CHAPTER 2
Isla
stared at the off-white stucco ceiling. It was five in the morning and the dark
light—or lack thereof—had sneakily turned into a milky cerulean. Isla was irked.
Oliver had walked back into her life without so much as to ask permission or
warn her. She knew in her heart that the next weeks would be sticky, to put it
nicely.
As
she lay wide-awake, she flashbacked to her youth. Isla recalled her first
encounter with Oliver. It was at the local general store. She was picking up
tweezers because Kaya, her little sister, had stolen them from her. As her
awkward 17-year-old self turned an aisle, she bumped into a man. This man
looked at her with his intense eyes. He apologetically whispered, “Forgive me.
I just had a major history exam and have had little sleep; I am a bit
delirious”. Isla could not believe how beautiful the young college-aged male
was. He was a rich mixture of what seemed to be Native American, Greek, and
South Asian. Not only was his face picture perfect, but also he seemed like a
nice gentleman. His height was lengthy and he had muscles where Isla didn’t
think muscles could exist. She smiled weakly at him. She was frustrated that
she had the inability to produce a single word. “No worries,” she squeaked.
Oliver replied, “I’m Oliver; but my friends call me Olly.”
Isla
was kind of uninterested when it came to men. Her boyfriend from the end of
middle school and the beginning of high school cheated on her with a senior
cheerleader. From that point on, she was jaded and developed this spunky and
go-getting personality. She was hardened and rarely let anyone in. Yet, she
felt like she could let Olly in. This was bizarre, as she only had known him
for six minutes. She had never been so attracted to someone like this.
Olly
politely remarked, “I have to be going. I am expected at a friend’s house in
town. I am kind of late, which is a bit of an understatement”. Disappointed,
Isla said, “Well, it was nice meeting you and I hope you have the opportunity
to catch up on some siesta-ing”. Siesta-ing?
How silly and young could she sound? Feigning indifference, she let the
love of her life slip from her sight.
Isla
was sad. She returned home in her beaten up Ford, only to realize she had
forgotten to buy the stupid tweezers. When she walked through the doors, she
stared dumbfounded. Chase ran up to her and practically jumped. “Illy, meet my
boyfriend, O—or Oliver, I guess. He is the one I was telling you about…the
handsome guy who I used to run with! Remember the stud muffin that was my study
buddy?” As Oliver turned toward Isla, he gasped. As he contemplated her lean
figure and pretty, youthful face, he realized that this was the girl he had
flirted with earlier. Uh oh. He
finagled himself into playing it cool and responded, “Hi Illy, it’s an honor to
meet you”. He felt horrible at the falsity of his statement, as if he had laid
eyes on her for the first time.
From
that day onward, it was highly uncomfortable in the Jones household. Olly and
Illy would exchange furtive glances at each other at the dinner table, on the
tennis court, and at the country club down the road. There was an undeniable
attraction between them. Both did not intend to hurt Chase, but it was hard to
resist.
When
news came around that Oliver had proposed to Chase, Isla grew livid. She could
not believe his betrayal. All those long walks on the beach and clandestine
meetings in the country club conference room meant nothing now. The sparks they
had dissipated into thin air—like they had never come into existence. The cautious
and mostly flirtatious looks were now looks of hurt and disappointment—mostly
on Isla’s end.
Isla
continued to have ill feelings toward Olly. She could not help it. She firmly
believed that he was the one man that could salvage her from her past and
introduce a more optimistic future filled with love and unbreakable trust.
Isla
turned on her side on her bed. She wished that she had someone to kiss
goodnight and someone to wake up in the middle of a nightmare. Instead, she was
alone. Ironically, she was not by herself. In technical terms, she could
disrupt Oliver’s sleep with scary details of a dream. Wishful thinking, she
liked to call it.
CHAPTER 3
Oliver
looked at his mustard wristwatch. He had come into and out of sleep for the
entirety of the night, making things quite counter-effective. As he writhed his
fatigued body, he thought of Isla. Her face had not changed. She still had
those sage eyes and rosy cheeks. Her natural complexion was like porcelain. Maybe Snow White did have some competition
after all… Oliver had noticed the change in Isla’s figure; however, he kind
of believed that the hefty look suited her and defined her best features.
Oliver
reminisced about his younger years, or what he sarcastically referred to as the
glory days. He remembered the first time he met Isla. She was fresh and
different. He smirked as he noticed how nervous she was as she babbled to him
at that general store. Later, when he discovered her true persona, he teased
her about how smitten she was with him. The funny thing was that nothing really
came to fruition in the arena that was Oliver and Isla. Yet, at the same time,
it symbolically did happen. There was this strong connection that both of them
quietly but conspicuously embraced. It was all the more powerful because it was
solely unchecked emotions.
