Shirley Temple

Chapter 1: Shirley Temple

It was because of books that I became a big romanticizer. I dreamed of life being so spectacular until it made me giddy inside and made me feel like the same stories I read. Books were my comfort and life was nothing without them. But, he was something else. Something extraordinary that books never made me feel. While they made me long for adventure, he was the adventure. 

My hands stroke the bookshelves of my aunt and uncles library, going over each and every book, helping my eyes take in each title. It was filled with all different categories, history, fiction, autobiographies. My finger stopped on a book. Dearest Creature By Amy Gerstler, a collection of poetry. I took it out of its place, wiping my lightly dusted fingers on my black dress. I flipped it open, skimming the pages before feeling intrigued and putting it in my bag. I checked the time on my watch and walked into the room where my dad was staying in. I knocked on the side of the wall before entering where my dad was standing at a small mirror tying his dark blue tie. He turned to me, patted down his suit and smiled.

"You ready?" He asks. I nod while grabbing my lipgloss out of my bag and applying it.

Watermelon Flavored, my favorite.

I took another look in my mirror, checking myself and fixed the little cloud necklace that sat a little below my neckline.

"Time to face the vultures." My dad says again and I snort. I grab his hand and we walk out of the room to the main entry.

My dad always struggled with his family. He worked a lot and was very distant, so they built a relationship without him. We were lucky we even got an invite to my cousin's sweet sixteen but we didn't expect conversations to last long.

"Well don't you two look fancy." My Aunt Jess said. I've always liked Jess. She welcomes my family with open arms and tries to knock some sense into my dad's idiot brother that just tries to ignore us. She was wearing a bright baby blue dress to match with the rest of her family.

I checked that my dad was ready and we got in the car where I was squished between my dad and my uncle who always smelled like Old Spice. I crinkle my nose as the smell of musky pumpkin filled the car.

The car got there at 7pm and soon enough the venue began to fill up with British teenagers. We sat down at the table with our names on it and talked to our relatives who we hadn't seen in awhile. They would always ask how school was and I would get a few questions if I were thinking about college.

I hadn't even thought about college. It never occurred to me that one day I would have to do something in life.

I would usually just nod and say I wanted to go into writing but frankly I didn't see that as a career option for me. Hearing the same questions over again made my stomach turn with anxiety and my head hurt from over-thinking. I quickly got up after the questions seemed to die down and walked over to the bar to get a drink, sitting down on a bright purple chair.

"Shirley temple please." I ask the bartender. He quickly pours my drink and I grab it and take it out in the venue lobby. I leaned against the wall, still able to hear the music and feel the beat against my back. I set the drink on a table nearby before taking out the bag I still had sitting in my bag. I read the first line:

"For My Niece Sidney,  Age Six,

Did you know that boiling to death was once a common punishment in England and parts of Europe? It's true..."

It was an interesting way to start a poetry book but I continued to read, taking in the poet's words.

"Some of us grow up doing credible impressions of model citizens (though sooner or later hairline cracks appear in our facades). The rest get dubbed eccentrics, unnerved and undone by people's company, for which nevertheless pine."