A girl with many things on her mind

Maya Being paged to the principal’s office is barely a good sign, but I walked in with a broad smile after my last class nevertheless and left ten minutes later with a dazed expression. Me? They wanted me to be an assistant playwright! Well, more like an assistant to the assistant of the actual writer, but what the heck? Me? I had just met with an assistant producer who had taken an interest in a play I had written in high school, and she wanted to see some of my other material. If it was good, then she wanted to offer me a chance to study with her. This means I will have to leave here, but needless to say, it was something I was most willing to do. “But don’t count your stars yet, Miss Patel, it’s only an offer if you cut, yes?” the dark-skinned woman had made sure to mention as she shook my hand. “I have to read two other scripts of yours before I can make this decision.” She was dressed exactly like one would be to a business meeting and that made me feel a bit significant. Her face with just the right amount of makeup to be professional. Studded black earrings and a white pantsuit, with a pair of not-too-high heels to match the black and white striped scarf around her neck. Her hair was a bob-styled one and her flower-scented perfume at a bare minimum. Nodding, I shook her hand as excitement flooded inside me. Once inside my room, I grabbed my iPad and started to make notes of plots that floated around my brain. I had a week to show her my potential, she forewarned. It had been a goal of mine when I was thirteen to direct movies, hence the play I wrote that was a hit years ago, but I had no idea my teacher had seen the promise in my hard work and had shown it off. But it had never been a big dream of mine. Not a realistic one anyway, and it had died the week after the much-talked-about live play that was held annually. My parents needed me to be responsible and study pharmaceuticals. Floating on cloud nine, I did not notice my brother’s long face before I broke the news to him. He smiled and was genuinely happy for me. That night, bursting with joy, I shared the thrill with my in-laws at the dinner table, and they all smiled, but I could tell it was not something they wanted me to do. I could feel that they thought that I should be satisfied with being one of them and that is it. But I do not let them know I know this. Knowing that they did not fully grasp what I wanted because they could not comprehend what they did not know. Which is the joy of the world outside, the total opposite of their darkness. They only knew violence and power. Take what you want and screw the rest. They all waited expectantly for the final word from Alejandro, who also wished me luck with it. But I could read the room by now; they knew that it was not his final say. He would talk with me privately; I could read it in their facial expressions. A husband and wife discussion. It’s nearly a month since I have had some sort of joy in my life, so the lack of spirit in their smiles does not hinder mine. Yes, an entire month of no Alejandro touching me in the way that I want. It’s like we reverted. He does not touch me when we sleep and sticks to his side of the bed when he does get home. Occasionally he would help me with a zipper or kiss my cheek. And yes, there were times when I wanted to scream at him, why wasn’t I good enough for him to leave his girlfriend? Why couldn't he stick to his vows? I wonder what he would do if I did what he did. Sometimes I get so frustrated that I want to just choose a random guy and just get it don’t with, so I can relieve myself of these...pent up emotions that I am not used to and cannot stop thinking of what this man I call husband, has corrupted my mind with. But I know this wasn’t a real marriage. It was a manipulation game he had ongoing with my father. Sometimes I cried. I wanted his touch- badly. So bad that I can’t concentrate on my work and stare blankly at the lectures and taking notes from one of the guys from the group. It’s terrible. This ache that I have, knowing what I wanted him to do to me without even knowing what it feels like- s*x. Yes, I want it. From him. By him. Only him. I think Alejandro has spoiled me from other men- forever. And this baffles me because we have never done the deed, nor am I in love with the guy. Am I? No, I am not. I cannot be. Love is- springtime and summer with autumn air and cuddles when it snows. Alejandro is just...black. Everything about him and his life is immoral. A transgression of anything and everything good. And one cannot love a creature as dark as that. He's repulsive- I stare at him from across the table as one of the maids clears up the dinnerware. We barely spoke tonight, as per usual in the past weeks. His lips slightly parted, chin raised as he bore into my soul. -but I want him to dull this ache between my legs. Even from the safe distance across the four-foot table, my blood heated, my eyes telling him more than they should before he broke our gaze to take the cake being offered to him. He is hard to read. But from the nostril flare and clenched jawline when I broke the news of my playwright knew joy, I knew it was bothering him. Even when he spoke flatly like the others, to congratulate me, I knew he did not mean it. And against all odds, I hope he does not prohibit me from moving into that field of study. Knowing the beef between him and my family is a fierce one because of my mother- I feel repulsed when I think of her in the arms of the man I married. But knowing the battle of dominance that Alehandro won, I feel a new fear growing inside me. Will he allow me to go to New York for two years?