54th Glade, 4609
It’s strange how I view the woman I loved, although she was always on fire. Figuratively, not actually on fire, by Bel’s doors if that were to happen I would’ve panicked and threw her in the nearest fountain before calling a doctor. Yes, not very gentlemanly but we all do things in the heat of the moment.
The point is she was a wealthy businesswoman who appears to be a workaholic, always overdoing things because of her family’s success despite her father’s dark secrets that are left out, like dirty laundry left out. I suppose people always involve themselves in the wrong crowd at some point, make mistakes but end up paying the ultimate price for it somehow.
That's life, unfortunately.
Anyway, I enjoyed her company and perhaps she was the only woman who I have ever grown to fall in love with at the time; although she did overdo a lot of things, from her presentability at work as we shared the bed together for the first time. No premarital sex, just normal couple stuff. Heh, they would be dirtying both the Carnahan and the Sycamore name if that was the case.
“Honey, what do you think?” She said, putting on that stylish jacket, black dress and a pair of heels to go with; everytime it made me roll my eyes as she would annoy me with constant changes of her wardrobe every time. She looked great, she had the figure and yet I almost felt like she didn’t believe me when I would tell her ‘She is the boss.’
It is true, she is the boss.
“I think you're overdoing it” I responded as politely as possible, moving out of my bed covers slightly, crossing my arms with that stoic and confident stare as I put up with her nonsense for no matter how many times we’ve courted, she would not believe me, she would not take no for an answer and sometimes it drives me insane.
But…
I love her.
She puts everything into perspective, even though she is insecure, but it means I would remain a comforting vessel for her to securely reach out to if anything ever went wrong. She looked at me with that scowl once again in her eye before she tilted her head at me.
“Oh my god, Oliver… It’s the conference today and almost all my clothes are out of Griscian season, I mean if I turn up in this, people would think I’ve died.”
See my problem?
It’s extremely hard and exhausting when it gets to this point, that I would roll my eyes, give her that condescending stare again before I equally tried to explain her situation “You have about probably a wardrobe the size of Palmyra Fairfax’s closet.”
“That’s not the point, I need to look bossy and if she was the same size as I was, I would be raiding her closet…”
And there she goes again, throwing another hat, jacket or scarf in my face until she is satisfied with how she looks. The point was I saw straight through that mask she chose to wear, finding perfection regardless of her vulnerability and insecurity. In some ways, I could understand her as I watched her, I saw myself in her shoes. She is constantly seeking approval from her family as I have tried myself, but it was this poisonous ideology that had brought everyone to think in this manner.
The process was similar to jewelers staring at diamonds for long periods of time, until they find the one completely flawless, with no essence of coal in the translucent surface. It’s the same with our pasts, our futures and what we make of ourselves; the process of redefining a good man or woman within the tenets of the pillars themselves. In some way, I understand what it was like to prove that you’re a capable citizen, that you can stand on your own two feet and independently run a dynasty.
I stared at her once again as she appeared to be completely satisfied in a dress that suited her business model. A jacket that appeared to make her shoulders look broader, followed by the practicality of her black and gold dress. She turned around and smiled at me, showing her complete confidence in the ensemble she had chosen.
“I personally think you’re overreacting, darling…” He said with a shrug.
“I think I’m under reacting, my brother will be starting work at the firm soon, so I don’t want to be outsuited by his rather large and bulky suits do I?”
“Sometimes bosses don’t need to be big, even the little ones are scarier…”
“Are you saying that I’m short?”
“No, I’m saying…” Oh shit, she got me again… Think, think, think… I could see her glaring at me with those eyes again as I had stepped out of line, instead I remained calm and corrected my false start “Maybe I misrepresented what I said, I think your a boss no matter what and if that brother tells you wrong, you can give him the good ol’ sacking” I said, hoping to make her feel better about the situation, yet she gave me that look as if I had fallen off her shoe.
“I would, but… I promised my family that I would keep them together because that’s how we survive in this world… If you have no one to look out for it can be a lonely and dark place, but if you have family that’s how generations of dynasties are born. It’s the legacy that we leave behind that matters.”
The woman’s wisdom wasn’t questionable, but it did lift up some old wounds of my own family; my mother wasn’t really the same after Symone had left Grisic, she grew mentally unstable, but yet I had to keep holding onto the presence of family, like she had to; the purpose was to keep the family unit as strong as possible, regardless if we liked each other or not.
