Life August 22, 2008

Whining,
Crying,
Sobbing.

Pain,
misery,
loss.

The world has
never
been so
dark.

Death,
Violence,
despair.

Anger,
betrayal,
Vengeance.

We survive, using the
excuse;
it’s just
life.

Teardrops May 18, 2008

Ice drips
in
the light of
the new
day–
even the coldest
is
touched–
and one can see
the trace
of
teardrops
as they
slide
down the
forgotten
face
of a
simple building;
one
might say
it is
just a bit
of nature
acting
out
and,
they are,
in a way,
right,
for
don’t we
all
have
the trace
of
teardrops
slipping slowly,
rusting the
corrupted
walls
within?

Collision May 12, 2008

Collision; there are two sorts of it—one more popular than the other. There’s the violent, painful one—the reason it’s so misunderstood. The collision where car meets person, where flame meets oxygen, where rams butt heads. But then there’s a good sort of collision. Imagine life without fireworks or cannonball dives. Those are collisions. Or there’s the magic that comes with the splitting sound of a bat meeting a baseball. There is the collision of oil and potato’s—nothing like some French fries to make you smile. But people don’t think of that as a collision—people pray to never taste collision. I was one of those. For a while.

I was a bachelor; 37 years and still aging. I can’t say I was suave or debonair. Because I wasn’t. I lived in my bachelor pad, I began to bald and wrinkle and grow width-wise. And for the most part, I was okay with it. Or at least used to it. I was an orphan—I had already seen a lot of the bad sort of collision. I was a twin; he had died at seven. But that’s another story in itself; I won’t go there. My parents collided with a semi when I was seventeen. My mom had just unbuckled her seatbelt to get a drink I had refused to—I had been mad at them. The last words I spoke to them—right before the collision—were “You guys can never understand—you don’t even have a life”. I can remember my dad cursing right before, telling me to shut up. And the semi had spun into oncoming traffic and our car had flipped; colliding with a barrier. I can still remember the sound my mom’s neck had made when it collided with the hood. I got a bit bitter, but eventually got over it. Well, came to accept it. I even went to church for a while, but I don’t think I was ever the same. And maybe that’s a good thing. In any case, I was alone and I was fine with that.

I had never been part of the in-crowd. As a young adult, I was attractive. But I was a geek. And that was a turn off to most. I’d get those flirting eyes from girls but as soon as they saw the pen in the pocket, they just started laughing and pointing. But that didn’t really matter to me; I didn’t like any of them. But I don’t really remember why; I can’t figure out why I don’t mind being reclusive or why I never bothered to date or…anything. I mean, I wasn’t one of those super geniuses—I didn’t start my own company or make billions. But, on the other hand, I also wasn’t working at some video game store or selling sci-fi books. I was comfortable, but I wasn’t living. And a collision made me see that—a good one…though it started out a little rough.

It was grocery time and I went to the store, going in for nothing more than green beans and chicken. I went to get a cart, bent down to pick up a piece of trash and suddenly I was lying on the ground, a cart slowly stopping by my head. I heard a curse and then I sort of zoned out—but not completely. A brunette kneeled down, freaking out and asking if everything was fine. She mumbled on about how she hadn’t seen me. Finally I sat up, blinking and looking around. The woman—she couldn’t have been more than thirty—touched my head, feeling the slow drip of blood. By now a small crowd had gathered. I stood, rather drunkenly, asking what had happened. The crowd eyed the woman angrily as she supported me, my arm draped around her neck. She just patted my back, telling me I was fine—she called me sweetie and kissed my cheek, leading me towards a bench. I was really confused and tried to walk away, but I was still seeing stars. She sat me down and told me, which, to her, was synonymous with honey or sweetie, to wait a second. Finally the crowd started to go and I just touched my head gently. She came running back with paper towels and a cop. I don’t think she meant for the latter to follow her because she swore under her breath as she sat next to me, seeing him coming closer.

“Good morning, officer!” she said, a smile tying at her lips. I was really confused. “This was just an awful accident!” she claimed, laughing lightly and touching my cheek again. “My husband here, he tripped right as I pushed my cart back into the…cart thing.” A nervous laugh and then she looked at me, her eyes pleading softly. I could almost see her whisper please, begging me to play along. I just nodded, my head starting to pound. Though I might have confused it with my heart; that was going wild too. Especially as she wrapped her arm around mine.

The officer stared at us, almost bored. “Well, as long as everything’s fine….”

The woman just laughed, pressing the towels to my head again. “It’s just fine…embarrassing, really.” That laugh was starting to get annoying. Luckily, as soon as the cop turned, she stopped. She handed the towels to me, looking nervously for her groceries and asking again if I was all right. I nodded warily and she started to leave. But I grabbed her arm again.

“Wait—what was that?”

“Listen,” she said, her eyes no longer laughing, “I really am sorry but I’ve gotta get going. Do you want money? Did you know someone here—your wife can yell at me later; but I really have to go now!”

“Wife?” I asked, my head starting to scream, “No, uh—no. What; why did you—”

And then I feinted, but not before I heard her curse. She did that a lot.

When I woke up, I was in a car and just as confused as ever. The woman was still by me, her hands pounding nervously on her wheel. I blinked quickly, nearly freaking out. She just looked at me, and whispered “finally”.

“Where do you live—I’ll drop you off.”

I shook my head, saying I would rather just walk. She laughed, a more bitter one than at the store. “Yeah right. I’d probably get arrested if I let you just walk off. Getting you out of the store was hard enough. Just tell me where you live—I promise I won’t stalk you. You’re not really my type.” She smiled at her own joke. I didn’t.

“Who are you?” I asked, not arguing but still scared for my life.

“My name’s Carline. Who are you?”

“Supposedly I’m your husband or your sweetie or something—something I wasn’t aware of before this morning.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a joke.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t want to deal with that crowd or you. I needed to get somewhere. Now, even that is doubtful. Now where do you live?”

“Carline, was it? I guess you’re not from here because you chose the worst street to drive down at this time. And my car—where is my car?”

Suddenly she looked scared. “You drove?” she whispered.

