybe I should sit this one out,
Darcy.”

“But this is our song, Marisa!” Darcy
shouts in disbelief, her eyes on the verge of disappointment if I say no again.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” I get up,
smoothing my dress in the process, and allow her to push me to the now-crowded
dance floor. I slowly sway to the heavy beat of the song, as Jennifer and Darcy
dance wildly to the track. Behind them, I see Mom and Gwen busting a move with
their friends.

After dancing to a few more dance tracks,
my feet are killing me. I want to sit down, and I will once this track
finishes.

I am a minute away from foot comfort. I
glance up at the sound of high-pitched squeals and see Mom and her friends come
over and start shaking their hips around us. I look away embarrassed, hoping
the track will finish, like now. I glance around the group for Mom’s
partner-in–crime, surprised she isn’t there with the crew busting a move like
they were back in the good old days. Mom comes over next to Darcy, and dances
with her, leaving me to awkwardly dance by myself.

That’s when it happens. I look up to see
Gwen pushing through the crowd, dragging someone in with her.

Ben.

She pulls him toward Mom and Darcy, and
grabs his hands, forcing him to move to the music a few feet away from me.

What are they doing? Something about this
seems fishy. All of a sudden, I feel a hand on my back push me forward. I look
down and see it’s Mom pushing me.

Subtle!

Towards Ben! Of all people.

Why wouldn’t they quit this? Ben and I…it
isn’t going to happen.

Not ever.

I jerk back a few inches like I’m dancing
to the music. I glance at Ben who is staring at me with his jaw clenched; he
seems uncomfortable.

I hear the song dim to an end and breathe
a sigh of relief.

Finally, this, whatever it is, is
finished. I stop dancing and turn around to march straight back to my seat,
when a pair of hands grabs my arm and forcefully pull me back. I turn to see
Ben grabbing my other hand, as the DJ begins to play a slow song.

“What are you doing—” I begin to say, as
Ben’s arms circle around my waist.

“Let’s just dance,” Ben murmurs a few
inches away from face.

I hold my breath.

“Why would you want to dance with me?” I
ask him slowly, my arms circling his neck instinctively.

“Because our Moms won’t leave us alone
until we do,” Ben says, jerking his chin to our parents who are dancing
together within the overcrowded dance floor.

I don’t know if I can do this.

This feels wrong. Yet it feels so right.

Chapter
Six

*Demetria*

9pm

I haven’t spent a great deal of time
getting ready. But when I decide to immediately surprise my love, there is
simply no time to spend on small, pointless things when I could be in the arms
of Xander. I am eager to surprise him at the hotel we frequented during our
time together all those months ago. There is no greater motivation than my man
and his hands.

I’ve been miserable since the last visit.

Mother called Charles, our driver and
bodyguard, to pull the car around. I don’t speak to Charles, Mother’s rules.
That’s why she is coming with me, to give Charles instructions and to make sure
I’m okay.

Ah, a mother’s love knows no bounds.

It’s late in the evening on a Saturday, so
the streets of downtown Ottawa are quite busy. I usually stay at home and
sleep, but thanks to Xander, I’m a changed woman. I dream of nights now, where
I could stay up all night making love to the man I wanted to spend the rest of
my life with.

How glorious it is; a dream is about to
come true.

It doesn’t take long to get from our house
to the hotel. I can hardly contain myself, I’m so excited.

I lean towards Mother and order her in a
hushed, stern tone. “Tell Charles to pull to the curb, right now!”

Mother blinks once and nods.

Good!

I roll my eyes and return gazing at passersby
out my window.

Ugh, how pathetic; their lives must be so
boring. Unlike mine, which is filled exponentially with joy and excitement in
every single turn.

Damn, my life is good.

I smile knowingly as Charles pulls the car
to the curb. I immediately grab the door handle to get out when Mother’s hand
grabs hold of my fab, oversized, mink fur coat.

How dare she!

“Darling – darling, please wait. Are you
going to tell Mommy where you’re going?” Mother dares to ask.

My eyes roll exasperatedly.

What a bitch!

“I’m going out for the night. Do not call
me or disturb me until you get a phone call from me,” I tell the door in an
annoyed voice.

“Darling, please, that’s not enough
information. I can’t just let you go out to God knows where. Mommy will surely
have a heart attack if anything happens to her little Demetria,” Mother pleads.

Christ! Will she not leave me alone?
Xander’s warm embrace awaits me. She’s keeping me away from my Xander.

My eyes widen at the thought of Xander
waiting for me, naked and with his arms open wide to hug me. At that thought, I
quickly yank my arm out of her grasp.

“I’m going out right now. Do you
understand?! I will call you when I’m good and ready!” I tell her once more,
here’s hoping she’ll get it and get lost!

Mother nods and I get out of the car. I
don’t want her to know that I plan on going into the hotel, so I cross the
street and walk into a coffee shop.

Tim Horton’s, I’ve never been in one of
these. I turn around once I’m inside, check through the window, and watch
Charles drive the car away.

I breathe a sigh of relief.

I turn around and stare at the half-full
store.

Ugh, commoners.

I glance at the counter and there’s no one
in line. I’m thirsty and can use a drink while I wait for Xander. Knowing he’s
probably at some charity fundraiser like from before; he’ll call me around
10:30 to come and meet him at the hotel across the street. I will wait inside
this place, right up on that stool in front of the window, which showcases the
entire front entrance of the hotel and the valet.

I walk to the counter.

“I’d like to order!’ I shout, and the
worker comes from the back.

How rude, leaving me here to wait. God,
where is customer service these days!

“How can I help you?” the server asks me
as if nothing is wrong.

My eyes roll.

“I want a small hot chocolate,” I order.
“I want a small amount of whipped cream on top, do you understand?”

The server stares at me.

“Yes,” he says.

“And sprinkles. I want some sprinkles on
top too, do you understand that?” I continue.

“We don’t have sprinkles for drinks,” the
server replies.

How dare he speak to me in that tone! I
wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this. I am only here because Xander is
going to come—
sigh
— home soon.

“Whatever!” I tell him sternly and look
away. I hear a rumbling sound and in a flash, my drink is slid across to me. I
pay the miserable worker and grab my drink, taking it to the front where I’ll
patiently wait for my love to return.

Oh Xander, can’t you see how much I love
you?
I think, as I slide
onto the stool and peer into the drink.

Ugh…commoner drinks.