AJ
But, for now, I have to deal with reality. And at the current moment, my reality is my mother hollering from downstairs.
“Just get out! Out! You scum, don’t you dare show your face in this house again. If you do I swear it will be hell on earth.” Her voice sent chills down my spine. I sat waiting for my father’s response. Not surprisingly, his response was the slamming of the door. It was Friday night. When will he get home? No sooner than Monday.
I released the tense grip on my stress ball when I realized I was hurting my hand.
“Jesus…” I had left some pretty intense finger marks in my stress ball. I remember when I got it. I was 10 and I was having some difficulties controlling my anger. When I went to my mom she was useless. Surprise. When I brought it up at school my counselor suggested a stress ball. My green little sphere has been my best bud for the past 3 years – soon to be 4.
Did I mention how excited I was for my 14th birthday? I believe I did, but let me reiterate. If I could describe how excited I was, I would attempt, but no words on paper can quite explain my pure anxiety.
“For the love of God, would you go to sleep?” my mother yelled through the door.
“Maybe if you and your love bird could keep it down I could make an effort to sleep.”
“Watch your mouth! I didn’t give birth to you so you could mouth off.” My door swung open, revealing a very worn out mother. “It’s 2:30 in the friggin’ morning. Could you just try and please me for once by putting your head on the pillow and closing your eyes?”
“The nerve of some people. I guess I could attempt to get some shut eye if you’d back up out of my room,” I yelled in return. The door shut. For once she actually complied with something I asked her to do. You’d think a task as simple as leaving me alone wouldn’t require exerting an excess amount of your precious energy, but my mother would surprise you.
My light clicked off, stress ball was laid on my nightstand, and my aching body crept into my rock soft bed. I did not ache from exercise, no, it ached from something else. Something worse. The awful truth that your very own mother doesn’t love you. This was my reality. What’s yours?
Could it top mine off like a cherry on ice cream?
Jenna
It’s the semester switch day, and the soles of my tattered shoes come into contact with the cement sidewalk outside my bus. For the 91st day, I walk into my school, feeling alone and afraid. Not afraid of the school of course, for it is just a mere building. What I am truly terrified of is the harassment that lies ahead of me. What would be the lucky winner today?
Getting tripped in the hallway? Getting tripped in the stairwell? Getting tripped in class? Getting tripped in the cafeteria? No. Today there lies something special. Pure torture to my already breaking soul.
There he is. He seems to pop up like a wave in a calm sea. I smile, I’m excited. And guess what? I actually laughed! Then came the scene. A pretty fucked up scene. A scene in which two lips lock, one of them not being mine. And the other? They belong to him of course. Confused. Lost. Hurt. Crushed.
Something falls. My books. My heart. Currently I’m worried about my books. A crunching that makes no sound fills my ears. I believe that it is my toe, not quite as fragile as my soul, but definitely not a toughie. One word comes to mind. Ouch. One word comes out of my mouth. Ouch. My toe is broken, along with my heart, and I completely blame Mr. Michael James.
I limp towards the office in hope that the health room is actually being occupied by someone. Our nurse tends to come in when it’s convenient, which never happened to be when I’m the one in need. It’s ironic that someone who hates themselves so much still longs for care. It’s human nature, regardless of how human you claim to be.
My knuckles rap against the solid wood door of the nurse’s office. A raspy unwelcoming voice answers.
“Yes…” It trails off. I fall silent. I look at my tattered shoes and realize just how bad my toe is aching. “I said yes. Is anyone there?” She sounds pissed. I decide to reply.
“Um, yes, Ms., uh…” What the hell was her name again? Oh yes. Ms. Reeds. “Yes Ms. Reeds, my name is Jenna. May I come in?”
“I suppose so.” The wood opens revealing a hunched over lady, and uncomfortable bed, and a horrendous smell. I guess it’s just that doctor-y smell. “What is wrong with you?” She’s short and temperamental. Someone had a bad morning.
“Nothing is wrong with me. Why do you ask?” I was deeply offended.
“Well you came here didn’t you?’ I now understood what she was asking.
“I seemed to of dropped something on my toe. I think it’s broken.”
“Well let me have a look. Slip your shoes off.” I comply. “Oh yes, it’s broken alright. This week is gunna hurt.”
If only she knew. If only I knew. If only I knew that some habits would be forming in the next days. If only I knew about the pain. Oh yes.
The next few days are definitely going to hurt.
Zane
“Zane! Zane!”
“What?”
“Zane!!”
“I said what already! What do you want?” I feel like no one is listening to me. Sometimes feelings are realities.
“Get your bag ready,” she replied. “We’re hitting the casino in half an hour. You better hurry and pack your bags because you’re on your own today.” My mother isn’t necessarily the responsible mother.
“Fine. What’s dad going to do?” We were yelling from the hotel bedroom, to the bathroom.
“He’s coming with you dip wad. What else would he be doing?”
“Something better than you.” I felt so sly.
“Watch your mouth you little brat.” I felt so loved.
“Where is dad anyways?” Do I even want to know?
“How should I know? He left at a quarter to six and he told me he’d meet me at the casino at 9:30.” She is so informative.
“Okay, well what am I supposed to do?” I’m only a kid.
“That’s why you’re packing your bags with all your crap. I don’t care what you do as long as you don’t get drunk, high, or an STD.” At least she cares a little. “I don’t want a baby either. You cost us enough already.” Never mind.
“So you’re just leaving me for the day?” How motherly.
“Did I stutter?” Why is she so rude?
“I’m just asking, God.” Should I watch my mouth?
“Stop asking stupid questions.” No, I shouldn’t.
Twenty minutes later the door closed and I was left with a half full backpack and an empty hotel room. Two parents at a casino and Vegas at your fingertips could mean a lot of things. For me I believe it means I’m trying a few new things. I’ve been single for a long time. Too long.
Let’s spice things up.
