I walk into the bar without expectations. There's a seat open, so I take it and place my order. A long island. I have no idea what is in a long island, just that it is mostly booze, which is exactly what I need right now. I look towards the screens lined up behind the bar, but don't watch them. They're filled with sports events that would normally hold my interest, but tonight they're not on the agenda.
I open the bar menu but don't know if I'm actually hungry, or just bored. This 'night life' is new to me, so I'm not sure what to do with myself. I see through the mirrored wall, a man walking through the door. He is handsome, so I wait for his significant other to follow, but nobody comes. He must be meeting someone here. He walks over and asks the bartender for a grateful dead. I remember from somewhere long ago that a grateful dead is similar to a long island. Here's my chance, I have a random fact, and a smile. I think that's all I have to do right? Smile?
Throughout the evening, our conversation flows from current events, to movie preference, but never gets too personal. He is obviously hitting on me. I had forgotten what that was like. It feels nice. My body tells me to reciprocate his advances, but I play hard to get. Guys like the chase. So I've heard.
We get our bills and stay well after we've payed. I don't know what happens next, do I give him my number? Does he ask me to leave with him? At this point, there's no way I can drive, so it would be nice if he offered to give me a ride. Before I can say anything, he asks if I need a ride home. His hand touches my arm and a tingle shoots up my spine. Ahh, now I remember that feeling. We walk out of the bar towards his car and his hand takes mine. The memories rush through me, it feels exactly the same as it did before. The anticipation is driving me mad.
We pull into the drive way and I feel like a teenager again. We sit there for a good 15 minutes just making out until I suggest going inside.
We get through the door and go into the living room to my mother feeding the baby his bottle. I ask how her night was, how the kids did. They were great, she had fun. Grady fell asleep a few hours ago and Jack just woke up hungry. But it's late, and she is ready to go home for the night. I give her a hug and thank her for babysitting. When she leaves, Ron and I put the baby down together and peek in on Grady. Even though it's been only a few hours, we both missed them like crazy.
We brush our teeth, get into our pajamas, and get into bed. It has been a good night.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
Week 9 Prompts. 40. The best part of this story is the part I can't tell...
She makes her way over to the hill. She feels this uncontrollable desire to sit directly in front of the stage, but can't explain it. Normally a very self-conscious person, she doesn't care about the crowds of people all around. When she finds the perfect spot, she lays her jacket down to sit on. It is a cold October day but she doesn't feel it which is strange because she can feel everything.
***
She moves to the music without effort. She can feel it in her bones, it doesn't just permeate her ears, but her entire body. The notes flow through her so organically, she isn't thinking about anything else. She has never heard this song before, but it feels like she has. She can anticipate the next riff before it even happens. Her hands weave in and out at exactly the right moments. Her body sways as she lets the music overcome her.
***
What seems like minutes must be hours as the sun falls and the moon rises. The man in front of her dances in an impossible way. She thinks to herself, 'How can he move like that?' It is unnatural. She can't bare to look at him, yet can't look away. It seems as if he is going in fast and slow motion at the same time. She decides it must be time to find the tent and lay down and does so, but she doesn't sleep. Lights flash through all sides of the vinyl tent and they fascinate her. She hears the tent zipper but doesn't look away from the zooming neon lights.
***
She moves to the music without effort. She can feel it in her bones, it doesn't just permeate her ears, but her entire body. The notes flow through her so organically, she isn't thinking about anything else. She has never heard this song before, but it feels like she has. She can anticipate the next riff before it even happens. Her hands weave in and out at exactly the right moments. Her body sways as she lets the music overcome her.
***
What seems like minutes must be hours as the sun falls and the moon rises. The man in front of her dances in an impossible way. She thinks to herself, 'How can he move like that?' It is unnatural. She can't bare to look at him, yet can't look away. It seems as if he is going in fast and slow motion at the same time. She decides it must be time to find the tent and lay down and does so, but she doesn't sleep. Lights flash through all sides of the vinyl tent and they fascinate her. She hears the tent zipper but doesn't look away from the zooming neon lights.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Week 9 prompt: 39. I came, I saw, I conquered.
