Hi guys!
Sorry for my radio silence, but I have been extremely ill these past few months. However, I am back, alive and kicking, and here with a cute little one shot for you!
If any of you are currently reading my 'Long time no see' story, yes, I am continuing on with it, don't worry! The next chapter will be up in about a week's time.
Lottie xx
Life never goes the way you would expect it to.
It's funny that way.
Not, 'funny ha ha', but funny in a, 'never saw that coming', way.
As a young girl, let's say… at the tender age of five; there are many things you know for certain. First of all is that you want to be a princess, as it is naturally a particularly rewarding career path. If that fails, next in line is to be a dragon. However, that may require some surgical procedures to look the part and quite frankly, you're deathly afraid of needles.
So, a princess it is.
Another certainty is that you will have a cat, three dogs and a few dozen unicorns. But this is just common sense, as it comes with the prestige of royalty.
Lastly, and most importantly, you know you will find your prince.
A prince who will make all of your troubles disappear, with his luscious dark locks and dazzling blue eyes. He will never demand children from you because they're yucky and gross, just like your little brother Emmett. He'll pick you up, straddle a horse, and ride off into the sunset.
Yes, that type of prince.
Who else will accompany you on the throne, whilst you make the laws of the land? Who else will polish your tiara? Who else will be the one to meet you at the end of the aisle and will coincidentally elevate your status to 'queen'? Who else…
Well, you get the point.
In short, a prince.
The perfect prince.
Life, however, always has a way of intervening.
As the years pass, you come to realise a few things amiss about that future you have mapped out. And for the first time, reality hits you. Right in the face.
One. You are not royalty. This kind of puts a stop to the whole 'princess' dream. Also, dragons don't exist. But one can hope…
Two, unicorns also don't exist, unless gluing an ice cream cone to the forehead of a horse counts. But still, whatever conical shape you stick to a horse, or even a donkey, it still does not make them in any way magical.
It makes them look a little stupid, if you're perfectly honest.
And, finally, three.
There is no perfect prince.
Yep. That is a whole other great big slap in the face. Multiple slaps, even. Maybe even a punch to the stomach while you're at it.
Oh, there are princes. There's one, who you believe to be the most perfect one in the world. He is flawless in every way… until you come home one day to find another 'princess' all snuggled up in the royal bedchambers with the aforementioned Prince Charming kissing her like the utter toad she is…
Sorry, that was uncalled for. Obviously there is some left over animosity towards the incident.
'It was dark, I thought she was you', my arse…
Whoa, passive aggressive much?
…And now you're having conversations with yourself Charlie, well done.
Where was I?
Oh yes. The fake princes.
Now, after you have yelled profanities in your dear Charming's direction and then proceeded to throw all of his clothing out of the nearest convenient window, a little bit more of that childhood fantasy of finding 'the One' gets chipped away.
But don't worry, after him, there is the next, 'One'. And then third-time's-the-charm Mr definitely the, 'One'.
And the, 'Ones', after him too.
After the complete disasters of princes one through eleven, and all of those different, 'Ones', it becomes more of a faint glimmer of hope than a blinding all-consuming destiny path.
Then where does it leave you? Lost? Heartbroken? More determined? Maybe you become pessimistic? I guess it depends on the person.
But me? I remain cautiously optimistic.
Key word, cautiously.
My beliefs about my future have shifted somewhat. Or maybe a whole lot. Those childish dreams seem a lifetime away now that I actually have life experience.
Now I'm just working on that unicorn, that dream's still alive and kicking…
But yes, my beliefs. Over the past few years I have become more and more frustrated with the way my love life, or lack thereof, is panning out. Therefore, this whole 'voicing of my thoughts' thing is usually accompanied by a bottle of cheap red wine and the latest debacle in the romance area.
Ugh. Men.
It is said that a man wants a woman who will smile, nod, and only speak when spoken to. At least that's what was drilled into me by my Grandmother when I was still a naïve child, wondering when my tiara would arrive in the post.
But, to be perfectly honest with you, that's not me.
My Grandmother is very much a believer in the whole, 'a women should stay at home, look after the children, and for the love of the Maker, learn to cook, Celeste', thing.
Still not me.
I am, in fact, the complete opposite of what my Grandmother aspired for me to be.
For one thing, I am not known as, 'Celeste', anymore.
I work, for one thing. I mean, how else am I meant to buy the necessities, and still have enough left over to fund my near-constant battle against buying the luxuries I don't need?
A battle I always seem to lose, by the way.
I mean, who really needs a perfect replica of the golden bikini Princess Leia wore whilst being held captive in Jabba the Hutt's palace?
Me, apparently.
And also so does my dog.
Anyway… coming back to why I am a failure in my Grandmother's eyes.
Against her dearest wishes, I also do not have any children. Having my own parents perish in a car accident makes me very reluctant to make a tiny person of my own. For if I were to make an unpremeditated exit from this world, I could not bear the thought of leaving them behind.
Besides, would I sacrifice my figure for an imaginary child? No.
