A Little Bit Of Joy | ?

Chapter Seventy Two : The Prostitute's Little Mistakes

Shaun didn't deserve a selfish, crude girl like her so she left him.

It hurt her to let go of him- the first man she ever loved. But it was for the best because she could never enjoy his company without feeling guilty- not worthy enough. Being with him had given her a confidence to end all her wrong ways which had only caused her pain. To walk steadily on the slippery, thin ice and dodge the pointed shards.

With difficulty, she found a job as a waitress at a local restaurant and started to save money to travel back home. Even after a terrible heartbreak, she was hopeful. Hopeful of mending her past, getting loved and giving more love in return. Marilyn was ready for redemption- to seek forgiveness for the outrageous things she had done in her short life.

So here she was- at twenty three and broken beyond her years, standing nervously on the land which once used to be her home.

*

Marilyn strode briskly on the concrete pavement, the limitless meadows on either side of her. The crispy grass blades were tall and they were green and tawny in colour. A cool breeze ran through the meadows and through her dark hair, tickling her bare neck as she shivered with the trees. She imagined herself as a six year old girl, sprinting with the wind on a lovely afternoon. Her body getting caressed by the high grass and her tiny feet sinking in the damp earth, her toes squishing the rich soil.

A wave of nostalgia nearly brought tears in her eyes- reminding her of all that she had lost and mainly her foolishness. Here she was, balancing her weight on delicate ice, devoid of any warmth. But it was okay, she was going to meet her mum soon. It would all be okay.

Her heart became heavy as she tried to picture her mum in her mind. It wasn't quite difficult because Marilyn was a splitting image of her. Still she couldn't get certain parts right like was there a wrinkle on the left corner of her mouth or was it just her assumption because her mother would be old and frail by now?

It didn't really matter to Marilyn because she was finally going home and would look at her mum all day, paying heed to every word she spoke, listen to stories behind her each wrinkle. She would ask for her mum's forgiveness exactly the way she had memorized and practised over a hundred times. She would spend the next ten years or more dedicating her life to her dear mother. She would take her to Mc Donalds on fridays just like she used to take Marilyn when she was little. They would make impressive houses with playing cards, let a blow of wind knock it down and build it all over again with few curse words, tolerance and hope.

Marilyn took a deep breath, dragging her wobbling legs to the door of her humble house. It had changed, there was an additional storey and the painting was no longer chipped. It appeared much vibrant to her than when she had left.

She let out a shaky breath as she rung the bell. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, the knots in her stomach squeezed in trepidation and her hands were clammy with cold sweat. The door flew open and her eyes locked into the hazel ones of a small boy.

"Daddy, daddy, there's a pretty lady at the door!" he shouted while continuing to peer at her curiously. "Who are you?"

"I-I . . ." Marilyn wasn't the kind of girl who stuttered, she was the one who made others cower in fear. But now, she was baffled. Incoherent words were stuck in her throat.

The small boy frowned and suddenly, a hoarse voice was heard, "Who is it?"

A man's face in his early fifties appeared in the hallway, his hair as white as the snow.

"T-This must be a mistake---"

"Marilyn?" The man's voice was low, but his eyes were wide in recognition. "You're Emilia's daughter, aren't you?"