I feel as though a rubber band snapped inside me. It didn't hurt, it's just never happened before. It must be another weird thing my body is doing to me now. I don't open my eyes. Then my leg gets warm. In a second I realize, it's not only warm, but wet. I jump up as fast as my body will let me and run into the bathroom. I'm glad my mother helped me clean or I would never have made it without falling. I can't see a thing. I squint my blurry eyes at the bathroom clock. 6:15. I sit down on the toilet because it seems natural, but nothing happens. Maybe I was mistaken. I stand to return to the bedroom, it must have been a false alarm. Then it's like a flood on my bathroom floor. No warning, just water everywhere. I hop into the shower and stand there for a while. This is really happening. When the water finally goes cold, I get out and start packing. I don't wake him. He deserves a few more hours of peaceful sleep.
***
I am unexpectedly happy. I keep thinking, I can handle this. So far everything is perfect, and I have this overwhelming feeling that it will remain that way. My body is strong.
***
Shit, shit, shit. I can't handle this. Everything is wrong. Nothing is going as planned. And soon it will be over. I should be elated that it will be over, but I'm not. Can't I just hit the rewind button and go back to yesterday? It was like waiting for Christmas morning as a four year old. The wonderful feeling of anticipation. I want that feeling back.
***
I should be sleeping but I'm too hopped up. Ron sleeps next to me, he's never had a problem getting his 8 hours, not matter what's going on. I don't want to leave this place. Everything here is about us. People are ready to wait on us hand and foot, all I have to do is press the little button. I want to stay here forever.
***
I place him on the bed and feel like it's all over. Everything I have been waiting for is over. I lay next to him and close my eyes. When I wake up, he is crying for me and I realize, this is just the beginning.
***
I am unexpectedly happy. I keep thinking, I can handle this. So far everything is perfect, and I have this overwhelming feeling that it will remain that way. My body is strong.
***
Shit, shit, shit. I can't handle this. Everything is wrong. Nothing is going as planned. And soon it will be over. I should be elated that it will be over, but I'm not. Can't I just hit the rewind button and go back to yesterday? It was like waiting for Christmas morning as a four year old. The wonderful feeling of anticipation. I want that feeling back.
***
I should be sleeping but I'm too hopped up. Ron sleeps next to me, he's never had a problem getting his 8 hours, not matter what's going on. I don't want to leave this place. Everything here is about us. People are ready to wait on us hand and foot, all I have to do is press the little button. I want to stay here forever.
***
I place him on the bed and feel like it's all over. Everything I have been waiting for is over. I lay next to him and close my eyes. When I wake up, he is crying for me and I realize, this is just the beginning.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Week 9 prompt: 42. A list of random things about me
1) I eat in bed every night
2) I'm an artist, though I feel like everyone else is too
3) I don't know how to knit
4) I hate vacuuming
5) I name every car I own. Currently I have Candace and Ruby.
6) I find it hard to talk about anything but my children
7) I don't like bananas, but eat them anyway because they're good for me
8) I'm not a good swimmer
9) I will say no to anyone who asks to dance with me with one exception, my two year old
10) I hold my nose when I sneeze
11) I don't like to be the center of attention
12) I have seen the movie Hook over 500 times, by choice
13) I used to have a large half dollar collection until I got desperate one day
14) I cut my own hair
15) I have a insane passion for french fries
16) I love algebra
17) My parents are divorced
18) I can drive a stick
19) I love making lists
20) I am fascinated by extreme couponers
21) I am a groupie for The Blast Addicts (their drummer's dreamy)
22) I lost four close friends in high school to separate car accidents and other tragedies
23) I don't like mustaches, except Magnum P.I.'s
24) I love getting the mail
25) I miss my dog, Rikkah
26) I found out I was pregnant the day before my 21st birthday
27) I like cookie dough better than cookies
28) My favorite number is 28
29) I'm really good at puzzles
30) Sometimes I wear colored contacts
2) I'm an artist, though I feel like everyone else is too
3) I don't know how to knit
4) I hate vacuuming
5) I name every car I own. Currently I have Candace and Ruby.
