Flashback

'Man, this is just never ending..' Donna said. She looked in the closet, and saw the task ahead of her and Jordan. 'There's clothes and boxes everywhere. We will never get this done.'
Jordan laughed at her, 'Why do you think I asked you to come and help me? There was no way I could do this on my own.'
Donna laughed, 'Alright well, let's just get started. Here's a box. Sit on the bed and figure out exactly what you want to keep and what you want to give away or throw out.'
Donna handed Jordan a box that was marked, 'H.S.' 'I think this is all of my high school stuff,' Jordan said, as she sat on the bed with it. She opened it and saw her Sophomore Yearbook. She looked at all the names signed inside. All of the lost friendships. She decided not to go through the pictures, in fear of embarrassing herself in front of Donna. They had been friends in college, Donna did not need to see Jordan's embarrassing early 90's haircut. When she went to the back, she saw it. His name.


A foot of snow.
Bus stop.
Her name being called.
Him running towards her.
Laughter. His laughter.
The smile on his face.
The running she did.
He slammed into her and put snow in her hair.
She laughed at his silliness.
The way he didn't care what others thought about what he was doing.
The love she had for him.
Him getting off of her.
Apologizing.
Embarrassed in front of her friends.
Him turning around and walk away.
The way his glasses were fogged up when he turned back to say, 'See you later.'
The coolness of the air in her lungs.
The wetness of her hair.
The smile she had when she walked into school.

She remembered every detail of that day 10 years ago...it was a nothing day.
Nothing monumental happened that day compared to what they had gone through in their friendship. But she remembered it. Every moment. Every touch. Every feeling. It was something she wanted to hold onto. Something she hadn't remembered in years. But when she saw Rob's signature on her yearbook...she remembered how high school was so easy for them. And that the years after were the worst. She always wanted to remember him in that way. Not with IV's or baldness. But of him laughing towards her. She wanted to keep that memory close forever. She sat there for a moment, and reveled in it. Aware that one day she will forget again. But for now, Jordan held on.
'What's wrong? Why are you crying,' Donna asked.
Jordan smiled, 'I'm fine, I just had this really great flashback.'

love

it's dong and ding.
love.
heartbreaking.
terrifying.
unifying.
passionate.
creative.
love is.
and always will be.

but what happens when it's disappears.
you have it in a moment and then it's gone.
do you never go back?
do you always wonder 'what if'
what if
what if
.....what if

and when you move on.
are you willing to share yourself again.
will you always be terrified.
will you always question
'what if'
if they dump you.
if they don't fall in love with you.
if you just end up comparing to the last.
what if what if what if

love is.
a what if.

clean (start)

She closed the door and locked it. A bag in one hand, her keys in the other.

She knew that when she woke this morning, it was time.

The sun hit her face in a cleansing new way.

This was it.

The change.

The longing.



She wore bright purple that day. Matching her bruises to her clothes. It seemed fitting. She needed this. A reminder of why it was the day for a fresh beginning. A new start on life.



She got to the train station and looked at the people going to work. Bustling and busy. Drinking their morning Starbucks.



When she heard the horn, she smiled. Her life was about to change. This train to downtown. Downtown to another state. She was finally going to travel across the country, like she had always dreamed of in college. Free to do what she pleased, whenever she pleased. No questions of where were you, why weren't you home. No one to answer to. Finally, relief.

treatment

It's been black, grey, and white.

Black:

Beautiful words escape from you, as I listen with great intent. I am beyond happy. Love at first sight. Never thought it could be. You accepted me, for me, and never thought twice about it. Our love came so easily, never any challenges came our way. And then..

It was Grey.

They say death comes in threes. And you couldn't handle it. Who could? But you dropped me. You told me that you were done. You didn't miss me. Didn't want me. 'Everything I ever love, gets hurt.' So.. wait.. you love me. But you don't want to hurt me. So you decide to leave me high and dry. But never exactly go away. You text when you want me. You text to ask me to hang out but I could never stay. I always had to leave.. Then I saw why. She came from the past back into the present. I knew her, but you knew her better. Much better than I ever could have imagined (or wanted). So then, I knew at that moment, when I laid eyes on you two..

