I know this is weird, but I love it anyways. I hope I get an idea so I can elaborate on the plot.
It was night, a thick, dense, scary sort of night time when monsters might come out of closets and nightmares could become real life. A small, thin looking girl was sitting alone on a bench outside of a gas station. Her hair was light brown and wavy, her face very pale. But when you dared to look closer at that face, you would be surprised, because this girl was not afraid of the seedy area of town she was in alone, or even of the thick blackness that enveloped her. She looked very calm and slightly bored, the very tilt of her head seeming to dare any one or anything to come near her. She couldn’t have been called brave, for she was not aware there was anything to be afraid of- she was only ignorant.
The strange girl suddenly began rummaging in her small black bag for something, cursing under her breath as she searched. Finally the girl came up with a tiny cell phone, which she then proceeded to dial. What else would she have done with a cell phone?
The
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Taylors- Short Story #2
This is definitely the best story I've ever written. I have the whole thing written out, I'm just too lazy to type it.
It's four in the morning and the mirror is seriously scaring me.
It reflects a tired, tan girl with massive dark circles and eyeliner more smudged than then the mirror. And that's saying something.
The girl is squinting at the light bulb over the sink when she suddenly yawns and I realize...
Oh crap. This chick is me, Libby Taylor.
As if nightmares weren't enough...
I search blindly for the Tylenol so I can back to sleep, even though it's starting to seem like my hopes are a little too high in that area, when I remember that I used it all up last night, during Kitten's whining fit.
Yeah, I have a cat named Kitten. So sue me.
I hobble downstairs shivering in my cotton shorts ( the pair with the little hearts), hoping to find refuge in the TV's companionable glow, when I spot a lump on the couch. A lump wearing high heels and a leather jacket.
"Rrrrrr---uuuuppppert..." the lump groans. "Would you pass the sh-sh-sherry? I need another g-g-g-lasss..." The lump, now definitely identifiable as my mother, bursts into a gigglefit. "Sherry... what a funny word..." She passes out momentarily, her head going slack against our faded couch. I sigh a big sigh and try to position her in some sort of comfortable way. I knew this would happen, but for some reason I feel an unfamiliar sadness pushing up against my throat, and then I'm crying. I cover her with the blanket and try to put a pillow under her head, but she struggles and won't let me. I go back upstairs, trying to figure out why such a normal routine is making me so-emotional- this particular time.
Because it's not right. Because-because- it's not fair. I want a normal family, with a mom who wears sweat pants and takes me to soccer practice. It doesn't matter that I don't play soccer, it's the principle of the thing. I feel the lump in my throat again, and I desperatly want to talk to someone-anyone- who could understand. But there isn't anyone except my little sister Cassidy, and she's long asleep by now. I never let her see Mom like this anyways. I have to take care of Cassidy, let her have a little bit of innocence as long as she can keep it.
And I have to be strong. Taylors are always strong. Even when it hurts them the most.
I wake up the next morning with pillow face and a monster sized headache. The alarm clock, which probably rang two hours ago, is laying in a corner with the batteries torn out. Cassidy is leaning over my face like the Ghost of Christmas Past.
"Libby!" She shakes my shoulder. "Waaaake uuuup!!"
All the happy quiet daydreams in my head burst into a thousand tiny pieces as I sit up and stare at the demolished alarm clock.
"Ohmygod. What time is it???" I spring out of bed with panic eating it's way into my stomach. "Are you okay?" Cassidy looks okay- she's dressed, and not showing any signs of major blood loss- but I'm still hating myself for leaving her alone until-
"It's 10:00-ish. Will you take me to Nina's house? Because she just got a new puppy and he's soooo cute. He can roll over and everything. Nina says he's a poor bred-"
"Pure bred." I correct as I frantically search for something decent and/or clean to wear.
"Well can you take me?" Cassie taps her little 11-year-old foot impatiently.
"Yeah, sure. Just hold on a minute, I need to get dressed, okay?" I ruffle her thin blonde hair and send her out the door.
