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(( I wrote another fan fiction from Ella's point of view, and this one's much shorter. ))
They say to treat other the way that you want to be treated, but I guess that I’ve been neglecting that quote a lot lately. That’s a serious understatement, actually. Sometimes I’ve thought that the world is a cruel place, so I treat others terribly, but, for once, I gave someone a chance and it worked out fine. Maybe life’s not all that bad in the first place… I just haven’t given anyone the chance.
“God, it’s so cold outside…” I said sullenly, rubbing my hands together in a pathetic attempt to create some form of artificial warmth. Ignoring the complete and utter cold and damp state the sidewalk was in, I sat down on the curb of it and watching everyone walk by me as if I didn’t exist. That’s New York for you, folks.
“Move…” some guy mumbled as he stepped over me, just as though I was an unwanted rock sitting on the roads, getting in everyone’s way. Which, in a way, that’s exactly what I was.
I was beginning to wonder if I actually belonged in such a city, where it stretches out into the horizon and seems like the whole world could fit into that one city, but then I thought—yes, I belong. I wouldn’t fit into a small town, either—the city ways have gotten to me, and I know that completely. Maybe I just needed a vacation, though that wouldn’t help, either—I’ve only been on one vacation before in my life, and that was to Los Angeles, California, which is even worse than New York. With all those movie stars going to parties every night and getting drunk, it wasn’t very much of a vacation.
Just as I had lost all hope in finding, by some miracle, someone who cared in this Hell of a city, I looked up and saw someone staring at me with an umbrella held over me.
“You look like your lonely, need a friend?” the woman said, sitting next to me.
“I’m fine.” I said bluntly and coldly, staring at her. “I don’t need a friend, so go away.”
“Okay,” the girl said precociously and slowly, “but at least keep the umbrella, okay? You’ll get wet if you don’t.”
“I don’t need no umbrella,” I said, looking away from her. “I don’t need you acting like a mom, either.”
“It’s ‘I don’t need an umbrella’, not ‘I don’t need no umbrella’, so technically you just told me that you want an umbrella.” She said with a warm smile.
“What are you a grammar teacher?” I asked, turning and looking at her. “But, it doesn’t matter who or what you are, I still don’t need an umbrella.”
“Do you want to be out in the cold rain, and then get all wet because of it?”
“No…” I said truthfully, “But I… just don’t want an umbrella from anyone, okay?”
“Suit yourself,” the woman said, standing up. “But, take it anyways.” She handed me the umbrella, and I blinked when she began walked away. Was she just going to give me this, just like that—what was the catch?
“Thanks…” I mumbled gratefully, “but, wait.” The strange female stopped walking, and looked at me. “I don’t get it. How can I return you umbrella?” she just smiled, and shook her head.
“You don’t need to,” she said softly, “I’m giving it to you.” I blinked, and rolled my eyes.
“I still don’t get it,” I said, “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“How can you be so… optimistic and kind, while there are a million terrible things out there? Are you a New Yorker, or just one of those tourists? How can you be so nice?” the girl laughed, and I tilted my head, not understanding what was so funny about my curiosity.
“Oh, Ella…” she said, shaking her head. “Just enjoy life while you can, you won’t be here forever.”
With that, the mysterious woman walked away, and seemingly disappeared as she walked into a crowd.
Just then, something hit me; nothing is what it seems anymore. I didn’t tell that girl my name, yet she knew who I was. Another thing was, call me crazy, but the woman looked a lot like my mother.
My dead mother.
“It’s just a coincidence…” I assured myself, looking at the name on the bottom of the umbrella.
It read:
Paprika Waver.
My mother’s name.
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