Oliver
felt sick to his stomach thinking how he hurt Isla. To him, Isla was
transparent. He recognized the swift change in disposition once Chase started
to gloat about her fancy ring finger and the arm candy that would soon be
permanent. He could see her melancholy nature and it hurt him to look at her
again. He felt dishonest and deceitful. He questioned why he had asked Chase to
marry him in the first place. And then he remembered.
As the morning light crept into the
small family room, Oliver sat upright. For some reason, he felt like running.
All Oliver wanted to do was run from his life, his fragile, meaningless life.
He pinched his arm and convinced his pathetic self to grow up and face the fear
that was his past. He wondered about what Isla was thinking in the room right
above him. If only he knew that she had parallel notions…
CHAPTER 4
Lola opened her eyes to the early
morning. She peeled the sheets off her aqua bed and walked to the bathroom.
Washing her face felt cathartic. She peered thoughtfully into the mirror.
Everybody in school thought she was gorgeous. Her best friend, Meghana, a
fellow adoptee, begged her to try her hand at modeling. She was half Indian, a quarter Irish
and a quarter Japanese. She had warm hazel eyes and deep auburn locks of hair.
She had a golden tan that stayed with her during the winter. Lola never
understood her exotic appeal.
Lola was not the most outgoing
individual. She was not known for her popularity or athletic skills in high
school. She was a nerd who excelled in the classroom. This allowed her to keep
to herself and hide behind her textbooks. Lola was very quiet about
her beauty and would rather hide it than expose herself. She felt especially
bashful when boys at her school stared at her, to their jealous cheerleader
girlfriends’ dismay.
Once Lola shimmered some peach
blush on her cheeks and highlighted her eyes with dark brown eyeliner, she
pulled her hair up and tiptoed down the stairs. Hoping to see Oliver, she
peeked into the family room. Disappointed, she saw the afghans her grandmother
had made folded clumsily. The man from last night was nowhere in sight. Aunt
Isla could tell that Lola was frustrated. “Morning, honey. Oliver went for a
run around Lake Moore but he will be back after you return. I know you’re
anxious, sweetie, but I need you to be patient, ok?” Lola feigned lack of
concern and replied, “Yeah. Whatever, see you later Aunt Illy”.
Internally, Lola was so annoyed.
She had so many unanswered questions and they would remain in this condition
until dusk. On the bus, she blocked out Meghana’s unexciting chatter as she
imagined what Oliver’s story was. Maybe he was the twin of her father, but he
had been left in the river by accident when he was a baby. No, too Moses-like. Maybe he was the older, more successful
offspring who caused envy from other family members. Or maybe he was the son
who took all his family’s money. Wait;
that is basically the prodigal son. For someone who is agnostic, I am really
rocking the whole Bible tale.
Lola breezed through the halls of
her school. Once she saw Dev, she ran up to him, practically jumping on him.
Dev was an exchange student from Dubai and happened to be living with the
world’s most obnoxious jock Mason next door to her house. Dev was amazing. He
was witty, had a posh accent, and was down to earth. He was noticeably wealthy,
yet never flaunted it. He was humble and sweet, conscientious and thoughtful.
Dev and Lola had quickly developed a friendship that could be likened to Dawson
and Joey from Dawson’s Creek. Dev had
created that analogy as he was consumed by the show ever since he took an
elective on American pop culture. Dev was part Indian and part Welsh. As a
result, he was deeply beauteous. He had high cheekbones and pretty eyelashes.
His smile was adorable.
Lola exclaimed, “Dev, I have so
much to tell you!” Dev responded, “Alright, then. Spill, my dear”. Lola took
the next fifteen minutes before school officially began to divulge the juice that was the
mysterious and unexpected appearance of Oliver. She described his rich eyes and
fancy shoes. Dev was intrigued by the sudden burst of excitement in Lola’s
life. He was in need for some made-for-TV drama that he could vicariously live
through. Then again, he was dealing with a huge secret in the Erikson
household. Mason’s father had been sneaking around with Delilah Rogers, the
town’s Barbie-doll baker, behind Mrs. Erikson’s back.
As Lola finished up her story that
seemed utterly unreal, the bell rang. Class had begun; thus, Lola and Dev
peeled off in opposite directions. Lola tried to muster up the strength of mind
to survive to day without going crazy. Oliver,
I am going to get to the bottom of this. Get ready, set, go!
