It's amazin' to me, how a girl who stays in impulse mode can still manage to be the worst kind of procrastinator. But that's me.
Last minute, shop of horrors, and I don't mean the sign on the store.
Wadin' through real life screamin' terrors, covered in not-so-artifical green slime, I was reminded why I never go to malls anymore.
After I dutifully reprimanded one mother who's little devil had decided that not only was my bag his, but that he was willing to lick it to prove his ownership, and then felt the need to scream back into the face of another goblin who had never known there to be any other way to communicate apparently, I was most especially certain that I needed to get out of there!
I don't know how I let Rachel drag me there, but she insisted I needed a “proper” costume. With my new “sexy” kitten outfit already mockin' me from the bottom of my bag, and Rachel's coveted Lady Gaga costume in hand, it was all I could do not to run for the door.
If a haunted house was in my future, I would be well prepared, there couldn't by another place any scarier I was sure.
I could see the light shinin' through the glass doors at the end of the large hall and I swear I heard angels.
And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse...I was more-than-pleasantly surprised.
Thriller!!!!!
That all too familiar beat of MJ's pop-o-licious theme song for all things Halloween, blared though the cross-roads of the mall.
Rachel and I both stopped to turn around and see what was goin' on. People from every direction, dropped coats and bags and converged together.
“What's goin' on?” I asked Rachel.
“Flash mob,” she grinned, “Damn I've always wanted to do that.”
“What's a flash mob? What're they gonna do?” I asked again.
Rachel looked at me as though I had suddenly turned green and sprouted horns and warts from my head.
“Wow, I forget you don't do the “techy” stuff,” Rachel said mockin'ly, utilizin' the word I so often chose to describe the bane of my existence that is technological devices.
“They're going to dance – you know, Thriller,” she explained further, “They all planned and probably practiced together. A lot of these go viral,” she stopped, rollin' her eyes, knowin' I'd also require an explanation of what “goin' viral” meant.
So I skipped it, and latched onto the very thing that had intrigued me most. “I know the Thriller dance,” I grinned.
I didn't even need the little nudge of added support from Rachel before I was skippin' forward to find my place in line.
So, whoever thought of the whole "flash mob" thing is a freakin' genius! For somebody that loves a good impulse, that was awesome! Best shit ever!
They were well prepared and even with an unexpected guest, we finished the song without a glitch. I hadn't done the whole dance in years! But, much like ridin' a bike, it came back to me with zero difficulty. Tryin' to maintain a “zombie face” through my cheek-to-cheek grin was useless though.
A really big crowd circled us, all takin' pictures and video clips with their phones (which really deserve a better name I think, seein as how the phone is the tiniest part of their capabilities).
After so many flashes, however, I thought I'd go blind. I still managed to fumble my way back to Rachel, laughin' and smilin' so hard my cheeks hurt.
“That was epic,” Rachel said smilin', even though I think she mighta been a tad jealous.
“That was fuckin' awesome!” I exclaimed in total agreement.
We grabbed our stuff and headed for the door. Only when we had gone through the doors onto the top floor of the parkin' garage did we realize that we in fact needed to be on the bottom floor.
We walked to the elevator, but a big “Out of Order” sign was posted on the door.
“Stairs it is then,” Rachel said.
I shuddered and followed behind her to the door of the stairwell. “I hate parkin' garages. But I hate stair-wells more.”
“Oh don't be such a scaredy-cat. You've seen too many movies.”
But still sensin' my hesitancy she couldn't resist the urge to turn shoutin' “BOO” every once in a while.
However ridiculous and juvenile, it still made me jump...every time.
Finally on the first floor, I burst through the door in search of air as though the stairwell had lacked oxygen.
Rachel laughed behind me, but I didn't care. I don't care who you are, parking' garages are creepy.
But then, I had to bend to see under the car once we had neared the vehicle – just to make sure some Achilles-tendon-slasher wasn't lurkin' beneath.
“You are something else!” Rachel laughed at me again. “You'll jump from a cliff with no fear, but an empty parking garage has you completely undone. That's hilarious.”
She could see the not-so-hilarious expression on my face, as I grew irritated with her teasin' me. She tried to soothe my scorn, sayin' sweetly, “There's nothing to be scared of okay? Nobody's here.”
Yeah...timin' right?
It was like a horror movie, and somebody just said “Be right back.”
I heard a scream.
I grabbed Rachel's arm, my eyes widenin'.
“Oh get off it girl! It's Halloween. Just some kids goofin' off.”
Then we heard a thud, and the crash of glass, and another blood-curdlin' scream.
“That's no joke Rachel!”
Runnin' in the direction of the screamin', Rachel raced behind me, catchin' me at the end of the cement partition.
Whatever is was had sounded like it was just around the corner.
“Stop! You wanna get yourself killled?”
Why was everyone always askin' me that?
“I thought you said it was just a prank anyway, and if I'm gonna get myself hurt, then call the cops! Because somebody else already is!”
“No cops, I'm sure it's just a joke. Just let me check it out. At least I can choose to run-away if need be.”
It made a reasonable amount of sense, so she took the lead.
Peerin' around the corner, she whispered back, “I don't see anything. Just some kids I bet...see?”
A clatter of keys caught her attention, but made me wish I could melt into the stone behind me.
“What's that?” she muttered lookin' more curious.
Tentatively, she signaled for me to “stay” (yeah, like that'd be a problem) and took a few more steps around to the other side of the wall.
“See anything?” I finally whispered suddenly feelin' the undeniably strong urge to pee – the guaranteed spoiler of a good game of Hide and Seek.
“No...wait...hold on,” she said trailin' off.
Just when I was goin' to hop around and tell her I had to find a bathroom, cowardice be damned, I heard another scream. And just when I was more than happy to believe it to be good-natured Halloween fun, the scream took on a whole new horrible connotation.
It was Rachel.
It was like a dream. I couldn't make my legs move fast enough.
All I saw when I rounded the corner was the shiny black heels on Rachel's listless legs bein' dragged between a row of cars.
“Rachel!” I screamed. “Rachel!”
Runnin' to where I saw her vanish, half-expectin' to find some predator slashin' my new friend into pieces, I found nothin'.
I stopped walkin' or breathin', tryin' my damnedest to hear somethin'...anything. But I couldn't hear anything outside of the poundin' in my ears. Where was she?
Finally, I heard a faint sloppin' sound, like someone was walkin' through mud, or stirrin' a chunky stew.
Carefully, I made my way towards the noise.
At the end of the row, I took a deep breath, before bracin' myself and peerin' around the rear of the last car.
All attempts at silence then vanished.
I didn't even know I could scream that loud.
There was a body on the ground, lyin' in a pool of its own blood, entrails strewn about as though its perpetrator had invented his own sadistic jig-saw game.
Then, there was Rachel. Unconscious, she lie limp in the lap of the lunatic.
“Get away from her!” I yelled.
As though I weren't even there, the masked man raised his knife above his head, plungin' it into Rachel's stomach. A river of blood surged from the wound, dribblin' down her side.
I think I screamed again.
He pulled the knife from her - another surge of blood fillin' her belly and findin' the floor - and then pushed her off of him.
My feet were as solid of lead weights. My eyes could not NOT see what was happenin' before me.
He rose slowly, but finally he spoke. “You're next sweetheart,” he said then, his voice garbled by somethin', soundin' like Darth Vader.
He took two steps forward before I reached down and grabbed my heel off my foot. I held it high, bein the only weapon I had. But the shiny blade of his knife, dulled by the blood drippin' from its tip, was certainly more anxiety provokin' than I'm sure my heel was.
He laughed. He laughed at me!
Wait...Wait a minute, I thought. I know that laugh. I know that laugh even with that stupid device attached to it!
Seein' that I'd registered his identity, the lunatic finally removed his mask.
Kevin.
“Kevin!” I yelled, raisin' my heel ready to rush him.
Then I heard Rachel laughin'.
Now they were both laughin' at me. And I was also now noticin' that the 4th person in our morbid little party was of the plastic variety.
“Happy Halloween!” they chimed together, Rachel lickin' the “blood” from her finger, and Kevin slappin' the disappearin' blade against his leg.
“I'm goin' to kill the both of you!”
“Not with that you're not,” Kevin chuckled, motionin' toward my “weapon.”
I was seethin'. And I was very near peein' my pants. And the whole thing reeked of Kevin.
“Was that you screamin'? They sounded so real!”
Grinnin', he replied, “There's an App for that.”
Lungin' at him with my shoe, ready to deliver a good sisterly beatin', I asked, “Oh yeah? Well is there an app that'll save you from me?”
Happy Halloween!
31.10.11
24.10.11
Is three a crowd?
