Unconstitutional

What is this? The 1960's? This is so ridiculously unconstitutional! And how the hell does that promote "greater unity within the church body"?! Racist assholes!
http://www.rawstory.com/rs/2011/11/30/kentucky-church-bans-interracial-couples/

Just when my faith in humanity is put to the test, I find another thing that brings it back up. I hope you all hear what age this young gentleman is in the end.

Breaking In is Hard to Do. Or Not.

Dear Person who broke into my apartment and took my brother's things,
One, why the hell are you breaking into my apartment? I have nothing of real value for you to take.
Two, you took the last thing my brother had of my grandfather who died two years ago. This makes you the biggest dick ever.
Three, I wish Donnie had walked out for some coffee when you were taking Chris' wallet and DS, because he would've kicked your ass!
I hate you.
Sincerely,
Sarai

UPDATE
They found Chris' wallet behind apt. #66. The key ring, which belonged to Grandpa, has been torn off of it however. The only other things missing from the wallet are a few receipts and a dollar. It was more than likely a college kid living in this apartment building or the complex at any rate. I want to move.

The King and the Clown

Last night I watched a movie called "The King and the Clown." It stars one of my new favorite Korean actors Lee Jun-Ki (aka: Lee Joon-Ki, Lee Joon-Gi, etc.), as well as Kam Wu-seong (who I think is going to be a new favorite of mine) and Kang Sung Yun from Happy Together!

This movie was incredible. Gorgeously shot, powerfully performed and the emotions behind it felt so intensely real.

My only main problem with this movie was the anachronistic language. The use of words like "fuck", "pussy" and "furry clam" were almost definitely not used in early 1500's Korea. The word "fuck" didn't appear in the United States until shortly after WWII. Aside from the blatant use of anachronistic words I loved this movie.

The relationships are tangled, the loves subdued and the views elegant.

If you love history or historic movies (or movies set in historic time periods) you will love this movie (I hope)!

I think the hardest parts for me to watch were when Gong-gil, Lee Jun-Ki's character, was crying. He is so lost in this movie, his body is being passed around for money and he has only one friend, whom he may or may not be in love with.

A touching and beautiful movie. I thoroughly enjoyed it. If you can, check it out from your library or see if it is on NetFlix. If you love Korean films, love stories and history, you will love this film.

Mephistopheles, or something

Pomegranate introduced this song to me and it makes me giggle. So I thought I'd post it, seeing as how I've not done much else recently... I promise I'm still working on Chapter Seven of "All of Her", but it isn't as easy as one would think. I've got a lot going on in my head.

For your enjoyment, horror or disgust here is Stephen Lynch with "Beelz"

Lady in the Street

Usher kind of night. Don't know why, but I love this song. I like dancing to this song. I wouldn't mind being Usher's "lady in the street, but a freak in the bed."

A Name Change

I'm thinking about changing the names of David and Alice in "All of Her." No particular reason except that I don't feel like their names fit them. I named them, I created them, but I seem to have created them outside the realm of their names.

I always loved the name David. I still do. He was the Man after God's own heart, though he killed a man, he committed adultery and other things. He was a true man. He was a human being. I could believe in David. And as I'm writing this and the character David is a jerk. He is mean and unnecessarily cruel to Abra. He is someone I would never love or respect. He is someone who I detest. The more I create him, I feel he creates himself. And I don't like thinking of the David I have loved, a man after my own heart though he was full of sin and humanity, as this monster that I have created.

And Alice, I have personal reasons as to why I think I should change her name. And as to why, I probably should've never used that name in the first place. There are so many reasons and I think I have been insensitive to someone dear to me with my use of it. Though I love the name Alice. She is not the character I want to have that name.

I am open to suggestions, but I will be changing them. This is something I thought since day one and I wish I had done it sooner, since now it will be a little more confusing. At least you guys get to say you read the rough drafts of the story before it became famous lol. Like it will ever get finished. :sigh:

Happy Thanksgiving to those in the Northern Americas. I will be going to bed here soon as I have to work the dreaded "Black Friday."

love to all, these holidays.
Sarai

All of Her: Chapter Six

I hesitate. I don't want to answer the door, but I don't want Noah to do it either. It isn't fair that I force him to answer my problems when they come knocking. I wish I could I just run to my bedroom. What used to be our room. Used to be our sanctuary from reality.

I can’t believe I’m still dying over all this. Of course, I should be a little easier on myself. After all it was a ten year mistake. I could’ve been doing something else useful during that time. Like not being in love with a jerk that dumped me at the altar. Like being my own independent and beautiful person. I could’ve been doing all that. Maybe married now with a baby on the way, with a man who appreciated me and loved me more than anyone else. Maybe in a different scenario I would end up with someone like Clark Samson, instead of just playing around.

I'm rambling and David is still waiting on the other side of the door.

Before I can say anything, my hesitation gets the better of me and Noah answers the door, allowing me to escape to my room. I'm such an idiot. I bang my head against the door and immediately regret it. Why did I do that? Because that is just as intelligent as forcing my best friend to have to deal with my ex. I'm a coward. Good Job, Abra. You're doing well, aren't you?

I hear the door close and I sneak back out toward the living room, peering around the corner. Noah is holding something in his hands. He seems irked, but no more than he was before. Of course, that was at me, maybe his displeasure has been aimed elsewhere by David's, oh so, inconvenient interruption. Well, inconvenient for Noah.

“What did he want?” I ask. Though, I'm pretty sure I know. Rent is due tomorrow.

“He was dropping off his portion of the rent. He was in a very sour mood.” Which explains why Noah looks annoyed. He hands me the check.

