This Life is Not My Own

One

"Morning," I woke up to the strong smell of fresh coffee next to my bed and the curtains being drawn. I slowly opened my eyes to see my papá leaving my bedroom, "leaving in ten!" He shouted and then slammed my door.

I rolled over with a sigh, tugging the duvet covers over my head to block out the morning sun. Tired and annoyed, I finally sat up to drink my coffee. Gross. It was too strong with no sugar. My papá had woken me up every morning with something warm to drink since the age of 5. It was originally warm tea, but since I turned 20, he began bringing me coffee. He had brought me coffee everyday for 3 months and still made it different everyday. Sometimes I explained to him how I liked my coffee, and the next morning he would make it perfectly, but two days later he would make it gross again. And so the cycle continued.

With my face cringing, I gulped down what I could of the bland coffee and then climbed out of bed. I felt the soft carpet between my toes, stretching as wide as I could to wake myself up before heading to the bathroom.

Between my sister and I, I was the only one with an en suite bathroom. I appreciated it, however it was only fair since I was older. My sister was usually the favourited daughter, which usually didn't make sense to me considering she was the one who did the least out of the two of us. I was always running circles around my parents to make them happy, but she got to spend papá's money without hesitation and mamá's affection without resistance. I was not so fortunate, no matter how good my college grades, or how much money I made for them, or how much I did around the house. It was never enough.

Regardless, I received the bigger room and conjoined bathroom — with a fight, obviously.

I stood in-front of my floor length mirror and tied up my long blonde hair into a pony-tail. Out of everyone in my family, I looked the least Italian, whatever that meant. Both my mamá and sister had tanned olive skin with dark eyes and black hair. I on the other hand was blonde with blue eyes. Every family gathering I had to hear from my cousins that my mother must've had an affair because my genetics didn't make sense. Not that I really cared. I never felt welcomed anyways.

I quickly showered and brushed my teeth before climbing into my red maxi dress, leaving my hair in a messy bun and putting on some light make-up. I hated not having time to get ready properly.

As I came downstairs I heard my mamá and sister gossiping about the new neighbor's daughter and how they thought she was definitely the furthest thing from a virgin. Typical of them to think everyone was a whore — never mind my sister was the furthest thing from a virgin herself, but mamá could never know that. I snickered to myself and joined their conversation while heading out the door.

"Tan ridícula." My mamá sighed.

"Mamá, she is allowed to wear what she wants. It doesn't make her a whore." I rolled my eyes while my mother judged the poor girls outfit. She was out in the garden watering the plants in shorts and a cropped top. Mamá did not approve. She didn't approve of a lot, and until I left the house, I would have to hear about it all. I would also only leave the house once I got married, no matter how much I fought the idea of a pre-arranged marriage by my father. The poor man couldn't even get my coffee order correct, and now I would need to marry someone he chose. Señor ayúdanos a todos.

Papá grunted as the gossip continued in the car. I began zoning-out and focusing on the passing scenery while mamá and Valentina continued their judging.

"Abbastanza!" Papá slammed on the breaks as we hit a red. He turned to face both mamá and Valentina, giving them a look of disapproval before turning back to face the road. That was all it took from papá for the two of them to know it was enough gossiping. My papá didn't care about what they were saying, but rather just the excessive ranting of it all. I snickered to myself, but quickly stopped when mamá eyed me through her make-up mirror. Devil eyes as papá called them.