6) I find it hard to talk about anything but my children
7) I don't like bananas, but eat them anyway because they're good for me
8) I'm not a good swimmer
9) I will say no to anyone who asks to dance with me with one exception, my two year old
10) I hold my nose when I sneeze
11) I don't like to be the center of attention
12) I have seen the movie Hook over 500 times, by choice
13) I used to have a large half dollar collection until I got desperate one day
14) I cut my own hair
15) I have a insane passion for french fries
16) I love algebra
17) My parents are divorced
18) I can drive a stick
19) I love making lists
20) I am fascinated by extreme couponers
21) I am a groupie for The Blast Addicts (their drummer's dreamy)
22) I lost four close friends in high school to separate car accidents and other tragedies
23) I don't like mustaches, except Magnum P.I.'s
24) I love getting the mail
25) I miss my dog, Rikkah
26) I found out I was pregnant the day before my 21st birthday
27) I like cookie dough better than cookies
28) My favorite number is 28
29) I'm really good at puzzles
30) Sometimes I wear colored contacts
Week 9 theme
The phone rings. I don't answer as usual, just let the machine get it. They hang up and I am reminded why I don't pick it up. I go back to my lego tower and the princess in peril. A helicopter swoops in and rescues her just in time. By looking at the joy in his face, you would assume she was in actual danger, not just threatened by a plastic dinosaur. He's the hero once again.
***
I know these roads like the back of my hand. I've been down them everyday for years now so 75 mph is nothing. The car hugs the road as I see every turn, every pothole seconds before it occurs. My little Civic masters the tight corners as I look down at the phone. I know she said not to turn it on, but I know something's wrong. Why can't I just call him and ask? I press the power button as hard as my finger lets me, the anticipation is killing me. I hate it. Just like I hate surprise birthday parties, or not knowing whats for dinner. Just tell me already.
***
I open the door to my mother sitting at the table with nothing in front of her. No newspaper, no food. This is serious, I must be in trouble or something. My mind searches for excuses to all the miss-behaviors I may have had in the last month or so. But I don't panic, I know I can talk my way out of anything. But that's the problem, what am I talking my way out of? I sit down hesitantly and wait for the accusal. When I look up, I notice her face is not angry. It's not disappointed. It's sad. Like she doesn't want to be having this conversation. What is happening right now?
***
I have called everyone in my contact list. Where is he? Why would he choose now to disappear off the face of the planet? I slam the phone on the seat in anger. I am still driving too fast, which seems like the worst possible thing to do in this situation, but I can't help it. My foot feels too heavy to let up on the gas. I am strangely calmed as the engine tacks higher and higher to match my heartbeat. If everything else is going as fast as my mind, I might feel sane again. Maybe for a second, until I lose myself again. My mind goes back and forth. One second I'm frantically searching for the one person who doesn't know. The one person who HAS to know, and doesn't. The next second I'm picturing the scene. My mother's words run through my mind over and over as I watch it happen. Both sanity and insanity.
***
I'm one of the only people here not wearing black. I don't think it's really appropriate I guess, or maybe my subconscious wont let me. I see him standing at the front of the room and make my way over. There are so many people, most of them don't know me. I finally have found him. He hugs me and I whisper, 'I love you so much' in his ear.
He squeezes tighter then slowly releases. Both of his hands hold my shoulders and he says 'I love you too.' He's looking straight in my eyes but I'm not strong enough to look back. I just turn and walk away.
***
I know these roads like the back of my hand. I've been down them everyday for years now so 75 mph is nothing. The car hugs the road as I see every turn, every pothole seconds before it occurs. My little Civic masters the tight corners as I look down at the phone. I know she said not to turn it on, but I know something's wrong. Why can't I just call him and ask? I press the power button as hard as my finger lets me, the anticipation is killing me. I hate it. Just like I hate surprise birthday parties, or not knowing whats for dinner. Just tell me already.
***
I open the door to my mother sitting at the table with nothing in front of her. No newspaper, no food. This is serious, I must be in trouble or something. My mind searches for excuses to all the miss-behaviors I may have had in the last month or so. But I don't panic, I know I can talk my way out of anything. But that's the problem, what am I talking my way out of? I sit down hesitantly and wait for the accusal. When I look up, I notice her face is not angry. It's not disappointed. It's sad. Like she doesn't want to be having this conversation. What is happening right now?
