My mother would always listen intently, as if she really cared about how Jake defended his slide, but in the end I ended up ruling; winning. I remember how her hair was always pulled back into a messy ponytail. She didn’t cut off all of her hair like everyone else’s mothers did. Mine had sleek brown hair down to her shoulders and she played with it non-stop. If she was having a hard time she would run her fingers through her ponytail until she hit the elastic, then do it again, over and over, caressing her head as the silk of her hair passed over her grip. On a good day she would let her hair fly free, shaping her face and making her eyes glow like tiny fires. You could tell things about her. She always smelled like peaches. I push my hair out of my eyes and stare out the window. The old rusty swing-set creeks in the dull light of a smoggy day. I can feel the rust underneath my fingernails and a chill runs down my spine. The kitchen is no longer bright and cheery. There are no crisp white curtains, there isn’t a baby blue tile floor holding up light green cabinets full of food and love. Now the curtains are full of dust, and they hang slightly to the right. The floor hasn’t been cleaned in ages and there’s no way you’d find food in those cabinets, let alone love. My mother’s favorite mug is still in the sink with a bright pink lipstick ring around the side that says “Worlds Best Veterinarian” and on the other side there’s a picture of a puppy wearing one of those doctor head pieces. Now that’s totally ridiculous because veterinarians don’t even use those things and neither do little puppies who look so confused that they want to jump off the mug and sniff your ass.
I grab my backpack, which had been lying next to me on the counter, hop off and wipe the dust from my pants. A normal guy my age would have his books for his classes in that backpack, but not me. Me, I have a necklace, some CDs and a few pairs of socks, I hate when my feet are cold. I’m not going to school today. The world is just going to have to deal with it. They don’t even know anyway, what today is. No one does, they all forgot. All but me. I turn the key in the ignition, and the car starts.
My mother was beautiful in her bikini. She had the best body and she knew it. My father knew it as well. He used to kiss the top of her head every time they walked past each other. He would pull her into his chest and she would smile and close her eyes. His lips would rest on her hair for a few brief seconds then they would move along onto what they were doing. This was a ritual that was never broken. Well, except once. That day, my mother was lying on her towel soaking up the rays of the sun while she gave off her own rays of golden beauty. I remember that I was with Jake down by the water’s edge trying to catch fish with those cheap little butterfly nets. They kept filling with sand and we would get so frustrated. My mother was watching us and laughing out loud, her voice was like a harp. Then my father slammed the sliding screen door. My mother jumped slightly and turned to see him stride across the lawn. His head was down and his ears were red, he charged at her. He stopped right before her kicking a small amount of sand onto her towel. Jake and I froze. His shadow covered her face. She looked up at him in surprise as he reached down and smacked her across the cheek. Her left hand flew up and touched the spot where he had hit her.
“You whore…” he whispered. She stared back at him in disbelief as he opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then walked across the lawn to the jeep and drove away leaving nothing but a cloud of dust.
I skidded out of the driveway spewing snow from my tires. My tired hands knew the route and my feet paid attention to the road. Left out the driveway, right at the stop sign. Another left and then another, bringing you onto the highway. Why she is so far away, I don’t even know.
“Just pick me up Bobby,” She had said before I left, “I want to be there with you.” My girlfriend sucks. She doesn’t have the slightest idea what she’s getting herself into. After a long drive, I found myself in her driveway. She came out wearing a black sweater and her tattered blue jeans. She knew I loved those jeans. She knew today was special but she was fucking it up by wearing those jeans. I hated her right then. She glided into the seat beside me and pushed my hair from my eyes.
“You need a haircut, Baby, it’s getting down to your nose.” Don’t tell me how to live, Baby.
