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Affairs Of The Heart

Chapter 1

I never set out to hurt anyone.

Yet it comes around, again and again, the blaring fact that I did; I caused pain for my family, my husband, and finally, the most important person who ever happened to me.

With the thoughts and words I am about to commit to paper, I lovingly dedicate this book, my story, to that fickle lady fate, and all her many strange incarnations.

Videl gently stroked her index finger across the backspace of an old, slate grey Compaq. She watched the I-beam blink several times, a mocking gesture of her sudden uncertainty.

How long had it been? How long since she had felt those nervous, unhappy twinges erupt in her belly? She almost couldn't recall, only knowing they had returned, reinforced with sweaty palms and a splitting headache which four Ibuprofen made not a dent in.

Blue hues slowly drifting closed, Videl disengaged her sight from the computer screen.

So many ways to begin this story, her story, but the only one she could truly center on was about her father, which was the reason her stomach and head and heart ached.

It felt like the most base of betrayals to speak so freely about their relationship.

Father, daughter. Ruler, servant. All the many curves, crosses, and zigzags of feeling they had towards one another. No, there would never be any straight lines, because one string inevitably led to the next, and the next, and the next.

Without cracking a lid and before her mind could start whispering deceitful things, Videl let her fingers fly across the pad; clicking, then clacking like the world might end tomorrow.

In the beginning, I thought my father and I had an easy relationship; he would make his final decrees and I would unflinchingly carry them out. I would make friends like all other normal people, but if father disapproved, out they'd go; not another word said.

Still, through the intermittently murky and clear memories of childhood, I recall Tammy, a very pretty, dusky colored girl who lived on our block. She always wore her hair in braided pigtails, something I was very envious of because they'd swing all the way down to brush the backs of her knees. I liked her, simply and unerringly. She was adventurous where I wasn't permitted to be and we would have great fun playing the silly games of youth.

But I suppose such sweet things are never meant to last, like ice cream left to melt in the sun.

I can still fancy the scent of lemon wood polish, as I politely entered my father's study, dwarfed by everything inside and ready to do whatever he might ask. His voice held the steady, commanding lilt of a man well assured, and it swept over me, soothing like the familiar always is.

He told me that I should no longer be friends with Tammy. That I would see her no more.

I remember my mouth dropping open a little, probably looking like a fish who'd been beached, and before I could stop it, a single word leapt from my tongue into the open air.

"Why?"

I was shocked myself at the utterance, but it was father who seemed even more so. It was like his suspicions of my malleable personality some how being warped by Tammy were confirmed. Perhaps, in his eyes, he was doing me a great service.

He answered my question promptly, I would suspect because he could foresee no harm in it.

"She isn't the right type you should be associating with."

I slowly nodded, quietly exited, and did as he requested, with many tears and apologies.

I now believe the reason for this startlingly acute recollection was Tammy herself; she had been the catalyst of my first dissentious feelings. The sudden, gut wrenching anger and thickly cloying doubt that my father Knew All, was consuming, as well as terrifying. The seeds had been sown, though I did not realize it.

Later, I came to understand what my father meant by "type" and there after felt those seeds silently begin to grow with rebellion. And resentment.

The years passed, and in my own way I became something of a beauty. Those "alive" things inside me laid dormant; a sleeping Venus fly trap. I never again questioned my father, and while others of my age bracket pushed at their boundaries, I remained static. The daunting knowledge that had I tried to fly, father with all his power, would quickly send me crashing to earth. I still feel no shame in thinking myself a coward, because now I know it was simply a matter of survival.

December 7th 2088. I met my husband during the second year of my enrollment at South City Community College.

(It had actually taken a full seven months to nudge father into letting me pursue a higher education. In the end my mother had finally forced him to relent, as her requests were so rare, far and few in between.

It was the second largest thing I thanked and accredited her for; the first being my birth.)

How Sasuke and I met was an accident really, but I suppose no one is ever prepared for those whims of fate that send you hurtling one way...or another.

I had broken the strap of one of my favorite shoes; they were referred to as "Mary Jane's" then, and I adored them because of the classic simplicity they conveyed. With stilted, uneven steps I had wended my way towards an empty classroom, looking for a place to seat myself while making wardrobe repairs. Even though it still embarrasses me to say it, I was, and continue to be a rather ingenious young woman. So, with only a safety pin and a pencil eraser I had made the necessary adjustments to successfully get me through the rest of the day. I slowly shuffled toward the exit, hoping for enough time to use the facilities before reporting to the Human Biology Lab.

At the door, I had bumped into a harried young man carrying his laptop strapped about his throat, a large portfolio tucked under one arm and a fist full of white computer print outs. The pity was immediate, quickly propelling me to help carry some of his burdens towards a desk in the back.

We spoke for a while, and it hadn't occurred to me how expertly he dominated the conversation. Talking with any men outside my rather small family had always been a tedious and very uneasy affair. Mostly because when the topic landed on myself, I would somehow have to push it back, and my 'mystique' seemed to increase a notch.

It amuses me now, today, how that silence had not been a bid for coyness or mystery points, it was simply because I was not expected to be interesting, witty or original. Father, had done his job very well.

As we continued to talk, the topic soon found it's way towards the romantic. I believe the rest can speak for itself, as no more than a year and a half later we were married; father, of course, was pleased with 'my' choice. Sasuke Shell had been studying law when we met, and would soon be taking his BAR examination.

We would be a lovely, pleasantly affluent, South City Heights couple.

Of course, I withdrew from college immediately, but at least I had my Associates degree which was more than I could've hoped for. I won't say the bitterness wasn't there that only three more months would've gotten my Bachelor's, but like always, I would let the feelings fester, pretending they didn't exist and I was content.

And so, we easily settled into the tedium of an 'old married couple.' He would study, go to school and I would sit at home cleaning, cooking and watching. Oh, how I would watch the bustle and busy of the world outside our very nice one bedroom apartment, inside a tall, glass skyscraper.

I can see now, how akin to a princess trapped within the highest tower, within her 'death sleep,' I must have appeared. And without embarrassment, I can say it was how I felt as well.

Though I did not believe the 'Prince upon a white charger' was in the cards for me.

Five years passed in mediocrity; I suppose from the beginning we had always been more friends than lovers. But the caring was there, and perhaps I believed that was all we needed. Maybe he loved me, I'm still not sure, but I would like to think, somehow, he knew I wasn't the One. Selfishly, I need to believe that or the weight on my heart would be unbearable.

And then it happened. One miserable Monday morning I had woken up, tears still clinging to my lashes, and realized that I was a Rich Lawyer's Wife. You couldn't understand the anger and resignation that came with those three words.

A sad, sorry animal staring out of its cage, too domesticated to do more then blink at passerby.

I laugh, thinking how Lady Fate had not been finished with me by a long shot. That very night Sasuke asked if I would accompany him to the Golfing green in the morning. Being a dutiful wife, I agreed, only remembering to ask afterwards the reason why. In his sweet, sometimes cajoling tone he told me his friend of about nineteen years was visiting, and that it would please him very much if I would meet him. I smiled, nodded my head and comfortably slipped between the cool sheets of our bed. The lullaby of city sounds below cocooned me in their familiarity, as I asked what this 'friend's' name was.

Gohan Son, he said on a tired sigh. Then I was treated to his soft and steady snores.

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