“Yes I drove! I’m not that old; I can still drive!”

“That’s not what I meant…. I just, I wasn’t thinking, okay? Can everyone just calm down?” But she was the only one screaming. I stared, now officially scared she’d rip my throat out or murder me on the highway. So I told her my street address and she cursed again.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Of course—why not? I mean, why would I think this day could be any good?”

I remaindered silent, she didn’t mind. She just went on.

“My boyfriend lives in that building. No, sorry, that would be my ex. The jerk slept with some blonde bimbo who can’t be more than twelve years old—on my birthday. Which was yesterday, which he forgot. And so I go to tell him off and—boom—some chick in a hooker outfit was making out with him. Oh, I told him off then. He almost called the cops, I got so loud. What is it with me and attracting crap?”

I’m not sure if it was a rhetorical question, but I wouldn’t dare answer it. I just stared at her, realizing I was indeed stuck in the twilight zone. I had never been so uncomfortable in my life. But she kept going.

“Does the traffic ever stop?” she screamed, slamming her fists on the horn and getting flipped off multiple times. “My life is some sort of hell-hole right now and what do I do? I go and knock some senior on his butt and now have to drive him to my ex’s place! There is no good in today.”

“Senior?” I scoffed, “I might be old, but not that old! And how can you be talking—your ex couldn’t have strayed that far from where he started! What are you; thirteen?”

She stared at me, a sharp laugh falling. “Oh, so the man has an attitude? No, I am very much not thirteen. I guess it just comes off that way, cuz the only guys I can get aren’t past puberty! What about you? You go for the younger chicks too?”

I rolled my eyes, “No, trust me.”

She sighed, looking back into the frozen traffic. “So what’s your name again?”

“Richard.”

She snorted and I scowled. “What is it now?”

“Nothing—I just can’t believe you’re not a senior with that name. I hope you gave your parents crap about that one.”

I actually laughed, only because it was true. And I had.

“So, Richard, what’s your story?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on—this is going to take forever and I just told you my entire life! It’s the least you can do; I am driving you home.”

“Only because you threw a cart at my head and kidnapped me!”

She rolled her eyes, “Oh, come on! Real mature thought process. I mean, I would not kidnap you—what a waste of energy.”

I smiled, still not believing I was stuck here. She threw herself on the horn again, oblivious to the curses thrown back at her. “Okay, shy guy, I’ll make this easy for you. Where were you born?”

I sighed, already tired of this game. “Here. I’ve lived here all my life.”

She looked at me, her green eyes dazzling with unbelief. “Holy freak. How can you even stand that? I’ve been everywhere. Can’t stick in one place for more than a year or two. Don’t you wanna see something else? Please tell me you do not live with your parents.”

I shook my head, “They died when I was a kid.”

“Well, okay then. That works.” She didn’t get all depressed or sympathetic. Most people do. But she just smiled and moved on.

“’Kay, how ‘bout work.”

I stuttered for a moment. “Oh, grow up! I’m swear I’m not going to stalk you, steal your identity, none of that. I’m just really bored.”

So I told her. I had a cubicle job at a big company uptown. She found that more disturbing than my hometown history. She started lecturing me on how no one should have to work like that. That a box was so confining, that I should quit and move to Tahiti or something. Then she turned on the radio—really loud. And really not classical.

She laughed at my face, saying I was worse than her dad. But she turned it down. A little.

“Well, it’s my turn. Carline—did you choose that or were your parents just on drugs when you were born.”

“Well, duh. You obviously know little about giving birth—the shot was the first thing my mom got. But no, actually, I chose the name. It’s my middle name—my parent’s let me choose it for my sixteenth birthday. My real name…that, you will never know.”

I stared, suddenly entranced by the way her smile made her eyes crinkle. But I was more intrigued by her name. “I have to know now! You can’t just build me up for such a cut-off, that’s not fair.”

She laughed, “Life’s not fair—didn’t your parents ever tell you that?”

“Dead; remember?” That wasn’t a sullen statement, just fact. Strangely enough, I was comfortable talking about it with her.

“ah, yes.” She smiled, “well, then I guess you’ll have to hear it from me.”

“You’re not old enough to be my mom.”

She scoffed, the laugh falling loudly and dryly. “Isn’t that the truth?”

I smiled, sitting straighter and touching my head gingerly. It still stung, but the blood was dry.

She glanced at me. “So, Mr. Richard of the cubicle and most pathetic life ever, what is it you like to do. And it better be interesting, cuz so far your life is anything but.”

My smile stopped and I started to think about my life; what I did for fun. There was really nothing. I’d never even gone bowling or ever played a sport. My dad had had a useless arm and had never thrown me a ball because of it. My mom hadn’t had time to put me in any classes or teams. All I had were my books, but I didn’t even really like those. When I was at home, I would eat or shower or read a little or watch some T.V. But there was nothing I would really call a hobby. And you know, I had never really thought about it before.

I told her this and her jaw just dropped. “What?” she nearly screamed, “You’ve never been bowling? What do you do here? I mean, you have to live here your whole life and you don’t even have a way to spend it? Richard, it is official, you are pathetic—way worse than my dad.”

“Is that an insult?” I laughed. But she didn’t.

“Yeah. A major one! My dad is the lamest guy ever. That is, he was, until you came along.”

I stared down, trying to smile, but finding it hard to. It was like my life was nothing and I just realized it. I realized that I hadn’t even been living, I had just been breathing.

“Oh, don’t go all depressive on me! You know what, no, we are going bowling.”

And suddenly she pushed her way through two lanes and took the exit. I didn’t even know where we were. But I was scared. She just mumbled under her breath about how pathetic I was. Then she pulled into the first bowling alley we saw and demanded me to get out. She mad me pay, saying she bet I made more than her and I needed it; she didn’t. So I paid for a lane, put on those awful shoes and picked up a ball. It was heavy. She just rolled her eyes, saying that if I couldn’t pick up a bowling ball, I might as well call myself a senior and get the discount.

