#wysyaletheia

[aletheiawrytes]

Will You Say Yes?: An excerpt

'I prayed for a lifetime by your side because yours is the first smile I wanna see when I wake up and yours are the lips I wish to kiss before I say 'Goodnight', because the first time I saw your hands, I couldn't even bring myself to imagine how it would be possible to not be able to hold them, because suddenly after I first heard you laugh you made me realize that I had been colorblind all my life – and you rainbow-painted my world, because it just hurts so much to not see you at least once a day since the first time I did, because you sent dynamites exploding up my veins every time you say Hi and I think you drive me crazy because those murderous explosions sent me to the stars, and because you told me to my face that my grammar sucks. And last night since your name got me ticking till sunrise, I realized that when I'm this deeply messed up and drowned in my feelings for you, asking for your hand is the only thing left to do. So, um, Nina?'

'Yeah?' Jeez. His grammar had improved tremendously.

'Will you say 'Yes' if I ask you to marry me?'

* * *

Image source

[aletheiawrytes]

Will You Say Yes?: I am a librarian.

I’m one of those people many of you will find hard to offend. Hard to annoy, too. Hard to get all pissed off over something. In fact, I couldn’t really remember the last time I had been angry with anyone, or anything.

I was 5 when one of the boys in the neighbourhood said I was too short to be playing with him and his friends. I shrugged and walked away, feeling absolutely nothing. Later on, he was frustrated to find me sitting and reading with the girls he had been trying to hit on since forever but had never the guts to even say hi to. He invited me even for soccer after that. When I was in third grade, one of my classmates actually poured a bottle of tomato ketchup into my school bag. None of my books was spared. Instead of getting all panicky and running all teary to the class teacher, I dumped the whole bag in the dustbin outside the classroom door and called my mom to pick me up. The next day, I went to school with a new schoolbag and a whole new set of books. The culprit then became my best friend. And in high school, one guy tried to ask me out after being dared by his friends. He was to dump me right after I confessed my feelings for him (if I ever had one). I saw through it all and coldly told him this, right after he requested a conversation, ‘I like girls, haven’t you heard?’ He avoided me to the end of high school.

If you’re wondering if I was a girl nobody liked, you can stop now. I was likable. Highly, likable if I may say. Popular, in fact. But like everyone else normal, I did get onto nerves. Lots of nerves, as a matter of fact. Some people get annoyed with girls who talk too much about her likes and dislikes, or about her 4-foot-long shopping list. While some just couldn’t stand girls who can’t stop talking about boys, and girls who are pretty but pretend that they aren’t aware of it. My guy friends avoid top-scoring girls whenever they can; self-esteem issues. My girlfriends avoid the self-destructive social butterflies who got pregnant more than thrice a year. Well, as you can already guess, I was none of those girls. I was different. Yeah, don’t we just abuse the usage of the word to justify the out-of-placeness that we are? So there were times when I really felt like I belonged nowhere. Like I’d never belong anywhere.

People came up with the rarest, offensively horrible combination of phrases and pranks to set me off. None of them ever worked. All I did was stare, blankly or if time permitted (most of the times, it does), knock them silly with or two verbal offenses of my own. Eventually, I learned, just by being so; mild-mannered and sarcastic, I was the one who got onto every single person’s nerves, in all of my school years. Wow, was the only thing I had ever managed to say to myself, after realizing that.

Years have passed. I hadn’t really changed. And right now I was sitting in a café, at the two-seat table next to the window, facing someone who believed that I should listen to everything she had to say, and give her the exact same blank stare I had perfected throughout the years. Well, apparently she doesn’t look too happy. What came next confirmed it.

‘A first class degree in journalism and you’re now a librarian?’ Shiraz hissed, all the while making zero attempts to hide the hint of frustration in her voice. Her emphasize on the word librarian was almost offensive to my ears. But like I said earlier, I wasn’t even slightly poked by what she just said. Some other people, you, for example, could have gotten all emotional if you were me right then. ‘Nina, seriously?’

