Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Though the setting and some businesses are based on actual places, names, characters, and events are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. I promise ; )
Being me can only mean
Feeling scared to breathe
If you leave me then I’ll be afraid of everything
That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down
Lets me face this, let me sleep, and when I wake up
Let me be
Feeling scared to breathe
If you leave me then I’ll be afraid of everything
That makes me anxious, gives me patience, calms me down
Lets me face this, let me sleep, and when I wake up
Let me be
--Afraid by The Neighbourhood
(Saturday, June 22, 2012 11:30pm
The Present….)
I had protested
the idea of going out but Casey and Trent insisted, in that order. All I wanted
to do was sit at home in my room, with my music blaring, the door sealed tight,
and my laptop buzzing on my lap. I had plenty of work that needed to be
completed. With Donna on maternity leave and Marna at a publisher’s convention in
New York City, there was more than enough overflow I could take care of in a
quiet evening home, with a glass of red wine, and The Neighbourhood serenading my otherwise stress filled mind to
ease. Instead I stood partially clothed in front of my full body mirror
swinging and tapping against the door of my room as Trent stomped past it in
the hallway.
“Are you kidding
me? I’m not taking fashion advice from you! You’re not going to help me get
laid tonight! And you don’t have to wear my clothes. So your opinion doesn’t
matter!” Casey had ever so subtly, in her typical Casey way, suggested that
Trent’s outfit was tacky and, in some roundabout way, offensive to women and
the feminist movement. “You’re fucking insane!”
“All I’m saying is
by wearing that tight ass thermal you’re inadvertently calling every woman you
encounter a slutty whore.” Her point was ridiculous. “I mean look at those graphics,
swirly, curvy cursive taunting that you’re ‘addictive’ surrounded by roses and
skulls? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Her inflection implied personal insult. “Are you
going to top off your outfit with a beaning that says ‘Affliction’ and approach
every girl saying ‘Yo ma’ what’s good?’”
I rolled my eyes as I turned up my music to drown them out, but not
before I heard Trent reply.
“You’re a
psychopath. I hope your uterus falls out!” My mirror continued to tap as Trent
stormed down the stairs and, I can only assume, into the basement far away from
Casey’s judgmental absurdity.
I finally decided
on a simple outfit: blue super skinny jeans with black toms, a black oversized
graphic tee that hung strategically off of my tattooed shoulder. My hair was a
mess of ebony curls and I wasn’t in the mood to tackle them, so I grabbed my
large knit beany and pulled it down over my head. I positioned it far enough
from my forehead that some of my curls fell naturally in front of my eyes. My
eye makeup had survived the morning and afternoon, and we were only going to
the P.O.P.E. on East Passyunk so lipstick was not necessary. I rolled some Eos
over my full lips, slipped my favorite silver vintage ring on my right middle
finger, threw my purse over my head, and pushed open my door.
Casey was on the
other side leaning up against the far wall chatting on her phone. She gave me a
look that screamed it’s about time
and proceeded down the steps. Before I followed her I took a detour into her
room and grabbed my favorite of her necklaces off her jewelry stand. I put it
on. The shimmering clear stones dangled near my breast and topped off my “I’m
fashionably trying to not be fashionable” look. She nodded with approval once
we reached the bottom of the stairs, her phone still pressed to her ear. Trent
was already in the car waiting for us. He was frighteningly good at predicting
when we were ready for things and just dealing with us in general. Well at
least dealing with me. Moments later we were speeding off toward Passyunk and a
night I was already wishing was over.
***
The P.O.P.E. was
packed, shoulder to shoulder with spree twenty-somethings waiting impatiently
for their craft beers and vegan burgers. I pushed pass two rather beefy
hipsters, clad in plaid and sporting hefty beards. Gone were the days when
beards were mutually exclusive to burly mountain men and metal heads. I let out a disappointed sigh.
Casey gripped my
hand as she pulled me toward the back of the bar. I politely excused us to
every person she nearly knocked on their heels. Trent and his buddy Doug were
not far behind me scanning the room from left to right for the one thing they treasured
more than American muscle cars and, well, craft beer – vagina. I let out a
relieved breath when Casey finally found a vacant table nestled in the corner
of the main eating area, close enough to the bar but far enough away that we
didn’t have to overhear failed pick-up lines and polite rejections.
“Yeesh! I thought
we were never going to find a table,” Trent voiced as he slipped in the chair
next to me. Casey had nonchalantly parked her derriere in the seat next to
Doug, skillfully nudging her chair closer to him as she scooted it closer to
the table. I gave her a slanted smile and an accusatory glance as she lifted
her eyes from the table top to meet mine.
What the hell are you doing? I said to her with my eyes.
Shut up! She replied. Enough said.
“This is a sweet
little spot. Can’t believe I never knew it was here!” Doug was one of Trent’s
college buddies. They had numerous classes together at Temple University but
didn’t really start hanging out until they were forced into a study group, a
feeble attempt to pass Chemistry II their second semester of freshman year.