I'll just go ahead and tell you now, that although you got a little peek into the small window of wisdom, I – yes, surprisingly – do have, this week's morsel isn't inlaid with one of those neat little gems. All pretty and shinin' and poignant. Nope, this week, was more of ....well...one “what the fuck” moment after another. Yep, that's pretty much the only thing that could describe it. Thank-you Mr. F-bomb for being increasingly versatile and still totally explicit.
The week before had weighed pretty heavily on all of us, and Kevin had been lost in retrospection for days. After draggin' him practically kickin' and screamin' to the bar (well, to the car, he had to drive of course – I don't think explanation is required for the many reasons as to which it's best I NOT operate a vehicle) he appeared to be shakin' his “funk.”
We had just finished our second round when a sudden outburst of shouts, applause, “hooraws,” and guffaws made me turn, wonderin' where the fight was.
Then, I heard an almost shrill voice sing-song, “She's ba-ack.”
The 3rd party reference to herself made Kevin whirl around in his bar stool, his interests now fully piqued, the voice more than familiar.
I tried to search the crowd where he searched, lookin' for a face to go with the voice, when the waves parted. And there she was, walkin' towards us, slapping asses, fivin' “hi's,” and kissin' cheeks the whole way. She had a guy in tow behind her, but he didn't look to be quite as happy to see everyone as she was.
She was absolutely beautiful, with chiseled cheekbones, large round eyes, and a magnanimous grin. I could practically see the light beamin' forth from her.
I think Kevin stopped breathin'. Seriously.
And if I'd thought she'd sounded shrill in her excited entrance before, I knew now that I was much to quick to define things. She squealed so high and so loud when she saw Kevin, I had to turn to make sure the liquor bottles linin' the bar didn't spontaneously combust.
Leavin' her “man” standin' behind her, she ran to Kevin, arms raised, and jumped into his, simultaneously wrappin' her legs around his waist. I think I'm pretty safe in definin' that as a bear-hug, if I ever saw one.
They clung to one another just long enough to make it totally awkward for the other guy and myself, obviously bein' placed on “standby” for the moment.
She was so close to his face, I thought she'd kiss him, but only gushed “Oh my God” and “Where've you been?” and then there was some little banter in a bad accent that was completely beyond me and obviously some kind of inside joke between the two of them.
Her legs were still wrapped around him as though that were the position in which all their conversations took place. I noticed her leather boots (immediately wantin' a pair), envied her muscular golden calfs and thighs, and....hmmm. What was that?
Brilliant colors swirled and peaked from the cuff of her shorts on the side of her thigh.
Well, you know me.
I reach on over and lifted her shorts a hair, so I could see the tattoo, then more, and more...a little more. Finally, I'm practically grabbin' her ass in order to get a better view.
It was a Phoenix in flight, and it almost looked to be on fire. The colors were so bright, and it looked as though the design around it covered the entirety of her hip. It was by far one of the prettiest tattoos I'd ever seen.
“That's amazing!” I blurted out, only then (I think) makin' her realize that it wasn't Kevin feelin' her up.
She turned to me, sliding off Kevin at the same time, but she didn't look mad, or surprised.
“Like what you see?” she asked, soundin' and lookin' more and more like a 3D version of Jessica Rabbit every second. I mean, really, slap a red-split dress on the girl, and we'd be done.
I didn't know if I was about to be hissed at or what when she leaned in closer. Maybe whisper a warnin' of ownership or some such thing as I myself had been prone to do? I guess that's what I was expectin'. I was not expectin' to suddenly feel her soft Angelina Jolie-ain't-got-nothin'-on-me lips press against mine.
It was quick – nothin' more than a peck really, and nothin' I hadn't impulsivley tried myself. But I coulnd't help the sudden reel of slide-show shots of circumstance run though my mind.
Obviously, Kevin and this girl had history. Kevin and I had, well, a newish history. And who was this girl? Pullin' a Jeaux-Jeaux? Tryin' to start a “history” with me? I was gettin' more and more confused by the minute.
Laughin', she pulled back, exclaimin' with a wink my way, “Well, Kevin, you finally got you an awful pretty one.”
“This is my friend,” he seemed to emphasize, “Jeaux.”
“I'm Rachel,” she said, “Kevin and me, we go way back.”
“I see that,” I said tryin' to sound polite, but totally drawin' a blank as to what to say. She just kissed me. Then kept lookin' at Kevin with that he's-the-one-who-got-away dreamy haze in her eyes. And I'll be honest, I did not like Kevin's slightly too quick reassurance that I was just a friend. Geez, he may as well have spelled it out for her. We're friends. Okay. We got it.
“Jeaux, Rachel here has a little something in common with you. Well, kind of,” he grinned teasingly at Rachel. “While you can't help yourself, Rachel here chooses to live in constant search of the shock factor. While you just tend to shock people as an after-effect of your intent, Rachel here goes in trying to make 'em squirm.”
“God, you make me sound like the devil Kevin! I'm not that bad!” she snapped.
And I did too. I snapped to the fact that, duh!, no wonder he'd been so acceptin' of me. He'd had a me before. I didn't quite like it.
“Really, I'm not that bad!” she insisted, turnin' her attentions on me. “But what's he talkin' about with you?”
“I don't have any impulse control. Brain injury. Doctor's don't really know exactly what to make of it," I practically yelled over the music, "I'm just, umm, impulsive.”
“And you can't control it? You think and you do? That kind of thing?” she asked, soundin' very intrigued.
“If it's at the fore-front of my mind...for the most part, yeah.”
“Ohhh, I gotta see this,” she cooed, a sly grin formin' on her face.
Kevin jumped in then, “Nooo. No. No. No. I already see those wicked little wheels turning.”
“What?” she gasped, as though he'd truly hurt her feelings.
“Nu-uh. No. You're not gonna use her as your little play-thing.”
Who said I would be used? I thought.
“Oh come on now! That's just not true. I am not that bad! I live to love baby and I just love to live!” she said, chucklin' again.
But I wasn't as amused. “You make me sound like I'm some kid Kevin,” I said, my irritation showin' all over my face I'm sure.
Rachel laughed a boomin' sound that shook her chest. Throwin' her arm around my shoulders, she exlcaimed, “Why I do believe I've just found my new best friend.”
I couldn't help it. Somethin' about her just made you want to be happy. Light. Fun. I smiled.
Kevin just shook his head at us. He looked to be lost somewhere between amused intrigue, and terrified concern.
“Where'd your guy go Rach?”
She turned barely lookin' and shrugged her shoulders, barely enunciatin', “I dunno.”
“I'm right here,” he growled, startlin' all of us. Buried in the camouflage of jackets at the bar, we hadn't seen him, and honestly, I'd forgotten all about him.
“Damn Rachel! I mean you said we were going somewhere cool. Fun. This place is neither of those things. A dirty fuckin' whole in the wall. I am done with this whole Texas-hillbilly-hippie thing. We are leaving. Now.”
Okay, I'll grant the guy the fact that he'd been totally ignored since he'd gotten there, but damn!
Before Rachel or I could even see it comin' the guy went from standin' beside the bar, to lyin' beneath it, totally unconscious. “Billy, can you haul this jackass outta here please? Thanks,” Kevin shouted to the bouncer at the door.
Kevin gave his fist a good shake, and then shook his head at Rachel, “Really Rach? This guy?”
She just shrugged her shoulders again, but I figured I knew exactly all he'd been good for.
As Kevin walked back to his bar-stool, he was still shakin' his head, and gruntin' about us “Damn broads.” But we both heard him mutter “Must be rubbing off on me.”
In perfect unison, Rachel and I chimed, “Good!”
I smiled again. Maybe we could be friends after all. I wasn't a baby. Kevin didn't need to look after me all the time. I don't need a care-taker.
Do I?
The week before had weighed pretty heavily on all of us, and Kevin had been lost in retrospection for days. After draggin' him practically kickin' and screamin' to the bar (well, to the car, he had to drive of course – I don't think explanation is required for the many reasons as to which it's best I NOT operate a vehicle) he appeared to be shakin' his “funk.”
We had just finished our second round when a sudden outburst of shouts, applause, “hooraws,” and guffaws made me turn, wonderin' where the fight was.
Then, I heard an almost shrill voice sing-song, “She's ba-ack.”
The 3rd party reference to herself made Kevin whirl around in his bar stool, his interests now fully piqued, the voice more than familiar.
I tried to search the crowd where he searched, lookin' for a face to go with the voice, when the waves parted. And there she was, walkin' towards us, slapping asses, fivin' “hi's,” and kissin' cheeks the whole way. She had a guy in tow behind her, but he didn't look to be quite as happy to see everyone as she was.