Then she bowled, getting an easy ‘spare’. I went up, almost nervous. So she came over, stood by me and told me to just swing. That everyone is born knowing how to throw a ball. So I threw it and knocked them all down. I cheered, knowing that was good. She just looked at me, her eyes strangely jealous yet humored at the same time.

“Are you sure you’ve never played before?”

I just laughed, meandering back and sitting lazily. And, for the first time in a long time, I really, truly smiled. And it felt good.

Playing that game I realized just how much girls could talk. She just went on and on—about anything and everything. Which was understandable, since she seemed to know everything. She had been to every continent—except Antarctica—at least once. Had a boyfriend in each. She told me everything about her love life, how even in high school she could only get the scum. I mentioned she was rather pretty so it was understandable. She asked, with a laugh, what that’s supposed to mean. I told her guys were only brave enough to go for someone if it was a shallow sort of thing; they didn’t have to put anything into it yet they could get everything they wanted out of it. And most shallow guys only cared for the gorgeous girl.

She stared at me for a moment. I asked her why and she just shook her head, knocking another pin down and then sitting by me. “It’s just…weird. You could be my dad, but you’re still…young.”

I scoffed, almost embarrassed by it all. “I could not be your dad—I’m not that old.”

“Okay, but you’re like, what, pushing forty?”

“And you’re, what, pushing twenty?”

She laughed; a short, humored laugh that made me smile. “You wish. Let’s just say I’m pushing thirty.”

“And you’re not married.” I said; it wasn’t a question. And I quickly bowled before she answered.

“No. I’ve never really felt the need. I’ve tasted too much of life to just throw it away and settle.”

She blushed as I laughed, “What?”

“Nothing; it’s just, the way I’ve heard it, family is life.”

She rolled her eyes, standing to bowl but still talking, “No. Not in my eyes—you don’t know my family. I watched my mom and dad divorce, get married, and divorce again. I don’t think I’m the family type. But, Mr. Richard, what’s your excuse? First wife leave you for another man?”

“No. Never been married. I guess I just…never really looked for it. I don’t really…date. Besides, the only girls who go for me are twice divorced with three kids or absolutely drunk.”

Her laugh broke across the room as I went up to bowl. I got a gutter ball. “Huh? So, ‘sweetie’, which one do I fall in to?” It was a joke, but I didn’t laugh. I just bowled and willed my heart to slow down. Suddenly she was standing by me, offering a high-five as I got a spare. “We live in a weird world, huh? Nothing really goes like it should.”

“And how is that?” I asked, staring into her eyes. They seemed to darken, but they still looked beautiful.

“I mean, we’re good people; we’re nice—nice looking—and everything. So why aren’t we settled or at least…pro’s at this love thing? People look at me and think it’s my fault life won’t work out for me. Like all those people who saw me push the cart at you; I get those looks every day someone finds out I didn’t go to church, or every week that a ring remains off the finger. You know, it makes me sick. Life’s not all fairy-tales, but people—even ones stuck in crap—think it is. And they get mad when I don’t reach it. Life is just life, you know. It’s not like I need these…judgements to realize I’m missing out on something. But is it my entire fault? Like, really?”

She was no longer bowling. She was just sitting, holding her soda and looking through me. I slowly sat next to her, a sort of relief flooding over me—I wasn’t the only one. It was a sort of connection; we both had different stories, but the same results.

“Yes, I know what that’s like. But still, you can’t be disappointed in your life. You’ve tasted things most people only dream of. You even said you don’t want to settle.”

She looked over at me, her eyes mischievous. This is when I found out how confusing girls can be. “Yeah but, I can’t say I really meant it. I mean…there’s always been that pull for something more. I just don’t wanna admit it. Cuz life can be a total bag of manure sometimes, you know?”

I slowly started to nod my head, then started to shake it. I really was confused. She laughed, her solemn look finally shed.

“I get that a lot.” She smiled at me, her knees pulled up under her chin. She truly was beautiful. And it was then I knew what it felt like to have your heart collide with your chest. I knew what it was like to have emotions crash with your thoughts.

I wanted nothing but to get the chance to hold Carline—a woman I had known for less than twenty four hours; a woman who was probably ten years my junior; a woman who looked at me as a father figure; a woman who’d just broken up with a boyfriend. And then I was mad. Mad at me, at her, at the day. I wasn’t supposed to be here. It was grocery day. I was supposed to be home, starting dinner and thinking about work. I probably would have turned on the T.V. and then picked up some random book. I would have gone to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, looking for grey hairs. Instead, I was out bowling with a beautiful girl who had previously given me a concussion. And, in the few hours I’d known her, my world had been flipped upside down. I didn’t want to go back to breathing—I found I liked living.

I stood up, took a bowling ball, and threw it into the lane, getting to hear the solid sound of the ball colliding with all ten pins. She was by me again, a sort of stunned yet humored expression across her face.

“Thanks, Richard. But just because you happen to be an absolute pro at this game, doesn’t mean I want you to bowl for me.”

I blushed, keeping my eyes away from her face, desperate to remain a man. I knew exactly what she’d do if I fell to my impulses—I would probably do the same if I were her. So I sat back down without a word. And she followed.

She ordered a pizza, saying she was absolutely starved. I told hr I was quite the cook. She laughed and said it was nothing she hadn’t heard before—that guys always used that line to get her to come over but it would always turn out to be take-out. I assured her I was totally serious and she just winked, saying she’d have to come over sometime and see. But then she told me the different types of food she had tasted. Said caviar was vile, but she’d eat roasted squid any day. I told her that was disgusting. She laughed. As the pizza came, she went on about her Italian adventures. How true Italian pizza was nothing like the American version. I told her about pizza my mom used to make; with macaroni and cheese, canned tomatoes and peppers. She thought that sounded worse than anything. But it’s actually pretty good. She said I’d have to make it for her sometime.

The mood went somber. Both of us seemed nervous to speak. She finally rolled her eyes. “Yes, I said it. Geez. It’s not like we have to get married! I just want to try a mac and cheese pizza—is that such a crime?”

