Meant to Be
      Chapter 1
 

 I’m getting married. God. Married. What have I gotten myself into?

In two weeks my life will be over. Gone with it the dream I’ve always had of being with a woman that I cherish and adore for the rest of my life. I haven’t met her, but she haunts my dreams every night. I see an image of her, of what I think she should be, and I reach out to touch her, but every time the tips of my fingers start to make contact with her milky white skin, she turns around and it’s not the face of my dream girl, but of my worst nightmare - Theresa – my life’s sentence. I jerk my hand back and shrink away. She throws her head back and cackles at me – taunting me, reminding me that I will forever be her prisoner in a loveless marriage. I sit straight up in bed. Beads of sweat have formed on my forehead and I’m frightened by what my life has become. I’ve nothing to look forward to.

I laugh at myself and my naive dream. Who am I kidding anyway. I’m a “Santos.” A “Santos” for Godsake! No self-respecting woman in her right mind would want me anyway. My name has ruined me.

Mother and Bernard have been pushing for a merger of the Santos and Rivera families for as long as I can remember. They’re about to get their wish. I’ve resolved myself to the fact that I’ve been dealt this hand of cards by God and now I must play the game. I am beaten. I’ve nothing left to fight with.

It’s 6:30 a.m. I slide my legs over the side of the bed and they hit the floor with a heavy thump. They are like lead – weighted down with all the pressure I feel. My mouth is dry and I need a drink. I decide to go downstairs and get a glass of milk. I slowly descend the steps and round the corner. I push open the kitchen door and I am not alone. I have startled her and the glass of milk she was pouring crashes to the ground and shards of glass and white liquid are flying everywhere. She backs away as far as she can until the hollow of her back is pressed against the kitchen counter and she can go no further. She has the look of a trapped animal in her eyes. Tears have already started to streak her face and I can see that she is terrified of me. I step towards her and her eyes search the room for some form of escape. I reach out a hand to her as a sign that I’m not going to hurt her, but this freaks her out even more.

“Don’t……touch…….me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. Are you o.k.?”

She doesn’t speak. Just stares. Even through her tears, I notice how beautiful her eyes are. They are sparkling like diamonds as the early morning sun peaks through the window.

“What’s your name?”

Silence.

“Are you cut?”

Silence.

“O.k.” I say rubbing my head in frustration. “I can see I’m not getting anywhere with this line of questioning, so maybe you’ll answer my next question. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY KITCHEN!?”

She jumps at the tone of my voice and I feel a twinge of remorse. I don’t want to scare her anymore than she already is, but I want answers, and now. She stares me down and I get the feeling that this girl could be like a bull in a china shop if given the chance. I give as good as I’m getting and I stare right back, our eyes locked in a battle of the wills. The rays of sunlight begin moving across her face and her hair looks like spun gold. I quickly lose the battle and can’t help but divert my eyes to take in the beauty of her face. I look into her chocolate brown eyes again and she continues to stare a hole right through me. I decide I’m getting nowhere, so I bend down and begin cleaning up the mess on the floor.

“Don’t you yell at me!”

I look around as if I’ve heard a noise and then glance at her. “Excuse me. Did you hear something?”

She steps away from the counter and starts circling me in what I imagine to be her “fighting” stance. Her fists are balled at her side and I can’t help but smile to myself. She can’t possibly weigh more than 115 lbs. Does she really think she’s going to take me on and win?

“I said, Don’t……you…….yell…….at……. me!

I stand up to face her. “Well, well look at that. The cat doesn’t have your tongue after all. Now that your speaking, care to tell me what the hell you’re doing in my goddamn kitchen?”

“I was getting some milk. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“Ooooooh. Feisty one aren’t we?” Crossing my arms, I say in my most charming and sarcastic way “Well Miss….whoever you are….., I can tell you that as one of Springfield U’s top graduates, I was able to come to that conclusion on my own. So, care to elaborate? And to answer your question, no. I kiss my fiancee with this mouth – and she happens looovvve it.”

I can tell I’m breaking through to her. She relaxes her stance a bit and her voice softens.

“My mother isn’t feeling very well and I thought she might like some milk.”

“Who’s your mother?”

“She’s one of the maids here.”

“I see. Which one?”

“Maureen.”

“Yes. I know Maureen. She’s a nice lady. Never mentioned you though.”

“Is that a crime?”

“Only up until now. Why are you here? Visiting?”

“Like I said, my mother hasn’t been feeling well, but I’m sure you never notice those types of things with your hired help.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means. I see how you people treat your employees. You work them to death and never appreciate it. You all think you’re so high and mighty with all your money and power, but when it comes down to it you’re not fooling anyone. Your just a bunch of lowlife bottom feeders called the “mob.”

“Hey!” I say pointing my finger in her face. “You don’t know anything about me or my family. Who in the hell do you think you are, and who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?”

Slapping my finger down, she says “My name is Michelle. Michelle Bauer. And unlike you, I can say it with pride. And my cornflakes tasted just fine thank you very much.”

With that said, she turns on her heel, throws her golden locks over her shoulder and struts out of the room.

I have found the girl in my dreams.