Then she sighed. The sound was nostalgic. It was exactly of the same length and tone as the first one I heard many years ago, after I said, ‘It’s OK’ to her apology for the ketchup in my schoolbag. Yeah. This was the culprit, who had since then, always been right by my side through all my ups and downs until now; my best friend who was the best of friends anyone could have ever had, and still was. The only one who had really liked me for the person I was and still did, and who didn’t think I was from Pluto just because I never yelled at anyone.

I stirred and poked at the ice cubes in my drink, only half listening to her. Then I turned to look at the desk nearest to ours. A teenage couple who couldn’t stop grinning and giggling and chuckling at each other. Must be his first date, I thought. Didn’t look like hers. Suddenly the guy turned to look at me and unexpectedly winked before returning to his mushy moment with his girl, which startled me. OK, maybe I was wrong. Maybe this was her first date. I drew a breath, faced Shiraz and said, ‘Yeah. I’m serious. I’m a librarian.’

Her jaw fell slightly. She then caught herself quickly enough, faster than I thought she would. ‘But you could have made it big in TIME or even People! Why a library?’ she wailed. She had totally failed to sound supportive. Well, I doubt she ever wanted to in the first place. The look on her face was an unspoken demand for the reason behind my decision.

I looked at her, with a slight disbelief that this person right here wasn’t in support of what I wanted to do despite the fact that she was my best friend and had once told me to go for it when I told her my plans of running away from home, years ago. Now I was doing a job many would kill for and she asked me why. Funny.

Well. She deserved to know the truth. I owed her that much. So I reached across the table and placed my hand on hers. ‘Shiraz, I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a total jerk,’ I began. She stared at me with a raised brow; a look I so loved about her. A signature look showing that she knew the next thing coming wasn’t going to be something she or anyone would have expected, but she would still be my friend no matter what it was. I gathered all the words in my mouth, arranging them carefully along my tongue and told her, in a flawless sentence, ‘But my basic salary’s gonna be at least 4K, just to look after books.’

And I waited for the explosion that was going to make the couple next to us jump, and I wasn’t at all disappointed. It was hilarious, her voice, facial expression and all. 

‘WHAT!?’ was the first wave. I nodded with a smile, calmly anticipating the second. ‘Which bloody library in hell will you be working at!?’

Yeap, that was Shiraz. You only get to hear such exclaims from her once in ten years, when she was really, really taken by surprise. Just now, she was. OK, I was exaggerating. But really, she wasn’t the dirty-talking kind, which made it fun to do that to her sometimes. The couple next to us had already left when I wasn’t looking. So we were saved from the embarrassment. Shiraz was saved from the embarrassment.

The next thing I knew, both of us were breaking at the sides from the laughter. I, from her reaction, she from her own disbelief of the news I had just delivered. That was one of the things I simply adored about being with Shiraz. She was more than a sister to me than any sister could have ever been to her own. She could be happy and giggly, empathic and consoling and serious and committed at all the right moments. Like we could have shared the same blood if I only I had had the choice.

As our laughter subsided, Shiraz returned to her usual self, and asked, ‘So this is about the money?’ Her tone serious and attentive.

I nodded. ‘Yeah.’ Partly.

‘You’re sure about this?’ she asked. Concerned, this time.

‘Yes. I’m sure,’ I said, decidedly. It was all about the money.

And perhaps, it was also about him.

[aletheiawrytes]

Will You Say Yes?: Prologue

I was gazing at the person the mirror in front of me was holding within its frame; a bride. Or she looked it, sort of. Somehow I couldn’t really say. From head to toe, she was whiteness. Prettiness, almost. Her cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, her eyes two pools of dark secrets – wait, I wasn’t going to proceed with this. Describing myself was never a thing I could ever properly do. If it sounds too good to be true, there will be haters and if it sounds too humble for anyone’s liking, there will also be haters. I hope you remember Bella Swan. Wasn’t she ever so humble? Right. So this was wrong. The story should begin somewhere else, differently. Sigh.