“I like it just fine. Are you sure you want to come? I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.” I don’t think I know what I’m getting into. “Shut up and drive,” She said. I turned up my music and got back on the highway. On car trips with my family we had those cheesy sing along tapes you could buy at Wal-Mart for two bucks. We would all sing along, even my parents. They would laugh and my mother’s mouth would spew golden notes that would make my father get sentimental over the itsy-bitsy-spider. My father would drive and Jake and I would sit in the back giggling and singing along. It didn’t matter where we were going my mother was always wearing something new, something nice. My father always complained about how the salary of a veterinarian and a college lit teacher could not afford her lifestyle. I remember the day my mother brought me to the Salvation Army to buy clothes. Her hair was pulled back and she wore her sneakers. Her eyes seemed to be dead that day. Her skin was paler, her voice less extraordinary. It was the day after another night of red cheeks and bruised arms.
“Are you ok to do this Bobby?” Becki brought me back into my car.
“What are you talking about” I snapped. She didn’t even know what the hell was going on in my mind. We were only ten minutes away now; my hands began to sweat.
“Well, you know…this is gunna be hard, I was just…like…wondering if you were going to be OK about it.” She stumbled with her words and twirled her hair around. She was nervous about it; she didn’t know what to think. I suddenly felt bad for her; she really had no idea.
“Baby, as long as you’re here I’ll be OK.” It was what she wanted to hear.
She smiled and put her left hand on my right one. Seven minutes away. It’s too hot in this damn car. I started to roll down the window but realized Becki was looking at me like my brain was leaking out of my ear. It was snowing out there. I looked at Becki’s hands. Her nail polish was green, something you don’t see a lot of in the winter. My mother was not one for jewelry, or nail polish, or other girly things. She was modest, beautiful in her own way. Even on her bad days she could light up a room with a flash of her teeth. But then it all started changing. I don’t remember what the day was exactly, but I know it did happen. Her hair was always back, and she hid her whole body in my father’s flannel shirts. Jake and I would come in from playing outside and she would be sitting at the kitchen table, not with lemonade and cookies for us, but only staring at the blank wall.
A horn brought me back again.
“Jesus Christ, Bobby! Watch the fucking road.” Becki got pissed.
“Only five more minutes, we’re almost there…” I mumbled.
My father wouldn’t acknowledge her. I don’t know why. He stopped kissing her on the head. Then he stopped coming home. Everything in my life just seemed to stop. My mother’s smiles, my father’s appearance, the life, the laughter, even the warm hugs of love. My mother never took it very well. I remember that day she broke. Jake and I were walking down the driveway after school and we saw my father’s jeep in the driveway. When we walked into the house my father was sitting at the kitchen table with a piece of paper in front of his face.
“Daddy…?” Jake whispered. The lights were off and the curtains were drawn. My father looked up and a tear dropped from his face. He sat still for a moment, staring, then stood up from the table and walked past us, like he didn’t even see us. Walking upstairs we followed him, knowing something was wrong, but what we didn’t know.
“We’re here.” I said.
Becki looked at me and said, “What do you mean, we’re here?” We were pulled over at the edge of the highway.
“Over there,” I said, pointing across her face. She looked down at my finger, then out of her window. She furrowed her brow and searched out the window. “What exactly am I looking for? All I’m seeing are some trees… are you sure you’re at the right place? This is where you buried your mother?” I wanted to smack her. She didn’t know. No one understands. I just want them to understand. I especially want her to understand.
We followed my father up the steps, but he just walked into his room and shut the door in my face. I heard the click of the lock and the rustle of some papers. Jake and I stood outside his door for ten minutes not knowing what was going on. “Where’s Mommy?” Jake kept asking the space between him and me. I told him to shut it and we sat on the beige carpet of the hallway waiting for our father to come back out and tell us what was wrong. Then I heard it. It sounded like when we blow up our brown paper lunch bags and pop them to scare the teachers. Then there was a thump. I jumped from where I was sitting and started pounding on the door. Jake started to sob and cowered in the corner of the hallway.
I looked at Becki and noticed how perfectly her hair fell on her shoulders. Her lips were slightly parted and she stared directly into my eyes. She looked confused. Simple. Beautiful.
