Happy Eighteen

HAPPY EIGHTEEN

She was eighteen. I'm aware because we share a birthday.

On that day, their mansion was loaded with different guests. It was her birthday party. Almost all people from the upper class, a few from the middle class, and none from the lower class had attended. Their wealth was something that amazed me. They slept poor and woke up rich.

The rise of their status class left many of us dumbfounded. Among the people present was her father, James Berriton. A local business tycoon who suddenly became worldwide He had the temper of a lion. No one dared to crack jokes in his presence. He always wore an emotionless face, covered by chillness and aloofness. Though he was in his late forties and still handsome, people always mistakenly believed him to be a bachelor. His looks made him into what he was. A womanizer! Magazines were covered by his pictures with different women.

Then there was her mother, Rosalis Berriton, a tigress. She fought almost every day on the streets; she had a sharp mouth and a great ability to slander others. Her behavior never escaped paparazzi notice; hence, like her husband, she was always in the spotlight.

Her big sister was not left out; Jude Berriton had the temper of their mother. She was an apple. She was pampered, adorned, and treated like a queen. She was given anything she wanted. She was known for her bitchy, sassy attitude. She was also rude; she never gave a damn about who she was rude to.

And then there was her little brother, Brighton Berriton; he was cool from the outside but a dragon from the inside. Just like his dad, he was a womanizer. Ladies fought for spots on his bed, taking advantage of the fact that he was now at their disposal. He used them and dropped them like a hot brick.

All these family members had a similar trait: They loathed Heather with such passion.

Heather was the second born in this family. Though she was from their family and shared the same blood with them, she was treated indifferently. She never received the love that her siblings did from both parents. I bet that was the reason she was different from them.

She was calm, sensitive, beautiful, caring, and loving, and she treated everyone equally. She was also blessed with a unique voice, and if it were not for her parents' constant denials to let her use it, she could be a worldwide singer. She was also known for her perfect ballet dance moves. There was no competition; she participated and left without emerging a winner. Ballet was what made her happy. She lived for it just like she believed ballet existed for her.

She had extra-long, thick black hair, which I always had the urge to run my fingers through. She had a beautiful, small, round face, which I wished to touch one day. Her eyes were a beautiful work of art; they were chocolate-brown and glassy. Every time our eyes met, I found myself drawn into them.

Her thin, wet pink lips were always curled upwards in a seductive smirk. It will be a lie if I don’t mention the number of days I fantasized about kissing them. They looked juicy! There was this strange look she gave me whenever we were alone. It disturbed me for days and nights.

She sometimes wore a painful look in her eyes, and I understood that look well. Even though she had never told me, I knew deep down she wished to be treated the way her siblings were treated.

During her birthday celebration, I helped her get ready since I was her only friend. We were like blood siblings. Though we never talked much, we still understood each other. Instead of cracking jokes or gossiping like normal best friends do, we always pulled each other in a tight embrace and listened to our heartbeats.

Sometimes, holding hands made us understand what one of us was going through. That day, as I helped her put on the black, body-hugging dress her parents had bought for her, I couldn’t help but gulp. She was so beautiful. It being the first time I saw her in black, I couldn't utter a word.

In the evening, her parents came and took her to the living room, hand in hand, where the party was to take place. We couldn’t understand why her parents were suddenly nice to her. I sensed something was fishy, but given what I had seen on her face that day, I decided to ignore the thought. I never wanted to shatter her hopes that her parents would start loving her.

When the party was coming to an end, her parents announced in front of everyone that they had decided to let their daughter pursue what she had always wanted: ballet dance. She was shocked beyond belief. I was too.

Later, when I helped her change clothes, she told me her dad had introduced her to a man her spirit didn't sit well with. I later came to know the man was supposed to be her teacher. He was to help her with her ballet classes. I recall asking her why her spirit didn't sit well with her so-called teacher, but she kept mum and gave me a strange gaze I never understood.

"There is something I've never told you, Star." She broke the silence after a while. She used to call me Star.

''Mmh!'' I urged her to continue.

"I like girls." She dropped the bomb, and I was left chocking on my own saliva.

"How sure are you, and is there any girl you like? I mean the one who made you realize you like girls." Coming back to my senses, I asked her.

"Yeah! She has always been with me. " "I am only afraid that she isn’t gay because she could have realized how beautiful I am long ago." Saying that, she rose from the couch we were sitting on and slummed on her bed.

Because it was late at night, I bid her goodbye and retreated to my house. On my way out, I found the courage I'd never had before and decided to tell her what I'd always wanted to say before it was too late. I never wanted to miss that chance.

  "Heather!" I called out, "I discovered how beautiful you are since three years ago." I confessed.

Fortunately, our relationship started. What we never knew was that it was about to end soon and forever.