Furthermore, there is one thing missing from the plan to reproduce. I mean, it takes two to tango. And since I do not have someone to do the impregnating, I am a little stuck, wouldn't you say? I mean, come on Grandma! You'd have a heart-attack if they came from out of wedlock…
And that's another thing she gets on my case about.
Marriage.
Even the notion…
If you had asked me twenty years ago whether matrimony was something that would come about in my future, I would have nodded my head so fast you would have thought it would have fallen off and rolled out of the door.
Needless to say, my views have obviously changed.
It's just a piece of paper. And anyway, people get married for all sorts of reasons other than love. (Not that they should do, mind you.) Arranged marriages, financial reasons, to gain a visa into a country… Plenty of other reasons.
Also, proving your love? Please… You should do that every day anyway, it doesn't matter whether there's an overly exorbitant ceremony.
The only thing marriage has a benefit for in my eyes, is that you are named your spouse's next of kin by default.
Sorry to burst that conservative bubble of yours Grandma, but I'm a modern woman. I am my own person, I say what I think and do as I please. If that means no husband for Charlie, then so be it.
Besides, I still can't cook.
And this brings me nicely to the present day.
As I said, I am the opposite of everything my Grandmother wanted out of her granddaughter.
I'm a working women, with no cooking skills to speak of, no husband, not even a boyfriend. 35 years of age, and childless, just the way I want to be.
And I am loving every minute of it.
Okay, I'll admit. Slight bending of the truth there.
Alright, it was a great big whopper of a lie.
I am not content. I hate that I'm not, because I worked so hard to be where I am.
Don't misunderstand me, I am happy with what I have. I love my job, my home. I love my family, maybe a little less when family meals come around and the nagging begins. But nevertheless, I love them. And I love my Bichon-Frise puppy to pieces.
It's just what I'm missing that makes me feel melancholy.
I do not want a relationship.
They are difficult, and time consuming; and full of stress and insecurities of both parties that I do not want or need.
But, I want to have a companion.
Someone to live with.
Someone to cuddle.
In a romantic way.
With feelings…
Fine! I want a relationship.
But I don't want the baggage that comes with it. Both physically and emotionally.
So I am in a perpetual state of perplexity.
Ugh.
~o0o~
It's there again.
That bloody car.
Parked right in front of my house.
The nerve of some people… That is my spot. My parking space. A space that is designated for my car.
Of course, it would help if I actually had a car.
Or drove, for that matter.
But never mind that! They can't just leave it there!
It blocks my view.
Also, it is the most disgustingly coloured car I have ever had the misfortune of setting eyes on…
Pulling the curtains in my front lounge open a little wider, I glance both ways down the street on which I live. No one in sight.
Typical.
This person, whoever they were, had been parking in front of my house for the past two weeks. Every day I wake up, and the car's there. I come home from work and guess what, it's still there!
And do you know what really gets to me?
Just as I am drifting off to sleep every night, someone gets into that beige-coloured monstrosity, slams the door, and starts the engine, waking me up again. And then they seem to have a lot to do whilst just sitting there with the engine running, like annoying the hell out of me for one, until I finally snap.
I then march on over to the window to yell at them for going for the idling world record whilst people are trying to sleep, but before I can even throw open the window, they pull off and disappear down the road, once again irritating me even more since I didn't get to shout at them.
But not before the noise of the car sets off Hermione, my Bichon, barking.
This happens every night.
Without fail.
You may think I'm overreacting. You may even be thinking, 'does she have anger issues?'
But no, for your information, I don't.
It is entirely justified.
I mean, they didn't even ask me if they could park there. They just went ahead and did it.
Strike one.
Strike two is the midnight wake-up calls that are entirely unwanted.
And finally, that car is such a sickening colour, I feel personally victimised and offended just looking at it.
Strike three, and Charlie's mad.
I have tried to catch the offending neighbour, but as I have made perfectly clear, their schedule does not in any way coincide with mine. This makes it difficult to identify the culprit.
I have considered other options. Like staying up a little later and intervene when they try to get into the taupe contraption they call a car.
Other options I have come up with have been simply to move, or maybe to buy a car to park it in the spot so they can't, and possibly going door to door to demand to know who it is that is parking there.
But I don't know… The going door to door one seems a little extreme…
So far, I have just resigned to seethe in silence for the time being until I think of a solution.
Ah, such a British approach, wouldn't you say?
Not that I'm British, but I've always loved their accents.
And their tea.
Speaking of tea, I let go of the curtain and made my way into the kitchen, flipping the switch for the kettle on.
Maybe a cuppa will calm me down, hey?
Two minutes later, and I am staring into the cupboard, gritting my teeth.
No tea bags.
Just my luck.
Closing the cupboard door a little harder than I should have, I placed my forehead against it, taking a few deep breaths.
In, two three four, hold, two three four, out, two three four, and repeat…
Deciding that a replenishing of the tea bag supply was in order, I made to grab for my keys in the ceramic dish I kept on the kitchen table, only to knock the whole thing off, it smashing all over the floor.
Saying a few choice words I am not about to repeat, I grabbed my keys out of the mess and straightened upright again, deciding that I'd pick it up later...
