15 responses to item 8, in river order. Each header links to the same response in the river.
And then there are people like my mother, who never grew up in that respect....(groan) not that I criticize the woman, and I applaude my step-father for keeping up with her...but there are things I did NOT need to see and/or hear... then again, when I hit fifty...I'd like to be as energetic as they are... ;)
(: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
But sex is easier. And it feels good, and it satisfies all the hormones raging through your body. Sex is something of an illusion really, at least, for me at this point in life. You feel like you're getting attention and affection, without actually having to talk to that person cept for the occasional "Oh yeah!", "Harder!" or "A little to the left!" (: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
I was told I was too bitchy today. So I'm sitting here, trying to figure out just exactly what I said or did that made me "a big bad bitch"....I spoke to loudly, I guess...and I answered when he asked "What's wrong?"..didn't realize that he didn't REALLY want an answer....but then why bother asking the question? I'm a whiner, he tells me on the bus, without looking into my eyes. He can never meet my stare, which annoys me, but I never said so before because I didn't want to seem "bitchy"...thinking of all the times I held my tongue, just so he wouldn't think I was complaining...thinking of how I tried to conform to him...become what he wanted me to become... He's complains that I am not nice enough to him. I took his coke at lunch and wouldn't let him have any..he never said "please"..he just grabbed, as usual, only this time, it was the coke bottle he was after, not my ass.
But I'm not his slave, not his whore now. I won't give him the coke, and scratch him to the point of drawing blood when he tries to take the bottle from me. "Fuck off! It's mine!" We sound like preschoolers in the middle of the cafeteria.
He claims that I am immature....I'm not nice to him....I'm a bitch. Course...I'm 15 and I smile broadly as I think, "I could land his ass in jail if he's not careful."...I'm a bitch
(: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
I refuse to cry. I hold it in as long as I can...I broke down a few days ago, after a call from my dad saying that they were going to put my dog down sometime that week...I wouldn't talk to my father about it and changed the subject...but as soon as I hung the phone up, I started sobbing..and the sobs turned into convulsions and finally, I went into the bathroom and threw up.... Then I cried on Saturday, when they put Rufus down. I got really drunk that night, cause my folks were having a party for my step-syblings and no one noticed. I called my friend Justin and he came over...I collapsed into his arms and cried until i nearly fell asleep. He took care of me, and made sure that I was ok before he left... I don't cry unless it's something really, really important...i can't, I won't. Crying is a weakness, and I don't put up with it at all..
(: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
When I get on the bus, he's in my seat...AGAIN...the seat I ALWAYS sit in, he's decided he likes. Part of me says "he's flirting, flirt back"....the other says..."he's flirting, kick his ass." I toss myself into the seat across the way, grumbling to him that he's taken my seat for the second day in a row. "I know!" he says cheerfully, grinning at me, his large eyes shining.
Freshmen....
I pull out my walk man and start to untangle the headphones. He reaches across the aisle and snatches the machine. "What are you listening too?"
"Alex!!" I whine, reaching for it. "Give it back!"
He grins and sets it back on my seat and sits back...so he wants to play...damn...
It's not that I don't like him, I suppose...he had really long hair at the begining of the year, so April and I always called him Pretty Boy. He's 16, runs track, was on the wrestling team too...he wears shorts in the winter and falls over backwards into the snow on purpose when he gets off of the bus, just to make us all laugh.
"Here, this is what I'm listening to." I toss him the head phones.
"Lemme guess," he says excitedly. "Manson? ICP?" I shake my head. "Both?"
"Nope."
I press play and I can faintly hear the beginings of Nine Inch Nails intro to "Get Down, Make Love"...and original song by the late Freddy Mercury of Queen...but an excellent remake all the same.
Pretty Boy puts his bag on the floor and I slide across the aisle without Mr. Walker seeing it.
"It was so weird seeing you in the hall today without all your hair." he says, as I pull off my hat. He reaches up to touch it, then thinks better and puts his hand back down. He cut his hair off shortly after getting on the westling team..April and I were very annoyed...but I was even more annoyed...I loved his hair that way...
We talk as usual, about anything that comes to mind. He tries to make me laugh and I frown until I can't help it anymore and burst into hysterics, calling him an asshole for making me lose control. He thinks it's great and does it again, just because he can. What a bastard... but I;ve never meant it seriously....
"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep!" I announce suddenly, and lean my head against his shoulder.
"Ok." he says. I was expecting him to shrug me off...
After a few minutes: "You're shoulder isn't very comfortable." I murmur softly. He drops his shoulder down a bit and says "Better?" in a low murmur...what the hell? I nod. He's looking at me funny, so I close my eyes and pretend not to notice.
