hannahey
It wasn't the smell of the food that made her crazy. It was the steam coming off of it, billowing out from the steaming metal trays from the hills of rice and vegetables. She was starving.
"Adena, whom I have never met, but recognize from the tattoo which you described, is asleep on my bed. Can you tell me, Bailey, why there is an unfamiliar woman asleep in my bed?" Alexis was fuming. Bailey grinned sheepishly.
She was fasting love. Everything about her life to that point had been the frantic accumulation of loves- thing she loved and things/people loving her. It was an absorption, an obsession, and it had to be curtailed. So she was fasting, staying away from it, putting aside to see clearer for a change.
The luggage rattled in the back seat of the Subaru.
"I hate that we're doing this."
Peter was angry in the passenger seat, distraught.
"Flying coach. Are you kidding?"
He shook his head when I put my hand on his shoulder.
Belle sighed. She turned her face to the window and watched the airport get closer.
The road was pitch black. The highbeams picked out the yellow lines and I thought about them as a long reflective snake, leading us out to nowhere. Peter rolled the windows down. He put his sun-browned arm out the window and let his hand ride the airstream. I saw him grin as the rush of wind moved the hairs on his arm.
He was the rocker type, I suppose you would call him. He was tall, and amazingly slender, tattooed from wrist to shoulder and all along his belly where an elegant script announced "Fuck Yeah" to the world. His cocaine habit rivaled Clapton's. He loved to laugh but was maybe the saddest boy I knew.
She was getting mixed signals from the author. He wanted people to understand his plight in the criminal justice system. But he also wanted to articulate the joy he got from being a thief. It was hard to evoke sympathy from the people who were formerly his victims. He managed it though, the jailbird. A Sidewalk with a Crack was winning Sadie over.
The sound startled all of us sitting in the bar. It was like the noise of several bands starting to play at once, all genres and volumes. I don't think anyone realized the dam was broken until the water was sloshing around our feet.
I didn't learn anything. I don't think. Maybe I did, right at the end there. Something about love and real decisions and sacrifice. But if I find myself doing it again, repeating the same cycle, what could I possibly have learned? John learned. Learned to stay the hell away from girls like me. But he was always much more clever than I. Well, sort of. I mean, if he was so clever, he'd have seen me coming.
It was all a game. Well it was mostly a game. You stayed just far enough out of trouble that it was like you were living well, that you were on top. Paul was good at it. He taught sky diving, slept with pretty girls, did just enough of the right drugs and stayed away from the wrong ones. It was fun. That's what he kept telling himself. It was a good time.
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writing since 2012 · 18 entries · 18 days shown up
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