***
I have called everyone in my contact list. Where is he? Why would he choose now to disappear off the face of the planet? I slam the phone on the seat in anger. I am still driving too fast, which seems like the worst possible thing to do in this situation, but I can't help it. My foot feels too heavy to let up on the gas. I am strangely calmed as the engine tacks higher and higher to match my heartbeat. If everything else is going as fast as my mind, I might feel sane again. Maybe for a second, until I lose myself again. My mind goes back and forth. One second I'm frantically searching for the one person who doesn't know. The one person who HAS to know, and doesn't. The next second I'm picturing the scene. My mother's words run through my mind over and over as I watch it happen. Both sanity and insanity.
***
I'm one of the only people here not wearing black. I don't think it's really appropriate I guess, or maybe my subconscious wont let me. I see him standing at the front of the room and make my way over. There are so many people, most of them don't know me. I finally have found him. He hugs me and I whisper, 'I love you so much' in his ear.
He squeezes tighter then slowly releases. Both of his hands hold my shoulders and he says 'I love you too.' He's looking straight in my eyes but I'm not strong enough to look back. I just turn and walk away.
Week 8 Theme
Julia calls me in the next room, she is leaving. She tells me she has to go to her parents for the night, that she can't stay here with him. Which means, I can't stay here either. This presents a problem, I'm drunk. I can't think of anyone to call and I don't want to go to my parents, even though it's only a few miles away. I start to pack my things in the purple duffel bag I got freshman year for the varsity soccer team. I quit the next year, but kept the bag as consolation. I look around the apartment for any strays I left behind, but I'm unable to find any. It's hard to find anything in this place, there is clutter everywhere. A constant morning after look.
As I try to think of a place to stay that doesn't include my mother's nagging questions about what my plan is. Only one person comes to mind. I keep pushing the thought out of my head. He's probably busy anyway, it is Saturday night. I don't want to be rude. I call anyway.
'Hello?' He's at a bar, I can tell immediately. The background noise makes it impossible to hear him.
'Hey, this is Felicia, Caitlin's friend. Sorry to bother you, but I'm in a situation and was hoping you could help.'
'Sure, whatever you need.' He sounded sincere. The noise in the background slowly faded, he was going outside or to the bathroom. This got my hopes up, he wanted to talk at least.
'Well I've been drinking and need a ride.' Oh man I sound desperate. I guess I am though, I hope he doesn't get the wrong impression. Or is it the right impression?
'Yeah, I'll be right there. Umm, where are you?'
'Well that's the thing, I'm in Bucksport. And I need a place to stay. If your busy that's fine, really. Just say so.'
'No, no, I'll meet you at the hardware store in an hour.'
Thank god I don't have to call my mother. I wait in my car in the dark parking lot. Jack Johnson's mellow voice may be a bad choice right now because I find myself drifting off to sleep. I take the keys out of the ignition, you can never be too careful. I once heard of a guy that got an OUI sleeping in his car. He had no intentions of driving, just was tired and had a few drinks. He was being responsible. But he had the keys in the ignition. A cop came along wondering what he was up to and the next thing he know he was getting hauled off to jail. That would be just what I need right now.
I'm blinded by headlights as his car pulls in and I'm instantly more sober than 30 seconds ago. I try to discretely check my makeup in the visor mirror but the light comes on and I know he's looking. So I grab my bag from the passengers seat and lock my doors behind me. I open his door and am overtaken by nerves. My stomach is in knots and it is not the alcohol. When we start driving he explains that it is his friends birthday and they are all out celebrating. I tell him I'll stay at his house without them, I don't want him to miss out since I'm not 21.
We get to his house and I sit on his bright red couch. I can't imagine him at the store picking this thing out, it must be his roomates'. He gives me the remote and tells me if I smoke, I need to go out back. Then he leaves. I feel weird alone in his house. I barely know him, and haven't even met one of his roomates. I go out back and have a smoke and then fall asleep on the red couch.
As I try to think of a place to stay that doesn't include my mother's nagging questions about what my plan is. Only one person comes to mind. I keep pushing the thought out of my head. He's probably busy anyway, it is Saturday night. I don't want to be rude. I call anyway.
'Hello?' He's at a bar, I can tell immediately. The background noise makes it impossible to hear him.
'Hey, this is Felicia, Caitlin's friend. Sorry to bother you, but I'm in a situation and was hoping you could help.'