Okay. I slept three hours late. No biggie. I'll just clean the house really quick, separate the clothes, get change for the Laundromat, drop off Cassidy, clean up after Mom's 4 a.m. mess, and- that’s it. Except for the laundry, which we can take care of tonight. If there's still any money left on our bus passes...
Here's a quick briefing on my life. My Mom was a hippie; way way after it was in style. She got pregnant with me when she was sweet sixteen. Believe it or not, she has no idea who my father is, and could care less. Charming, right? She named me Liberty, gave me her last name, and left me to fend for myself. I hate to think what she would have named me if she was sober- I could have been Justice.
Cassidy came in much later, four years after I was born. Her father is (was) a drunk with a penchant for torturing my mother, and anything that got in his way. He disappeared one night, and according to Mom (during one of her few sober moments) threw himself under a train. It's hard to keep Cassie satisfied about him- she asks all the time who he was, what he was like- but I just tell her for now that he died before she was born. I worry about Cassidy. What will happen to her if I get my scholarship to college in two years? Could I somehow afford to rent an apartment? I don't know. These are the kind of questions that have me downing Tylenol in the middle of the night.
For right now, Mom has a job as a waitress during the day, and a job doing God knows what at night. She tried to tell me once, but I didn't want to hear it. Paying the bills and buying the food is work enough as it is without having to stress over using "dirty" money. Or what she had to do to earn it.
Someday, things will be better. I'll graduate and go off somewhere, get a fabulous job, work harder than hell to earn whatever Cassie wants or needs. But for right now, survival is everything. Even if it means sneaking on the bus when our passes expire.
It's four in the morning and the mirror is seriously scaring me.
It reflects a tired, tan girl with massive dark circles and eyeliner more smudged than then the mirror. And that's saying something.
The girl is squinting at the light bulb over the sink when she suddenly yawns and I realize...
Oh crap. This chick is me, Libby Taylor.
As if nightmares weren't enough...
I search blindly for the Tylenol so I can back to sleep, even though it's starting to seem like my hopes are a little too high in that area, when I remember that I used it all up last night, during Kitten's whining fit.
Yeah, I have a cat named Kitten. So sue me.
I hobble downstairs shivering in my cotton shorts ( the pair with the little hearts), hoping to find refuge in the TV's companionable glow, when I spot a lump on the couch. A lump wearing high heels and a leather jacket.
"Rrrrrr---uuuuppppert..." the lump groans. "Would you pass the sh-sh-sherry? I need another g-g-g-lasss..." The lump, now definitely identifiable as my mother, bursts into a gigglefit. "Sherry... what a funny word..." She passes out momentarily, her head going slack against our faded couch. I sigh a big sigh and try to position her in some sort of comfortable way. I knew this would happen, but for some reason I feel an unfamiliar sadness pushing up against my throat, and then I'm crying. I cover her with the blanket and try to put a pillow under her head, but she struggles and won't let me. I go back upstairs, trying to figure out why such a normal routine is making me so-emotional- this particular time.
Because it's not right. Because-because- it's not fair. I want a normal family, with a mom who wears sweat pants and takes me to soccer practice. It doesn't matter that I don't play soccer, it's the principle of the thing. I feel the lump in my throat again, and I desperatly want to talk to someone-anyone- who could understand. But there isn't anyone except my little sister Cassidy, and she's long asleep by now. I never let her see Mom like this anyways. I have to take care of Cassidy, let her have a little bit of innocence as long as she can keep it.
And I have to be strong. Taylors are always strong. Even when it hurts them the most.
I wake up the next morning with pillow face and a monster sized headache. The alarm clock, which probably rang two hours ago, is laying in a corner with the batteries torn out. Cassidy is leaning over my face like the Ghost of Christmas Past.
"Libby!" She shakes my shoulder. "Waaaake uuuup!!"
All the happy quiet daydreams in my head burst into a thousand tiny pieces as I sit up and stare at the demolished alarm clock.