I laughed, nearly choking on my food as her face reddened. She smiled too, saying I was such a kid—that she’d baby-sat more mature boys than me. I just smiled, quickly asking where she lived now—if she had reached the two year limit.

She smiled, staring at me for a second too long to be comfortable. “Yeah, actually. I lived by my boyfriend for almost a year. Too long. I actually have a ticket to Austin, Texas—tomorrow morning.”

“Texas?” I said, trying desperately to hold myself together. She looked down.

“Uh-huh. I got a job.”

“What do you even do?” My voice cracked and she laughed—another one of those mesmerizing laughs.

“Anything and everything. This is a graphic designer position.”

“How do you even live like this? All this moving and going and stuff?” It could have been nosey, but she didn’t care.

“When you really want something, you go for it.” Her glance lingered—I’m sure she noticed mine too. “And, since I can’t seem to decide what I want, I go for a lot.”

I just nodded. That’s when a worker came over and told us they were closing—it was eleven o’clock. We were both surprised. Carline quickly asked how much that would cost. The guy just shrugged, saying it had been a slow day and we’d gotten through with just one payment—no biggie. So we quickly left, thanking them and leaving a quick tip. Not to mention half a pizza. But I don’t think they really wanted that.

We got in her car and started off; it was silent. But not awkward. We just both seemed to be thinking. All I could think of was the day—her laugh and how random everything had. How absolutely abnormal it was to me, but how it felt just like it should. I thought about how, when she smiled, a wrinkle would appear just by her left eye. Her bangs, just growing out, always managed to slip from behind her ear and slide onto her face. There was the way her foot swiveled when she stood still for too long. Or how she cheered when she hit a strike. And her eyes—just how green they were. And I thought about what she had said; how her philosophy on life was so different than mine. How…opposite she was from me, but how much I longed to be her. “When you really want something, you go for it.”

I looked at her, my mouth suddenly dry. She was humming along to the music, her head bobbing as her hands set the beat on the wheel. She seemed oblivious to me. But then she smiled.

“What you looking at so intently; you have some radio station you’re dying to hear—maybe the classical channel? Or some talk shows?”

It wasn’t rude and I smiled, quickly saying no and looking out the window. The traffic was gone and the night was dark.

“So, where’s it gonna be? Your house or your car?”

“Excuse me?” I said, shocked and almost scared. No matter how much my heart pounded when I was by her, that still seemed a little too…quick. Not to mention wrong—in a lot of ways.

She looked at me and then burst into laughter—a loud, totally happy laugh. “I mean, where do you want to be dropped off! Man, Rich, somebody’s mind is in the gutter!”

I smiled, blushing horribly and mumbling about how I was just thinking and that it had come out wrong. I told her my car would probably be best, and closest. She mentioned something about how that also meant she couldn’t stalk me. But I was only half listening. She had called me rich. Nobody had ever called me Rich before—nobody had ever called me anything but Richard. But I liked it.

Too soon, we were at the grocery store. It was easy enough to find my car; it was one of the last there. She laughed when she saw it; calling me a total geek. But it wasn’t rude. It was just Carline, and I was starting to like that. She parked, and I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to say so much and the other just wanted to hide. Finally she smiled, and said it had been fun—way more fun than hanging out with her dad. I laughed, thanking her. The doors were still locked, but I didn’t want to tell her.

“Can-can I have your number?” I asked, quickly adding the fact that I needed to arrange a time to make mac and cheese pizza. She smiled, not even blushing or fidgeting. She just gave it to me and then unlocked the doors, almost as if she had been waiting. Then I got out and started to my car. But she called me back.

“Rich,” she said, leaning her head towards my opened door, “sorry ‘bout that…collision…with the grocery cart.”

“Don’t be,” I smiled, “I’m not.”

She smiled too, sort of biting her lip and then sitting back. But she popped back out again.

“Oh, and rich, you really don’t look forty. You’re cuter than my ex boyfriend…not that that’s saying much.” She laughed at her joke, giving me a double honk and yelling something about ‘sweetie’ as she drove off. I just laughed, getting in my car and willing myself to remember how to breathe. I didn’t dare turn on the car; I felt drunk. I just watched her pull out and get back on the freeway. It hurt; watching her go. All I could think of was what she had said—how you should go for the things you want. But everything I’d ever known told me it was ridiculous; that it could never and would never work out. So I just drove back to my apartment and went to bed. And, for the first time in my life, I didn’t brush my teeth. And it felt strangely good.

But I woke up with a headache; a huge, pulsing headache. And at first I thought it had all been a dream. But the taste of pizza still hung on my breath and my phone was lying on the counter, her number still in it. I reached for it, wanting to call. That’s when I remembered she was leaving—to Texas. I went in the bathroom and, after getting ready, just stared at myself, but not because of the threat of grey hairs. Rather because I felt like, if she went, living would leave to. It was as if my entire life was built up into that yesterday. As if all I had to live for was about to get on a plane and leave—live a life she wanted. And it was then when I realized just how desperation could change a man.

I pulled my phone and called her, needing to tell her—everything. But I got her voicemail. “Hey, this is Carline. I’m probably too busy living to answer; sorry. But I guess you can leave a message—“ a laugh, “and maybe I’ll get back to you…if you’re in range.”

So I did something more desperate. I grabbed my keys, jumped in my car and sped off to the airport. I didn’t even know when she was leaving. But I knew I had to find out. I laid on my horn, willing the traffic to disappear. For the first time, I was flipped off. But I didn’t care. I kept calling, willing her to answer, though I had no idea what she’d say. Probably file a restraining order.

It took me an hour to get to the airport and then I had no idea what to do.

I went up to the desk, asking if they could tell me what flight Carline was getting on. They said they could not, especially if I didn’t have a last name. I wanted to swear, but instead I just begged. I told them my life relied on this girl; that I had to find her. They didn’t buy it. Told me to move on—from the ticket booth and the girl. So I walked away, my eyes pathetically filling with tears. More because my head was killing me than anything, but still. I was crying. I just fell on a seat, letting my head fall between my knees. The incessant clatter of heels on tiles taunted me. Children seemed to scream just as they passed me. Adults would yell at spouses or children top hurry up or slow down—right by ear. The whole world seemed to be out to get me; my head was a circus and I couldn’t focus. But suddenly, I felt a hand on my head.