“You know, I was only thirteen years old. Who the hell is supposed to deal with shit like I did when they are thirteen? I mean, I was young, but Jake…Jake was only ten. Ten years old and his father fucking shot himself right there. He killed himself while Jake and I were sitting outside of his room. What kind of person does that to his sons? He did it knowing that my mother was dead too. She was dead. They were both dead, and what were we supposed to do?” Becki stared at me in disbelief. Opening and closing her mouth like a fish and eyes wide, she just looked at me. “I told you you didn’t know what you were getting into…” I apologized
I pounded on the door for what seemed like forever. Jake sobbed in the background, and all I could do was pound. I knew what had happened and I ran down to the kitchen table. There was a note in my mother’s handwriting saying how she couldn’t take it anymore. She had lost the love of her husband and she no longer could care for her sons. She jumped.
“This is where my mother jumped,” I whispered, “No one could have stopped her. It’s almost like her whole life she had been flying like a beautiful bird in the sky, and then it stopped, and she had to get it back. After the day my father shot himself and my mother jumped, we got moved into my aunt’s house. My house was condemned, abandoned. People said it was bad luck or some bullshit like that. I go back there all the time, ya know? I sit there where my dad was sitting that day, and I think. No one has touched our house, and that’s the way it should be.”
Becki was still staring at me with wide eyes. She had no idea about any of this. She thought I was normal. Her hair was long and brown as it flew over my shoulders and hugged me itself as she threw her arms around me, she smelled like peaches. Her tattered blue jeans and her black sweater formed her perfect body.
“Hunny, I’ll never leave you…” She whispered into my ear, and we let go of each other.
Phillip loved his mom. Phillip loved when his mom took him to church. She took him every Sunday morning at seven. She tied his bow tie for him and tied up his shoes, and they walked out their door, down the stairs, and onto the street. The sidewalks were cracked and had a few sprouts of hopeful grass growing here and there. The tall brick buildings loomed over his head casting a protective shadow. Phillip held his mom’s hand as they walked down the four blocks to the pretty white church. The walks reminded Phillip of when he used to live in the country, not too long ago. He closed his eyes and smelled the wind as it passed him. He was reminded of the early dinners that his mother used to cook. He would be sitting in his highchair at the table with his mom and dad, and the windows would be open, letting in enough air to make the curtains do a subtle dance, inviting him to move along with them. Phillip would giggle and laugh with the curtains, as his parents ate their corn and chicken, beaming smiles at him through every bite. The curly blond hair on the top of his head was like a crown. King Phillip they called him. King of the air.
When Phillip and his mother arrived at the church they were greeted by the old woman in the purple hat who passed out the daily flyers. The church flyers often littered the streets after every service, but Phillip always kept his, and put it in a box in his room. He kept them just in case he forgot what the priest had said and he needed to look back and be reminded. As they sat together in the service, Phillip held onto his mom’s white-gloved hand. The gloves were slightly tinted with dirt, and were molded perfectly to her hands, and at one of her fingers she tugged as if it were uncomfortably tight.
Phillip paid very close attention to what the priest was saying. He talked about the angels and how they saved people. He talked about how Jesus Christ had risen from the dead to help out his people. He talked about how they were all God’s children, each and every one of them, and how God would do anything for his children.
After mass, Phillip always wanted to stay a little later so he could shake the priest’s hand and thank him for a wonderful service. He always thanked him for the things he said, and the things he taught him. Each week the priest expected to see him there.
“Why hello, Phillip, how did you like my sermon this week?” Phillip looked up at him with his bright blue eyes and smiled.
“Oh why, Phillip! You’ve lost your front teeth! Did you get a visit from the tooth fairy?” Phillip quickly stopped smiling and looked down to the ground. His mom answered the question with a quick yes, and that they needed to be going now. She grabbed Phillip’s hand. Phillip waved goodbye to the priest. On the walk home Phillip’s mom looked down at her son and sighed with sadness.
“Phillip, baby, one day we’re going to get out of here. One day I’m going to take you away from here, from all of this. One day, baby, one day…” She trailed off as Phillip looked up and caught her eye; there were wet half moons in them. She paused for a moment and crouched down on the cold cement sidewalk next to her son. She brought him into her chest and held him as she wept quietly into his golden locks. She did not want to bring him back to their home.