"Ohmygod. What time is it???" I spring out of bed with panic eating it's way into my stomach. "Are you okay?" Cassidy looks okay- she's dressed, and not showing any signs of major blood loss- but I'm still hating myself for leaving her alone until-
"It's 10:00-ish. Will you take me to Nina's house? Because she just got a new puppy and he's soooo cute. He can roll over and everything. Nina says he's a poor bred-"
"Pure bred." I correct as I frantically search for something decent and/or clean to wear.
"Well can you take me?" Cassie taps her little 11-year-old foot impatiently.
"Yeah, sure. Just hold on a minute, I need to get dressed, okay?" I ruffle her thin blonde hair and send her out the door.
Okay. I slept three hours late. No biggie. I'll just clean the house really quick, separate the clothes, get change for the Laundromat, drop off Cassidy, clean up after Mom's 4 a.m. mess, and- that’s it. Except for the laundry, which we can take care of tonight. If there's still any money left on our bus passes...
Here's a quick briefing on my life. My Mom was a hippie; way way after it was in style. She got pregnant with me when she was sweet sixteen. Believe it or not, she has no idea who my father is, and could care less. Charming, right? She named me Liberty, gave me her last name, and left me to fend for myself. I hate to think what she would have named me if she was sober- I could have been Justice.
Cassidy came in much later, four years after I was born. Her father is (was) a drunk with a penchant for torturing my mother, and anything that got in his way. He disappeared one night, and according to Mom (during one of her few sober moments) threw himself under a train. It's hard to keep Cassie satisfied about him- she asks all the time who he was, what he was like- but I just tell her for now that he died before she was born. I worry about Cassidy. What will happen to her if I get my scholarship to college in two years? Could I somehow afford to rent an apartment? I don't know. These are the kind of questions that have me downing Tylenol in the middle of the night.
For right now, Mom has a job as a waitress during the day, and a job doing God knows what at night. She tried to tell me once, but I didn't want to hear it. Paying the bills and buying the food is work enough as it is without having to stress over using "dirty" money. Or what she had to do to earn it.
Someday, things will be better. I'll graduate and go off somewhere, get a fabulous job, work harder than hell to earn whatever Cassie wants or needs. But for right now, survival is everything. Even if it means sneaking on the bus when our passes expire.
Why My Life is Better than Dawson's Creek- Short Story #1
Still working on this story- shameless chick-lit I know. :P
When a boy has a crush on you, you always know it. Always. Guys think they're all so clever, hiding their true feelings, but honestly a boys heart is a transparent as glass- and just as easily broken.
Those are some of the more important reasons I'm just ignoring my friend Seth's giant crush on me. Those and the fact that I'm not even sure if it's a crush or it's really something I should worry about. Like what if Seth loves me? Sometimes I think that might be it, sometimes I'm almost sure that is has to be love I see in his face when he looks at me that way. You know the way- like he's trying to figure me out, or like he's hoping he'll see something he wants to see if he just stares long enough. I'm worried about it. Really worried. Why, do you ask? Not because of Seth himself- Seth is a really nice guy. He's like all the "good guy" characters you've ever seen on television combined with all the best "bad" ones. Seth is Dawson mixed with Pacey, Adam Brody combined with James Dean thrown together with Jess from Gilmore Girls.
And I don't want to deal with someone like that being in love with me. I'd rather keep my drama confined to Dawson's Creek, thank you. So I'm avoiding him. It's incredibly easy, school being out for the summer and all. So what if Seth is my next door neighbor? I just won't go outside. Piece of cake. Unfortunately, this plan has resulted in me spending lots of time with the TV set. I'm invested in all the teen soap classics- Dawson's Creek, of course, The O.C., Laguna Beach, Gilmore Girls- even Degrassi: The Next Generation if I can catch it on.
Dawson's Creek is my absolute favorite though. Pacey is the cutest- I'm a little bit in love with Pacey, to be honest- but I always root for Dawson. I guess because Dawson is just so good, and I've always been a sucker for the good guys.