It had become White.

I knew it was over. I had to move on. It was not possible any longer. I deserved better. I didn't need to be treated this way anymore.

Black, Grey, and White.

Three different shades.
Three different areas you put me in.

The last, most liberating. The last, is when I decided to treat myself with more respect.
And that's the one that matters most.

Wait.

Wait.



Don't.



Too Late.





My body never listens. You'd think that my brain and body were unison with each other, but it always seems that they are working against each other, to control me. My brain usually wins. But today my body is giving it's best.



It really all begins when I start to think too much. I think about my love life, my friends, my family, and then the worry takes over. My head starts to hurt. Then, my hands start to feel antsy. Like they need to be shaken out.. but moving them won't help. They're restless, like my brain.
Then my heart starts to hurt. It feels like someone jabbed me in the heart with a knife. It's constricted from air.. It's pumping blood too fast and I am getting palpitations.
My brain keeps thinking, 'Stop. Stop. Wait. Just breathe, dammit. Just breathe.'

But again, my body refuses to be controlled. I begin to breathe harshly. As if I had been crying for hours and just can't catch my breath.. I just want to stop.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.

But when you are having a panic attack, your body doesn't wait. You're brain doesn't listen. You are just stuck dealing with the aftermath.

Faith

When she came into the room, she realized she was in hell.

Her mother was sitting in the middle of it. Broken.


Memory after memory was spewed all over the floor for both mother and daughter to see. Pictures of childhood. Pictures of high school. Grade School. Halloween. Christmas. Pictures of a baby girl naked in a bath tub. Pictures of the mother looking into her baby's eyes adoringly.


That life was gone. They both knew it.

She looked at her mother, with tears in her eyes, 'I'm sorry, Mom.'


Silence. The silent treatment was so common in this household.


'I learned my lesson, I won't do it again. I can't let myself do it again.'


Silencesilencesilencesilencesilencesilencesilencesilencesilence [neverending]


'Goddammit, Mom! I wish you could just hear me. I'm so so sorry. I just want to turn back time,' The daughter screamed.


Her mom went into the closet, grabbed some posterboard, and laid it next to the pictures. Never hearing her daughter. Never realizing she was standing next to her. Longing to be comforted. To be comforting. The mother went about her business creating posterboards of memories.


'This is probably the worst part of the funeral process...what pictures to place. Having to go through photographs when all you want to do is forget,' the mom thought, as she placed a prom picture in the middle.


Karen, mother of three, two boys and one girl. The girl, April, was the wild child, always getting into trouble. Karen gave up on April, decided to let her do what she wanted. She always said to herself, 'Abe will learn her lesson one day.' But this was not what Karen had in mind.


She had lost faith in her daughter, and on the day when April did not come home, Karen lost everything.

dangerous

I walk in with a chill down my back, even in the heat of the summer. People were everywhere, but I did not see any of them.

I walk up and see Joe. He began, 'What..'
I cut him off. 'The usual. And I do not want to hear it.'
He stared at me for a while, as I averted his eyes. I stared into the distance feeling his eyes all over my face. Trying to get a read on me. But he just sighed, 'Whatever you say, Kate.'

I sit down. And he puts the glass in front of me.
I look at it.
I knew this was dangerous.
I had been sober for exactly 6 months.
It was the longest 6 months of my life. And Joe knew exactly what I had been through. Part of me was kind of pissed that he let me through the door, but this was not his game to play. And he knew damn well of that too.

Vodka tonic.
My elixir.
Could I really let myself do this?

I close my eyes and imagine what would happen after this one drink:

I'd have one. Then another. Then another. And by the sixth, I would go back to my ex ask him to take me back. That I was wrong for leaving him, that I needed him as much as he needed me. And I'd stay with him for months, drinking as heavily as I had when I wasn't with him. He'd kick me out, probably. I'd run to my family who would stick to their, 'We told you we were done,' phrase. And I'd be back in rehab, going through withdrawals and therapy again.

I sighed. I took the glass and put it to my lips. I put it back down. I bring it back up.