“Here sweetie, let me help you.”

I choked; the voice was too sweet—too perfect. It was as if all my hopes and dreams were in that voice and I didn’t dare look. But I did. My tears were still dripping down my cheek and my head was still pounding. But a sort of peace came over it when I heard her laugh. And then I saw those eyes. She was kneeling on the ground before me, her pencil skirt just touching the floor. Her hair was swept back in a ponytail and she smiled sadly at me.

“What’s a matter—someone would think little rich had his money taken by the playground bully.” Her laugh collided with her own joke and I smiled, letting her hands grasp my head.

“You did this to me.”

“Well, that’s real romantic.” She said, still on the ground.

“No, I mean my headache. It’s been pounding since you tried to kill me with a grocery cart.”

She sighed, a sort of laugh lacing it. “Now that is even less romantic.”

I laughed, but suddenly I went serious. “Carline—“

“It’s Jemima.” She whispered, a coy smile playing at her lip. And I laughed. Right then, I knew I could do what I had to. So I did.

Jemima Carline, I have to tell you something. Because right now, I just can’t breathe.”

She just nodded, her eyes wide and innocent.

“You have totally changed me. I was a senior till you ran me over and kidnapped me and…all that. I woke up and—I just can’t live without you. I know this sounds ridiculous. I hardly know you. I could be a crazy rapist drug banger…and visa versa. But I want to try. I wanna try. To Live, to settle. And I want to try it with you. I—I’ve never done this before, but if what I’m feeling isn’t love, I don’t need love. Cuz this is good enough. You, carline, have stolen my heart—within hours of knowing it. You taught me to go for what I want and I want you.”

She didn’t laugh, she didn’t cry, but she smiled. And it was beautiful. She stood slowly, her hands slipping into mine. “Well, rich, looks like we have something in common.”

And then she sat on my lap, looked into my eyes and laughed. And then we kissed. And that was the greatest collision I have ever felt. It was the greatest collision I had ever tasted. The world seemed to spin and it was just her and me. For a moment we parted and she whispered in my ear, “I hope you know that go for it stuff was crap—I made it up, just to get this.” Then she kissed me again. I could almost feel her laugh. We were soon absorbed and passion collided with humor, chance collided with reason, we collided with each other. And even as the call for final borders to Austin rang out, we still remained. My head still pound, but not as hard as my heart.

My crash course in collision taught me two things: there are two sorts of collision. One, considered bad. Two, absolutely delicious. But, isn’t it interesting; one can lead to another and both share a same sort of consequence. They both leave you breathless—simply and completely breathless. And that is why I pray for them; every day. Because, if you let them, they always remind you to live. Always.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 13 May 5, 2008

When Cadence came, I didn’t say anything other than thank you. And she seemed to get that I didn’t really want to talk. She just turned up the radio and hummed along. I sat in the backseat and leaned my head against the window. It was hot. And her old car was jolting so hard, I started to get a headache. But I didn’t move. I needed something to distract me—my lips were tingling; as if they craved something they couldn’t have. My heart was pounding; it felt good to have my head distract it. My breath still caught, but a headache made me need to breathe slowly. It was getting out of the car that scared me. But I had to. Cadence’s lunch break was almost over. So she dropped me off, told me to take some aspirin, and go to bed. I wanted to take more than aspirin, but I didn’t take anything. I just fell on the couch and turned on the T.V.

It was stuck on the Hallmark channel and I didn’t feel like getting up and getting the remote. Besides, I just needed something to distract me—desperately. I never knew how tear-inducing cheesy soap-opera style movies could be. It was about some jerk guy finding out that he had one week to live so he goes to get some money off his rich ex-wife and daughter, but along the way he meets all these people and has different things happen to him and then-–boom—the week is over just as he gets to his family a totally changed man and dies. But then it takes a leap past cheesy as he meets God who tells him he’s finally figured it out and the guy begs for just another day—to see his kid. So he goes back and he makes it all better with his ex and then he is prepared to die, but nothing happens. And he realizes he gets a real life with his family. The end. It was so cheesy—cheesy effects, cheesy acting, cheesy story. But I was bawling like a baby five minutes into it; and for absolutely no apparent reason other than I was an emotional wreck. I have to admit, I was hardly even following the story line. I was distracted. But I was still crying. Especially at the end when the ex, who has a boyfriend, slaps him and calls him nothing and its only his mentioning his death sentance that he gets to see his kid. And then, of course, she sees that he’s a different man with his kid and she gives him a chance with her and within in like five minutes of seeing each other, they are making out. That made my tears turn hot and I was ready throw my shoe at the screen. But then Annie came home and started giggling about how she had had to get all my roses home and wondering what had happened and gushing about how romantic Jason was and how lucky I was. I just tuned her out, wiped my face and smiled at her, as if I was listening. She came over, holding a bag of kisses and a note from Jason, said he had given it to her at the end of school. She just sat down next to me, expecting me to read it outloud. I didn’t. I told her I wouldn’t even open it in front of her, but mostly because I wasn’t in the mood. Then she whispered–as if someone would hear–that Jason had been totally worried when you left, she said he seemed totally bummed. She also mentioned that Todd had left early too. And she said she had found roses in the hall and knew they were mine and picked them up because she didn’t want Jason to think that I–Brooke–didn’t like him anymore. She paused there, as if waitig to see if I’d say something in protest or thanks. I just nodded and then excused myself, telling her I was totally tired.

When I got in my room, I read the note from JAson. And it was adorable. basically, he asked me to dinner. Part of me wanted to just call and say I was so sorry but I felt so gross. but then i thought about why I felt gross and about why my life seemed to suck so bad at that moment, adn I decided I would go. He was my boyfriend and his little annoying, self-righteous, dumb, smart-aleck brother could go choke on a chocoloate-covered strawberry for all I cared. And that’s when things changed. Suddenly I smiled, though I must admit it was more of a in-your-face-dare smile than an actual smile. But I didn’t care. I just cleared my throat, called Jason and told him I would love to go–the note was adorable.