Ever since then, they were inseparable. I’d seen Doug a couple times at the
Horse on campus before Trent introduced us, Doug’s meager attempt to ask me
out. Didn’t happen. Not long after that all three of us started hanging out
together and we all got pretty close.
“That’s because
you live in the North-East. Be brave brother, come down South every once in a
while and you can experience some real culture. Next time we’ll take you to
Lucky13!! Food to die for!!”
“Oh yea? How’s the
food in this place Lina?” Doug nodded toward me. He looked me straight in the
eyes, his blue crystal gaze adoringly searching my face. His bright white smile
spread gingerly across his fuzz covered dimples. I swear the shine from his
teeth reflected off his earrings, in both ears. It’s not that he was a bad
looking guy, or stupid, or anything like that, but he just wasn’t what I was
looking for back in those days. And he certainly is not what I need right now.
“It’s pretty
good!” I answered with a smile. “Trent and I have this debate all the time: In
a bar food standoff, who would prevail victorious, Lucky13 or the P.O.P.E?” I
said in my best movie-trailer-voiceover voice. I avoided his eyes by staring at
his thick, dirty blonde hair line peeking out from under his black cotton beany
hanging dopey from the back of his head. “I lean a little more toward this here
gem myself.” I gestured to the walls around us so he got my drift. I loved this
bar, almost as much as I loved the Good Dog. It would be a lot better though,
if it weren’t for all of the heart wrenching memories it possessed.
Immediately the
conversations around me became muted. My mind drifted in and out of images and
visions of Wes, Trent, Casey, and I sitting plastered to the bar, downing shots
and spewing insults at the television showing cheesing and obnoxious reality TV
shows. I closed my eyes as my heart began to pound in my chest and my breathing
became shallow. I could feel perspiration forming on my brow and I needed to
get away from this table. Like NOW!
“Will you guys
excuse me for a moment? I need to use the ladies room.” I opened my eyes to see
Doug looking at me worriedly. His eyes asked a very personal question I was not
prepared to answer, so I turned my gaze to the amber wood floors and made my
way to the basement steps.
“You want me to
come with you babe?” Casey called after me. I lifted my hand and waved it from
side to side, indicating that I would be okay alone. I could almost see her
face in front of mine as I walked away from her. She was concerned too. They
all were.
***
The P.O.P.E’s bathroom
was exactly what you expected a trendy dive bar bathroom to look like. It was
papered with stickers of bands, businesses, and graffitied with sharpie
artwork. Another common attribute it possessed was its unrealistic size; it was
tiny. Literally the size of a small shoe closet, it had one stall, one sink
nudged right next to the outer wall of the stall, and a 1ft by 1ft mirror right
above the sink. The hand drying machine was placed inches from the sinks edge
and because of this, there was barely any room to turn around and face the door
out, let alone lean against the wall and take a few quick breaths in private.
Why I thought that would be a suitable escape from the claustrophobia I was
developing at our table I have no idea. Once I realized my error I
immediately turned around, back up the steps to the first floor. I pressed
through the crowd to the bars street exit.
I made it to the moist,
mildly warm air of the city without being detected by Trent, Doug, and Casey.
The atmosphere still smelled of a summer storm but the rain had slowed to a
light drizzle. I turned the corner away from the door way of the bar and leaned
against its wall. I bent over with my head slightly above my knees and took
deep breaths. Why did I allow memories of Wes to work me up so thoroughly? It
had been a few months since the break up and even longer since we had been to
this bar together; there was no reason why sitting at a table with friends
should upset me so harshly.
I pressed my back
against the stone wall and began to inhale air from the sky. My mouth slightly
open and my head leaned back I silently chanted to myself, you’re okay! You’re okay! I
imagined being somewhere else, anywhere else. I created a deserted island, palm
trees, a clear blue ocean and its subsequent breeze; A grass hut feet from the
shore line and an endless supply of tequila and rum. I pictured myself
reclining in a beach chair, the sun baking the skin of my abs and legs, an
umbrella shading my face. My eyes beneath aviators I dreamt of peace within my
dream. No man, no cry! The dream Lina
chanted aloud. No man, no cry! My
heart, both dream and reality, started to slow and the empty feeling began to
pass. I continued to breath deep and imagine this tropical paradise far, far
away from everything that plagued me.
“Lina?” The voice
violently pulled me from my oasis and back to the damp streets of Philadelphia.
The storm had passed but I was soon to find out that I was only in the eye.
I slowly lowered
my chin parallel to the side walk and turned my head toward the approaching
figure of a man, broad, tall, and dark haired, except for his light colored
eyes. His hair had grown out since the last time I saw him. It curled under his
earlobes resembling the way it looked in a baby picture I saw of him once at
his mother’s.
“I thought that
was you. How are you?” His smile was electric. It spread like wildfire across
his face. His eyes sparked to attention as they laid gently into mine. There
was something different about them though, they looked a little weary. I’m sure
I was mistaken. He was never weary not even on his busiest of days. It was
probably just the tears forming in mine that obstructed my vision.