She was absolutely beautiful, with chiseled cheekbones, large round eyes, and a magnanimous grin. I could practically see the light beamin' forth from her.
I think Kevin stopped breathin'. Seriously.
And if I'd thought she'd sounded shrill in her excited entrance before, I knew now that I was much to quick to define things. She squealed so high and so loud when she saw Kevin, I had to turn to make sure the liquor bottles linin' the bar didn't spontaneously combust.
Leavin' her “man” standin' behind her, she ran to Kevin, arms raised, and jumped into his, simultaneously wrappin' her legs around his waist. I think I'm pretty safe in definin' that as a bear-hug, if I ever saw one.
They clung to one another just long enough to make it totally awkward for the other guy and myself, obviously bein' placed on “standby” for the moment.
She was so close to his face, I thought she'd kiss him, but only gushed “Oh my God” and “Where've you been?” and then there was some little banter in a bad accent that was completely beyond me and obviously some kind of inside joke between the two of them.
Her legs were still wrapped around him as though that were the position in which all their conversations took place. I noticed her leather boots (immediately wantin' a pair), envied her muscular golden calfs and thighs, and....hmmm. What was that?
Brilliant colors swirled and peaked from the cuff of her shorts on the side of her thigh.
Well, you know me.
I reach on over and lifted her shorts a hair, so I could see the tattoo, then more, and more...a little more. Finally, I'm practically grabbin' her ass in order to get a better view.
It was a Phoenix in flight, and it almost looked to be on fire. The colors were so bright, and it looked as though the design around it covered the entirety of her hip. It was by far one of the prettiest tattoos I'd ever seen.
“That's amazing!” I blurted out, only then (I think) makin' her realize that it wasn't Kevin feelin' her up.
She turned to me, sliding off Kevin at the same time, but she didn't look mad, or surprised.
“Like what you see?” she asked, soundin' and lookin' more and more like a 3D version of Jessica Rabbit every second. I mean, really, slap a red-split dress on the girl, and we'd be done.
I didn't know if I was about to be hissed at or what when she leaned in closer. Maybe whisper a warnin' of ownership or some such thing as I myself had been prone to do? I guess that's what I was expectin'. I was not expectin' to suddenly feel her soft Angelina Jolie-ain't-got-nothin'-on-me lips press against mine.
It was quick – nothin' more than a peck really, and nothin' I hadn't impulsivley tried myself. But I coulnd't help the sudden reel of slide-show shots of circumstance run though my mind.
Obviously, Kevin and this girl had history. Kevin and I had, well, a newish history. And who was this girl? Pullin' a Jeaux-Jeaux? Tryin' to start a “history” with me? I was gettin' more and more confused by the minute.
Laughin', she pulled back, exclaimin' with a wink my way, “Well, Kevin, you finally got you an awful pretty one.”
“This is my friend,” he seemed to emphasize, “Jeaux.”
“I'm Rachel,” she said, “Kevin and me, we go way back.”
“I see that,” I said tryin' to sound polite, but totally drawin' a blank as to what to say. She just kissed me. Then kept lookin' at Kevin with that he's-the-one-who-got-away dreamy haze in her eyes. And I'll be honest, I did not like Kevin's slightly too quick reassurance that I was just a friend. Geez, he may as well have spelled it out for her. We're friends. Okay. We got it.
“Jeaux, Rachel here has a little something in common with you. Well, kind of,” he grinned teasingly at Rachel. “While you can't help yourself, Rachel here chooses to live in constant search of the shock factor. While you just tend to shock people as an after-effect of your intent, Rachel here goes in trying to make 'em squirm.”
“God, you make me sound like the devil Kevin! I'm not that bad!” she snapped.
And I did too. I snapped to the fact that, duh!, no wonder he'd been so acceptin' of me. He'd had a me before. I didn't quite like it.
“Really, I'm not that bad!” she insisted, turnin' her attentions on me. “But what's he talkin' about with you?”
“I don't have any impulse control. Brain injury. Doctor's don't really know exactly what to make of it," I practically yelled over the music, "I'm just, umm, impulsive.”
“And you can't control it? You think and you do? That kind of thing?” she asked, soundin' very intrigued.
“If it's at the fore-front of my mind...for the most part, yeah.”
“Ohhh, I gotta see this,” she cooed, a sly grin formin' on her face.
Kevin jumped in then, “Nooo. No. No. No. I already see those wicked little wheels turning.”
“What?” she gasped, as though he'd truly hurt her feelings.
“Nu-uh. No. You're not gonna use her as your little play-thing.”
Who said I would be used? I thought.
“Oh come on now! That's just not true. I am not that bad! I live to love baby and I just love to live!” she said, chucklin' again.
But I wasn't as amused. “You make me sound like I'm some kid Kevin,” I said, my irritation showin' all over my face I'm sure.
Rachel laughed a boomin' sound that shook her chest. Throwin' her arm around my shoulders, she exlcaimed, “Why I do believe I've just found my new best friend.”
I couldn't help it. Somethin' about her just made you want to be happy. Light. Fun. I smiled.
Kevin just shook his head at us. He looked to be lost somewhere between amused intrigue, and terrified concern.
“Where'd your guy go Rach?”
She turned barely lookin' and shrugged her shoulders, barely enunciatin', “I dunno.”
“I'm right here,” he growled, startlin' all of us. Buried in the camouflage of jackets at the bar, we hadn't seen him, and honestly, I'd forgotten all about him.
“Damn Rachel! I mean you said we were going somewhere cool. Fun. This place is neither of those things. A dirty fuckin' whole in the wall. I am done with this whole Texas-hillbilly-hippie thing. We are leaving. Now.”
Okay, I'll grant the guy the fact that he'd been totally ignored since he'd gotten there, but damn!
Before Rachel or I could even see it comin' the guy went from standin' beside the bar, to lyin' beneath it, totally unconscious. “Billy, can you haul this jackass outta here please? Thanks,” Kevin shouted to the bouncer at the door.
Kevin gave his fist a good shake, and then shook his head at Rachel, “Really Rach? This guy?”
She just shrugged her shoulders again, but I figured I knew exactly all he'd been good for.
As Kevin walked back to his bar-stool, he was still shakin' his head, and gruntin' about us “Damn broads.” But we both heard him mutter “Must be rubbing off on me.”
In perfect unison, Rachel and I chimed, “Good!”
I smiled again. Maybe we could be friends after all. I wasn't a baby. Kevin didn't need to look after me all the time. I don't need a care-taker.
Do I?
17.10.11
Doin' Somethin' Right
Have you ever wanted to do or say somethin', but stopped yourself short – weighed your rationale on a pendulum of impulse vs. instinct?
It was only a few days ago that, had I the capacity, I would have stopped to ask myself such a question.
I had yet to explore the entirety of our small community and its even more rural out-lands, and convinced Kevin to take me on a hike. He had mentioned a spot that overlooked the water in the bay, where the waves crashed against walls of stone rather than the typical sandy shores of the more popular beaches.
Though the walk to the summit was fairly easy, I found myself breathless at its peak.
The view was unlike any other in the area that I had seen. Had I been wearin' a Victorian gown or some other flowy dress (rather than my hikin' boots and favorite pair of roughed-up jeans) I would have felt like the heroine from some Harlequin romance novel – pitchin' my woes to the wind atop the bluff as my hair and petticoat flowed around me.
But I was not that pithy character. My emotions, needs, wants, and means of execution whirled and changed as violently as the water churned below us.
Kevin knows me well enough by now. He says I get a look in my eyes when I'm about to do something impulsive (that is when it's not a completely knee-jerk reaction from my flip lip or need to touch some wonderfully decorative body art).
He started to growl before I even realized my feet movin' backward.
“Jeaux, don't.”
“Don't do what?” I asked innocently.
But before I could hear his response, my legs were pumpin' below me. Takin' one final leap at the edge, I flew off the cliff.
An instinctive scream sprang from my chest when my body felt that initial shock of free-fall. Straight like a pencil, I crossed my arms over my chest just as my feet sliced the water.
The warm Gulf enveloped my senses as I let the current bring me back to the surface.
“Whew!” I screamed throwin' my arms up in triumph (or maybe in defiance?), and searchin' for Kevin on the hill.
I expected to hear him chastisin' me from the cliff but when I finally saw him he wasn't even lookin' at me.
It all happened so fast.
I heard the squeal of tires behind me; then the first crash. Spinnin' around in the water, I saw what Kevin's eyes were locked on. A small SUV-type car was careenin' along the side-rail of the coastal highway on the adjacent side of the bay.
Stunned, I watched as the car jerked again, only to pitch and grind as it came hurling off the pavement to somersault to a stop a few hundred yards away.
I could see Kevin runnin' as my instincts followed suit, my arms propellin' at my sides through the waves with all the fury I could muster.
