All the Wrong Choices by C.A. Harms

Chapter Three

Danielle

"Do you think you should repaint?"Addi sits on my couch next to me, looking around my living room. Entirely too focused on the surroundings, I know her mind is racing with possibilities. You never want Addison to get bored, when she does things happen. Not always do those things have the best outcome.

My apartment walls are a cream color; the hanging pictures had been removed weeks ago in preparation to move. All my items are mostly packed or piled somewhere, ready to be transferred to the house I was supposed to live in with Matthew.

A home that I instantly fell in love with, four bedrooms, two and a half baths in Greensboro. It was his grandparent's home, and together we planned to remodel every inch of space to make it our own. We'd imagined everything from the color palette, to the furniture, all the way down to the placement of tile in the master bath. As I look around my tiny one-bedroom apartment, I wonder if my sister is making changes to those plans. Or were the choices he made hers and not his own. Those were things I may never know, or understand.

I can't allow myself to go there, our week in Mexico was one of clarity.

The saying, as an outsider looking in, is accurate. I'd been blinded by love, lost in the bliss of all the things it offered and I'd missed all the warnings signs. The late nights when Matthew would get stuck at the office, the voicemails that would go unheard whenever I was near, it was right there in front of me. Unexplained late-night calls, unwarranted nervousness, I can see it now, and it only makes me angrier I didn't see it then.

Being able to step away from my life and analyze it without distraction put it all into perspective. I've been played, but not only by my fiancé but by my sister too.

"I think I should paint that wall red." I point to the largest wall. "Ruby red, and I should get a new couch." Haunted with memories of things that happened on the very couch we sit on, I shivered without controlling it. "Yeah, definitely a new couch."

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't just admit some nasty sex took place in the very place I am currently sitting."

I smile, but it has nothing to do with the memories that are invading my mind. It's more for the fact that without Addi, I know I could not have made it through the last several weeks.

She's my rock, my cheerleader when I need it most, as well as the one who tells me when I'm ridiculous. Before the wedding disaster and even more so now, she's stood by my side without pause. She's rubbed my back when I've cried and held my hair when I've attempted to drink away my problems and spent the night puking in the bathroom for hours. I feel bad for monopolizing her time, but she refuses to leave my side.

We've been back in North Carolina for a little less than three weeks, and I will return to work on Monday. I know then everything I've managed to avoid, I'll be forced to face. My mother, father, and even Cathryn. I’m afraid of how I’ll handle this situation exactly, when I do come face to face with my sister, but I know it won’t be pretty.”

"I think red is perfect," Addison is bold and adventurous. I wish I were more like her. I want to live without worrying about tomorrow; I want to live for me and be me; damned if people don't like it, they can stay away. I want to be free and courageous, carefree and exciting. I want to act now and think about it later.

"Do you remember that magazine I was thumbing through when we were waiting for our massages in Mexico? The one with all those crazy designs and colors, so bright."

"The one you got the idea of painting your bathroom ceiling blue from?"

I thought she was insane when I'd shown up at her place to find her speckled with blue paint all over her face and a roller with the same blue paint covering it in her hand. But to be honest, it looks terrific, especially when she finished it off with the accents that brought it all together.

"There was this layout of a bedroom, the color scheme was edgy, but I think it's one of the best schemes I've ever run across." I can tell she is thinking something over, biting her lip, with her forehead creased as she's deep in thought. "Do you trust me?"

"I'm scared to, but yes."

She laughs and pushes off the couch, holding her hand out to help me up. "Come on," she grins proudly without giving me any details of what's to come. "We have work to do."

I hesitated only for a few seconds before placing my hand in hers and gave it a little tug.

It is time to live a little. Time to stop being afraid and go after what I want for a change. Why can't I be the girl who calls the shots?

I will choose how my life goes on from this point!

I will be unaffected by the gossip and heartbreak; I will survive this. And most of all, I will never again allow any man to fool me or make me fall in love.

I'm in control! I make the choices!