I'm taking out the trash and mentally calculating how many hours of my life I've spent so far watching Joey's, when Seth runs up to me at the trash can. He just runs out of his house and stops right next to me, watching me again with those green eyes of his. Nobody on television, or in books, or even in the movies has eyes like Seth Grayson. Nobody.
"You've been avoiding me," He says. Seth doesn't put a question mark on the end, or even an exclamation point- he just states it, the way a normal person says something like, "I'm getting a glass of milk."
I mentally debate the options here. I could lie, which of course he would see right through, or I could tell the truth and sound like a complete ninny. I choose the latter- WWJD, What Would Joey Do?
"Yeah, so?" I keep my eyes on the trash can I just emptied. It's safer that way.
"Uh, I'd like to know why, please." This is complete sarcasm on Seth's part, of course. It's the Jess coming out in him I suppose.
"You know why," I say ominously. I actually don’t know if he knows, but I like the response. It sounds very mysterious.
Seth appears nonchalant. “Yeah, and? It’s never bothered you before, why now?” Yes, Seth is always that blunt. If you think seeing him say that was a surprise, never ever watch a movie with him.
Still, even I am a little surprised at this latest revelation. Seth knows that I know that he loves/has a crush on/ is infatuated with me? Wow…
I once again mentally review my options here. When it comes down to it, there are only three choices for what I can do with the Seth situation.
a. Blow it off, ignore it and be “friends” again with Seth. Worry about the inevitable love bomb at a later date.
b. Blow it off, go inside, and continue ignoring Seth. Live in denial and worry about the inevitable love bomb at a later date.
c. Get it over with so I can go inside and watch Dawson’s Creek in peace.
I choose C. I already have a headache, so I suppose I might as well add to it with the misery of a Seth-less existence.
“Okay,” I sigh miserably, “Just so we’re both clear, what’s the reason I’ve been ignoring you again? Refresh my memory.”
“I’m in love with you. I’ve always loved you,” Seth says bluntly. “And I’ve been dropping hints about it lately so you finally figured it out.” Seth says all this to me forcefully, like he’s making himself spit it out before he loses the nerve. He’s staring at me so intensely I’m afraid he’ll singe my T-shirt unless I move away. But at the moment I’m too insulted to do anything but yell.
“What do you mean you had to drop hints?!” I yell. “You didn’t think I could figure it out myself?!”
“Well, seeing as how I’ve kept it a secret for seven years without even trying, no.”
Oh whatever! This was just the last straw. Seth was implying that I was ignorant even as he declared his love for me? God, what a jerk! “God, you are such a jerk!” I yell loudly.
“Christina,” Seth raises his eyebrows at me, “I’m trying to be really nice here, but your making it a little hard for me. Could you try to be quiet for a second?” Seth’s saying all this like he’s trying to convince a little girl to go to sleep at bedtime. But at least he’s being nicer. I sulkily nod my head and cross my arms.
Seth takes a deep breath. “Okay then.” He takes one of my hands- against my will, might I add- and holds it. “Christina, I love you and everything about you. I love your smile, and your laugh, and the way you wear way too much makeup-“
I open my mouth to protest this, but he coves it with his fingers. I look up into those eyes and wonder what it would be like to kiss him- just out of curiosity, of course. Seth smiles at me and continues.
“-Even though you’re so gorgeous you know you don’t need any. I love every little thing about you, and I know you better than anyone does.” His voice softens considerably at this point. He’s not kidding, I suddenly realize. Seth really does- love me. Which is an astonishing though, in and of itself. I take his other hand off my mouth and hold it, so I can talk. Seth doesn’t seem to mind.
“So, um, does this mean we’re getting married or something?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Seth doesn’t smile.
“No, I think we should be together, though.” He says, looking at me again. I’m beginning to think we should be together myself, but I don’t say anything. I just take one step closer and look up at him, my whole heart living in my eyes. Seth smiles at me, very slowly, and the he kisses me. It’s wonderful.
I guess he isn’t such a jerk after all.
