A Funny Thing Happened

Cassandra pt. 1

The night was perfect for a wedding. It was just a matter of seconds before the love of my life and I became one.

It was so bizarre to think that we met just over a week ago; I was alone sitting in a cafe, and he was a server. I had just gotten over a broken heart and was in dire need of caffeine when he approached me with a charming smile.

"What's a beautiful girl like yourself doing here all alone. Waiting for a boyfriend perhaps?"

"Can't a girl get coffee without a boyfriend?" I asked jokingly.

He pretended to think with a smile on his face. "Yes, I suppose so. In that case, what'll it be sweetheart?"

When he gave me my drink, he took a napkin and a pen and wrote something. With a wink, he pressed the napkin in my hand and left. Confused, I looked at what he scribbled. Sure enough, it was his contact information.

Ever since that day, we began talking--a lot. He helped me get over my last lover and became my new boyfriend, but all that was about to change.

He was going to propose to me tonight, whether he wanted to or not. I planned everything down to a tee, and my plan was guaranteed to work.

"Cassandra! You're not still playing that game, are you? The one with the fake boyfriend?" My mother's voice echoed in my room as she stood by the door.

"He's not fake, he's just...digitalized," I say, avoiding my mother's concerned stare.

"Honey, this isn't good for you. It's not normal for a polished young lady like yourself to be so hung over some pixels." She sighs, then starts making her way over to me.

"Which is why I've decided to host a party of sorts. I don't know why I haven't thought about it before." She says the last part softer, talking more to herself than to me. "It'll be a perfect place to socialize with real people."

When I heard her say that, my body flooded with anxiety. I can't handle real interactions, as pathetic as that sounds. There's a reason I spend my time in the cyber world.

Although I couldn't possibly say anything related to that near my mother. Knowing her, she would send me to a therapist upon hearing the word "anxiety."

While I was lost in my thoughts, my mother had selected a dress from my closet. It was a light pink off-the-shoulder type dress with some random designs on it.

"Here, put this on. Braid your hair while you're at it too. The most important part of meeting new people is undoubtedly the first impression."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. In all my 18 years of living, my mother has never batted an eye in my direction.

Why now?