Birth From The Waist

Chapter 41

Sitting down I run my fingers through my thick and luscious hair untangling it, metaphorically comparable to my life. I had made my decision; it was my actions that helped me untangle the situations and problems that arose with Andrew.

In the end it had come back and slapped me painfully in the face the stinging resonance still present, how could I have been so idiotic and careless? Someone like Andrew could not be changed; he wasn’t mouldable, not bending to be formed into my desired shape.

But who was I to change Andrew? I had no right. I could only accept him for what he was, and I did.

There were few things that did change about him, for the positive, what was wrong with that? People who went about stating that we should accept each other for who we are, and not how we could easily our suitor were severely wrong. Offcourse I had the right to change him or aid him to change a bad habit, if he hadn’t then it was clearly an unhealthy objective for our relationship, and me ranting about how I had changed his bad persona to good just proved how weak he was originally not being able to do it for himself, not being able to do it because he loved me!

But he did change because he loved me?

I was immune to the pain, immune to the disaster that arose that night, when Yara fell upon my doorstep and blurted out everything, almost as if she was guilty, the accused, all news and tell-tails being validated almost as if she was in some Law and Order court case. But for that I respected her, the shear amount of loyalty she has dedicated to me proved worthy of our friendship, of our thoughts, our actions and most importantly our sisterhood.

Combing through my hair, I gaze at myself in the mirror, the mirror of truth, the mirror of lies. That familiar girl who gawked back at me, a wide smile, who inhabited unsurpassed beauty, a radiant healthy glow had all become deceased, no longer opposite me, substituted with a pale, messed up girl grieving over the love that was not meant to be.

Running my hands through my hair I make an objective list of what I needed to do, every little task involved finding an errand that would help dismiss him completely from my mind; I, Melissa Rassi wasn’t going down without a fight!

The sound of vibrations is heard across the room, my phone shaking furiously on the side bedsitter, I walked over the phone anxiously almost as if I was expecting a call from someone. I did admit that I was quite surprised Andrew hadn’t called, the one hundred and twelve calls left quite an impression of how desperate he was to make contact with me, few days later after being caught in the deed, he doesn’t call? I guess he was feeling guilty?

Who the hell was I kidding? Andrew doesn’t even know I know. Yara was very discreet, he has no idea what’s going on, and I was going to use that to my advantage.

The phone continues to vibrate, my heart beat quickens, gawking at the screen, no called ID. I gulp. I was no fan of private calls, never luxuriating in the suspense they created.

The phone continues to ring, a second, a third time. Whoever it was, they were simply keen, needing to get to me. Who it was worried me? I hesitantly pick up the phone, different scenarios flashing through my head. I swipe at the screen, closing my eyes, and praying it wasn’t who I thought it was.