“SETH!” I yell loudly, running up the stairs to his bedroom. “COME HERE QUICK! HURRY!” Yeah, so I don’t really have to scream that loud, but come on! It’s not like anyone’s home (besides Seth) to yell at me back. I know, because there weren’t any cars in the driveway when I sprinted up his lawn with my spare key. “YOU HAVE TO COME NOW!” I slam on his door with my fist, which doesn’t really feel that great, but whatever. I can deal with bruised knuckles, but I can’t deal with being ignored all day. By someone who supposedly loves me. Sheesh.
“Christina! What happened?” Seth finally opens the door, looking all disheveled and rubbing his blonde-ish hair with a towel. Oh. So that’s what was taking him so long to answer me. “Seriously, Christina, are you okay?” He puts a hand on my shoulder and looks at me, all worried and adorable. See, this is why I keep him around- not only is he the cutest guy God ever deemed worthy of cuteness, he’s sweet too. Except when he’s being sarcastic. Or mad, which he definitely does not look right now.
“Um, no, I’m not okay. My parents are getting a divorce. And you were too busy with your personal hygiene or whatever to answer any of my, like, forty calls.” I cross my arms and look down at the ugly gray carpet. I learned a long time ago that you can basically say whatever rude/mean thing you want to as long as you look down when you say it. I don’t usually try it on Seth, but this time he kind of deserved it- I mean my life was basically falling apart and he was directing my calls to voice mail. Not exactly the nicest thing he’s done for me lately.
“Christina! What are you talking about? I called you like 6 times, but the line was busy! I was trying to tell you I changed my number. Is that a good enough excuse?” He looks at me again, this time with a hint of a “stare down” in his eyes. Ugh, I HATE it when he’s right.
This all started- with my parents, anyways- when I was around six and my mom had a miscarriage. She never really got over it I guess, and my parents have been screaming at eachother ever since. I used to hide in the closet, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve developed more sophisticated coping tactics. Like pillows, and very loud rock music. I always felt bad, but I never really thought they would split up- I mean, hadn’t they stayed together this long? So, of course, as soon as they told me at dinner last night I started sobbing. And sobbing some more and some more, and then following up with the rock music. It’s still kind of hard to believe- sure it sounds stupid to me now, but I never thought I would be the kid with the split up parents. But I suddenly am that kid.
The line was busy because I was talking to my best friends Stacy and Annabelle on party line. It got a little over the top after the first hour on the phone, but if my parents were going to do this to me, I was going to guilt them with every possible tactic. Maybe I could even end up with a credit card after this.
“Sorry, I guess. I can be a little self absorbed if you haven’t noticed.” I give him my very best “I’m-sorry-please-forgive-me-you-love-me-remember?” smile and he melts, of course.
“Look, I’m really sorry about your parents, okay? But I wish you would have told me sooner, because I sort of signed up for this thing this week…” Now he looks guilty, for some reason.
“What thing? This is my crisis time right now!” I put my hand on my hip and then immediately remove it. Bad habit of mine.
“I’m visiting my mumble-mumble-mumble.” Seth shuffles and looks at the ground.
“What?”
“I’m visiting my ex-girlfriend okay?”
When a boy has a crush on you, you always know it. Always. Guys think they're all so clever, hiding their true feelings, but honestly a boys heart is a transparent as glass- and just as easily broken.
Those are some of the more important reasons I'm just ignoring my friend Seth's giant crush on me. Those and the fact that I'm not even sure if it's a crush or it's really something I should worry about. Like what if Seth loves me? Sometimes I think that might be it, sometimes I'm almost sure that is has to be love I see in his face when he looks at me that way. You know the way- like he's trying to figure me out, or like he's hoping he'll see something he wants to see if he just stares long enough. I'm worried about it. Really worried. Why, do you ask? Not because of Seth himself- Seth is a really nice guy. He's like all the "good guy" characters you've ever seen on television combined with all the best "bad" ones. Seth is Dawson mixed with Pacey, Adam Brody combined with James Dean thrown together with Jess from Gilmore Girls.