* * *

I sitin the teacher's lounge, ignoring those who walk in and pause as if they aren't sure of what to say to me. I wish they would pretend nothing has changed and tell me all about the student's mishaps and what they ate for dinner last night. Before the wedding, tedious actions were the topic of most of my meaningless conversations with coworkers. So now that's what I need, mindless chatter. Only now, all I get are sad glances and silence, like they are scared if they talk to me, I may fall apart and start to cry hysterically or something.

I pick at the salad I made for myself and move the contents around in the bowl, avoiding looking up. I should have stayed in my classroom rather than face the pity-filled stares of the lounge. Even Ross, one of Matthew's closer friends, doesn't know what to say to me. He walked in and immediately spun on his heels, and walked out.

It seems cowardliness runs in his circle of friends, as well as himself.

Standing up, I walk toward the garbage to toss my food, container, and all. I'm over it.

Working my way down the hall, I keep my gaze averted. Feeling my phone vibrate in my back pocket, I pull it out to find it's a text message from Addison.

Addison: Remind me again why I chose to be a kindergarten teacher.

I don't need to ask her why because shortly to follow is a picture. A little boy with his face painted blue. As in, he took a marker and colored himself from brow to chin, except the space around his mouth was red. I can't control the giggle that bubbles in my chest. Subconsciously I swear Addi can feel when I need her most.

Me: Because you love the little people.

She has a tolerance for children I have always admired. Not so much for the adults, though, because in her words, you should know what to do and not do by the time you reach a certain age. Little people are still learning; they have hope.

I took a different route and went for high school English. On most days, I wonder what in the hell possessed me because this age is hard. They are smart asses who feel they know everything, and the eye-rolling is a killer. It's next to impossible not to bop them on the back of the head when they do it. Or throw my stapler at them; that thought had crossed my mind several times.

But I look forward to Addison's stories she shares about the adventures of five and six-year-olds; they keep me smiling.

Addison: I found Tommy in the corner eating his boogers again. I told him those were fungus from his brain, and he just looked at me and said, yum.

A puking emoji follows the text.

Again I snicker.

I'm so involved in my texting when I turn the corner to enter my classroom; I'm entirely unaware of the fact I'm no longer alone.

"Danielle," I jerk in surprise and fumble with my phone as it threatens to hit the ground at my feet. Gaining control, I look up to find my mother sitting at my desk, with her arms crossed impatiently in front of her. "I've been here waiting for over thirty minutes."

"Well, Mother, I wasn't aware you were here."

Her random pop-ins are just one of my mom's many downfalls as the superintendent for the school district.

I honestly don't have much to say to my mother, not even on an average day. When she should have been consoling me and offering support, she was fawning over my sister. She was comforting her because apparently, she felt terrible about how things worked out.

Please! Terrible for her because she chose to screw her sister's fiancé and then run off with him on my wedding day. Oh boo hoo, poor Cathryn!

"Your sister says she hasn't heard from you." My mother holds my gaze, and I know it's an intimidation tactic of hers; she uses it daily. The difference now is I'm living with an, I don't give a shit, attitude. I know who I can and can't count on; the true colors of so many have now come to the surface. I keep my circle small, and those who are outside of that circle, well, they can kiss my ass.

"She's right." I cross my arms over my chest too, mocking, refusing to falter, and give my mother the satisfaction. My mother's cold, with everyone but my sister and father, I've always been second best. I don't measure up to the daughter she thought I'd be. The reality is, to earn my mother's love you needed to be her robot.

My circuits must have shorted out long ago because I'd never followed suit. And now, well, screw the idea of being under anyone's control.

It used to bother me that she'd so obviously held disdain for me, but I've gotten over it.

"This is beneath us, Danielle."

"No," I channel the inner bitch inside myself and give back as I'm receiving. "What's beneath us is my whore of a sister who slept with my fiancé and then has the nerve to believe I could ever have anything to say to her?"

My mother's eyes narrow.

"She can keep waiting for me to call, for me to reach out, or she accepts the fact she's nothing to me. That's her choice," I shrug, and my mother says nothing in return, only stares as if she doesn't know me at all.

Honestly, she doesn't really, and she's never taken the time to.