He sounded relieved, but asked if I was sure. He didn’t want me to not enjoy myself. I told him it was my first real valentine’s celebration and I had to go. he laughed–I don’t think he really believed he was my first boyfriend or kiss or anything. He said he’d pick me up at 6:30 and have me back home by 10, since it was a school night. part of me wanted to tell him he could take me away forever–I didn’t want to face school. But I didn’t say anything. I just hung up after he said bye and then spent the next few hours blasting music and figuring out what to wear. For some reason I wanted something sexy–even over the top. I wanted to feel jealosy-causing hot and make heads turn. It was one of those nights where, if I had been in NYC, I would have been dressing up to sneak into an over-twenty club. And I knew I was doing it more for me than for him, though I tried to convince myself otherwise. In any case, it was a night for Jovani.

I pulled it out of its protector from the back of the closet. I remembered buying it; I had been craving something expensive and sexy. A back-stabbing friend had earlier raved about a Jovani dress she wanted but couldn’t get. After she totally betrayed me, I went out and bought it. And then I wore it the next time I saw her. Her face was priceless. But I hadn’t worn it since. And now I felt like it was time, because I needed gorgeous.

It was a shimmery black cocktail, falling inches above my knee. A plunging V fell down the back, echoing off the subtle one in the front. A ridiculously large bow sat in the back, just as black as the rest of the dress. I paired it with my silver Stuart Weitzman heels and laid off the make-up except for a smoky eye. My hair was curled and pulled to one side in a huge, sparkling silver clip. I was hot. When I finally opened my door at six, both Cadence and Annie were stunned silent. I didn’t mind. It was what I needed. Annie just thought I was absolutely gorgeous and kept looking at me as if she couldn’t believe it really was me. Cadence seemed almost scared. She would glance at me and smile yet look ready to cry too. I just sat around, convincing myself to be excited and happy. I told myself Todd wasn’t even on my mind, that I didn’t have to bring up anything to Jason. I decided I just had to move on–Todd was just being stupid and he didn’t matter. Jason mattered. I knew he liked me–a lot. And I liked him. Really. So when 6:30 rolled around and he came to the door, I got butterflies. And that felt good.

Annie answered the door, but I was close behind. And his face was unforgettable. he just stared for a solid second. i tried to read his expression–it was a sort of shocked, surprised, twitterpated, happy look that was as confusing as I had been just hours before. I smiled, suddenly feeling slightly silly. But, as I walked towards him and his smile got bigger, my confidence sky-rocketed. Besides, it wasn’t like I was overdressed. He was in a suit that could have very well passed for a tux to the unfamiliar eye. He looked good, in a james-bond-suave kind of way. I gave him a hug and he stole a kiss and whispered in my ear that I looked beautiful. Annie was still standing right next to me, leaning into the door, and I blushed but willed myself to laugh and take his hand as we walked down the steps. He kept mentioning how amazing I looked and how bad he did in comparison, how everyone would think he was my little brother. I laughed and said he looked hot. And then I stole a kiss and he laughed.

As he started driving, I turned on the radio. The preset was already playing–the coolest band ever and I was totally ready to lean back in my seat. But he quickly changed it, laughing under his breath about his brother and his button-pressing fetish. He put it on some slow special where all they played was romance songs. I wanted to die. But I didn’t say anything; after all it was Valentine’s and it was his car and I was totally happy just to be there, even if the music sucked. I told myself that again and again–especially when Celine Dion started up.

Eventually we pulled up to a restaurant and the radio was finally shut off. He made me wait for him to open my door, and then he escorted me into the place. That was awkward. The Maitre D’ asked if we wanted a seat at the bar, Jason blushed and explained that we were underage. I just smiled. She took a long look at me, not believing for a moment. But when Jason announced the reservation, venom filled her eyes as she stared. I just smiled back, hugging Jason’s arms more tightly. Eventually she left us be and someone proceeded to escort us to a candlelit table. The place was purely french. the waiters spoke french, the menu’s were in french, even their live band played french music.

Jason pulled my seat out for me, which was slightly annoying–I wasn’t some three year old. But I just sat down graciously. He made small talk about the food and offered to order for me. I was fluent in French so I watched, humored, as he fumbled over the french names during the order. When the waiter asked what we’d like to drink–in french–and Jason’s eyes nearly rolled to the back of his head, I spoke up. Reordering perfectly in french and adding a bit. I even thanked him for his time and apologized for my date. He smiled and thanked me and such and said he’d hurry along with the lady’s order.

Jason was blushing, yet completely impressed. Said he had tried french in 9th grade, but could never get past the colors. It turned out alright though, the waiter even brought us a complimentary taste of wine for both of us. He didn’t ask for I.D. and we didn’t explain to him. You never say no to the french. And it was delicious. Jason said he only ever had wine at family weddings. I didn’t mention the other sorts of alcoholic drinks I’d had in my life. I just veered the conversation to something else. And when our food came, I showed him how to properly eat a crepe and such. We were finished by eight and then he told me he had another surprise for me. I asked if it included a foreign language. He laughed and said no, he hoped it would be more impressive. He took me dancing.

It was some Valentine’s couples ball and I felt slightly awkward amongst the 92 year olds. He just took me to the floor and said he might not be able to speak french, but he could dance. Turns out his mom had forced both him and Todd to ballroom dance classes for all their teenage lives. AND he could dance. I had never really waltzed before. I sort of knew how, but in New York, I never had the need to. The dancing there was…. Well it wasn’t ballroom material. It was weird to have a guy purposefully put space between us and take my hands in his rather than expect me to fling them around his neck. And spinning through that ballroom was euphoric, with all the whirl of dresses and golden walls. I smiled and laughed, and it was fun. But he was so set on perfecting the steps, he never just pulled me in his arms and spun. It was always “1-2-3, 1-2-3″–I could almost feel him whispering it.