We pull into the trailer park that's his stop. I sit up and let him out of the seat. He hops out of the bus and then, standing in front of my window, he flops over backwards into the snow, looks up at me and waves....
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
When I walked into the house, he wasn;t there to greet me. I didn't hear the familiar clacking of his nails on the lenolium flooring of the kitchen. So he really was gone. They had put him down last weekend. My dad had called to tell me Saturday morning that they had given him a sedative and that he'd gone peacefully. He was old. His time was near. It was the right thing to do....yeah...
I know. I'd had him since I was seven years old. Rufus, a 45 pound red whippet, almost the color of my hair red. He slept with me everynight and often tried to bulldoze me out of bed when I was younger and smaller. Once he managed to dislodge my head from the pillow and I awoke with my head in the wasterpaper basket beside my bed.
But he wasn't there now. He was dead and gone and there wasn't anything that would bring him back. The other two dogs came close to me and I shyed away from them and went upstairs. He wasn't on the bed, like he should have been...the bed was neat and made and no one had touched since I had last been there.
I went downstairs to fix something to eat. I wouldn't touch either of the other dogs. Didn't acknowledge them. I pulled the quiche out of the fridge, careful to avoid looking at the photo of rufus on the freezer door. I was standing at the microwave, humming to myself and waiting for the quiche to heat up, when I felt a familiar nudging at my foot.
RUFUS!!
But when I look down, it's just Mario. I withdraw with a hiss and start backing into the corner.
"Go lie down Mario." I tell him harshly, but he's not listening, he wants to sniff my feet. I keep backing up until I hit the corner. "Jesus fucking Christ, go away!" I'm starting to shake. I don't want him to touch me. I can't back any farther. I'm trapped. "Go lie down!" I yell. He's nearly touching me. "For christ's sake, go away!!" I shriek at him.
Just then, my step-mother comes in and grabs his collar. "Common Mario." she says light heartedly and leads him out into the living room...
I relax a little, open the micro wave door and start devouring my quiche..
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
Listening to the lament of the Irish people on a television program in the other room, I nearly begin crying, though I won't let myself. I don't need anymore headaches. Not today. The stories of starving, fighting, drinking, singing Irish families..my families. I hear the names of familiar towns that great great grandmother's hailed from...I can see where I get my violent nature from, my wit, my insatiable tendencies to drink, the stubbornness...or bitchiness, as people like to call it...my fondness for dancing... All from these people.
I listen to their history, my history, while typing idlly at a computer screen...over 100 years later, this world is so different, and I am so the same.
(: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
I'm almost sorry...sorry for what I did. It was wrong to bring the fight into public...he tells me he dispises me now. Hates me because I embarassed him. Because no one likes him now, because I told. Cause I said why I was unhappy. Why it hadn't worked...I didn't use his name. I never told anyone who he was. I didn't do anything wrong... But I was baiting him the whole time. Hoping to hit a nerve. To make him angry, to make him hurt like I do.
And how would you react to someone emailing you and telling you, through a machine, that you were a mistake. He loved someone else and that everything that had happened had been a bad call. Funny, he seemed to enjoy himself at the time.
I almost feel like crying, but I won't...I can't. Not for him. I can't feel bad. I had reasons. I was justified. There are a thousand and one terrible things I could do, to ruin his life right now, much worse than having a dew people email him and tell him what an asshole he is...
And he deserves it. So many lies, all of which I swallowed obidiently, so as not to upset him, are being wretched up. So many of the things he did justify everything I did. He dispises me, he was embarassed...
so why do I feel so sad?
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
He says "the eyes are the windows into the soul" That he gets lost in mine they're so deep and for a moment he's someone else Not the slow witted, forgetful jock I fell into amusement with It's times like these that make me forgive him when he forgets to call I "I forgot." he'll shrug and apologize. No excuses He just asks forgiveness without any bullshit
He says "the eyes are windows into the soul" That he gets lost in mine they're so deep Funny how I've never taken time to look into his
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
I saw the scars on her arm. Red splotches concealed under layer upon layer of clothing usually but today she wore a tee shirt. I saw them, sprawling across her skin for an instant before looking away
She wore the usual long sleeved shirt today But I could still see them I had memorized their places
She wears them with shame, unlike the other girls who make it public their abuse "My mother did that to me." one proclaims proudly pointing out a thin white line on her upper arm.
But she hides her skin wearing jeans in the summer, while I walk around shameless in my low cut tank top and shorts.
Does she grow green under her layers when the rest of us show off our bodies or wear our abuse like a crown jewel?
I saw the scars on her arm and burnt them into my mind.