By the time I made it to the other side of the small enclave, Kevin had made his way around as well, but was still a few paces behind me when I came runnin' out and onto the beach. We came upon the smashed car before its wheels had stopped spinnin' in the air.
I don't know if the people saw us runnin' or managed to see the wreck from their vantage, but there were a few makin' their way towards us from the beach. Kevin paused to yell for one of them to call 911.
That's when I smelled it. Gas.
“Kevin!” I screamed, interruptin' him. “Kevin! Gas!”
He stopped then, liftin' his nose to inhale the distinct odor.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes scowlin'. “Jeaux, the police will be here soon. They'll probably need the jaws-of-life to get them out anyways. Let's just wait a minute, okay, it's too dangerous!” he implored, holdin' my bicep as though to keep me in place.
But I wasn't listenin'.
.
A cry. All I could hear was a baby's cry.
And there was only one place it could be comin' from. I jerked away from Kevin and went runnin' for the car. Even given his dissent, I knew he was right behind me.
The side doors of the car were inaccessible being smashed on one side and buried on the other. The back window, however, was clear of obstructions, and the window itself was already shattered.
I hadn't even noticed the added weight of my soggy clothes until I lifted my boot to kick-out the sheet of shatter-proof glass. Kevin, was of course, right by my side, quickly helpin' me to move it out of the way.
I took quick stock of the passengers. It looked to be a typical family of four: Dad in the driver seat and Mom in the passenger side; the man looked to be totally unconscious, but his wife was on the brink, moaning and muttering incoherently; (I was much more concerned about the kids in the back) the toddler, who's crying had turned to incessant screams was nearly completely upside down, but still locked-in tight to his car-seat; his brother, whom I assumed to be somewhere around 10, was unconscious and hung from his seat-belt – his arms danglin' limply in front of him.
Squeezin' my upper half through the opening, I carefully undid the buckles of the car-seat, trying desperately not to drop the baby on his head in my awkward position.
From the inside of the vehicle, the fumes were worse than ever.
Once I had the tearful toddler in my arms, I pulled him free from the car, handin' him over to Kevin. Like an assembly line, the campers filed behind Kevin; a woman at the end takin' the baby away from the scene and noxious fumes.
Next, the older child. The mother was moanin' somethin' (I think for her babies) and I did my best to soothe her with hushed promises of their rescue.
The boy was too big and the sayin' “dead weight” brought with it a whole new morbid and practical meanin'. It was all I could do to lift the boy's limp frame through the window to Kevin's more able arms. Again, he too was hefted along to the next person in line who took him to safety.
“Jeaux,” Kevin commanded, “Jeaux, that's enough. You're going to get yourself killed! We've done all we can do.”
“No!” I shouted, “You've done all you will do! Not can! I'm not going to save those babies' lives just to rip away their only meanin' at the same time!”
“Jeaux, you haven't done anything but rescue those kids! Don't be stupid!”
But the smell of the gas was growin' stronger. And I could hear no sirens.
I heard the mom moan again then, and jerked away from Kevin once more, back into the wreckage.
She didn't seem to be stuck, but I couldn't get the god-damned seat-belt undone.
“I need your knife Kevin!” I shouted, knowin' he always kept one on him.
“Jeaux!” He yelled back rebukingly.
“Your fucking knife Kevin! Now!”
When I'd finally sawed through the cloth, she was at least lucid enough to obey my commands.
Painstakin'ly, I managed to lean her against me long enough to heave her body into the back-seat where Kevin and the last camper (the man who'd dialed 911) helped to hoist her out of the window.
When they tried to half-walk, half-carry the woman from the wreck, she turned back to see the car and would have fallen to her knees were it not for the man by her side.
I could only assume seein' the twisted heap of metal where her husband was still pinned was what haunted her as she cried out his name.
Impulse? Instinct? At some point, the lines become mottled.
I could hear Kevin cursin' me and shoutin' for me to get out of the “god-damned car.”
Tryin' to find a secure position for my feet, I quickly assessed the situation and soon growled my indignation. There was no fuckin' way I could get him out. The steerin' wheel had him pinned too tight.
Stickin' my head out the window, I glared past the sun into Kevin's very unamused eyes.
Quickly explainin' my dilemma to him, he shouted, “Get out of there now!”
“No! I can't just leave him!”
“Do you want to get yourself blown up? Are you going to let this thing kill you?”
My thing, being my impulse control, just to be clear.
“This thing,” I sneered, “Has done nothing but ruin lives and break hearts Kevin! What is the fucking point if I can't do something right with it? Somethin' good? Don't you get that? My life means nothin'! And his means everything to them!” I yelled back, pointin' at the man's family.
“The seat,” Kevin blurted, “See if the seat will recline.”
If I hadn't been in such an awkward position I would've kicked myself in the ass for not already havin' thought of that one.
But, even with the seat belt detached and the chair reclined, Kevin still had to lean over the edge of the window - trying to avoid the shards of glass - to help me lift the man from the seat. It took Kevin, the other helper guy (who's name I learned was Jeff) pullin' and me pushin' at the man's waist to get him out of the car.
It was one of the few times in my life I've prayed. I prayed for his family. I prayed that I wasn't actively paralyzin' the man by moving him without a brace. And I prayed that we didn't all blow-up.
The fumes had poisoned my head with a poundin' heachache by then, but the pain dulled in comparison to my resolve.
With the man draped between Kevin and Jeff, they managed to lug him away from the car. We had barely gotten 30 yards away before a fire-red convertible came flyin' around the curvy road.
I don't know if it was the heat, or a spark from the gravel being flung behind the speedster's tires, but it was that second that the car chose to blow.
If I had thought my head was pounding before, from then on I would only appreciate that tiny headache as a welcome reprieve to what real pain could mean.
My ears were ringin'. My eyes were waterin'. My head was screamin'.
We were all on the ground coverin' our heads – letting the blast settle before turnin' to see the black smoke and white-hot flames roilin' off the charred finish of what had once been a family automobile.
It wasn't long after that that every ambulance, cop car, and fire truck the city had to offer were swarmin' around us.
As the EMT tried to clean blood (I kept insistin' wasn't mine) from wounds (I insisted I didn't possess) Kevin only continued to shake his head at me.
“You could've gotten yourself killed.”
Lookin' past him to a nearby ambulance where the family was bein' safely loaded, I smiled, “But look at what we saved.”
We followed the family to the hospital and stayed until we heard word that they were all okay. I'll be honest, even given the fact that the car had blown-up, I was still terrified I'd paralyzed the man havin' no idea whether he'd suffered neck or spine trauma. Turned out, everybody except the dad only suffered minor scrapes and bruises; the mom and older boy had concussions, and the dad had broken his clavicle and pelvic bones (no fault of my own).
The mom even asked to see me.
She was still a little loopy and seemed to be sufferin' time lapses given her concussion, but she still managed to thank Kevin and I relentlessly for savin' their lives.
There was a little nugget I wasn't expectin'. Somewhere between her thanks and mindless rants, she said her husband had been distracted when he saw a girl jump from the cliff, and had wrecked over-correctin' himself. “She had all her clothes on,” she kept sayin'.
I don't know if she knew I was that girl. I don't know if the dad had just been surprised seein' me, or thought I was plummetin' to my death. I did know, that I had been responsible.
Sometimes we do things that unexpectedly effect others. We hope it's a good affect, but not always is this the case, I'm quickly learnin'. The only answer I've yet to find, is in how I respond.
When Kevin finally dropped me off at home late that night, I had been surprised to find he was uncommonly quiet. Always fearful of vexin' him, (a fear I needn't worry over, he assured me as usual) I opened the door with a simple “bye” readyin' myself for a few days of the silent treatment.
“Jeaux,” Kevin said softly.
“Yeah?” I stopped, my heart givin' me a small leap.
“You were wrong before, ya know... Your life does mean something. It's everything to me.”
There were no words. At least none I could find anyhow.
Smilin', he added, “Goodnight Jeaux. Sweet dreams.”
I was still standin' on the sidewalk smilin' stupidly when he pulled away from the curb.
“Goodnight Kevin,” I finally whispered, only movin' when I could see his taillights no more.
Lesson learned: our impulses aren't always right, but our instincts are rarely wrong.
It was only a few days ago that, had I the capacity, I would have stopped to ask myself such a question.
I had yet to explore the entirety of our small community and its even more rural out-lands, and convinced Kevin to take me on a hike. He had mentioned a spot that overlooked the water in the bay, where the waves crashed against walls of stone rather than the typical sandy shores of the more popular beaches.
Though the walk to the summit was fairly easy, I found myself breathless at its peak.