God, I didn’t think it was going to be this hard, telling my own story.

Staring at the ring on my finger, my mind swirled into a mess of memories, in the form of scattered jigsaw puzzle pieces. There were hundreds of them. No, sorry. Thousands, to be exact. Thousands of them, which used to be in a complete picture; seamless despite the differences that lined each of the pieces. And people say, at exactly this moment in almost everyone’s life; the moment when you’re looking at yourself in the mirror, when you're just one step away from the strange world you were going to enter, the whole view shatters and everything you had ever remembered will scatter in small shards. Some will be lost, no doubt about that, but the rest that you would have gathered will be hard to be put together again. And at this exact moment, that is what I was feeling. It was not very nice, trust me.

I didn’t even try to hold them together. I sort of believed that they will come together again, on their own, one day; my memories. Besides, I didn’t have the time. Or even the need. I was in the middle of something more important right now, or so I thought. Did I sound irresponsible, ignorant and careless? Good. That’s the first nod for the day. I plan to have a collection of them by the end of the tale.

There were things missing from my mind in that instant. Important things. Significant things. Very significant things. Right now I was having trouble remembering the latest episodes of my life which had led me to this day, this moment of my sitting in front of my vanity, staring at myself in the silver-coated surface, in a majestically groomed bedchamber, looking like a bride. No, wait, that didn’t come out right. I didn’t just look like a bride.

I really was looking at myself in the mirror as a bride. Uh-oh.

The reality hit me like a storm. I’m married, I thought to myself. Finally? Or should it be a question instead, Am I really married?

Suddenly, the door behind me opened. He came in; the male version of the whiteness I was. In the mirror, I watched as he closed the door behind him. Then, in the mirror too, our gazes locked into each other. Warmly. Affectionately, if that didn’t sound too sappy.

‘H-hey, Nina,’ he greeted. A gentle smile brighter that the whites he was wearing. Dear God.

And for the umpteenth time, as I blushed at the very second he pronounced my name, my mind raced at the speed of total madness, my lungs threatened to stop working and my brain was on the verge of shutting down all systems until all that would be left was a desperately beating heart; I was in overdrive.

So I fell in love with him again, just like that.

[aletheiawrytes]

Will You Say Yes?: Being Replaced

Being replaced is really the absolute worst feeling in the world, after having your beloved people taken from you, of course. Today you're his everything and tomorrow you're just all alone. And you wonder if you actually deserve it. But it sucks so bad because you will never know. So you just stop caring.

* * *

'No. Way.' Ig said, seeking my eyes as he did.

'Uh-huh,' I replied, escaping his gaze as I did. I ran my fingers on the spines of the books on the shelf nearest to me, trying to not think about what he just said. But I kind of failed. I was wondering what it would be like if I was the one. Instead. I know, right? Pathetic is the word you’re looking for, you’re welcome.

'He's married?'

I nodded.

'And you're OK?' he asked, still seeking my eyes when he did.

'Uh-huh,' I answered, picking up a copy of Gaiman's Coraline from the shelf. She had two sets of parents, this girl Coraline. An other mother and an other father who had buttons for eyes. Of course I'm OK, why wouldn't I be? Right? But what was this really uncomfortable feeling raking at my insides?

'Sure you are,' he replied. Murderous sarcasm. And if he wasn't Ig, I would have murdered him.

'Drop it,' I said, quietly. 'Just -

'You would have sucked, anyway,' he said, quickly, 'as his wife.' And that made me turn to look at him. 'Completely.' Only to find out that he was looking somewhere else.

'Yeah?' I responded. I didn't really know what to say to that. I mean, that was unexpected. But Ig always does and says unexpected things so I guess I shouldn't be surprised. But seriously, I would have sucked? Wasn't that a little rude, even for a person like me? Or a little too insulting?