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
"Happy Birthday!" sweet sixteen and never been kissed...
hee hee hee...what a crock. It all started at 7:40 this morning. "Happy Birthday!!"..."thanks..".. back to sleep.
"Where's the birthday girl?" my mother says, coming through the door concealed behind a vase of 16 blood red, long stem roses. All for me. "Happy 16th birthday!" she sets them down by the bed and kisses me. The clock screams at me that it's 9. The smell of fresh roses hits me just before I stumble back into sleep.
The phone keeps ringing. At least once an hour. Can't a girl get a decent 12 hours sleep around here?
"Happy Birthday!!"....
gee tha-...
I get up around 11, take a shower with the music BOOMING. Dry off and put on my "bombshell" dress. Hell yeah, I look good...I also look about 21, and my mother tells me to put a sweater over it before my father gets here. She doesn't want anyone dying on my birthday this year.
Then there's the usual cake, ice cream, prezzies and the lot of "Happy Birthday, sweet heart! My, she looks so grown up now."
Then I say good bye to my daddy and he walks out the door to drive 5 hours back to Milwaukee. At least he came...
Then it's off to the hot tubs with my boyfriend. First time having sex...legally. Coming home and falling asleep in his arms until one. Then he has to go home.
Funny, I was so tired before, and now that he's not here, I can't sleep anymore.
(: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
I think the most endearing trait he has is that he never wants to let go. He's the one who holds on to ME in public and kisses me and wants everyone to know "THIS IS MY GIRLFRIEND!!". He tells me how good looking I am all the time, how he misses me. He acts like a three year old. He curls up between my legs and rests his head on my stomach while I talk on the phone to a long lost friend, occasionally flipping channels, or lifting his head to say something to me that I don't pay any attention to. I stroke his black hair and smile indulgently at him and try to keep him under control in public, as I have often seen mothers do with young children. He makes me feel wanted.
and needed..
just a little. He works in the deli at Hardings, and everytime I come to see him, he smiles his little boy smile, full of slightly crooked teeth, wraps me in a sweaty, bloody hug before returning to wash the dishes and sweeping the floors. They always let him off early when I come around.
Even when we're just walking to his house, or to his friend's house, he keeps his arm around my waist. He insists he owns me, and that I own him right back. Perfectly fair. He likes to be submissive and doesn't mind it when I playfully bite him on the neck. He wears a collar I gave him that says "SLAVE" on it and my ring and boasts to his friends about me.
He makes me feel wanted...he calls ME everynight, instead of me always having to hound him. It's nice for a change...
(: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
he said, today, that he thought he was falling in love with me. I laughed.
From the hurt tone in his voice, I must have laughed too long and too loud. It hurt him a little, that I didn't take him seriously.
He always lavishes compliments on me, even when I try to laugh them off. but today, I think I hurt his pride a bit. When I was finished laughing, he said quietly "I'm serious."..And almost immediately I felt sorry..
it would be nice to believe him....
(: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
He talks too much. About the future...OUR future...together. I cringe each time and tell him to knock it off. He insists he loves me. Thinks about me all the time. That's how he gets to sleep at night. He thinks of me...and NOT in a sexual way he assured me today. He knows it's love because the only time he can stop thinking about me is when he plays pinball..which isn't often and when the quarters run out, his mind wanders back to thoughts of my beauty and the way I smell when I'm lying in his arms.... (: RED :)
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition
The only one. I'm the only one for him. He says it so confidently. I put in his CD, to his favorite song and felt bad. I love you. He says it almost everyday. hints at it, sometimes comes out right and says it directly. I snapped at him and told him to knock it off. He sounded so sad on the other end of the phone.
I wore his shirt today. The track and field one from Parchment. It wasn't the same thing as him, but it was better than nothing. I was warm even though it was cold outside.
He said he didn't want to fight anymore, about whether or not he loves me. He didn't like to fight with me about it. It mad him sad that he said it and all I did was yell at him. He didn't know how I felt. That's when i started crying.
Ozzy is not a good thing to be listening to right now.
Why can't he be like the other ones? Why does he have to insist that he loves me? Why can't he just take advantage of me and leave, like everyone else. It's only been two weeks...it feels like years...or at least more than 14 days.
"..Time after time, line after line you broke my...."
She called today. Mortality had slapped her in the face. Skin cancer. She said it so matter of factly, as if it wasn't the important thing. It's just there. On to the salvation of a community that was nothing without her. I wrote it out and posted it like she said. No one else seemed to notice either. Maybe not a big thing, since it's so easy to remove...but still... I felt as if I was the only one crying....
listen — Red, in the voice cast for this edition