Black swan

Chapter 4

As I awoke the next morning, I found my mom in a state of distress, her anger clear as she stood next to Dexter, who was trying his best to reassure her that I was fine. But no matter what he said, she remained adamant and unwilling to listen. Still in the white dress from the night before, my hair disheveled and my energy drained, I felt utterly defeated.

"Care to explain, Nessa? You're 18, act like it. I can't keep babying you anymore. You're going to university, it's time to grow up," my mom admonished before storming out, slamming the door shut behind her. With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, meeting Dexter's amused gaze as he approached.

"She's right, Nessa. You've got to grow up. You have an apartment, yet you still seem to live with your mom?" Dexter remarked, helping me to my feet as a sharp headache pulsed through my head from the night before.

"Dexter, you know, ever since my dad left, I can't seem to let go of my only parent left. We were close for the 12 years we knew each other. You knew my dad. Now he's gone," I replied, my fingers instinctively grasping the locket wrapped around my neck. "However, you are right. I should grow up. I should learn to let go."

I set about packing my bags for the move to my university apartment, since we left in 2 days. Taking a moment to collect myself, I changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and a t-shirt, opting for practicality over style. I quickly pulled my hair back into its usual tiny ponytail and slipped on my glasses. 

As Dexter and I stepped out of the room and into the elevator, pressing the lobby button, I couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. As we descended, the doors opened to reveal Cheryl, Dexter's stepmom, standing there with her four meticulously packed bags. Four bags for a three-day stay—it was excessive, to say the least.

Cheryl was the epitome of sophistication, but she was also the epitome of snobbery, especially when it came to me. Despite only knowing her for a few years since she married Dexter's father, she always found something to criticize about me. It seemed that her French roots only enhanced her sense of superiority, making her interactions with me all the more challenging.

Dexter's father and Cheryl had tied the knot five years ago after meeting in France, Cheryl's homeland. Somehow, she had managed to become friends with my mom, further complicating our dynamic. As Cheryl greeted us with her usual air of superiority, I braced myself for whatever snide remarks she had in store.

"Dexter, mon cher!" Cheryl exclaimed, her French accent slipping through. She was snug in the most extravagant designer outfit I had ever laid eyes on—her style exuded elegance and luxury. Her long, curly hair cascaded around her shoulders, a stunning shade of strawberry blonde that perfectly complemented her complexion.

As she approached, Cheryl didn't bother to conceal her no care for me, her greeting dripping with thinly veiled contempt. "Oh, and your filthy friend! Bonjour, again," she added dismissively, flicking her hand in my direction before wrapping her arm possessively around Dexter's.

"Let's get going, Nessa Sanchez!" My mom's voice echoed as she appeared around the corner, her gaze falling upon Cheryl with her four overstuffed bags. Dexter rolled his eyes in exasperation and stepped forward to help her pick them up.

Feeling a bit off from last night's drinks, I glanced around the room and caught Dexter's grin.

"What's up, Dex?" I nudged him playfully.

"Just missing those girls from last night. But thanks to your antics, I had to bail early," he teased.

"You know me, always finding trouble," I shrugged with a grin.

"More like trouble finds you!" he chuckled, as our moms called us to leave. Outside, Mom hailed a taxi.

I took a breath and caught Dexter's eye as he stowed the suitcases.

"Mom, you told me to grow up, right? Well, I think I'm getting there. How about Dex and I take this cab alone, and you and Cheryl head back?" I suggested, sharing a hopeful look with them both.

Before my mother could even respond, Cheryl took charge and ushered us into the waiting taxi. Mom was furious at first, but her anger seemed to dissipate quickly. Dexter and I watched as their taxi pulled away, loaded with our luggage as well.

"So?" I turned to Dexter, curiosity in my voice.

"Well..." he began, a mysterious twinkle in his eye.

"Race you!" I shouted, taking off down the alleyway as soon as the taxi disappeared from sight. Dexter quickly followed suit, and before I knew it, we were bumping and crashing into each other, laughter filling the air.

The breeze brushed against my face as I ran, inhaling deeply and reveling in the fresh air cleansing my lungs. Each step forward felt liberating, a temporary escape from the worries of the world.

On our way down the alleyway, an old man selling roses. Dexter playfully dropped to one knee and began reciting a silly declaration of affection. "For my outgoing and devious, lovely black swan, also known as my best friend," he quipped with a grin. 

Dexter knew that's what my dad used to call me, black swan. It was a nickname he gave me when I was 4. I used to do ballet, till I was 12. He said I would never ever be able to be the white swan in the swan lake ballet solos. He said that because he called me the black swan. a name that carried connotations of fierceness, strength, and integrity.  he saw extraordinary potential in me. He believed I possessed a power within me, saying I could be used as a weapon, as he often described it. To him, I was destined for greatness, capable of achieving feats beyond imagination. 

I chuckled and accepted the rose, twirling it in my fingers as Dexter wandered off to admire some apples at a nearby stand. The old man watched us with a somber expression, slowly removing his hat and setting down his pack of roses. He then approached me and took my hand gently.

"Careful, young child, careful," he warned cryptically before glancing at Dexter and then back at me. With that, he released my hand and walked away, leaving me bewildered and unsettled by his enigmatic words. What did he mean by careful? Dexter and I were just best friends, nothing more. It was a fact written in the stars, undeniable and eternal. Or was it?