Phillip stood like the biggest man a six-year-old could be, and hugged his mother until she stopped crying.
“Don’t worry, Mom, don’t worry.” He kissed her on the forehead like he used to see his father do, and told her that it would be okay, he would be okay, the angels would make it okay.
When they arrived at their house, it was nine in the morning. Phillip walked into his room and put his light blue jacket into his closet on the only coat hanger he had. He methodically untied his shoes and slipped them off, then placed them on the floor of the closet. He changed into his play clothes: the same light blue and white striped shirt that he wore every day; the same pair of blue jeans. He knelt down next to his small single bed and prayed to God that his dad wouldn’t be a mean dad today. He prayed that maybe take him up on his knee so they could watch baseball together, like he saw in the commercials for the children’s cough medicine. Or maybe his dad would take him to the park so they could play on the swings, like all the little boys he saw with their dads at the park he passed on the way to church. He remembered the swingset he had in his backyard before they moved. His dad would stand behind him and push him; he’d fly through the air and return to his dad, the wind going through his hair. It used to be his favorite thing to do. He prayed that it would all be okay.
When he walked out of his room he smelled that it would not be okay. When he walked out of his room he heard that it would not be okay. When he walked out of his room he saw that it would not be okay. His dad was sitting facing his TV in his brown tweed armchair. Resting on the arm of the chair was an open bottle of beer. It was almost empty. On the black wood floor beneath the chair lay four empty bottles. His dad was unhappy again. It happened to Phillip and his mom sometimes. It happened to Phillip and his mom all the time.
His mom was apologizing for leaving that morning. She was down on the ground in front of him crying, begging him not to hate her, begging him not to be angry with her or with Phillip. He was angry with her. He was angry with Phillip. He wasn’t listening to her, only looking through her at the TV. His grip on his beer bottle intensified; his knuckles were turning white. He lifted the beer bottle and smashed Phillip’s mom across the temple with it. She let out a slight whimper and fell to the ground clutching her head, as a stream of dark liquid seeped from between her fingers. Phillip watched his mom fall to the ground, and quickly covered his mouth with his hand. At the sound of his hand clapping over his mouth, his dad turned around and stared at him.
“You! You little fucker. Now do you see what you made me do? Huh? Do you? It’s your fault I had to hit her. You make her take you there. To that damn church. You little bastard.” He was spitting on Phillip’s face. Phillip began to cry. He was afraid of his dad. His dad hit him and his dad hit his mom. Why didn’t God stop his dad? Phillip fell to his knees and prayed in his head. His dad got angry.
“What the hell are you doing? Praying?” He let out a loud, sharp laugh and Phillip squished his eyes shut, “There’s no way God can help you now, kid.” He extended his arm and brought his hand right over Phillip’s ear with a crack. Phillip was knocked to the ground where his mom was laying. He made eye contact with his mom and lay very still. His dad went to the refrigerator to get another beer. Then his mom held out her bloody fingertips, and Phillip crawled into their embrace. They quickly made their way together into his mom’s bedroom and sat on the floor. It happened to Phillip and his mom all the time. Phillip stood up and got a towel for his mother. She was bleeding a lot this time. She told him that she would save him. That she would send him away from his father one day. That she would one day stop the hurting. But still, for Phillip, it was just the price you pay to go to church.
One night, Phillip had a dream. Phillip dreamt that the angels had come to him. He dreamt that he was in his bed and was awakened by the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was wearing a long, flowing white night gown and her hair was suspended, as if she was floating in water. She woke Phillip with the warmth of her eyes. He felt it on his eyelids. She said that he had asked for help. He smiled, and said that he knew she would come. He said that he wanted to get away from his dad. He said he needed to get away from his dad. He said that he would do anything to get away from his dad. The angels told him that he could fly away. The angels said that when he woke up in the morning he should fly away from his father and he would be free. The angels said that he could fly away from his father, and they would save him.