The view was unlike any other in the area that I had seen. Had I been wearin' a Victorian gown or some other flowy dress (rather than my hikin' boots and favorite pair of roughed-up jeans) I would have felt like the heroine from some Harlequin romance novel – pitchin' my woes to the wind atop the bluff as my hair and petticoat flowed around me.
But I was not that pithy character. My emotions, needs, wants, and means of execution whirled and changed as violently as the water churned below us.
Kevin knows me well enough by now. He says I get a look in my eyes when I'm about to do something impulsive (that is when it's not a completely knee-jerk reaction from my flip lip or need to touch some wonderfully decorative body art).
He started to growl before I even realized my feet movin' backward.
“Jeaux, don't.”
“Don't do what?” I asked innocently.
But before I could hear his response, my legs were pumpin' below me. Takin' one final leap at the edge, I flew off the cliff.
An instinctive scream sprang from my chest when my body felt that initial shock of free-fall. Straight like a pencil, I crossed my arms over my chest just as my feet sliced the water.
The warm Gulf enveloped my senses as I let the current bring me back to the surface.
“Whew!” I screamed throwin' my arms up in triumph (or maybe in defiance?), and searchin' for Kevin on the hill.
I expected to hear him chastisin' me from the cliff but when I finally saw him he wasn't even lookin' at me.
It all happened so fast.
I heard the squeal of tires behind me; then the first crash. Spinnin' around in the water, I saw what Kevin's eyes were locked on. A small SUV-type car was careenin' along the side-rail of the coastal highway on the adjacent side of the bay.
Stunned, I watched as the car jerked again, only to pitch and grind as it came hurling off the pavement to somersault to a stop a few hundred yards away.
I could see Kevin runnin' as my instincts followed suit, my arms propellin' at my sides through the waves with all the fury I could muster.
By the time I made it to the other side of the small enclave, Kevin had made his way around as well, but was still a few paces behind me when I came runnin' out and onto the beach. We came upon the smashed car before its wheels had stopped spinnin' in the air.
I don't know if the people saw us runnin' or managed to see the wreck from their vantage, but there were a few makin' their way towards us from the beach. Kevin paused to yell for one of them to call 911.
That's when I smelled it. Gas.
“Kevin!” I screamed, interruptin' him. “Kevin! Gas!”
He stopped then, liftin' his nose to inhale the distinct odor.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes scowlin'. “Jeaux, the police will be here soon. They'll probably need the jaws-of-life to get them out anyways. Let's just wait a minute, okay, it's too dangerous!” he implored, holdin' my bicep as though to keep me in place.
But I wasn't listenin'.
.
A cry. All I could hear was a baby's cry.
And there was only one place it could be comin' from. I jerked away from Kevin and went runnin' for the car. Even given his dissent, I knew he was right behind me.
The side doors of the car were inaccessible being smashed on one side and buried on the other. The back window, however, was clear of obstructions, and the window itself was already shattered.
I hadn't even noticed the added weight of my soggy clothes until I lifted my boot to kick-out the sheet of shatter-proof glass. Kevin, was of course, right by my side, quickly helpin' me to move it out of the way.
I took quick stock of the passengers. It looked to be a typical family of four: Dad in the driver seat and Mom in the passenger side; the man looked to be totally unconscious, but his wife was on the brink, moaning and muttering incoherently; (I was much more concerned about the kids in the back) the toddler, who's crying had turned to incessant screams was nearly completely upside down, but still locked-in tight to his car-seat; his brother, whom I assumed to be somewhere around 10, was unconscious and hung from his seat-belt – his arms danglin' limply in front of him.
Squeezin' my upper half through the opening, I carefully undid the buckles of the car-seat, trying desperately not to drop the baby on his head in my awkward position.
From the inside of the vehicle, the fumes were worse than ever.
Once I had the tearful toddler in my arms, I pulled him free from the car, handin' him over to Kevin. Like an assembly line, the campers filed behind Kevin; a woman at the end takin' the baby away from the scene and noxious fumes.
Next, the older child. The mother was moanin' somethin' (I think for her babies) and I did my best to soothe her with hushed promises of their rescue.
The boy was too big and the sayin' “dead weight” brought with it a whole new morbid and practical meanin'. It was all I could do to lift the boy's limp frame through the window to Kevin's more able arms. Again, he too was hefted along to the next person in line who took him to safety.
“Jeaux,” Kevin commanded, “Jeaux, that's enough. You're going to get yourself killed! We've done all we can do.”
“No!” I shouted, “You've done all you will do! Not can! I'm not going to save those babies' lives just to rip away their only meanin' at the same time!”
“Jeaux, you haven't done anything but rescue those kids! Don't be stupid!”
But the smell of the gas was growin' stronger. And I could hear no sirens.
I heard the mom moan again then, and jerked away from Kevin once more, back into the wreckage.
She didn't seem to be stuck, but I couldn't get the god-damned seat-belt undone.
“I need your knife Kevin!” I shouted, knowin' he always kept one on him.
“Jeaux!” He yelled back rebukingly.
“Your fucking knife Kevin! Now!”
When I'd finally sawed through the cloth, she was at least lucid enough to obey my commands.
Painstakin'ly, I managed to lean her against me long enough to heave her body into the back-seat where Kevin and the last camper (the man who'd dialed 911) helped to hoist her out of the window.
When they tried to half-walk, half-carry the woman from the wreck, she turned back to see the car and would have fallen to her knees were it not for the man by her side.
I could only assume seein' the twisted heap of metal where her husband was still pinned was what haunted her as she cried out his name.
Impulse? Instinct? At some point, the lines become mottled.
I could hear Kevin cursin' me and shoutin' for me to get out of the “god-damned car.”
Tryin' to find a secure position for my feet, I quickly assessed the situation and soon growled my indignation. There was no fuckin' way I could get him out. The steerin' wheel had him pinned too tight.
Stickin' my head out the window, I glared past the sun into Kevin's very unamused eyes.
Quickly explainin' my dilemma to him, he shouted, “Get out of there now!”
“No! I can't just leave him!”
“Do you want to get yourself blown up? Are you going to let this thing kill you?”
My thing, being my impulse control, just to be clear.
“This thing,” I sneered, “Has done nothing but ruin lives and break hearts Kevin! What is the fucking point if I can't do something right with it? Somethin' good? Don't you get that? My life means nothin'! And his means everything to them!” I yelled back, pointin' at the man's family.
“The seat,” Kevin blurted, “See if the seat will recline.”
If I hadn't been in such an awkward position I would've kicked myself in the ass for not already havin' thought of that one.
But, even with the seat belt detached and the chair reclined, Kevin still had to lean over the edge of the window - trying to avoid the shards of glass - to help me lift the man from the seat. It took Kevin, the other helper guy (who's name I learned was Jeff) pullin' and me pushin' at the man's waist to get him out of the car.
It was one of the few times in my life I've prayed. I prayed for his family. I prayed that I wasn't actively paralyzin' the man by moving him without a brace. And I prayed that we didn't all blow-up.
The fumes had poisoned my head with a poundin' heachache by then, but the pain dulled in comparison to my resolve.
With the man draped between Kevin and Jeff, they managed to lug him away from the car. We had barely gotten 30 yards away before a fire-red convertible came flyin' around the curvy road.
I don't know if it was the heat, or a spark from the gravel being flung behind the speedster's tires, but it was that second that the car chose to blow.
If I had thought my head was pounding before, from then on I would only appreciate that tiny headache as a welcome reprieve to what real pain could mean.
My ears were ringin'. My eyes were waterin'. My head was screamin'.
We were all on the ground coverin' our heads – letting the blast settle before turnin' to see the black smoke and white-hot flames roilin' off the charred finish of what had once been a family automobile.
It wasn't long after that that every ambulance, cop car, and fire truck the city had to offer were swarmin' around us.
As the EMT tried to clean blood (I kept insistin' wasn't mine) from wounds (I insisted I didn't possess) Kevin only continued to shake his head at me.
“You could've gotten yourself killed.”
Lookin' past him to a nearby ambulance where the family was bein' safely loaded, I smiled, “But look at what we saved.”
We followed the family to the hospital and stayed until we heard word that they were all okay. I'll be honest, even given the fact that the car had blown-up, I was still terrified I'd paralyzed the man havin' no idea whether he'd suffered neck or spine trauma. Turned out, everybody except the dad only suffered minor scrapes and bruises; the mom and older boy had concussions, and the dad had broken his clavicle and pelvic bones (no fault of my own).
The mom even asked to see me.
She was still a little loopy and seemed to be sufferin' time lapses given her concussion, but she still managed to thank Kevin and I relentlessly for savin' their lives.
