Not only does my blog have a new face-lift for today (I’ve been told on many occasions that it’s too plain – seeing how I can barely manage to blog-not since October of last yer, as I can’t think of anything to say, I thought it didn’t make a difference), but I’m also trying out Sunday Snippets this week.
Here’s a small part of Demolition Mafia this week.
At eighteen years old…
“Daddy, I know what you and Jarvick do. I’m old enough to make my own choices. I’m a woman now. You’ve said so yourself. And I’ve decided I want in.” I stamped my foot on the living room carpet, reverting back to being six years old while protesting to be a woman.
“No. No you do not know what we do. You believe you know, Malisa. Nor will I allow you to make the choice to be in. This is not some simple college entrance application.” My father looked tired, so it was difficult for me to determine if he was angry, sad, or simply too tired. Over the last four years it was as though he had aged twenty.
At eighteen I had long black hair, slightly past my waist, and piercing green eyes. My father’s hair, my mother’s eyes and build. I was not petite, nor was I an amazon. My parents had gifted me with great genetics. At five foot nine, with curves in all the right places, I’d learned early on to use my looks – or my father’s name – to get me what I wanted.
Unfortunately, looks didn’t work on Jared or Jarvick Pavlovic.
“Gracie, listen to reason.” My brother was almost pleading with me. “An MC isn’t for women. The only place you have is as of the old lady of some man. He’ll boss you around and you’ll be expected to do exactly as he says. We both know that doesn’t work for you.” Jarvick ran his hand through his hair. “Go to college, Gracie. Get a degree and a real job. Leave this to us. This is your chance to get away from it all. Take it.”
I had been accepted into Harvard. It had been a complete surprise. The application I had filled out just so my parents would get off my back actually got an acceptance letter.