We finally left and got home just at ten. He offered to walk me back up the steps, but the oddly darkened house told me Annie was watching from somewhere. So I told him I’d be fine. And then he leaned and in and kissed me. It was passionate, almost. But I was suddenly cold. SO it was short, I felt the sudden urgent need to get inside and go to bed. So I thanked him for everything–from the hundreds of roses, to the dinner and dance. He smiled at me, brushing a curl off my cheek and said I was welcome. Then he kissed me again, but I had previously started to turn, so he mostly just got my cheek. I’d like to say it was all on accident, but I think part of me was relieved. I was suddenly exhausted. So I got out, closed the door and went in my room. Both Annie and Cadence asked how it was through the door and I just said it had been good. Cuz it had. But there was something weird about it all. A lot of things actually. But I didn’t feel like thinking. So I just changed, took a deep breath and fell asleep.

I won’t tell you what I dreamed about, only that it wasn’t Jason.

Good Morning, Sunshine – prt. 4 April 4, 2008

That first week was strange. I don’t know how to explain it. It was like I finally realized I was really stuck here. I finally caught on to the fact that daddy would never come save me. He wasn’t coming back–all he had left me was a fortune I couldn’t use and a sentence to this suburbia prison. And that in itself was weird.

Every morning I’d wake up to the sound of Cadence humming show tunes or spanish love songs and I’d think “That’s my mom.” And every day I had to get out of bed and get ready to go to school. A public school. Where the hottest topic was the next school dance and who you wanted to take. In New York, my school didn’t have dances. but that was because we didn’t need them. We threw our own parties. And whoever put on the most lavish was queen or king of the school–at least till the next one. You needed to stand out. You needed to catch the whole cities attention. i’d been to parties where multiple bands came to preform–from big names to struggling rockers from across the world. There were masquerades, semi-formals, bar hopping–everything. One time, there was a runway set up through the room with a constant flow of professional models showcasing real designers. but that wasn’t even the main event. The girl’s party favors were a free designer item–of our choice. From gowns, to perfumes, whoever got back first, got the best pick. Right off the model and tailored right there if neccessary. And the models would still go on out; their cover dwindling as eager hands delved for something. The guys didn’t mind that part. I’d been to parties where we could dance by actors, actresses, musicians–famous people. So hearing about the next $15 dollar dance wasn’t all that exciting. But it was in Florida. Girls talked and talked about the gowns they were getting–the cinderella catastrophe’s of tulle and cheap satin all spewing out like a giant fairy-tale. I didn’t share my opinion on those.

Then there were the girls. Who all seemed oddly friendly–mot of them for real, too. It was like I’d stepped into teenage stepford–everyone was perfect. Well, no. They had their flaws–like make-p and clothing items. And nosiness-every day someone would be up in my face asking where I got my outfit. But they were all sweet; at least the one’s Annie introduced me too. I could see wannabe hints of my old friends in some of the people around the school. There were the bimbo’s and then the too-cool-for-you. I was used to those; it was the niceness that threw me off.

And every day I’d come home and cadence would wonder how my day had been–she was always there. I don;t think she ever stepped out of that house. I don’t know what she did in it. Definitely not cleaning. It was never clean. But she was always there, and she’d always listen–well, be willing to at least. I never really gave her the chance–as if were the closest of mother-daughter. And dinner, though it wasn’t always happy and perfect, it was always happening. Like clockwork. We’d be summoned to the table where cadence would offer a quick grace and then we’d dig in. Even if Annie and her got in fights–which actually happeend a few times–there was always dinner. And by the end of it, they were all smiles.

Annie was never intrusive. She was actually the least curious of anyone I’d met in Florida. She would compliment my clothes, but would never ask where I got them or–worse–if she could try them on. And she didn’t ask about my dad. Neither did Cadence. In fact, I don’t think I ever heard them mention it.

But the strangest of all? I was getting comfortable with it. I didn’t cringe when I got on the bus. Well, not as much. I actually learned to smile at people. But it was hard to smile when Jenny was near. She wouldn’t leave me alone. That was annoying. And a lot of the guys started talking to me. That was uncomfortable. Cuz they thought they were all that and could easily get me to drool all over them. But I wasn’t tempted–half of them were hard to look at.

Anyway, I started to find it normal to come home to Cadence’s warm smile. I found it normal to see the different sorts of clicks hanging out in different, dirty halls. I was getting used to the constant silly chatter that didn’t interest me at all. Homework wasn’t an issue–I knew everything. That left me with nothing to do but read, talk to Cadence or Annie or text girls who now considered me a friend. I didn’t care as much about my fashion magazines–though I always bought the newest ones. And I didn’t care when my NY friends sent me their newest purchase. And I started to find I was…moving on. I was starting to not miss my dad. Hardly two weeks had gone by since he died and I was already moving on! I craved starbucks more than I craved my dad. And, surprisingly or not, that made me feel awful. Well, its not like I was suddenly free or just forgetting him. It was just I’d gone my whole life without him constantly there–saturday was the one constant–and so, now that he wasn’t, I didn’t really know what to miss. And when I called Melanie, it wasn’t as easy as I thought to make jokes about where I was. When she brought up Cadence or where I was, I’d try and move around it. Because something in me didn’t want to talk bad about them. I craved my Manhattan–I even cried when we watched You’ve Got Mail on night. Cadence and Annie cried to, but for different reasons. But that didn’t mean I could hate on these people; even when Melanie told me she missed me so much. Her calls didn’t last over five minutes though–she always had to take another or get to a meeting or something. And through the days of structured comfort, I realized if I had been able to stay with melanie, I would have been alone. As usual. But I couldn’t figure out if I liked that idea.