There was a little nugget I wasn't expectin'. Somewhere between her thanks and mindless rants, she said her husband had been distracted when he saw a girl jump from the cliff, and had wrecked over-correctin' himself. “She had all her clothes on,” she kept sayin'.
I don't know if she knew I was that girl. I don't know if the dad had just been surprised seein' me, or thought I was plummetin' to my death. I did know, that I had been responsible.
Sometimes we do things that unexpectedly effect others. We hope it's a good affect, but not always is this the case, I'm quickly learnin'. The only answer I've yet to find, is in how I respond.
When Kevin finally dropped me off at home late that night, I had been surprised to find he was uncommonly quiet. Always fearful of vexin' him, (a fear I needn't worry over, he assured me as usual) I opened the door with a simple “bye” readyin' myself for a few days of the silent treatment.
“Jeaux,” Kevin said softly.
“Yeah?” I stopped, my heart givin' me a small leap.
“You were wrong before, ya know... Your life does mean something. It's everything to me.”
There were no words. At least none I could find anyhow.
Smilin', he added, “Goodnight Jeaux. Sweet dreams.”
I was still standin' on the sidewalk smilin' stupidly when he pulled away from the curb.
“Goodnight Kevin,” I finally whispered, only movin' when I could see his taillights no more.
Lesson learned: our impulses aren't always right, but our instincts are rarely wrong.
10.10.11
Jailbird
It's not an easy thing to find a real friend – one that will accept you for the good and the bad; especially when the bad is unchangeable.
But Kevin, it turned out, was just such a friend.
From the very beginnin' he just accepted me. We made no mistake of makin' promises we couldn't keep. Sometimes, we would find ourselves enmeshed in each others' arms, while other times he watched laughin' as I caught someone else off-guard.
I wanted to feel guilty, but he assured me, there wasn't call for it.
“Don't worry,” he'd say, “I've got your back.”
We quickly mastered ridin' the cusp of friends over lovers. But (well, I'll admit I use the term “mastered” loosely) sometimes we fell off the precipice, tryin' the next day to tow the line again.
Obviously, we had to rely on his ability to rationalize over mine, which he laughed, “was quite unfair,” him bein' “the guy and all.”
I was lucky to have found him.
We were like kindred spirits – all knowin' and all acceptin' of one another. It's amazing how quickly you can get to know a person when there is no time lost in explanation.
We were attached at the hip from the very start. And my parents were only too glad that I had me “such a responsible look-out” most times. They were “exhausted.”
And I was too really. (Happy, I mean.) Kevin had a charm about him that helped me get out of a few, um, situations.
Let's say, last night, for example...
I suppose you've heard of the new fad “planking.”
Let me tell you ahead of time what is NOT a good combination for a girl with no impulse control: a case of beer, a beach, and a game of truth or dare with a “plankin'” anchor rule.
Kevin tried to do his best to keep his buddies from takin' advantage of my “condition.” Naturally, the boys wanted to tempt me with sexually charged dares, while the girls were more interested in my embarrassment.
But, when dared to complete a plank on a raised set of boogie-boards, naked, over the incoming tide...I don't know. I guess the idea of feelin' the waves crash against my nude body in the moonlight struck a chord.
It was goin' pretty well at first. I'd managed to appease the guys and stifle the girls – seein' as how I was more adept at the balancin' act than they'd expected me to be. But when a larger than usual wave crashed onto my butt and made the crutch beneath me shift, I fell into the water.
It probably would have been okay were it not for the friggin' Cleaver family walkin' our way. (Seriously, who takes a walk with their kids on the beach at that time of night anyways?)
Lord forgive the dad, for I didn't do him any favors. Risin' from the water at just that moment, my nipples hard enough to cut glass from the cold water and constant winds, I was only highlighted further by the direct line of moonlight cascadin' over me.
His wife did her best to duck the children behind her, coverin' their eyes with a shriek and cryin' “Dear Lord John! Would you quite starin' already! My God help me with the children! What's wrong with you?” She screeched slappin' his arm.
Before I knew it, the police arrived and were questionin' my drunk ass about “a concerned report of public nudity or possible satanic rituals.” Only in Texas, I couldn't help but think.
Luckily for me, Kevin had gone to high-school with one of the officers (the satanic ritual concern bein' quickly eliminated) and did his best to talk me out of trouble for the public nudity charge.
“It was our fault really. We shouldn't have let her go through with the dare. You know how it is...New girl and all. I'll get her home, there's really no need to report this is there?”
Sittin' in the back seat of the patrol car, I listened as Kevin convinced the cops not to cite me. “How about a beer Mitch?” he asked. “Your shift is about up isn't it?”
I was swingin' my legs out the open door, lettin' the sand run through my toes when I heard the scratch and crackle precedin' the woman officer's voice from the radio in front.
I think it was around the moment I heard her say “All units, please respond,” that I started to picture myself all dressed in blue; ready to protect and serve; behind the wheel of the patrol car; sirens screamin'; tearin' through the streets in a high-speed chase.
The cops had removed their hats, had beers in hand, and were no longer even lookin' my direction.
I slipped off the back seat and tip-toed around the door. Openin' the front, I slid behind the wheel without bein' noticed. That was until, of course, they heard the click of the door shut, just as I turned the key to the ignition.
As the car roared to life, I revved the engine and squealed with giggles. It was like my foot had a mind of its own as I slammed on the gas, spittin' sand behind the tires. One of the cops tried to leap into the back seat where the door still hung open, but as the wheels caught traction, I sped off, leavin' him coughin' in my dust.
I think I heard Kevin shout my name, but my conscious has started to take up a tone similar to his own, and it could have very well been in my head. Either way, it wasn't enough to stop me.
Needless to say, I didn't make it very far. It's a small town with one strip, and a lot of cops. It wasn't long before I had a slew of blue, white and red lights in my rear-view mirror. That, was enough to stop me. An urge too cliché to pass up was one thing, but I'm not stupid. I know when to call it quits...usually.
As I sat in the cell at the local jailhouse, I had one of those moments, that for most people would have brought clarity followed by change.
Kevin had put himself on the line for me, and I'd done him no favors in return. It would only be a matter of time before he would want nothin' to do with me. Hell, I'd given him no reason to stick around, and I was sure I was more trouble than I was worth.
Within minutes, I was in tears; resigned to the fact that he was probably already cuttin' his losses.
I heard the clang of keys then, and a curt, “Made bail,” from the officer.
Ready to throw myself at the mercy of my parents' feet, I jumped up.
But, when those always amused eyes and a matchin' smile turned the corner, I nearly chocked on another round of sobs.
Laughin', Kevin put his arm around my shoulders leadin' the way.
“I've got your back.”
But Kevin, it turned out, was just such a friend.
From the very beginnin' he just accepted me. We made no mistake of makin' promises we couldn't keep. Sometimes, we would find ourselves enmeshed in each others' arms, while other times he watched laughin' as I caught someone else off-guard.
I wanted to feel guilty, but he assured me, there wasn't call for it.
“Don't worry,” he'd say, “I've got your back.”
We quickly mastered ridin' the cusp of friends over lovers. But (well, I'll admit I use the term “mastered” loosely) sometimes we fell off the precipice, tryin' the next day to tow the line again.
Obviously, we had to rely on his ability to rationalize over mine, which he laughed, “was quite unfair,” him bein' “the guy and all.”
I was lucky to have found him.
We were like kindred spirits – all knowin' and all acceptin' of one another. It's amazing how quickly you can get to know a person when there is no time lost in explanation.
We were attached at the hip from the very start. And my parents were only too glad that I had me “such a responsible look-out” most times. They were “exhausted.”
And I was too really. (Happy, I mean.) Kevin had a charm about him that helped me get out of a few, um, situations.
Let's say, last night, for example...
I suppose you've heard of the new fad “planking.”
Let me tell you ahead of time what is NOT a good combination for a girl with no impulse control: a case of beer, a beach, and a game of truth or dare with a “plankin'” anchor rule.
Kevin tried to do his best to keep his buddies from takin' advantage of my “condition.” Naturally, the boys wanted to tempt me with sexually charged dares, while the girls were more interested in my embarrassment.
But, when dared to complete a plank on a raised set of boogie-boards, naked, over the incoming tide...I don't know. I guess the idea of feelin' the waves crash against my nude body in the moonlight struck a chord.
It was goin' pretty well at first. I'd managed to appease the guys and stifle the girls – seein' as how I was more adept at the balancin' act than they'd expected me to be. But when a larger than usual wave crashed onto my butt and made the crutch beneath me shift, I fell into the water.
It probably would have been okay were it not for the friggin' Cleaver family walkin' our way. (Seriously, who takes a walk with their kids on the beach at that time of night anyways?)