And I don't want to deal with someone like that being in love with me. I'd rather keep my drama confined to Dawson's Creek, thank you. So I'm avoiding him. It's incredibly easy, school being out for the summer and all. So what if Seth is my next door neighbor? I just won't go outside. Piece of cake. Unfortunately, this plan has resulted in me spending lots of time with the TV set. I'm invested in all the teen soap classics- Dawson's Creek, of course, The O.C., Laguna Beach, Gilmore Girls- even Degrassi: The Next Generation if I can catch it on.
Dawson's Creek is my absolute favorite though. Pacey is the cutest- I'm a little bit in love with Pacey, to be honest- but I always root for Dawson. I guess because Dawson is just so good, and I've always been a sucker for the good guys.
I'm taking out the trash and mentally calculating how many hours of my life I've spent so far watching Joey's, when Seth runs up to me at the trash can. He just runs out of his house and stops right next to me, watching me again with those green eyes of his. Nobody on television, or in books, or even in the movies has eyes like Seth Grayson. Nobody.
"You've been avoiding me," He says. Seth doesn't put a question mark on the end, or even an exclamation point- he just states it, the way a normal person says something like, "I'm getting a glass of milk."
I mentally debate the options here. I could lie, which of course he would see right through, or I could tell the truth and sound like a complete ninny. I choose the latter- WWJD, What Would Joey Do?
"Yeah, so?" I keep my eyes on the trash can I just emptied. It's safer that way.
"Uh, I'd like to know why, please." This is complete sarcasm on Seth's part, of course. It's the Jess coming out in him I suppose.
"You know why," I say ominously. I actually don’t know if he knows, but I like the response. It sounds very mysterious.
Seth appears nonchalant. “Yeah, and? It’s never bothered you before, why now?” Yes, Seth is always that blunt. If you think seeing him say that was a surprise, never ever watch a movie with him.
Still, even I am a little surprised at this latest revelation. Seth knows that I know that he loves/has a crush on/ is infatuated with me? Wow…
I once again mentally review my options here. When it comes down to it, there are only three choices for what I can do with the Seth situation.
a. Blow it off, ignore it and be “friends” again with Seth. Worry about the inevitable love bomb at a later date.
b. Blow it off, go inside, and continue ignoring Seth. Live in denial and worry about the inevitable love bomb at a later date.
c. Get it over with so I can go inside and watch Dawson’s Creek in peace.
I choose C. I already have a headache, so I suppose I might as well add to it with the misery of a Seth-less existence.
“Okay,” I sigh miserably, “Just so we’re both clear, what’s the reason I’ve been ignoring you again? Refresh my memory.”
“I’m in love with you. I’ve always loved you,” Seth says bluntly. “And I’ve been dropping hints about it lately so you finally figured it out.” Seth says all this to me forcefully, like he’s making himself spit it out before he loses the nerve. He’s staring at me so intensely I’m afraid he’ll singe my T-shirt unless I move away. But at the moment I’m too insulted to do anything but yell.
“What do you mean you had to drop hints?!” I yell. “You didn’t think I could figure it out myself?!”
“Well, seeing as how I’ve kept it a secret for seven years without even trying, no.”
Oh whatever! This was just the last straw. Seth was implying that I was ignorant even as he declared his love for me? God, what a jerk! “God, you are such a jerk!” I yell loudly.
“Christina,” Seth raises his eyebrows at me, “I’m trying to be really nice here, but your making it a little hard for me. Could you try to be quiet for a second?” Seth’s saying all this like he’s trying to convince a little girl to go to sleep at bedtime. But at least he’s being nicer. I sulkily nod my head and cross my arms.
Seth takes a deep breath. “Okay then.” He takes one of my hands- against my will, might I add- and holds it. “Christina, I love you and everything about you. I love your smile, and your laugh, and the way you wear way too much makeup-“
I open my mouth to protest this, but he coves it with his fingers. I look up into those eyes and wonder what it would be like to kiss him- just out of curiosity, of course. Seth smiles at me and continues.