Joe began walking over to me from the end of the bar, and I gave him a flash of the look my mother always called the 'Devil's Eyes'. He turned back around, knowing he was unwanted.

At that point, I looked at the bar. All the liquor, staring at me. Laughing at me. And I stare at myself in the mirror.This was too dangerous. And just not worth it.

I begin to leave and I hear Joe yell, 'Way to go Kate.'
I just say, 'Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm sure I'll be back again one day..'

And that was true.. maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow.
But one day.. there's a big chance I will play this game again..
And lose.

Writer's Block

This writer's block will be the death of me.
Hopefully, I can do some regroup and create something.

Me (A Letter): Fiction

Dear Mom and Dad,

I have to tell you about me. The whole me. No holds bar.
You won't like it.
You won't understand it.
But I can't control that. All I ask is that you love me, as your son.


As you know, my name is John Michael Donovan, and I'm gay.
A queer.
A fag.
A flaming homo.
Whatever you want to call it, I am that.

I've known probably since the fifth grade, and have wanted to tell you since... well, forever.
Mom, I know you can take this easier than Dad probably can. I've a feeling you've known for as long as I have (well, since you caught me singing along to your Bette Middler albums. A very gay cliche).

I tell you this now, because I'm in love. I will marry this man. Of course, not here. It's not allowed. Which is unfair. But this isn't a letter to shove my political views down your throat.. It's to let you know that your son loves his life. I really do. And I so desperately want you to be a part of it. A part of me.

I know you'll need time. I understand that. But please write me, email me, call me. Invite me over. We can talk about it. We can argue about it. We can beat around the bush, if you want.

I just want you to be my family. The Three Musketeers as we used to call each other. The only difference now is that I might be wearing pink (Joking Mom! I'd never steal your color).

I love you both, very, very much.
I hope you can accept this..and accept me. I will always be your son.

Love,
JM

PS. Mom- His name is Liam. I think you'd really like him.

life swap: a process.

When I step out of that bright light, is when the adventure has ended.

Because before those lights turn off and the crowd dissipates, I am a whole different human being. Some people say that for them, it's like bringing out there inner selves on stage. But for me, it's as if I have become a different creature. An entity of sorts. When I finally leave the stage, and say goodbye to the rest of the girls, I see myself in the mirror as a fantasy. As I begin the process of becoming myself, the beauty of it all disappears. I remove the eyes (contacts), remove the lashes (fake), erase the red (lipstick), taking away the tan (bronzer), and finally pulling off the wig.



I'm halfway there at this point.
I have to take off the dress and remove my breasts (latex). I untuck and therefore I am back to being the man I truly am.

But every Saturday night, I am lucky enough to swap lives with an extravagant bitch named Tess Tosterone.

I'm a drag queen, and I'm lucky enough to enjoy two lives at once.

recipe

"Tell me everything." He said to her.
Her eyes were swollen red. Her nails bitten down to a nub. 12 cigarettes were in the ashtray. The confining room began to feel smaller. She sighed and lit up another cigarette.
"Come on. Let's hear it."
She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and began her story:

It began when he came home from work one day. Four weeks ago or so. He had been distant. He told me that he had been sleeping with his secretary. His fucking secretary. She was quite a few years younger than me which pissed me off. But it wasn't just that. He wasn't even attractive anymore. He had gained weight and lost hair. I, on the other hand, had kept my physique. After three fucking kids, I looked damned good for my age and he is the one having the affair. Him. I went upstairs and stayed in the room for hours. I didn't want to look him. I wanted to cry but the emotion was gone for some reason. I eventually came downstairs and started to work on dinner. He was in the living room, he looked at me with tears in his eyes, and began the "I'm sorry"'s and the "I love you"'s Bull shit. Bull shit. Bull shit. Kept repeating in my mind. But I listened and waited, patiently. I looked at him and just told him OK. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to respond to him. I just told him to sit down and eat dinner and we'll figure it out. The next day is when I started it. I went to the store and got what I needed. I never thought twice about it. I had to ask a guy at the place what exactly I needed.