'You're a handful. You wanna be right all the time. Your ego,’ he began, ‘I can't even begin to describe how monstrous it is. You're obsessed with your job. You're obsessed with stages and lighting and music and vocal training - all the wrong things in his eyes. You love your manuscript more than you love him, that's a fact. It’s sad, really. And you have too many guy friends although I don't think that's wrong, and they're more awesome than he is, so I'm sorry. Plus you're mad about books more than you're mad about him and you don't cook even though you're very good at it,' he explained. 'You would have made him an abusive husband on day one.'

'You're saying I'm never getting married?'

'You know what I'm saying. Do you think you'd be happy with a man like that?'

I shook my head. I knew I wouldn't happy with a person I could never trust. A person who lies as easily as he breathes.

'He's impatient. He wants everything to go his way and you want things to go your way. He's jealous of your favorite author and you just don't care. He needs to feel needed but you save yourself every single time - I mean, chemistry? It's obviously not there. You know I'm right,' he said. That serious look he has on his face. Hm. Sexy?

'He promised, though,' I whispered. Loud enough for the books to hear if they had ears.

'Promises are broken every day. Get used to it.'

'I don't know how.'

And he was quiet. At exactly that, he was quiet.

'Ig, I don't know how,' I repeated. Desperately? You bet. Getting used to broken promises, just how the hell does anyone do that?

'Nina.'

'It's really, really the worst feeling in the world right now,' I said, my voice breaking into a pathetic sob as I spoke. 'Being replaced.' I turned to look at him, this one man in the whole universe who had stood with me at my worst times and had looked at my face when it was drenched in tears more times than my parents ever did. This one man whose heart I'd kill to have.

But then and there I was crying for another and you don't even know how much I hate myself at the moment. To want Ig so much I'd do anything and to let my heart break for a man who didn't even deserve it. What the hell was I doing?

'Nina.'

I wanted so badly to just burst into tears but I really couldn't seem to break and it was driving me insane. Because I knew the only way I could put myself back together is by shattering and that being the very thing I couldn't do at the very moment just hurt so much. Confusing? Try walking in my footprints since you can't fill my shoes. See for yourself how deep your feet are going to sink into the sand. And maybe then you will understand.

'I wanna cry, Ig,' I whispered. 'I wanna be broken and move on. I -

'You weren't replaced,' he said before I could finish. 'What or who gave you that idea?'

Wait, what?

I stared at him. I stared hard as if that would make him turn away and take back what he had said and just agree with me and break me by doing so and I could start crying but no, he didn't. He just stared right back at me. There wasn't a smile on that handsome face. No smirk either. But it wasn't empty, that's for sure. Something was there and for once in my entire life, I couldn't guess what he was feeling.

'I'm not gonna kid myself,' I forced myself to say.

'Wasn't asking you to,' he replied. His face was still expressionless. 'You're taking this too seriously.'

'He was a good friend. I don't expect you to get it,' I replied. But honestly, I didn't think I even believed what I had just said.

'Phone calls, Nina? Texts? Those couldn't have amounted to anything. You guys have never even met,' he offered, slightly frustrated. And managed to add, 'Pictures, or it didn't happen,' shortly after. I would really love to hate him now but he made sense and I should really be hating him yet I couldn't. I had never done and I never will. Which kind of sucked at the moment.

I didn't say anything because I agreed with him, completely but grudgingly and that sort of scared me. The fact that I once had a friend who decided that we were in a serious relationship just because we had each other's numbers. And the fact that being the idiot that I was, I wasn't so delusional to have thought the same. And the fact that the said friend referred to me as his ex-girlfriend when we - like Ig had pointed - had never said a single 'hi' in person. And also the fact that he apologized for cheating when our friendship wasn't even a test. Am I the weird one here or is the world just messed up?