When Phillip woke in the morning he woke knowing that he was going to be okay. He put on his church outfit. He kneeled down beside his bed and prayed. He thanked God for sending him an angel, and thanked the angel for letting him know how to get away from his dad. Phillip walked into his parents’ room. He kissed his mom on the cheek and stroked the hair out of her face. He loved his mom very much. He didn’t want to make her hurt anymore. “Don’t worry mom,” he whispered, “He won’t hurt you anymore now. I’m going. It’ll be like it was.” He walked around to the other side of the bed and whispered into his dad’s ear that he could fly away from him. “I can fly away from you. The angels came to save me.” His dad was in a deep slumber, and the smell of beer radiated from his partially opened lips. Drool dribbled down over his unshaven chin, and his white T-shirt was stained and wreaked of body odor. Phillip whispered into his dad’s wax-filled ear. His dad didn’t stir.
Phillip turned and walked back to his room and went to the window. He threw open the shades and the curtains and stepped onto the window ledge. He closed his eyes and felt the cool breeze against his cheeks and smiled, because he was leaving. The curtains began to dance. He lifted one foot from the windowsill as he felt the presence of the angels around him. He lifted the other foot, and was finally free.
I toke up every day. Not being high would be more of a trip. I mean, its not like a get completely fucked up every day, just enough to get me there; and out of here. And if I’m out of weed, which is a rare occurrence, I’ll get cocked as hell for school. It’s the best when you walk into first period history class, and then the next thing you remember is your sixth period math teacher handing back a test with a big fat F on the top, and all you can think is “God I’m so fucked up right now.”
Well today, today was definitely one of those great days. I woke up, rolled out of the bed and crawled my way over to the closet on my hands and knees. Putting a towel along the crack between the door and the floor, I reached into my closet and took out my favorite piece. It was new; Justin gave it to me for my birthday. I picked out a stem, put the weed in the bowl, lit it, and started my day.
I sat back against the wall next to my closet and took everything in. From every stain on my cream colored carpet to every bump on the ceiling. The red shirt in the center of my room was calling to me. I put it on and felt it touch every dreadlock on my head, every hair on my body. Under the red shirt was a pair of black jeans. When I put them on legs felt like they had been covered in warm chocolate sauce, and I walked out of my room. Going up the stairs I passed my sister.
“G’morning sunshine.” I said. She hesitated; she couldn’t tell if it was sarcasm or not.
“Shut up dipwad.” It was our usual morning routine. I walked up to the kitchen and grabbed the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, ate a few handfuls and wiped the extra sugar off on my chest. My parents didn’t even acknowledge me. My father was too busy reading the Times and Janet was too busy feeding Tommy. I flicked them off as I left the room. I put on my shoes, walked outside, and got into my 1967 Mustang. My baby. I made it to school and parked. Walking up to the front steps of the school I saw my crew. Justin, Sky, Derek, Coco, Sid, Crabs, and Pata my only friend that wasn’t a guy. Pata was lying in Sid’s lap and the rest were strewn across the stairs. Coco took a drag on his cigarette and nodded to me.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, Chase,” Coco was Irish today “The Ice queen walked by earlier, I thought I saw a slight smile on her face, but alas, the lass is an ass.”
“Dude, you should be a poet.” Sky was watching us through half closed eyes.
“Yes, a poet…smashing idea, you loser.” Coco said, changing countries. The bell for first period rang and I lit another cigarette. I felt the smoke tunnel down my throat and fill up my lungs. I exhaled through my teeth. A few minutes later, Dino came out to usher us to our first period classes. Dino hates us, but hates me most of all. I took another drag on my cigarette and pushed one of my dreads behind my ear.
“G’morning Dino.” We all grumbled as we stood up, finished our cigarettes and either floated or stumbled into the school. Dino held me back by my shoulder.
“You know, Mr. Liebe, you miss one more class and you’re all mine.” His teeth were yellow and smelled like bong resin.