My breathing began
to shallow again. The edges of his smile slowly started to turn downward as my
response grew further and further away. Suddenly I snapped out of whatever
trance I was in, put on a smile and answered him.
“Wes! Hey! Wow! I
didn’t expect to see you here. How are you?” I tried intently to cover the
shaking in my voice. I didn’t want him to know that at any moment my legs were
going to turn to mush and I was going to collapse to the pavement.
“I’m great!” he
said not very convincingly I noticed. “You?”
The shaking in my
chest was harder to mask. I wanted to cry out. I wanted to throw my arms around
his broad shoulders and press my lips against his thick lips. I wanted his
hands tangled in my hair. I wanted his breath against my neck. I needed him inside
me sooner rather than later. I needed to feel his chest heaving heavy against
mine in exasperation. My mind raced with all these desires when I realized I
hadn’t answered him again.
“Fine,” I managed
to squeak out. “I’m fine.” He chuckled softly to himself. He always loved when
I squeaked. He said it made him feel like a lion dating a mouse, which was the
sweetest of contradictions.
The friends who
had been following him had made their way inside. He looked after them
approvingly. I took that moment to collect myself as I stepped toward him in a
brief and unprecedented moment of courage.
“Wes I want you
back!” I blurted out. He turned to me with an awe struck look on his face. In
his expression I could see his longing. I could see he wanted to comply. I
could tell from the way his bottom lip hung open and then moments later snapped
against the top that he was conflicted and confused.
“Adelina, don’t do
this to me.” His eyes pleaded with mine. I pressed closer to him and he did
what I feared most, he stepped back.
“C’mon, it will be
better I promise. I’ll be better I swear.” I pleaded with him. I didn’t care
who could hear. I wanted him back so badly I craved it. “Please.”
His face was
apologetic. He knew he could end my torture by simply taking me in his arms and
whispering in my ear the three words I wanted, yes of course. But he wouldn’t do it. When he left he told me this
had to be. That he was doing this for us and I would be better off when it was
all said and done. I didn’t believe him then and I don’t believe this memory of
it now. I needed him like air. This was a cruel punishment.
“Adelina, you know
we can’t be together. We’re just not right. I’m not right. I need this time to
figure out what to do with myself. I’m all over the place and confused. You
deserve so much more than that. You’re a beautiful and intelligent woman and
you’re going to find someone who treats you like a goddess. Trust me. You don’t
want me back.” He didn’t wait for my reply. Even if I could say anything it
would have caught in my throat and choked me to death.
He pressed a
sweet, soft kiss to my forehead and disappeared into the bar. I stood, frozen
on the sidewalk outside the P.O.P.E. lost and confused as to what to do next. I
was in physical pain fighting off the tears threatening to run down my face. My
chest was at my feet and my vision was blurry. I inadvertently put my arm in
the air as a taxi splashed down the street.
“320 Fawn St.
please. Washington square.”
I didn’t think the
whole way to the house. All I could manage was to pull my phone from my purse
and text Trent, letting him know that I had caught a cab back to the house and
not to bother me when they came home. I tried to go back to my tropic getaway
in my head, but every time I closed my eyes all I saw were Wes and his
apologetic eyes. I couldn’t hear the ocean. All I could manage was the faint
sound of his voice telling me it was better this way. I tried to breath deep
but my chest wouldn’t allow it.
Finally in the
house, and finally in my room, I dropped my purse to the ground, where it
landed was anybody’s guess. I pulled my shirt over my head and let my jeans drop
to my feet. I was in total darkness aside from the moon beaming through my
window. I slipped my shoes off and left them underneath my jeans and shirt on
the floor. I unlatched my bra and let that fall as well.
I caught my
reflection in the mirror over my dresser as I walked robotically to my bed. I
meant to hide there until Wes changed his mind or the Apocalypse ensued. I held
my breath for neither. My heart did skip a beat though, when I saw how
unnaturally pale I looked. My golden skin was faded and my green eyes looked
sickly. The only things that indicated I was alive were my breast, perky and
round, nipples erect, and pointed toward my reflection, their typical response
to Wes being in close proximity. My eyes traveled down my lean abs and toward
my panties, they weren’t soaked but if that conversation was any longer,
regardless of the topic, that would have been next; A tell-tale response to his
voice. I pulled them off as well revealing the short trimmed fuzz covering my
mound of sexual desire throbbing painfully for his touch.
I made my way to
my bed. I could no longer stand the look of me and I just wanted to be done
with this evening. I covered myself up with my blanket and tried again to go
back to that tropical escape I created earlier. I finally fell asleep an hour
or so later, still ignoring the buzzing of my cell phone coming persistently
from my purse strewn carelessly on the floor. It had been ringing out to me
since I walked over the threshold of our home. Don’t bother me! I said in a
low and exhausted voice over and over until I was no longer conscious.