Transitions
The same questions haunted her again. It felt oddly familiar,
this confusion. But this time the stakes were different. She stared listlessly
at the pile of wedding cards that lay on the table. Ryan had called it a mess
earlier this morning. He’ll have to sleep on the couch tonight, the cheek of that
man.
Out of habit she lifted the florist’s brochure, knowing all its
contents by heart now. Roses were too commonplace Ryan said. He wanted her to
carry daisies, citing that their simple yet alluring affluence was perfect for
someone like her. It was at times like this, she wished he knew her better. He
made an effort & a commendable one at that, true. Yet she knew there will
always be a void no one can fill. And so Anemone was her pick, whimsical, just
like her. Compromise was now not her
forte. Daisies will look good on the center piece anyway.
The D-day was just round the corner. But Christmas came
before that. She would for the first time meet Ryan’s family. Natasha
remembered the day she had met her own parents after the surgery. Mom had let
out a muted gasp and turned her face away. She remembered holding her breath,
fists clenched- an old habit from her last life, staring expectantly at her
father’s face. He would not meet her eyes. They had left, both of them, from
the doorstep of her home. Only her kid sister stayed back.
“This is like so cool!” the ‘so’ stretched
out long in the teenager kind of way. Her little sister’s nasal, irritating
voice had at that moment felt like music
to her ears. Natasha smiled. Robin was her solace, the most unlikely source
of it. “So does that mean I can borrow your dresses?” had been her first
question. Not “how does it feel to be a woman?” or “did it pain when they cut
it off?” or “you know you can never have kids right?”
“Look alive woman!!” Ryan’s thundering voice woke her up
from her reverie. She playfully tossed a cushion at him, “Go away!” “Oh yeah?
And who’s gonna fill in the addresses for the wedding invites…Santa?” Natasha
bit her lip, “You think they’d come?” “You should invite them Natasha. They’re
your parents. It is expected.” With that he sat down & begun scribbling on
an invite. “No way.…I’m not letting you write on these. With your handwriting
they are never going to make it to anyone”
To Mr. & Mrs. Surrey
Robin Surrey
R.S.V.P
“But what about my expectations?” she thought while in bed that night.
Only Robin received an invite.
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