Yet, even though I started to get comfortable, I still remained troubled by where I was. I wasn’t used to the snowless ground or the warm air. I couldn’t wrap my head around the smallness of everything and yet the hugeness of other things. The school was huge; sprawled across the land like a prison. In New York everything was tall; I’d never seen a school like that. And the endless streets of houses with parked mini-vans and screaming babies were huge. But the crowds and traffic were nothing; the shopping and food choices were worse. It was very…quiet. And, in that first week only two things really happened that are worth mentioning. Besides those, life was simple. Loud, yes. But in a simple, average sort of way. There were these mom-daughter fights that I’d never seen before. Mostly because most of my friends from manhattan didn’t know their mom let alone talk to them enough to get mad at them. And it all seemed movie-life perfect in suburbia. Well, not perfect. Normal. Kids played on the street and dads mowed lawns. People would walk just to walk and parents would go grocery shopping. I’d never seen that side of life before and it was…wierd.

The day after the first day of school, Cadence had to pick Annie up to take her directly to her piano lessons and I gladly took a ride with them–so much better than the bus. But it turns out, in suburbia, when you drop a kid off somewhere you don’t go home until that kid is in the car again. So we were running errands for, like, ten minutes before she headed back to get her. The piano lessons had been in this “downtown” so there was a bit of traffic. It stressed cadence out, but I thought it was steady enough to be better than bad. She asked me how I could stand New York traffic. I smiled politely. I don’t do small talk. But I told her you got used to it and that this wasn’t even bad. That led her down memory lane and she started telling me about her life in New York.

I’d never ever known anything about my mom, so this was interesting, though slightly awkward. Mostly because it included my dad. She told me how they’d met at the Columbia and fallen in love. They both been affluent yet she always wanted more than just money–she wanted love and family. When her parents died and she didn’t shed a tear, that strengthened her want. So she was happy to find out she was with child. This is where it got really awkward. Cuz, hello, she was saying how she loved me and then up and left like three months later. She didn’t seem to recognize my tenseness, she just went on as if she was enjoying it. And I listened. She said it was weird when she found out–not for her, but for my dad. he went all psycho saying he wasn’t ready to raise a kid and how his business was taking control of his life. When Cadence mentioned moving out of the city, things started getting stressed. That’s when she started to think maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea; having me. But she still did and that started to drive them apart. Especially with dad’s new position in the company. And after she had me, things were just totally down the drain. She looked at me and said that she wished she could blame it all on my dad, but she new she couldn’t. They both had given up trying. And when “Mr. Affair”, as she called him, came into the picture, life just flipped. She turned from the one thing she wanted and ran to the side she’d been hiding from just to not feel the pain and worry. That’s when she left. She couldn’t look at me when she told me. And I could feel hot tears running down my cheek, but I didn’t try and wipe them away. i just watched her. I watched and I wondered why she would just abandon me. Especially if Dad really didn’t want me. She said she couldn’t explain it; she said a day never went by where she didn’t feel guilty. She said her life had been ruined since she had–not that Annie was a problem, just that none of her dreams could work out. She told me she had this fear of commitment–she had failed a child, how could she keep a relationship? and that that had really ruined her second marriage to the lawyer. She said when she had found out about dad she just sat on her bed and cried. And then she called me and after that she just cried and cried. That’s when I asked her if she’d just taken me in to ease her guilt. She sort of started, rushing to say no. I don’t know if I believe her. I wanted to.

She went on and said that she had felt a sort of obligation, but that really it just came down to wanting to know the girl she had started out loving so much. She wanted to have another chance at caring for the one thing she had wanted in the first place. Then she told me I looked so much like my dad. That’s when I wiped my tears. I didn’t want to talk about him–that just made it real and scary. Just living as if nothing had happened except I moved was easier than really admitting he was super gone–not just out of town or something. Cadence seemed to get that, cuz she didn’t mention his death or anything. She just smiled at me and then turned back to the traffic, falling on her horn like a madwoman. I never knew a mood could change so quickly. It was still awkward, but she seemed to have move on and it was just me left with my thoughts. I never knew I could think so much. usually I was just doing something or planning something or ignoring everything. i never really let my thoughts run. But I did here. Maybe that’s just a side affect of the laid-backness of suburbia life. There’s no rush of the city hurrying you on. Its just you and there’s no point in ignoring it. I remember Cadence told me later that she never knew a teen could not text or be off the phone constantly; it seemed so abnormal for a teen now. She said it as a joke, but I guess it’s true. I didn’t really do anything like I used to. Well, I still loved my Chanel and Prada, but I was a lot more…calm. I don’t know if that’s the right word. I still had major attitude, but it was like I didn’t have anyone to unleash it on so I was quiet and just watching. I was learning to sort of breathe–which was actually a lot more bearable to do in Florida than it had ever been in New York City.

Then there was English. The teacher, who I decided was a witch who needed to learn how to apply make-up, assigned these impossibly boring, busy-work group projects on a friday. And I ended up with Todd and this guy named Jason. It was surprisingly bearable that first day. Mostly because Jason took over. In fact, the only thing Todd had time to say was, “Brooke–totally my next guess.” I just rolled my eyes and let Jason take charge. he was a nioce looking guy with hazelnut eyes and dark hair to match. He even had the superman chin and glasses that made him so preppy. he was smart too. Which was refreshing cuz I was starting to discover a lot of stupid people filled the school. But he smiled and introduced himself, said he had heard about me. I just rolled my eyes as Todd found it funny to mention my attitude. His exact words, I think, were, “Careful–she bites.” and Jason responded with a laugh, whispering un-quietly that “Todd has an ego that constantly needs feeding.” That’s when I found out the guys were twins! Twins! I know, right? Totally not identical, but they were twins. Weird. And we had to work together. Mostly the hours was spent with the two cracking jokes at each other. Which should have been weird, but it was actually pretty funny. i smiled, though the look I got from Todd when I did such was slightly annoying and I wanted to slap him. But I didn’t. I just went on and eventually we got each other’s numbers to actually do the project later. Jason just apologized about his brother’s unruliness with a wink. I just smiled and waved a quick goodbye, not sure how I felt about the whole thing at all.

That friday night was spent watching You’ve Got Mail with Annie and Cadence cuz Annie hadn’t finished her chores so she couldn’t have friends over. So suburbia. And I ended up going to bed at midnight. A first for me–New York nights had always been crazy. But I was tired and it had been a weird week. Everything was weird. So I went to bed. And, ya know, I was actually growing used to those itchy sheets.