Lord forgive the dad, for I didn't do him any favors. Risin' from the water at just that moment, my nipples hard enough to cut glass from the cold water and constant winds, I was only highlighted further by the direct line of moonlight cascadin' over me.
His wife did her best to duck the children behind her, coverin' their eyes with a shriek and cryin' “Dear Lord John! Would you quite starin' already! My God help me with the children! What's wrong with you?” She screeched slappin' his arm.
Before I knew it, the police arrived and were questionin' my drunk ass about “a concerned report of public nudity or possible satanic rituals.” Only in Texas, I couldn't help but think.
Luckily for me, Kevin had gone to high-school with one of the officers (the satanic ritual concern bein' quickly eliminated) and did his best to talk me out of trouble for the public nudity charge.
“It was our fault really. We shouldn't have let her go through with the dare. You know how it is...New girl and all. I'll get her home, there's really no need to report this is there?”
Sittin' in the back seat of the patrol car, I listened as Kevin convinced the cops not to cite me. “How about a beer Mitch?” he asked. “Your shift is about up isn't it?”
I was swingin' my legs out the open door, lettin' the sand run through my toes when I heard the scratch and crackle precedin' the woman officer's voice from the radio in front.
I think it was around the moment I heard her say “All units, please respond,” that I started to picture myself all dressed in blue; ready to protect and serve; behind the wheel of the patrol car; sirens screamin'; tearin' through the streets in a high-speed chase.
The cops had removed their hats, had beers in hand, and were no longer even lookin' my direction.
I slipped off the back seat and tip-toed around the door. Openin' the front, I slid behind the wheel without bein' noticed. That was until, of course, they heard the click of the door shut, just as I turned the key to the ignition.
As the car roared to life, I revved the engine and squealed with giggles. It was like my foot had a mind of its own as I slammed on the gas, spittin' sand behind the tires. One of the cops tried to leap into the back seat where the door still hung open, but as the wheels caught traction, I sped off, leavin' him coughin' in my dust.
I think I heard Kevin shout my name, but my conscious has started to take up a tone similar to his own, and it could have very well been in my head. Either way, it wasn't enough to stop me.
Needless to say, I didn't make it very far. It's a small town with one strip, and a lot of cops. It wasn't long before I had a slew of blue, white and red lights in my rear-view mirror. That, was enough to stop me. An urge too cliché to pass up was one thing, but I'm not stupid. I know when to call it quits...usually.
As I sat in the cell at the local jailhouse, I had one of those moments, that for most people would have brought clarity followed by change.
Kevin had put himself on the line for me, and I'd done him no favors in return. It would only be a matter of time before he would want nothin' to do with me. Hell, I'd given him no reason to stick around, and I was sure I was more trouble than I was worth.
Within minutes, I was in tears; resigned to the fact that he was probably already cuttin' his losses.
I heard the clang of keys then, and a curt, “Made bail,” from the officer.
Ready to throw myself at the mercy of my parents' feet, I jumped up.
But, when those always amused eyes and a matchin' smile turned the corner, I nearly chocked on another round of sobs.
Laughin', Kevin put his arm around my shoulders leadin' the way.
“I've got your back.”
3.10.11
Making Friends
Given the many burnt bridges left like char in my dust, my parents decided to move us to a small beach-front town in Texas. They figured, the less the city had to offer me, the less trouble I could get into. Let me ask, have you ever lived in a small town? Sometimes, Momma ain't always right.
Even though my family had been “relocated” for several months, I had not quite gotten used to wakin' up to the sound of the waves, rather than the ruckus of sirens and traffic and the noisy neighbors of a bustlin' city. But when I woke up this mornin' it was not just the waves that startled me.
I had no idea where I was.
I was in a bed that could only be meant for a child, and yet my clothes were thrown about the floor with a mess of sweats and t-shirts that thank-God only a grown man could wear.
I heard the shower runnin' in the attached bathroom and tried to take a quick second to gather my thoughts. What in the hell happened last night?
Okay – I had been havin' dinner with my parents.
After embarrassin' 'em thoroughly by lickin' my plate clean of all traces of the Etoufee sauce (that, come on, was the best I'd tasted since back home), I had removed myself from the contemptuous stares and followed my impulses to the beach.
I could remember the clashin' of the waves around my calves as I dug my toes into the sand, lettin' the tide bury my feet up to my ankles.
As bad timin' would have it, I had noticed a very attractive Bohemian-type guy headin' my way, just as I also spied a jelly-fish bouncin' along much too near my sunken feet.
Hearin' me yelp as I tried to pull myself backwards (nearly falling), he came joggin' over and pulled me free from the sand just as the next wave came crashin' in; bringin' the jelly-fish ashore.
At that point, I was only eternally grateful of his rescue. But then, I turned to thank him. Greeted by perpetually green eyes, shaded by a thick veil of lashes and a mess of curly ash-blonde hair, I was only too glad to have a handy medical condition excusin' me from the kiss I planted firmly on his lips.
I could feel his body tense against mine – probably in surprise as was most people's response.
But then, his lips parted, and – ohhh – they were soft.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tryin' not to sound too much like a bull-frog as I searched for my voice.
Chucklin', he replied, “No – thank you.”
A sly smile only enhanced his face as he added, “I'm Kevin.”
“Jeaux,” I answered, still swoonin' a little.
“I think we live on the same street. My parents joined your's back at the restaurant,” he explained, motionin' behind him. “Your parents were right.” He smiled again – the very smile I would grow to love.
“Right about what?” I asked, immediately concerned. Sometimes they made me out to sound like some schizophrenic lunatic, I swear.
“To expect the unexpected.” His perfect green eyes felt like they were boring holes right into my spine. Still, he smiled. He was amused. That, I could work with.
From there, he took me to a little locals' bar. We walked along the moonlit beach enjoying very mild small-talk.
Already aware of my little impulse problem – it seemed – he didn't say not one discouragin' word when I got the urge to run. Fast. I wanted to feel the oxygen pumpin' in my lungs, and the heat of exertion coursin' through my veins. I wanted to feel my hair flyin' behind me and taste the tinge of salt from the ocean breeze. I wanted to feel the sand in my toes; the fling of water at my back.
And I was runnin'! Forrest Gump ain't got nothin' on me.
At first, my smile was so wide I did in fact taste the salt in the air. I could hear my gleeful laughter dance behind me in the wind. I was alive!
After a righteous stitch formed in my side, however, I was forced to an abrupt stop, bendin' over and wheezin'. So sue me – it's been awhile.
I was still tryin' to catch my breath, leanin' against my knees, when Kevin jogged by, stoppin' to a walk as he sauntered past me. “You gotta stand up if you're ever gonna catch your breath.”
I stood up, feelin' slightly embarrassed, and raised my arms up over my head. “Sorry,” I panted.
“Feel better?”
I couldn't stop my shy grin. “A little, yes. More so...once this stitch gets outta my side," I said wincing through my perma-grin.
The bar, Elmos, brought with it the fond memories of home. It looked just like Shenanigans, right down to the weathered wood-slat walls. “People are going to think I brought you in here already three sheets to the wind,” he teased, openin' the door for me.
“Probably why I like bars so much...Nobody thinks I'm weird, just drunk,” I smiled.
I remembered makin' our way to a table and orderin' drinks. And though it wasn't a karaoke night, it didn't make any difference to me when my new favorite song, “Rollin' In the Deep,” hit the jukebox.
I felt that beat. Then that urge. As unconsciously as an average person's foot begins to tap to the rhythm, I'll just start to sing.
I'll just say it too. I can sing. My daddy comes from a long line of musicians, so I think I was born with an ear for it. And singin' the gospel at churches back home with my momma sure didn't hurt.
Kevin's look of approval only made me want to find a microphone...or a stage even. You see this is the part about my condition I like. I was so terrified with stage fright that I couldn't even join the actual choir in our church before. Now...all I wanted to do was feel the lights of the stage.
I'd finished the song with a raucous round of applause and returned to find Kevin. I was feeling quite pleased with my performance, confident, and I had a nice warm buzz to top it all off.
Back at our table, I found Kevin talkin' to a girl – Rachel, I thought, whom I had seen around town a time or two. I could see her flirtatious smile and inconspicuous attempts to brush his arm or chest with her hand.
I had no claims on Kevin – hell, I didn't even know him – but when I approached the table, she'd looked at me like I was a total freak. Jealous! I thought. Doesn't know how to have fun! I thought. And then, came that competitive urge a handsome man is apt to bring out in a woman.
“Ya know, it's not karaoke night,” she said scornfully, as though she'd just been forced to sit through a God-awful performance.
“And you know,” I retorted, “This...” I said gesturin' between her, Kevin, and myself, “is no contest.”