'Sure, whatever you need.' He sounded sincere. The noise in the background slowly faded, he was going outside or to the bathroom. This got my hopes up, he wanted to talk at least.
'Well I've been drinking and need a ride.' Oh man I sound desperate. I guess I am though, I hope he doesn't get the wrong impression. Or is it the right impression?
'Yeah, I'll be right there. Umm, where are you?'
'Well that's the thing, I'm in Bucksport. And I need a place to stay. If your busy that's fine, really. Just say so.'
'No, no, I'll meet you at the hardware store in an hour.'
Thank god I don't have to call my mother. I wait in my car in the dark parking lot. Jack Johnson's mellow voice may be a bad choice right now because I find myself drifting off to sleep. I take the keys out of the ignition, you can never be too careful. I once heard of a guy that got an OUI sleeping in his car. He had no intentions of driving, just was tired and had a few drinks. He was being responsible. But he had the keys in the ignition. A cop came along wondering what he was up to and the next thing he know he was getting hauled off to jail. That would be just what I need right now.
I'm blinded by headlights as his car pulls in and I'm instantly more sober than 30 seconds ago. I try to discretely check my makeup in the visor mirror but the light comes on and I know he's looking. So I grab my bag from the passengers seat and lock my doors behind me. I open his door and am overtaken by nerves. My stomach is in knots and it is not the alcohol. When we start driving he explains that it is his friends birthday and they are all out celebrating. I tell him I'll stay at his house without them, I don't want him to miss out since I'm not 21.
We get to his house and I sit on his bright red couch. I can't imagine him at the store picking this thing out, it must be his roomates'. He gives me the remote and tells me if I smoke, I need to go out back. Then he leaves. I feel weird alone in his house. I barely know him, and haven't even met one of his roomates. I go out back and have a smoke and then fall asleep on the red couch.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Week 8 Prompts
30. Just a passing face on the street. Oh lord, just a passing face....
I spot her at the end of the isle. I stop like a deer in the headlights. Crap, did she see me? I pretend to be looking at the shelf to my side. Tampons, perfect, that makes me look better. I picture the conversation, she asks what I'm up to. I respond, 'Oh you know, just shopping for tampons.' Sweet. Plan B, make a run for the next isle. But I realize, eventually, she will be in the next isle too. And the next, and the next. Why did I pick today to go to the store in my pajamas? I don't even have the kids with me. Usually I am fearless with the kids. I can direct the conversation and attention to them and away from myself. Not today. Here I stand, makeup-less, hair disheveled. Maybe she won't recognize me in this crude state. I'll just be another passing face. Oh lord, just a passing face...
35. Three of them sitting there in complete silence.
Ron and the kids sit on the couch watching TV. It's like he's holding two miniature versions of himself, one on each knee. I'm not sure why they chose the love seat instead of the big couch. If they were on the big one they wouldn't have to be squished in like pickles in a jar. I guess I'm glad they didn't though, it makes for a good cuddle session.
Not only do they look alike, but they behave the same as well. I'm always cleaning up after them, I have to ask a question three times before it really registers. I bet if I walked over there and waved my hand in front of their face, they wouldn't even notice. Ron and Grady do this thing where they pretend I'm not standing right in front of them. If the TV is on, they are fully engaged.
I walk over to the couch and ask, 'What do you want for dinner?'. Simultaneously they lean slowly to one side and peer their lifeless TV eyes around me as if it would pain them to look away for one milisecond. I ask again, 'Dinner? Any ideas? How about you Grady, what do you want to eat?' Nothing. Not so much as a blink. I actually have to turn off the television to snap them out of their trance. As soon as my finger hits the button, they both give me a look of terror. I feel like I have committed a murder or something. Maybe Grady does this because he only watches TV when his dad is home. He has learned the obsession from Ron's superb modeling.
38. The bluebird of happiness flies over the battlefield and lands on a boot left behind.
Grady marches across the lawn. Or tries to. Every step his foot sinks into the soupy soil and it takes much more effort than usual to lift it. But he presses on, determined to make it to the magnificent puddle ahead. He decides running may be a better bet than marching. But he was wrong. The first few steps went according to plan, but the next his boot is held captive by the mud. My first impulse is to run over and rescue the fallen soldier. But I don't. I've played the controlling role too much lately, he needs to be a little boy. Running through the wet lawn and splashing in puddles is what a kid is supposed to do, one boot or two.