“It’d make my life if I was all yours, Dino” I mocked him as I passed him, bumping shoulders and flicking my cigarette past his nose. I walked into English and Mr. Didge said, “How nice of you to join us Chase, please, take a seat, get comfortable.” I pulled out a pen and started to write lyrics to one of my favorite songs on the desk when I realized Sarah had just walked into the door.
“I knew it was feeling colder in here.” I said. She glared at me. Gotta love that sibling rivalry.
“Oh, the other Liebe, Hello Sarah. Do you have a note?”
“Oh Mr. Didge, of course I do!” She giggled and handed him a pink hall pass written in Dino’s handwriting. Dino loves my sister. She sat down and class began. Life just doesn’t begin until Sarah Liebe is present. I finished writing the lyrics to If I Could, my favorite Phish song, and class was over. On the way out of the room I jolted to the front and put my arm around my sister’s waist.
“Hey there, Bitch. How’s your morning goin’?” She looked down at my hand, the one with dirt under the fingernails and slowly backed her head away from it like I was carrying a disease. Well… maybe I am.
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere getting in trouble?”
“Shouldn’t you be somewhere getting an award?” We walked from each other in silence. God that bitch gets on my nerves. She would probably die if she ever did something remotely fun with me. A few periods later I met up with Derek and Pata and we stepped out for a pre-afternoon refresher.
“This shit just doesn’t last long enough.” Pata confirmed.
“That’s why you gotta take a swig of this,” Derek handed Pata a flask, “Made it myself, I call it Derek Juice.” She sniffed the opening, shrugged and put it to her lips.
“Now that, is some good shit.” She said in the middle of wiping her lips. I reached for the flask as Dino walked around the corner. Pata shoved the flask down her bra; somewhere she knew Dino would never go. He glared at me as he passed. Technically I was doing nothing wrong and he knew it. Seniors can roam when they don’t have classes. I walked into my next class slightly cocked and reeking of cigarettes. I don’t remember the rest of the day, which is why it was so great.
That night I walked down the untarnished hallway to my room. On the way I passed my sisters room. The door was slightly open so I poked my head in to see if she was in there. She was sitting at her desk doing her homework.
“Hey sis, how was your day?” I said quietly…it was nice of me…considerate almost. She looked up from her homework. Rubbing her red, wet eye she said, “Get out asshole.”
“Aw sis, did you get a B?” I walked out of her room and down to mine. Every time I’ve ever poked my head in her room just to say hi she had to be such a bitch to me. I was only trying to be nice. Why is she always fucking crying all the time anyway? What a wuss. I locked the door to my room and threw myself down on my bed. I waited for it.
There was a knock on my door and I grunted. Here it comes. Every fucking night. My parents stormed into the room and it began.
“You are worthless! Why do you even bother going to school if your Principal is just going to give you four detentions a day? What’s wrong with you? You’re wasting away your life, why can’t you be more like your sister? I can’t even believe you two are twins.” Their words meshed together. I got the same speech every night. Every night for hours on end. When they left my room I went into my closet and drank some Bacardi before I crashed and slept until the next day.
April 23rd started off as another one of those days. I woke up five minutes before first class started, got high and went out to my car. Usually by this time my sister had already left, but her little Z3 was still in the driveway. Maybe she was sick? No one was really paying attention; she was a little solitary around the house lately. Which is very possible considering the fucking mansion I live in. My father is a lawyer, Janet is a trophy. She’s not my real mother though, my real mother would have gotten lost in this new house. Ever since my father landed some huge cases we moved into a giant house and I got to buy my mustang.
Anyway, I drove to school and sat with everyone on the steps. It was one of those first days of spring, where the sun is finally starting to warm up the world, but the cold is still lingering somewhere in the background. Coco was French today, one of my favorites.
“So Coco, you see my sister this morning?” I asked half out of curiosity and half out of wanting to hear his accent.