'Walk away, Nina. He doesn't deserve the happiness the right man is destined for, with you,' Ig said after a few depressing moments of silence. 'He prefers common things. Plain girls who'd let him do the thinking and make all the decisions. Boring girls who have no opinions and listen to his talks about how smart he is. Dumb girls whose interests include him and crapping on Facebook. Unfortunately, you're not like them and that's rather sad. But it's better than having to pretend to be someone lesser than you really are just to keep a friend like him. Nobody needs a friend like that, Nina. I'm sorry, but you're lucky that he doesn't want you.'

That long rambling was incredibly offensive in so many ways but I couldn't find even a single intelligent comeback for it, so I kept silent. Vengefully.

'You drive mediocre guys crazy, Nina. You overthink things. You're critical. You're messed up most of the times chasing after dreams and books. You don't read love stories. You're annoyingly stubborn. You want simple things and they're always so hard to get. You're driven. You're obsessed with being right all the time. You're one complicated, plain-looking idiot who doesn't know how much trouble you are to the people around you because nobody gets to guess what's running through your head. Hell, Nina, you even drive me crazy at times and I'm not mediocre,' he said all this with a seriousness that I couldn't comprehend. If he had made a point, I had completely missed it.

'Doesn't change the fact,' I replied.

'Which fact?'

'That I got replaced.'

'You didn't. You were never his to replace.'

That silenced me. One, because I couldn't believe how stupid I had been for not realizing that all these times. Two, because he sounded heartrendingly wonderful when he said that. And three, because I had probably known that since forever and it had taken him so long to save me by reading my thoughts and saying them out loud.

I looked at the no longer empty bookshelves around us, breathing in the impressive sight of them and turned to look at him because I needed to. Seeing him and knowing that he had just saved my life (again) was like having breaths kissed into my lungs. I kind of pictured myself as drowning sailor who was saved by mermaids. It felt like that. Magical. And having him right there where I needed him to be fixed a lot of things. Mentally disturbing things.

'Maybe.'

'You'd do better with a crazy, hard-headed, overly-critical, not so mediocre guy. Someone ridiculously troublesome,' he said with a smile. 'Like you.'

'Yeah,' I said, returning the smile with one. And I think you had just described yourself, sweetheart.

'You'll find him.'

I nodded, still smiling. Maybe I already have. Maybe I had always had my eyes on him. But maybe he doesn't yet realize it. And maybe he never will.

'You're OK now?'

'Uh-huh.' How can I not be?

'Because I'm starving and my sister's home but she doesn't cook.'

'Ig -

'Come on.'

I didn’t even stop to think. I just agreed to go with him. Our strides matched although it was a little difficult at times because he was Olympic swimmer tall and I was your average librarian tall. But I was all smiles and my heart was unbroken. The painful lump in my throat was gone. My heart now remembered how to beat. My smile no longer hurts my face. And being with him was still the best thing ever.

'Hey, Ig?'

'Yeah?'

'Thanks.'

'For making you realize how stupid you are?' he asked and chuckled charmingly. Like the charmer that he was.

'Yes.'

'You're welcome.'

So that day was one of those days where I got to be the damsel in distress and had my ass saved without feeling disgusted with myself.

As much as I wanted to be the girl who doesn't need anybody, I wanted to be saved by him. Because all the times he did, defined me in beautiful ways I would never see myself and I love how he changed me but did not really change me. I don't really get it myself, and maybe I never will but I am just glad that I get to be self-destructively stupid at times and he'd reach out to save me by being honest. Not everyone does that. Not everyone is that brave. A lot of us are just jerks and still have the nerve to walk the earth while more and more of us are becoming helpless retards. But Ig wasn't anything like us. I'd seen him walk through flames. I'd want to watch him do it again even if it means getting myself into trouble.

Have you ever witnessed someone you love in such a deep mess and not feeling like lending him or her a hand because how he or she walks out of it inspires you to be your own hero?

No?

Well that's Ig for you.

That has always been him, for me.