He finally makes it to the puddle after much hard work and immediately sits down right in the middle. I encourage him, 'Splash!'
He raises both hands and slaps them against the water, gasping as it hits his face. 'Woah', he says in awe. He continues to splash around until standing up to stomp his feet. The same effect. The same response, 'Woah'. He spots another puddle not too far away and starts walking towards it. The dog barks in the background so I turn around to see what mischief she has gotten into this time. I turn back to see Grady face first in the mud and instantly panic, is he okay?. Before I can even get the words out of my mouth, he looks at me and says, 'Oops, I okay.' He knew the question before I could even say it. Yeah, I really need to back off a bit. He's not made of glass, he's a little boy. I take off my shoes and make my way over to the puddle. For the next half hour we splash and roll around in the water and for the next half hour, I am two years old as well.
I spot her at the end of the isle. I stop like a deer in the headlights. Crap, did she see me? I pretend to be looking at the shelf to my side. Tampons, perfect, that makes me look better. I picture the conversation, she asks what I'm up to. I respond, 'Oh you know, just shopping for tampons.' Sweet. Plan B, make a run for the next isle. But I realize, eventually, she will be in the next isle too. And the next, and the next. Why did I pick today to go to the store in my pajamas? I don't even have the kids with me. Usually I am fearless with the kids. I can direct the conversation and attention to them and away from myself. Not today. Here I stand, makeup-less, hair disheveled. Maybe she won't recognize me in this crude state. I'll just be another passing face. Oh lord, just a passing face...
35. Three of them sitting there in complete silence.
Ron and the kids sit on the couch watching TV. It's like he's holding two miniature versions of himself, one on each knee. I'm not sure why they chose the love seat instead of the big couch. If they were on the big one they wouldn't have to be squished in like pickles in a jar. I guess I'm glad they didn't though, it makes for a good cuddle session.
Not only do they look alike, but they behave the same as well. I'm always cleaning up after them, I have to ask a question three times before it really registers. I bet if I walked over there and waved my hand in front of their face, they wouldn't even notice. Ron and Grady do this thing where they pretend I'm not standing right in front of them. If the TV is on, they are fully engaged.
I walk over to the couch and ask, 'What do you want for dinner?'. Simultaneously they lean slowly to one side and peer their lifeless TV eyes around me as if it would pain them to look away for one milisecond. I ask again, 'Dinner? Any ideas? How about you Grady, what do you want to eat?' Nothing. Not so much as a blink. I actually have to turn off the television to snap them out of their trance. As soon as my finger hits the button, they both give me a look of terror. I feel like I have committed a murder or something. Maybe Grady does this because he only watches TV when his dad is home. He has learned the obsession from Ron's superb modeling.
38. The bluebird of happiness flies over the battlefield and lands on a boot left behind.
Grady marches across the lawn. Or tries to. Every step his foot sinks into the soupy soil and it takes much more effort than usual to lift it. But he presses on, determined to make it to the magnificent puddle ahead. He decides running may be a better bet than marching. But he was wrong. The first few steps went according to plan, but the next his boot is held captive by the mud. My first impulse is to run over and rescue the fallen soldier. But I don't. I've played the controlling role too much lately, he needs to be a little boy. Running through the wet lawn and splashing in puddles is what a kid is supposed to do, one boot or two.
He finally makes it to the puddle after much hard work and immediately sits down right in the middle. I encourage him, 'Splash!'
He raises both hands and slaps them against the water, gasping as it hits his face. 'Woah', he says in awe. He continues to splash around until standing up to stomp his feet. The same effect. The same response, 'Woah'. He spots another puddle not too far away and starts walking towards it. The dog barks in the background so I turn around to see what mischief she has gotten into this time. I turn back to see Grady face first in the mud and instantly panic, is he okay?. Before I can even get the words out of my mouth, he looks at me and says, 'Oops, I okay.' He knew the question before I could even say it. Yeah, I really need to back off a bit. He's not made of glass, he's a little boy. I take off my shoes and make my way over to the puddle. For the next half hour we splash and roll around in the water and for the next half hour, I am two years old as well.
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