With that, I leaned in and planted another long kiss on Kevin's lips. He was the first to pull away, lookin' sheepishly past me to the bruised Rachel.
“Ready to go?” I purred against his cheek. “Your place.”
I must have been pretty drunk by then in all actuality, because I hardly remember the cab-ride home. Mostly a lot of carnal PG-13 pawin' behind the cabbie's glass.
Shaking the reverie, and looking from the bathroom door to the walls and décor, I suddenly had one of those oh shit! moments. This was so not an apartment! We must be in his parents' house! Oh my God, did they hear us? Did they know I was here? Please God, just let him have rich roommates, I thought, as the night's romp came floodin' in on me.
I saw the lamp on the floor, where the table beneath it had been knocked down in our haste to find the bed – which, I noticed, we'd made a complete disaster of. Even the bottom sheet was pulled free from the corners.
I could remember his hands - so soft...and knowledgeable. I may as well have had a bulls-eye on every single one of my erogenous zones.
Sex, I had found, had become much more lively with the demise of my inhibitions.
Oh God! My thoughts yelled again. They had to have heard my screams!
I didn't know if I was horny or humiliated.
I heard the shower shut-off and watched the door. The steam escaped the small room in a cloud around his still glistenin' figure as he walked through the doorway. A large smile enhanced his already beautiful face. “Good morning,” he beamed. “Sleep well?” he asked, coming to stand by the bed.
I didn't know it at the time, but humiliation would never be an issue with Kevin. And at that moment, it damn sure wasn't.
Without a word, I slipped my hand underneath his towel and pulled him back onto the bed.
“Oh!” I remembered with a pause, “Are your parents here?”
“Nope,” he grinned, “Just you and me. Let the games begin.”
Even though my family had been “relocated” for several months, I had not quite gotten used to wakin' up to the sound of the waves, rather than the ruckus of sirens and traffic and the noisy neighbors of a bustlin' city. But when I woke up this mornin' it was not just the waves that startled me.
I had no idea where I was.
I was in a bed that could only be meant for a child, and yet my clothes were thrown about the floor with a mess of sweats and t-shirts that thank-God only a grown man could wear.
I heard the shower runnin' in the attached bathroom and tried to take a quick second to gather my thoughts. What in the hell happened last night?
Okay – I had been havin' dinner with my parents.
After embarrassin' 'em thoroughly by lickin' my plate clean of all traces of the Etoufee sauce (that, come on, was the best I'd tasted since back home), I had removed myself from the contemptuous stares and followed my impulses to the beach.
I could remember the clashin' of the waves around my calves as I dug my toes into the sand, lettin' the tide bury my feet up to my ankles.
As bad timin' would have it, I had noticed a very attractive Bohemian-type guy headin' my way, just as I also spied a jelly-fish bouncin' along much too near my sunken feet.
Hearin' me yelp as I tried to pull myself backwards (nearly falling), he came joggin' over and pulled me free from the sand just as the next wave came crashin' in; bringin' the jelly-fish ashore.
At that point, I was only eternally grateful of his rescue. But then, I turned to thank him. Greeted by perpetually green eyes, shaded by a thick veil of lashes and a mess of curly ash-blonde hair, I was only too glad to have a handy medical condition excusin' me from the kiss I planted firmly on his lips.
I could feel his body tense against mine – probably in surprise as was most people's response.
But then, his lips parted, and – ohhh – they were soft.
“Thank you,” I whispered, tryin' not to sound too much like a bull-frog as I searched for my voice.
Chucklin', he replied, “No – thank you.”
A sly smile only enhanced his face as he added, “I'm Kevin.”
“Jeaux,” I answered, still swoonin' a little.
“I think we live on the same street. My parents joined your's back at the restaurant,” he explained, motionin' behind him. “Your parents were right.” He smiled again – the very smile I would grow to love.
“Right about what?” I asked, immediately concerned. Sometimes they made me out to sound like some schizophrenic lunatic, I swear.
“To expect the unexpected.” His perfect green eyes felt like they were boring holes right into my spine. Still, he smiled. He was amused. That, I could work with.
From there, he took me to a little locals' bar. We walked along the moonlit beach enjoying very mild small-talk.
Already aware of my little impulse problem – it seemed – he didn't say not one discouragin' word when I got the urge to run. Fast. I wanted to feel the oxygen pumpin' in my lungs, and the heat of exertion coursin' through my veins. I wanted to feel my hair flyin' behind me and taste the tinge of salt from the ocean breeze. I wanted to feel the sand in my toes; the fling of water at my back.
And I was runnin'! Forrest Gump ain't got nothin' on me.
At first, my smile was so wide I did in fact taste the salt in the air. I could hear my gleeful laughter dance behind me in the wind. I was alive!
After a righteous stitch formed in my side, however, I was forced to an abrupt stop, bendin' over and wheezin'. So sue me – it's been awhile.
I was still tryin' to catch my breath, leanin' against my knees, when Kevin jogged by, stoppin' to a walk as he sauntered past me. “You gotta stand up if you're ever gonna catch your breath.”
I stood up, feelin' slightly embarrassed, and raised my arms up over my head. “Sorry,” I panted.
“Feel better?”
I couldn't stop my shy grin. “A little, yes. More so...once this stitch gets outta my side," I said wincing through my perma-grin.
The bar, Elmos, brought with it the fond memories of home. It looked just like Shenanigans, right down to the weathered wood-slat walls. “People are going to think I brought you in here already three sheets to the wind,” he teased, openin' the door for me.
“Probably why I like bars so much...Nobody thinks I'm weird, just drunk,” I smiled.
I remembered makin' our way to a table and orderin' drinks. And though it wasn't a karaoke night, it didn't make any difference to me when my new favorite song, “Rollin' In the Deep,” hit the jukebox.
I felt that beat. Then that urge. As unconsciously as an average person's foot begins to tap to the rhythm, I'll just start to sing.
I'll just say it too. I can sing. My daddy comes from a long line of musicians, so I think I was born with an ear for it. And singin' the gospel at churches back home with my momma sure didn't hurt.
Kevin's look of approval only made me want to find a microphone...or a stage even. You see this is the part about my condition I like. I was so terrified with stage fright that I couldn't even join the actual choir in our church before. Now...all I wanted to do was feel the lights of the stage.
I'd finished the song with a raucous round of applause and returned to find Kevin. I was feeling quite pleased with my performance, confident, and I had a nice warm buzz to top it all off.
Back at our table, I found Kevin talkin' to a girl – Rachel, I thought, whom I had seen around town a time or two. I could see her flirtatious smile and inconspicuous attempts to brush his arm or chest with her hand.
I had no claims on Kevin – hell, I didn't even know him – but when I approached the table, she'd looked at me like I was a total freak. Jealous! I thought. Doesn't know how to have fun! I thought. And then, came that competitive urge a handsome man is apt to bring out in a woman.
“Ya know, it's not karaoke night,” she said scornfully, as though she'd just been forced to sit through a God-awful performance.
“And you know,” I retorted, “This...” I said gesturin' between her, Kevin, and myself, “is no contest.”
With that, I leaned in and planted another long kiss on Kevin's lips. He was the first to pull away, lookin' sheepishly past me to the bruised Rachel.
“Ready to go?” I purred against his cheek. “Your place.”
I must have been pretty drunk by then in all actuality, because I hardly remember the cab-ride home. Mostly a lot of carnal PG-13 pawin' behind the cabbie's glass.
Shaking the reverie, and looking from the bathroom door to the walls and décor, I suddenly had one of those oh shit! moments. This was so not an apartment! We must be in his parents' house! Oh my God, did they hear us? Did they know I was here? Please God, just let him have rich roommates, I thought, as the night's romp came floodin' in on me.
I saw the lamp on the floor, where the table beneath it had been knocked down in our haste to find the bed – which, I noticed, we'd made a complete disaster of. Even the bottom sheet was pulled free from the corners.
I could remember his hands - so soft...and knowledgeable. I may as well have had a bulls-eye on every single one of my erogenous zones.
Sex, I had found, had become much more lively with the demise of my inhibitions.
Oh God! My thoughts yelled again. They had to have heard my screams!
I didn't know if I was horny or humiliated.
I heard the shower shut-off and watched the door. The steam escaped the small room in a cloud around his still glistenin' figure as he walked through the doorway. A large smile enhanced his already beautiful face. “Good morning,” he beamed. “Sleep well?” he asked, coming to stand by the bed.
I didn't know it at the time, but humiliation would never be an issue with Kevin. And at that moment, it damn sure wasn't.
Without a word, I slipped my hand underneath his towel and pulled him back onto the bed.
“Oh!” I remembered with a pause, “Are your parents here?”
“Nope,” he grinned, “Just you and me. Let the games begin.”
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