“Well, my dear Chase, Ze Ice Queen haz not pazzed by my eyez zis lovely morning. But I await her arrival with great…how do you say…anticipation.” He’d never tell us what he takes every morning. We’ve all guessed every drug out there, but we can never figure it out. He’s probably afraid he wouldn’t be him anymore. After the first bell rang, I lit a cigarette and waited for Dino to come and make us move along. He didn’t come. We sat and talked about only the most important things; the subliminal sexual connotations in Disney Movies, How The Wall and The Wizard of Oz match up, only the things that could capture the minds of me and my friends for hours at a time. About midway through second period I saw Dino charging through the front doors.
“Well here comes the party pooper.” I said. Dino passed everyone and walked right up to me. He got so close to my face I thought I was going to vomit. I blew smoke into his eyes. He blinked furiously for a few seconds and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Get to class you slackers.” The veins on his head were popping out and I thought he was going to have a heart attack. We packed up our things and walked to our classes.
At the end of the day I felt my cell phone ring. I answered and it was Sarah.
“Chase my car broke down this morning and Dad said you have to drive me home.” I sighed.
“Where are you now?” I wasn’t going to ruin my day with this. She said she was in the library, so I asked someone who looked smart where it was and made my way over there. On the way I stopped off behind a tall hedge and smoked a bowl. It always helped me deal with her…
I woke up to a methodical beeping noise. I felt groggy, worse than hung over. I felt a tinge in my hand as I looked down to see a needle sticking on the top of my hand. I looked over to my left. My father and Janet were sitting facing another bed. Was I dead? I quickly took inventory of my body. Two legs, two arms,ten fingers and toes; I’m all set. The last thing I remembered was Sarah getting into the car and then…that’s it.
I pieced things together. I was obviously in a hospital. There must have been an accident. I was driving, and…shit!
“That must be Sarah!” I screamed in my head. I jolted upright and Janet turned around.
“You’re high even now, aren’t you?” She glared at me, “Get out of here, you could have killed her. You are a waste of space.” My stepmother gets to the point quickly.
“Dad…?” I started to ask what happened. He hadn’t turned around. All he did was hold up his hand to stop me and hang his head down. I saw a tear drop onto his pants. I looked over at Sarah. There were tubes going into her nose and mouth. All around her machines were beeping and things were looking sterile. I felt out of place.
What had I done? My sister was almost dead. Janet turned back to my sister and I rung the bell for the nurse to come in. I told her I was leaving and she took the needle out of my hand. I put on my jeans and T-shirt and walked out of the room. It was too painful to see what I had done. My parents didn’t even try to stop me when I left. I stopped outside the hospital doors and lit a cigarette. I felt the smoke snake in and out of my lungs and I sat down on the cold concrete of the sidewalk. I almost killed my sister. She was laying in that hospital bed right there next to me and I’m up right now and I walked out of that room and she can’t even breathe on her own.
I held my head in my hands. I was drowning in my own chemical dream. My life wasn’t real. That was real, back there, back in that room with Sarah. What’s real is that she can die, and that my parents wont even talk to me because it’s my fault. What is real is that I’m going nowhere with my life, hell, I haven’t even been living a life.
I stood up and walked down the long cracked sidewalk in the direction of my house. I took another drag on my cigarette and held my hand out in front of me. The red glow of the tip lit up the dirt encrusted on my hands. I exhaled and dropped the almost full cigarette on the ground, stepped on it, and walked the other way.
I love the way you move.
Like a wave rolling from the ocean floor,
You sway.
Up and down.
Back and forth.
Your eyes up,
And head down,
Inviting me in.
You reach out your hand
And I take it.
And you take me.
Into you.
I slip my hand around your waist.
Under your shirt,
I touch your skin.
It’s soft
And I want it for my own.
So you smile at me,
And I smile back
I know you are my own.
I run my hands
Through your hair.
Stopping at your neck,
I cradle your face.
And peer into your eyes.
I freeze.
And stand there,
Like that beach you crash on
Grasping you for a few still seconds
You seep into my grains
And when you move again
Finally,
You spread onto my cheeks,
Further onto me.
Every time you move.