The man interrupted her, "I need explicit detail. I need to know."
She nodded, put her cigarette out, and continued:

Sorry. So I asked him what kind of Rat Poison would be the most.. potent, I guess. He directed me to the aisle and I got it. You see my husband loved his iced tea. Every day after work he would have 2 or 3 glasses of my iced tea. But this time it would be my special recipe. I was nervous. I thought he might taste it. But I put a lot of lemon and sugar in it to disguise the taste. Every day for three weeks I would put little by little. My anger kept building. I even kept sleeping with him just to make him not suspicious. I was disgusted. Completely and utterly disgusted with him. I just kept hoping that he would get sick soon enough. And he did. Sick as a dog and when I heard him puking in the bathroom. I smiled. I laughed at the son of a bitch. I was on my laptop and I Heard him from upstairs mumbling and puking. And I just smirked as I was googling funeral rates. Sounds heartless right? Probably how you found out what I did. Fucking google. Technology, am I right? Anyway, so that's basically it. I took him to the hospital obviously and he died a few days later. I put on the tears. I was sad a little, for my children. I felt bad for them, losing their father like that. But my daughter knew how I felt. How angry I really was. Well, not really really. She didn't realize how crazy I went. Ha ha. But then I guess that's it.. You know the rest.

He got up from his seat. 'She's heartless,' he thought. He knocked on the window and two more officers came in. "Cheryl your under arrest for the murder of John Hannah. You have the right to remain silent.."
She didn't hear anything else. All she could think of was her special recipe and smiled.

courage

I've had a bit of writer's block lately ... so we shall see how this one pans out.
Prompt from http://www.sundayscribblings.blogspot.com

He sat at our kitchen table.. stared blankly at me. I was waiting for a scream, a cry, words of hatred flowing out of his mouth. But all that came out was,
"What?"

I sighed and frowned. My emotion was going to get the best of me, but I had to stick to it. I couldn't just say, Haha Just kidding! I was waiting for more reaction from him, but he just looked at me and waited patiently.

To say the words once took some courage. But twice? I didn't want to have to repeat myself, he had heard me there was no doubt about that. How can I say it again? It just proved more and more that the marriage we had for the past 5 years was a lie. And I made it that way.
"Please don't make me repeat myself. This is hard enough for me to tell you."

He laughed. Like a maniac. Once of those horrific laughters where pain and anger and sadness are within. He looked at me and said, "Bitch. That's what you are. How could you? How could you have lied for the past 3 years? You're telling me our son isn't mine?"

I began to cry. Not for sympathy. I knew that what he was calling me was his own right and with merit. But it still hurt. Not because of him, but because I knew this moment would come. I would have to explain again and again that I just wasn't sure.

"I don't know if he's yours. That's what I'm telling you. I'm so sorry. But the only way we'll know is if there's a DNA test. The timing isn't adding up in my head and I just need to know. And so do you."

"Well no shit I need to know. But how is it that just now.. after his 5th birthday that the 'timing isn't adding up in your head'. Why didn't you think of that when he was born? Or when you got pregnant?"

I began to raise my voice without realizing it, "Don't you think I did? This may come as a surprise to you but I have not stopped thinking about it since the day I got a pregnant. It's a lot harder than you think to come up and tell someone that they slept around on them and oh by the way your son might not be your son afterall. Don't make me the evil one here, I know what I did was wrong and I put our son into the mix but don't act like you're all high and mighty. You're the one who has been sleeping around since the day I met you."

He laughed again. This laughter was pushing me more and more over the edge. This was exactly the reason why I needed to leave him years ago. This was exactly why I needed to be with someone else. To feel love that I never got from him. The marriage was a hoax anyway. In my family being pregnant meant getting married. And this did not, never will, sit well with me. But I did to not get disowned. And this was my life ... no love, just anger/hate.

I looked at him and said, "This is it. I don't care if he is yours or not. I am taking him and we are gone. This is the last straw. I did it. I told you. Now you know..and now I am going to go upstairs pack my stuff and get the hell away from you."