A small whine came from my left and one glance at Hermione told me that if I didn't tidy it now, she would 'tidy it' while I was gone.
And by that I mean eat and to later have a vet surgically remove it from her lower intestines.
Damn.
One broken piece of pottery in the bin later, I seized my coat off of the rack in the hall and shrugged it on.
This is a little more snug than last time I wore it…
Scowling, and resolving to walk the dog more often, I tugged my shock of ginger hair out of the collar and stomped out of the door, locking it behind me. I jumped down the steps and shoved the house keys into my pocket, only to hear them hit the floor a second later.
Chink.
Setting my jaw, so as to not lose it with an inanimate object in public, I picked them up and tried prying open the pocket.
Welded shut, as it appeared.
Damn fake pockets, what is your purpose? Give me actual pockets so the coat becomes useful please, designers of clothes everywhere!
It wasn't until I had finished the thought that I realised I had uttered it out loud.
More like shouted it.
Fearing the worst, I chanced a look to the right, into the garden of no. 6.
I'd never seen Mrs Wu look so terrified.
After being locked in a staring match for five seconds, both of us with wide eyes but both for very different reasons, I attempted a smile.
It was embarrassingly unsuccessful.
"I just… dropped my," I jangled my keys in her direction to get my meaning across, words failing me. See, numbers I can do.
But words seem to always escape me.
Insert awkward silence here.
"Well, um, have a nice day, Mrs Wu."
I'd now lost the power of coherent speech as well as my coordination.
Fleeing for what seemed like my life, more like my dignity, I pushed through the gate of my front garden. If you could call it a garden, that is. More like a square of unkempt grass and some thistles I pretend are flowers.
As well as cooking, gardening is not my forte.
Humiliation still colouring my cheeks, I turned out of the gate, only to come up short.
Mortification gave way to resentment.
The wheels are on the kerb.
They're on my kerb.
Now, in perspective, I don't know why I did it. Well, maybe I do. I'd had a bad day so far, a very bad day, and this was the last straw.
Honestly though, it was so out of character I think I surprised myself.
But the keys, they just called to me.
Use me, Charlie. This car has been nothing but trouble for you. It deserves it.
Next thing I know, there's a long line down the side of that stupid little mustard-coloured car. It really stood out though, that dark line against the pale colour of the paintwork…
I panicked.
I am so going to be in trouble for this…
Wait, did Mrs Wu see…
One glance confirmed she had gone inside her house.
Phew…
Oh my God, what if someone else saw?!
What if I get arrested!
I can't get arrested, I have a career!
"Hey!"
A voice snapped me out of my reverie.
"What'd'ya think you're doing?!"
Turning towards the source of the noise, I saw a small shape dart down the garden three houses over.
Crap.
So I did the only thing I could think of doing.
Run.
Although, I didn't get very far.
Almost as soon as I took off running, I was tackled from behind.
And now I had a face full of concrete pavement.
Now this is just getting better and better…
"Oh my God! I didn't mean to tackle you like that. Are you alright?"
Groaning, I tried to heave myself up, but found I couldn't due to the slightly overpowering weight rested on top of me.
"It might help if you got off me."
"Oh, yes, right."
The weight lifted, and I rolled over and sat up. Blinking, the person came into focus.
A dark head of hair was first to come into focus. It looked so silken my first thought was, 'I wonder if it's as soft as it looks?' A pale face, one that was maybe a little more pink than mine, but maybe due to the fact that she was flushed. Delicate but strong features…
And then finally, the eyes.
Blue. Azure. Sapphire. Cerulean. Cobalt. Whatever adjective used to describe them was meaningless, when it comes down to it, they were blue.
A beautiful, clear light blue.
"Are you alright?"
Right, yes, they were talking. To me. And I was meant to… respond? What did they say again?
"Huh?"
Lips curled up into a slight smile which quickly turned into a frown.
"I said, are you okay? You look a little dazed…" At this I smirked. Oh, I was dazed alright… "Listen to me… stranger. Um, what is your name?"
"Charlene. Charlie. Really my name is Celeste, but you can call me," I took in a deep breath which could be constituted as a sigh, "Charlie…"
Celeste. I hadn't used that name in years. I detested that name. Why was I telling her?
Our eyes met, and all at once, everything fell into place. God, I'm such a cliché, but it's true! I'm not saying the stars aligned or anything, it was not 'love at first sight'. It was 'something' at first sight. But what I am saying is that everything made sense now, why none of my relationships had ever worked out in the past.
"Well, hi Charlie, I'm Dorothy. Dorothy Baum."
And, just like that, I filled in that missing gap.
Dorothy.
~o0o~
Life never goes the way you would expect it to.
It's funny that way.
For years and years you search for your perfect prince, only to find no prince is good enough. So you give up your search, resigned to the fact that you will be a solitary queen and rule alone.
But, just as you give up, that true perfect love falls right into your lap.
Or tackles you from behind, as the case may be.
You've been blindly seeking a prince to rule by your side.
When really, you were looking for a princess all along.
So, there it is, short and sweet! Bit of a change from Harry Potter, I know, but I wanted to do something slightly different...
Like it? Tell me and I'll do some more!