30 Days of Love

Dinner Night

Joanna's POV 

Our first date didn't go as expected. What was supposed to be us getting to know each other, became a new embarrassing memory all because we were so timid about meeting that we rode rides in silence, with us having to take ten-minute breaks after every ride, to let Liam's stomach settle.

He's an unopened book that lies on the shelf, unanswered and unread, with me knowing almost nothing about him.

The only things about Liam that I know are: he's seventeen and that I should respect him because he has "good money". Those are the few details I know, told by mama and papa.

As I tap my pencil against my notepad, shuffled songs of Selena Gomez play through the gray headphones that put me in a trance.

Lying on my stomach that rests against the soft blanket that feels like I'm floating, I allow the music to consume me, hoping that a good poem can unhide itself from the back of my mind.

Poetry isn't just writing words on a piece of paper and making them sound genuine, though, for me, it has always been a way to express myself.

And while my eyes are closed, I fight against the words that try to describe my current situation, being Liam and I's marriage, instead, trying to think of anything else to write.

Writing about the marriage will simply allow it to consume me, and because of my "stubbornness", I can't allow that to happen, and so I won't. The more I ignore it, the better off I am.

Eventually, when the images of Liam's face and our date last week have passed, the images of Luis come forth and finally I'm able to come up with an idea on what to write, my childhood.

While memories of my childhood flood through my mind, I'm taken back to the days I spent with my cousins in Spain where we'd always get my Aunt Juana furious by staying up late in the night having dance parties.

The memory of Cousin Maria burning her hand on the stove when trying to make quesadillas for the first time, recalls in my mind as if it just occurred a minute ago, though it happened six years ago when I was nine.

For every word I write on the notepad, a fresh memory appears in my mind, intriguing me to the idea of being able to go back to my ten-year-old self which makes me crave for it to be a possibility.

I'd accept the opportunity to go back to all the innocence and freedom within childhood, without taking a single breath to think about it. But as I recall the few happy memories I can think of, the sad ones soon come too.

A knock occurs and I cover my mouth, attempting to silence my cries on the other end, mama says, "Hey, honey, Aunt Zarita and I just got home from going shopping. Your dress is in the downstairs bathroom, Aunt Zarita wants to see you in it." She twists the doorknob, trying to get in, but with the door locked, she's unable to.

The bottoms of my bare feet freeze at the touch of the smooth wood floor as I get up from my bed, and when I go to answer the door, mama's gone.

While on my way down the stairs, my feet cause the wooden staircase to yell beneath me.

Instantly greeted by a hug, Aunt Zarita cheers at my presence. "I am so happy for you, Joanna! You're growing up so fast."

"It's Jo," I murmur under my breath, so silently she can't hear.

The smell of oranges and the feeling of bread straight out of the oven is taken away as her arms that once surrounded me are gone.

Her warm, bony hand holds onto mine as she leads me to the bathroom as if I didn't live in this house my whole life, and might get lost.