He got up after I said the words and came closer to me. He slapped me in the face and laughed again. "I don't think you're going anywhere. Just go upstairs and lay down and get some rest. We need to both calm down before any rash decisions are made."

I looked at him with anger, but did as I was told.. In my mind, I kept thinking, How am I going to pack without him being aware of it?

Wonder

I.

'What a long fucking day,' she says as she exits the hospital. She got yelled at by her boss, her ex was seen by everyone with his new girl, and a nurse almost stuck her with a needle. Caitlin goes to the designated smoking section and lights one up. 'That feels amazing,' she smiles. She tried to quit smoking three weeks ago, but with her job comes drama and with that the smoking habit returned. Even though her day was shit, she feels good. 'I think I'll be grabbing a drink tonight.' She whips out her phone and sends a max text to her friends,

Tonight's the night, bitches. Doc's. 9pm. Be there or be lame. It's time to get lit.

She smiles; her friends were ridiculous, one might say crazy, but if she didn't have them, Caitlin would be lost. With everything that has happened recently, her friends and a good Guinness was all she needed. She worried a bit about her drinking, but that comes with all break-ups, she felt. Especially when she sees her ex every day at work. She feels her phone vibrate and gets a message:

I hope this night leads to nudity and shit-faced-ness that we all could use. LOL. Can't wait to see you. It's been too long.

-Eric

She laughs. Eric's and her relationship had been borderline complicated, but they both became over it. She had kept her distance long enough.

See you there, player.

She laughs and puts her cigarette out. She feels her phone go off again and laughs, 'Eric is addicted to texting.' She looks at her phone and sits back down:

What are you doing tonight? I was thinking about getting a case of beer and drinking alone in my apartment. Care to join?

-Gabe

Definitely not Eric. Her ex. She begins to ask why when she hears this horrific scream coming from around the corner. Instinctively, she begins to run. 'God I hope one of the psych patients didn't escape again.' She sprints down to the end of the block and turns the corner. She sees a man standing on the ledge of a parking structure, she screams, "STOP!" She thinks to herself, 'What the fuck is he doing?'

II.

A man looks over the ledge and sighs. The cool breeze of the early evening hits him like a brick. He steps up and closes his eyes. Does he really want to do this? Did everything in his life lead up to this moment? He feels lost, and doesn't know who he is anymore. He looks up and sees a group of geese flying and letting the world know of their existence. 'Even a dumb bird has more friends than I do,' he said. He looked down. A long jump. Is this worth it? He stepped back down. And stepped up again. Yes. No. Yes. No. He could never make up his mind about anything. Maybe that's why he felt everything was at a downturn. He turned down his dad's business offer, went to college, became a writer, and failed. Tried more jobs than he could remember and still failed. He worked at a Toys R Us for a year and even got fired from that job. He wants the world to know of his existence. This would make headlines. The ER was a block away and he is sure people would hear about his lifeless body. He is just fed up. He hears laughter from the bar across the street and sees people smoking outside. 'I could just become a drunk. You make friends that way.' But alcohol makes him physically ill and would be a long, slow, painful death. This will be instantaneous. He feels the urge to scream. So he does. He screams loud and hard, feeling anger more than ever. He is surprised by his lung power. He feels ... relieved. Yet the man is still standing on the ledge. The legs will not budge. In the distance, he hears shoes hitting the ground at a rapid pace. A young woman's voice alerts him, "STOP!"

III.

He looks down at her and stares. This is unexpected. 'Just go, I don't need someone screaming at me right now.'

She shakes her head, 'No fucking way dude. I had the worst day at work, and it's not going to end with me seeing a man jump to his death.'

He laughs at her, 'Can't be worse than my past few weeks.'

She stares at him, 'You really want to go there buddy,' she yells up, 'I've been staring at the bottom of an empty beer bottle for the past three weeks wishing I was where you're at. So don't get me started.' She thought to herself, 'How the hell am I going to get this guy off of there?' She thinks of dialing 911 on her cell phone, but she knows as soon as he sees it, he will jump, whether or not she's there. She looks up at him and sees his foot out as if he is just about there, 'Wait. Wait! Please! .. At least share a cigarette with me. That always cools me down.'