Regardless, we both had stuff to do that day, she was trying to keep her father’s legacy alive and I was working at the university, managing the library. It was a start, compared to the other family members who worked their way up to working in magical research. It was something I tried doing, but it did not work out, as much as I wanted it I wasn’t really the sort of lad that enjoyed school. In some way, I almost feel like I’m a failure amongst the other Carnahans unlike my sister, Cecilia and my niece, Fallon.
Speaking of which, later that day me and Jean had arranged to have dinner with my family. My uncaring mother, Chetna, appeared to douse her in fake sincerity as my father would be the one looking at her like some ill-omened owl. That was the thing about being a Carnahan, you felt trapped, you could never ask for help. The prospect of needing help was a sign of weakness to be used against you in later life. It almost felt like a predatory concept, but this was the world of business. It wasn’t pleasurable nor desirable.
Cutthroat.
My mother would stare at me and my wife was we were eating, smiling as if she was about to cause a scene. Here she goes again “Aren’t you going to ask your future wife what she wants?”
Jean immediately stared at Oliver confused for a moment “Oh, erm… Would you like any of the…” He appeared to be lost for words as she smiled politely at Chetna “Oh, I can handle myself… I’m an independent woman after all…”
“Yes, I can see that… You’d have to forgive my eunuch of a son… He’s not used to this, I mean knowing you, you would probably have someone else lined up so you wouldn’t have to deal with… This excuse of a son.”
Once again, she had the right to degrade me like this? I could see the look on Jean’s face as she appeared to laugh it off politely, but I could see that look of spite once someone upset the apple cart… I know she’s going to cause a scene and in my head I am hoping she doesn’t but I know my Jean… Stubborn, fiery, confident and the most loyal person on earth. She would have my back through anything and I would have hers if she’d let me.
“Excuse me?” Jean added.
“As far as I can say with weakness, this man is nothing but a feeble excuse unlike my son, Symone and my daughter Cecilia who have very successful careers.”
“Yes, and Oliver is building his…”
“In what? You can’t possibly think I’d take you seriously as a Carnahan if you're a professor at university.” Okay, that hurt. It was all starting to come out now, but knowing how my mother thinks this way really fills her with spite.
As hurt as I was, my future wife made things ten times worse, as soon as she got up and started an argument between them. I just wanted to leave, walk away and forget about everything. If only I could escape from such a chaotic family, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so misplaced from society.
Where did it go wrong? What am I missing? And do I need their approval?
It’s strange how I view the woman I loved, although she was always on fire. Figuratively, not actually on fire, by Bel’s doors if that were to happen I would’ve panicked and threw her in the nearest fountain before calling a doctor. Yes, not very gentlemanly but we all do things in the heat of the moment.
The point is she was a wealthy businesswoman who appears to be a workaholic, always overdoing things because of her family’s success despite her father’s dark secrets that are left out, like dirty laundry left out. I suppose people always involve themselves in the wrong crowd at some point, make mistakes but end up paying the ultimate price for it somehow.
That's life, unfortunately.
Anyway, I enjoyed her company and perhaps she was the only woman who I have ever grown to fall in love with at the time; although she did overdo a lot of things, from her presentability at work as we shared the bed together for the first time. No premarital sex, just normal couple stuff. Heh, they would be dirtying both the Carnahan and the Sycamore name if that was the case.
“Honey, what do you think?” She said, putting on that stylish jacket, black dress and a pair of heels to go with; everytime it made me roll my eyes as she would annoy me with constant changes of her wardrobe every time. She looked great, she had the figure and yet I almost felt like she didn’t believe me when I would tell her ‘She is the boss.’
It is true, she is the boss.
“I think you're overdoing it” I responded as politely as possible, moving out of my bed covers slightly, crossing my arms with that stoic and confident stare as I put up with her nonsense for no matter how many times we’ve courted, she would not believe me, she would not take no for an answer and sometimes it drives me insane.
But…
I love her.
She puts everything into perspective, even though she is insecure, but it means I would remain a comforting vessel for her to securely reach out to if anything ever went wrong. She looked at me with that scowl once again in her eye before she tilted her head at me.
“Oh my god, Oliver… It’s the conference today and almost all my clothes are out of Griscian season, I mean if I turn up in this, people would think I’ve died.”
See my problem?
It’s extremely hard and exhausting when it gets to this point, that I would roll my eyes, give her that condescending stare again before I equally tried to explain her situation “You have about probably a wardrobe the size of Palmyra Fairfax’s closet.”
