The Errors In Fate

Good Old, Pennsylvania

I. GOOD OLD, PENNSYLVANIA

Life does not get better by chance; it gets better by change—Jim Rohn. If there's ever a way to prove his quote correct; I'll be the subject to test its accuracy. Because my life has been a catastrophe and I plan on making that change I desperately need in hopes to alter my life for the better.

'Isla, what the hell were you thinking!?' Dad rebukes furiously, snapping me out of my reverie of thoughts. He slams his hand on the table; staggering the cup of yogurt, almost tipping it over onto my lap.

'Geez, stop yelling at me! I was hungry, okay!? Sorry!' I apologize insincerely, rolling my eyes in discreet as I rest the ice bag over my eye.

'That doesn't give you any authority to thieve food from strangers in the airport!' He almost yells, whereas I decide to remain mute; annoying him to an extent. This is such a ridiculous argument—but I was the lass who initiated it, for the most part.

Here's where things had spiraled wrongly: Dad and I had just arrived at the airport in Pennsylvania after a brief plane trip from New York. The plane departed at six, and thus I had to be shook out of bed at four in the morning in order to catch the flight. We hadn't really grabbed anything to eat beforehand, and take into account that I'm the type of person who would go nuts without snacks. Therefore basically, right as we arrived, I begged dad for some food. He refuses, thinking that I can contain my hunger for a couple more hours until we finally settle on our new home; where we'll be able to unpack and eat.

Being the wayward I am; I decided to steal a bar of snickers from a lady's purse while my dad's unaware. Part of my act was because I'm dead starving, but part if it was also fairly because I wanted to agitate dad for waking me up at four in the morning. The lady seemed lost and confused of directions, and I took advantage of that vulnerability of hers. I, without further contemplation, skidded to her and trawled her purse. Inevitably, she caught me fishing through her belongings and assumed I was reaching for her wallet.

She then had no other choice but to clout my face repeatedly with a Twilight book she was carrying around. That twilight paperback almost split my face in half but needless to say, she was also left with a bunch of pages nipping out of her favorite book ultimately. Yet it didn't end there, because that lady with her lump of frizzy green hair started to yell at me in what sounded French. Then she hinged onto my arm like a madwoman and lugged me all the way to the airport security. They couldn't grasp what she was trying to imply initially because she was screaming and jumping around frenziedly in French, until a bystander meddled in to help translate her sentences. When queried by the cops for confirmation, I nodded and confessed straight away.

And somehow, at the end of that, the cops were convinced by my unlikely truth. If it weren't for my influencing skills—which are on fleek by the way—things wouldn't have turned out as well as it did. Take note kids, the moral of that, is to always commit your crime straightaway; because that'll make you seem far more believable than those who only confess when they've been found guilty. The officers eventually walked me back to my dad; who wasn't exactly ecstatic about the whole idea of me being returned by two cops. He knew from the start that I was up to no good, because that's the type of daughter I am; but he didn't want to submit to the paradigm then. The final sentence one of the cops whispered to my dad was, 'keep her fed'.

Ultimately, we didn't end up with a record for larceny, but daddy did end up buying me some yogurt and a slice of cheese cake out of mere fright that I'm going to go bonkers again. Regardless, the preceding incident had seriously killed my appetite because even with all the foods set on the table before me right now; I barely have any desire left to touch any.

'Don't you have anything to say, Isla?' Dad asks in his thick British accent.

'It's partly your fault too for not buying me food when I pleaded. I had already warned you beforehand' I voice my rebuttal.

'It's barely seven! Are you telling me you won't be able to survive without food even before seven a.m.?' he grunts.

'I barely ate yesterday dad!'

'How in the world is that my problem? Who'd ever asked you to starve yourself!?' Dad sighs out of frustration. It's true that I forgot to eat yesterday, and it's also true that no fault should be blamed on dad. I remain speechless for a moment. I guess he's right about this, what was I thinking?

I think it's my demeanors as an adolescent is clearly evident. You see, I'm not and probably have never been a decent daughter. I have always been quite rebellious, unheeding and I often talk back—primarily to my dad, which I know sounds rather absurd. But if you question me why, I have a pretty solid answer for that.

I have bottled up immense fury over the last couple of years towards dad, when another woman who's now his dear fiancé, came into the picture.

My parents split when I was eight. Though, it wasn't quite an immediate call; it was much of a very gradual process. Bit by bit, both my parents started to fall out of love; they slowly but assuredly lost their spark for one another—as mum would convince me. I can ascertain that neither dad nor mom got hurt along the process...but I did. I was the kid having to watch two of my favorite superheroes; Superman and Superwoman as they both gradually lose interest in one another and eventually part. Neither of my parents seem to really care that it had scarred me immensely; I mean, mum did try to talk to me about it a couple of times but I could tell she was uncomfortable with the subject that she only did so during the early stages before she left. On the other hand, dad just shrugged me off and pretended that things were A-OK and that I could fare with it alone.

It was very painful to digest at that time and not any less painful at present; I remember I used to ball my eyes out to sleep every single day of every week after hearing of the dreaded announcement. It was a tragedy none of us would've ever expected. It was as if everyone that I ever loved and cared about were suddenly drifting apart and slipping out of my fingertips, out of my reach.

In all truths, the divorce isn't the topic upsetting me—it's the memories. It's the haunting reminiscence of everything our tiny family used to be. I can recall very distinctly when dad would tell me about how he'd chased mum all the way to New York from London, simply to fulfill the very profound and unconditional love he had for her. But where's the unconditional love he promised? Where did it go? Two years ago he started to mingle with other women. Not long after, he found another one whom he's convinced he's most fit with. She has now become his fiancée. He sure is a criminal to his own words, and I'll loathe him forever for that.

'Hello? Isla?'

I clash back to reality. Dad is snapping his fingers in front of my face, trying to wake me out of my partly conscious realm. 'I thought you said you were starving. Why hadn't you touched your food?' he asks trying to suppress his rage, pushing the plate of cheese cake towards me.

'I'm not hungry anymore' I reply nonchalantly, shoving the plate away.

'You're going to get heartburn due to disorderly eating like this. I thought you knew better' he says, heaving out a sigh.

I roll my eyes once again, 'Not caring doesn't mean not knowing. Now I'd appreciate it if you'd be quiet, please' I say insolently, folding my arms before I shift my body to the side.

Dad pauses for a moment before eventually speaking up. 'You shouldn't talk back to your parent like that, Isla. You're being extremely rude-'

'Rude!? So I'm rude!? No, you're the one who's being rude!' I narrow my eyes; snapping my head towards him. 'If it isn't for your plans to marry that she-devil, we wouldn't have had to fly here in the first place! And I wouldn't end up thieving a bar of snickers from a lady who looks like a bush. It's your mistake!' I jolt up from my seat and storm out of the café, drawing the vigilance of everyone inside.

'Get back in here young lady!' I hear dad holler from behind. I don't bother to look back nevertheless, even after I can feel more of his heavy footsteps pound on the cement. I understand how it's incredibly ill-mannered of me to cause a commotion like that, but I can't help it, nor am I able to stop myself from running away from him. A constellation of tears have started to form on my lashes. Whenever I blink, the flood just grows stronger.