He looks at her, 'I don't smoke.'

'Well then share in your first and last cigarette of all time with me, please,' she smiles but he can tell there is fear behind the smile. She was very pretty. 'Why not,' he thought to himself, 'might as well go out with a bang.'

'Fine,' he puts on a smile for her to show he is genuine about the offer. Within seconds he hears somebody coming up the stairs of the parking structure. 'She's fast,' he thought.

IV.

As she's climbing up the steps, she says, 'After the cigarette, what the hell am I going to do? What if he jumps anyway? Jesus, I should have ignored the scream!' She opens the door and stops to catch her breath. Before her is a beautiful, broken man. His back is to her, but he is off the ledge. He turns around and she gets a better view of him. His hair is black, with strands of gray, and his eyes are a piercing blue. He is lean and lanky, but not in a bad way. She smiles, 'From down there you look like a giant.' She is trying to make light of a situation that she has no idea how to deal with. And he appreciates it, 'Didn't you know that's my whole reason for being up here? I want people to see me as a giant. The ruler of all.'

She laughs, awkwardly. How does one joke with a man that is ready to die?

He stares at her. This girl is younger than he, he could tell. But she seems wise beyond her years. Her hair's tied back with a ribbon wrapped around her head. She's wearing a uniform, with an apron and he guesses that her job is not all that's cracked up to be. She starts fumbling for her pack, she's out of breath, and just plain nervous.

He smiles, 'Don't worry, I'll wait til you're away to jump.'

She does not return his smile, as she hands him a smoke. She lights it up for him, and lights up her own. She breaths in and out. The silence feels awkward to her, and she begins to get anxious, 'I have to keep him occupied,' she thought to herself.

'I know why you're up here,' she says.

He raises his eyebrow, 'Really?'

'Well not the exact reason. I won't pin-point it because I can't. But I know the feeling. Like I said to you before, I know the feeling of being lost and hating yourself for stupid things. It's very unpleasant. And I wish I could stop myself. Sometimes I wish I had drunken too many. Or accidentally left my car running in the garage while I'm there. But I don't. I don't know why I don't. Maybe I'm just a pussy. Terrified of the other side. Who the fuck knows. Who cares. I'm beginning to ramble...'

He smiles at her. He enjoys the cigarette, and enjoys her company even more. He sticks his hand out to her, 'Daniel.' She reaches for his hand, 'Caitlin.' He smiles, 'Nice to meet you..under the circumstances.'

Caitlin looks at him and laughs, 'Yeah, these are less than great circumstances.'

She knows the question that everyone probably wants to ask, but for some reason she doesn't. She wants to tell him stories.

'I work with my ex.'

He stares at her, thinks to himself, 'Why is she telling me this?' He says to her, 'Really?'

'Yeah, it's the shittiest situation you could think of. He is with someone else that works here. What's worse is that I have a four year degree and my job doesn't even require a high school diploma. Thank you economy. I get paid less than 10 dollars an hour too,' she looks at him.

'Wow. That sounds pretty shitty.'

'Yeah, it really fucking is. But here's the kicker, you know why I'm not on the ledge holding your hand ready to jump with you?'

He is curious, 'Why?'

'Because I want to prove that fucker wrong. I want to prove to him that he didn't beat me. That he will never hurt me, even if I am hurt more than I ever thought I could be. Nothing feels better than doing something, succeeding, and shoving it in some asshole's face.'

Daniel laughs.

Caitlin smiles, 'Isn't there anyone you can prove wrong?'

Daniel thought about it. There is his dad. His ex-wife. His past bosses. Every editor that ever turned him down. He looks at her, 'I don't know.'

'Bull shit. And I'm calling you on it too. So here is what I propose you do. You prove them wrong. Give them the big fuck you.' He interrupts with a smile, 'Such colorful language young lady.'

She laughs, 'Curse like a sailor, I do. But I'm ok with it. I don't use it when I don't need it. But don't change the subject. Prove them wrong. It's as simple and as easy as that...'

She smiles with a mischievous look on her face, 'And you come with me and my friends to grab a drink.'