“That’s not the point, I need to look bossy and if she was the same size as I was, I would be raiding her closet…”
And there she goes again, throwing another hat, jacket or scarf in my face until she is satisfied with how she looks. The point was I saw straight through that mask she chose to wear, finding perfection regardless of her vulnerability and insecurity. In some ways, I could understand her as I watched her, I saw myself in her shoes. She is constantly seeking approval from her family as I have tried myself, but it was this poisonous ideology that had brought everyone to think in this manner.
The process was similar to jewelers staring at diamonds for long periods of time, until they find the one completely flawless, with no essence of coal in the translucent surface. It’s the same with our pasts, our futures and what we make of ourselves; the process of redefining a good man or woman within the tenets of the pillars themselves. In some way, I understand what it was like to prove that you’re a capable citizen, that you can stand on your own two feet and independently run a dynasty.
I stared at her once again as she appeared to be completely satisfied in a dress that suited her business model. A jacket that appeared to make her shoulders look broader, followed by the practicality of her black and gold dress. She turned around and smiled at me, showing her complete confidence in the ensemble she had chosen.
“I personally think you’re overreacting, darling…” He said with a shrug.
“I think I’m under reacting, my brother will be starting work at the firm soon, so I don’t want to be outsuited by his rather large and bulky suits do I?”
“Sometimes bosses don’t need to be big, even the little ones are scarier…”
“Are you saying that I’m short?”
“No, I’m saying…” Oh shit, she got me again… Think, think, think… I could see her glaring at me with those eyes again as I had stepped out of line, instead I remained calm and corrected my false start “Maybe I misrepresented what I said, I think your a boss no matter what and if that brother tells you wrong, you can give him the good ol’ sacking” I said, hoping to make her feel better about the situation, yet she gave me that look as if I had fallen off her shoe.
“I would, but… I promised my family that I would keep them together because that’s how we survive in this world… If you have no one to look out for it can be a lonely and dark place, but if you have family that’s how generations of dynasties are born. It’s the legacy that we leave behind that matters.”
The woman’s wisdom wasn’t questionable, but it did lift up some old wounds of my own family; my mother wasn’t really the same after Symone had left Grisic, she grew mentally unstable, but yet I had to keep holding onto the presence of family, like she had to; the purpose was to keep the family unit as strong as possible, regardless if we liked each other or not.
Regardless, we both had stuff to do that day, she was trying to keep her father’s legacy alive and I was working at the university, managing the library. It was a start, compared to the other family members who worked their way up to working in magical research. It was something I tried doing, but it did not work out, as much as I wanted it I wasn’t really the sort of lad that enjoyed school. In some way, I almost feel like I’m a failure amongst the other Carnahans unlike my sister, Cecilia and my niece, Fallon.
Speaking of which, later that day me and Jean had arranged to have dinner with my family. My uncaring mother, Chetna, appeared to douse her in fake sincerity as my father would be the one looking at her like some ill-omened owl. That was the thing about being a Carnahan, you felt trapped, you could never ask for help. The prospect of needing help was a sign of weakness to be used against you in later life. It almost felt like a predatory concept, but this was the world of business. It wasn’t pleasurable nor desirable.
Cutthroat.
My mother would stare at me and my wife was we were eating, smiling as if she was about to cause a scene. Here she goes again “Aren’t you going to ask your future wife what she wants?”
Jean immediately stared at Oliver confused for a moment “Oh, erm… Would you like any of the…” He appeared to be lost for words as she smiled politely at Chetna “Oh, I can handle myself… I’m an independent woman after all…”
“Yes, I can see that… You’d have to forgive my eunuch of a son… He’s not used to this, I mean knowing you, you would probably have someone else lined up so you wouldn’t have to deal with… This excuse of a son.”
Once again, she had the right to degrade me like this? I could see the look on Jean’s face as she appeared to laugh it off politely, but I could see that look of spite once someone upset the apple cart… I know she’s going to cause a scene and in my head I am hoping she doesn’t but I know my Jean… Stubborn, fiery, confident and the most loyal person on earth. She would have my back through anything and I would have hers if she’d let me.
“Excuse me?” Jean added.
“As far as I can say with weakness, this man is nothing but a feeble excuse unlike my son, Symone and my daughter Cecilia who have very successful careers.”
“Yes, and Oliver is building his…”
“In what? You can’t possibly think I’d take you seriously as a Carnahan if you're a professor at university.” Okay, that hurt. It was all starting to come out now, but knowing how my mother thinks this way really fills her with spite.
As hurt as I was, my future wife made things ten times worse, as soon as she got up and started an argument between them. I just wanted to leave, walk away and forget about everything. If only I could escape from such a chaotic family, perhaps I wouldn’t feel so misplaced from society.
Where did it go wrong? What am I missing? And do I need their approval?