“-Even though you’re so gorgeous you know you don’t need any. I love every little thing about you, and I know you better than anyone does.” His voice softens considerably at this point. He’s not kidding, I suddenly realize. Seth really does- love me. Which is an astonishing though, in and of itself. I take his other hand off my mouth and hold it, so I can talk. Seth doesn’t seem to mind.
“So, um, does this mean we’re getting married or something?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Seth doesn’t smile.
“No, I think we should be together, though.” He says, looking at me again. I’m beginning to think we should be together myself, but I don’t say anything. I just take one step closer and look up at him, my whole heart living in my eyes. Seth smiles at me, very slowly, and the he kisses me. It’s wonderful.
I guess he isn’t such a jerk after all.
“SETH!” I yell loudly, running up the stairs to his bedroom. “COME HERE QUICK! HURRY!” Yeah, so I don’t really have to scream that loud, but come on! It’s not like anyone’s home (besides Seth) to yell at me back. I know, because there weren’t any cars in the driveway when I sprinted up his lawn with my spare key. “YOU HAVE TO COME NOW!” I slam on his door with my fist, which doesn’t really feel that great, but whatever. I can deal with bruised knuckles, but I can’t deal with being ignored all day. By someone who supposedly loves me. Sheesh.
“Christina! What happened?” Seth finally opens the door, looking all disheveled and rubbing his blonde-ish hair with a towel. Oh. So that’s what was taking him so long to answer me. “Seriously, Christina, are you okay?” He puts a hand on my shoulder and looks at me, all worried and adorable. See, this is why I keep him around- not only is he the cutest guy God ever deemed worthy of cuteness, he’s sweet too. Except when he’s being sarcastic. Or mad, which he definitely does not look right now.
“Um, no, I’m not okay. My parents are getting a divorce. And you were too busy with your personal hygiene or whatever to answer any of my, like, forty calls.” I cross my arms and look down at the ugly gray carpet. I learned a long time ago that you can basically say whatever rude/mean thing you want to as long as you look down when you say it. I don’t usually try it on Seth, but this time he kind of deserved it- I mean my life was basically falling apart and he was directing my calls to voice mail. Not exactly the nicest thing he’s done for me lately.
“Christina! What are you talking about? I called you like 6 times, but the line was busy! I was trying to tell you I changed my number. Is that a good enough excuse?” He looks at me again, this time with a hint of a “stare down” in his eyes. Ugh, I HATE it when he’s right.
This all started- with my parents, anyways- when I was around six and my mom had a miscarriage. She never really got over it I guess, and my parents have been screaming at eachother ever since. I used to hide in the closet, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve developed more sophisticated coping tactics. Like pillows, and very loud rock music. I always felt bad, but I never really thought they would split up- I mean, hadn’t they stayed together this long? So, of course, as soon as they told me at dinner last night I started sobbing. And sobbing some more and some more, and then following up with the rock music. It’s still kind of hard to believe- sure it sounds stupid to me now, but I never thought I would be the kid with the split up parents. But I suddenly am that kid.
The line was busy because I was talking to my best friends Stacy and Annabelle on party line. It got a little over the top after the first hour on the phone, but if my parents were going to do this to me, I was going to guilt them with every possible tactic. Maybe I could even end up with a credit card after this.
“Sorry, I guess. I can be a little self absorbed if you haven’t noticed.” I give him my very best “I’m-sorry-please-forgive-me-you-love-me-remember?” smile and he melts, of course.
“Look, I’m really sorry about your parents, okay? But I wish you would have told me sooner, because I sort of signed up for this thing this week…” Now he looks guilty, for some reason.
“What thing? This is my crisis time right now!” I put my hand on my hip and then immediately remove it. Bad habit of mine.
“I’m visiting my mumble-mumble-mumble.” Seth shuffles and looks at the ground.
“What?”
“I’m visiting my ex-girlfriend okay?”
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