He looks at her, 'How do I know you won't kill me?'

'Really? Really? You're ready to jump off a ledge and when someone offers to help you think they're going to off you. Ten minutes you wouldn't even have cared about that. So what would it hurt?'

He laughs, and frowns, 'I don't know. I really don't know if I'm safe away from this spot.'

'I'm not leaving you. Period. So one of two things happens: One. I bring the party here. Or two. You come with me. Your choice. But either way I'm not leaving.'

He thought about it, seriously. This is the first time in a long time he had a good conversation with another human being. Maybe this is worth a shot. He smiled and nodded.

'Which one.' She asks.

'Let's go,' He states.

Caitlin beams with joy. 'Awesome. What an awesome way to end the day. Come on, the bar is a block away.' She isn't sure if a bar is a good idea for a man who is extremely depressed, but she is willing to give it a shot. If she just surrounds Daniel with people, she knows he will be fine.

They walk down the stairs together, both with smiles on their faces.

Caitlin texts Eric:

I just made a friend. Be nice. Otherwise, I'll kick your ass.

She laughs and walks out of the building with Daniel beside her.

Deadline: A Conversation

He looked at me and sighed, 'What are we going to do?'
I stared at him blankly, 'I don't know.'
Our old kitchen never looked so dreary. He looked sad, scared, but there was a hint of happiness in his face. He hadn't been here in months. I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode.
'Well, we know our options.'
'Can you handle that?'
'Can you,' he asked.
I thought about it. On the one hand there is shame. Embarrassment. But a possibility of growth and love. On the other it'll be done, no more options, regret probably, and guilt. The guilt will be a ticking time bomb in my head. It might not be for years, but surely it will explode. The regret could (should) be instantaneous.
'I don't know babe.'
He looked at me and smiled knowing, out of fear, I called him a pet name that hasn't been said in this house for what felt like eons.
I stated, 'I want a cigarette.'
'Don't.'
'Why? It won't matter anyway.' His face changed immediately. Hurt? But more anger than anything.
'So that's it then? Your decision has been made? I thought you called me over here to talk about it.'
'I don't know! All I know is that we don't have much time to sit on this. The longer I wait the harder it's going to be for me, let alone you.'
He sighed, 'I know, I know...I just...I don't know if I can handle this right now.'
My face flushed, 'Yeah just like you can't handle our relationship right? You apparently can't handle much. So just leave again. Go. I'll figure this out on my own.'
I walked up to the back door, opened it, and waited.
He just stared at me, 'I didn't mean it like that. It's just a lot of information to take in at once.'
'How do you think I feel,' I began to get louder, 'I'm the one that's going to have to do it on my own. You get to be free, and I will be stuck. I called you because we need to figure this out now. I am not waiting till I am 3 months and it's a two day process. I won't.'
He got up from his chair and came over to me, 'Get a night of sleep. One day won't matter. Just sleep on it. We'll discuss it in the morning.' He kissed me on my cheek, 'I guess you were right, drunk sex is definitely a bad idea.' And just walked out.
I slammed the door shut.
Pregnant.
What the hell am I going to do?
I went into our old bedroom and laid down. I put my hand on my stomach and thought of the possibility.
Not now, I couldn't think. I needed to just sleep. A decision would be made..eventually.

mentor?

'Life is supposed to hurt,' he said to her.
Truer words were never spoken.
She was/is in agony.
He always told her to not worry. Just laugh.
She never laughed.
She hurt.
Pain seared through her existence.
What is a child supposed to do?
Take it.
He said that too.
Her parents trusted him.
Just another kid from down the block.
The son of a son of a somebody.
Just enough older to watch her...
Just enough older to 'take care of you' as her mother put it...
Just enough older to hurt her more than anyone else in her life...
What is a child supposed to do?
Stay still.
Take it.
Stay still.
Take it.


Mentor (n) 1. a wise and trusted counselor or teacher, 2. an influential senior sponsor or supporter.


He was none of these.
The devil, perhaps.
Definitely.
But not a supporter.
Not wise.
And never trusted.
At least by her...