The eyes of eons. [Slow Editing]

Chapter 2

     My twenty-sixth birthday was coming. Surprisingly for everyone, Roberta, I stayed an established blue sock bachelorette. Surely I dated back in college, one guy even for several months, but it wasn’t all consuming for me to continue and grow it to something serious. I haven’t felt that knocking off the feet sensation, nobody managed to produce fascination in my heart and I wasn’t going to settle for less than a “world series kind of thing.” 

     Early spring just began showing its power by bringing the snow to melt, however the evenings still held winterish coldness. I've finished with my office duties and went home to change for the diner. I parked the car on the side of the road and jumped out of my Jeep holding several cases with files in my arms. Mrs. Henderson was leaving her porch and as I glanced her way she’d slipped and with a sharp yelp landed right on her back. Despite that I wanted to let a snort out, I could see that it was a bad one and holding my giggles hurried her way to assist. Howling and muttering complains, Lunette was struggling to get up. When she noticed my stretched out hand, her facial expression changed to a welcome one and smiling wide she accepted my help.

     “Oh, those slippery roads...” she shook her head in disbelieve. “I told Henry multiple times to sand the front yard. Now I have to pay a visit to my doctor. My poor back. Thank you very much, Alexandra, for help. You came just on time. How are the things in Mr. Barney’s office, by the way?”

     “Everything is good.” I grinned. “Did you hit yourself badly?”

     “I hope not, dear. How’s Roberta? I haven’t seen her in a while. She's with her grandchildren. Valeria started early with kids.”

     “Indeed.” I hid my disappointment. I didn’t like to talk about my sister’s silly leap from high school bench to a kitchen stove. She wanted it to be that way, so made it her way. Period.

     “When is your time? You should have been the first to marry some nice boy. I was sure you’ll be first. You have such a homey nature.” My head began boiling. Where did she took it from? Maybe it was Patrick who took it from her? If not for those words, I would probably be married to him and be with her grandkids. “Ah, by the way. I’ve just spoken to Ricky. He said that he got a very handsome position at a big company. I always knew that he would go far. He was always such a clever boy.”

     I swallowed uncomfortably and finding believable excuse to escape, I swiftly said goodbye and vanished into my garden.

     I haven’t scrubbed the backyard and a thick amount of snow welcomed my office shoes getting right through my tights to my bare feet while I was walking to my swings. The seat of the swings was covered with hardened ice. I lingered for a minute regaining reasons and run into the house. 

     On the go, I yanked my pumps off and threw them into the corner of the kitchen. Then, I removed my tights and put on the slippers. Moving like a hurricane by the first floor, I found myself in the living room. I stopped in front of the fireplace listening. The silence of the house was mortifying. If only yesterday I enjoyed being alone, than right this moment, I couldn’t stand the loneliness.

     Powerlessly, I sat on the sofa and closed my eyes. What was the meaning of a homey girl? Patrick called me a country girl. His mother called me a homey girl. I wasn’t stupid, cows were not walking in my guest room, in fact, we had none. In the office, I did my job well, so well, that Mr. Barney left me in charge, and frankly speaking for the past month I've seen him only ten times briefly, when he would drop by to sort out the mail. I earned my scholarship myself. My mother hadn’t spent even a penny on my college expenses. If I managed to deal with that, who the hell is Mrs. Henderson to tell me that I'm all plain and homey. Sure she didn’t mean it bad, but I took it the extreme way regardless. Patrick called me too fragile for the city...well, if I hadn’t discovered his real nature after five years of friendship, then he must have confused my monosyllabic way of responding for a weakness. I’m tuff, and I can live in a big city. I can and I will.