I can't help but smile at it. Like an idiot, I might add. I can't help that it still makes me giggle that he is stuck with me until the end of the lease. Or I find a roommate. Either way he gets to be uncomfortable for a little longer and I get to feel like I'm taking some small portion of vengeance.

“What is going on with you, Abra? What is going on inside your head? You are acting strange.” He pauses and then adds, “Okay, stranger than normal. Seriously, though. What is going on?”

“I’ve decided I no longer care, that's all.” I say, moving toward the kitchen. I realize I can’t continue living here, too many bad and wonderful memories. The lease is up in two months or so. I should start packing now.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Noah grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him. “Tell me, Abe. We’ve been friends for a long time; don’t try to diminish that by pretending that I don’t know that something is wrong.”

“I slept with Clark Samson last night. That is what you want to hear, isn’t it? I slept with him and I enjoyed it. For the first time since David, I really and truly enjoyed myself. I enjoyed it more than I ever did with David. And I’m not going to hold back from experiencing it with other people.”

“Oh babe, you aren’t going to find what you are looking for that way.” He looks disappointed. I hate that look.

“What am I looking for, Noah? What am I looking for that I can’t find in the arms of another man? Or woman, as the case may or may not be.”

“You do know that sex doesn’t equal love, right? That it doesn’t equal fulfillment or anything like that?” He looks at me very seriously. Of course I know these things. But for a few moments it’s easy enough to believe that sex does equal those things. For a few moments the whole world melts away and you can make-believe that you are in love and fulfilled. Well, filled anyway.

“I’m not doing it to get fulfillment, Noah. Nor am I seeking love. Love is a poison and I’ve had enough of it. I’ve just decided to live out some of those break-up songs that I hear on the radio. I’ve just decided to date who I want and then decide when I’m done. I’ve decided to do what I want, because I’ve lost all desire to care.”

“You are going to date people in the hopes that it will end up matching a situation in a break-up song? Doesn’t that seem a little stupid to you?”

“Well, yes. But the idea of not caring any more because of one relationship seems a little stupid too.” I shake myself out of his grip and start marching toward my bedroom.

“No, that is the only part that makes sense!” He says. He follows me to my bedroom. “David is the only man you’ve ever been with. Well, was the only man you had ever been with. It is not that strange that you would be devastated by the break-up. I mean, you almost married him! Of course you are going to be numb and not care. I felt the same way after my break-up with Matthias. Surely you remember how devastated I was. I couldn't eat or sleep. I was a nervous wreck, I was depressed as hell.”

Several snarky and uncharacteristic comments pop into mind. I ignore them and flop down on my bed. It is a failing attempt to cover up the tears that are welling up. I don't want to cry. Not again. Not anymore. I want to be happy and do whatever the hell I want, with who I want. I want to be with Clark until I decide that I need to move on.

"You are just failing to realize that I've lost my mind." I mumble.

"No, I've noticed. I am just trying to reason with the small part of your mind that must still be in there somewhere."

He sighs and sits on the bed next to me. I peek up at him. He is staring off into space. Unexpectedly, he lies down next to me and pulls me into his arms. I don’t know why, but this makes the tears I’ve been fighting come. He holds me, in my bed, until I’m all cried out. We lay like this for awhile. I don’t even know how long. I’ve lost track of time in this insanity. He kisses me on the cheek and wipes away a stray tear or two. A sweet best friend, that I don't deserve.

Sometimes, like right now, I wish he wasn’t gay. I could be in love with Noah. I wonder if we would’ve been happy if things had worked out differently. I suppose, however, there is no use in daydreaming on it. I wouldn’t change him for the world. Just being here with him is good enough.

Nothing has changed, however. I am still going to go through with my plan. I consider this to be the sexual equivalent of cutting myself. I know it is harmful, but I don’t know any other way to express the emotions and non-emotions I feel. I don’t know how else to communicate with that part of me.

Though a part of me doesn't want him to leave, I urge Noah to go home. That I'll be fine. I'm going to take a hot bath and then relax for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe watch a sappy movie. He asks if he should come back after my bath and watch it with me. I tell him not to worry about it. He has work tomorrow like I do.

"Are you sure?" He asks.

"I'm sure. I'll be fine." I force a smile. Right this moment I just want to be alone. Maybe listen to those break-up songs. Take a nice long bubble bath in my big claw foot bath tub. Plan my next move maybe? I kiss Noah’s cheek and close the door behind him.

As the water warms, I get the CD I was listening to when I left my mother’s house on homecoming night. Clark will need a song. Which song shall I re-create? To be honest, I hadn’t actually thought about re-creating the scenarios in break-up songs so much as just having something to kind of relate to. I won’t tell Noah that he actually gave me an idea. A little bit worse of an idea too. I think he already feels guilty enough without me adding to it.

I sink into the hot, soapy, water and turn the music on. The first song is Alanis. Her scathing lyrics fill my bathroom with rage. That song belongs squarely on David's shoulders. No other song fits so perfectly. If only I could stay angry. When I see him all of the old feelings flood up to the surface.

I want as sweet a break-up with Clark as possible. No broken hearts, no tears. Just a soft parting of ways. Just a softly spoken goodbye. Are those kinds of break-ups possible? Is it possible to be friends with former lovers? I've been so naive and sheltered when it comes to relationships. I should've left David years ago.

Thinking of Clark makes me feel all fuzzy and warm inside. I feel a little drunk, except I haven't been drinking. Maybe I should actually try with him. Maybe we could be happy? Or maybe we wouldn't be.

Its moments like this that I wish I was a poet or a writer in general. I'd have so much material to work with. I'd be up to my eyeballs in sappy, heart-ache crap. Enough to write a novel, a book of short stories and a book of poetry. Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but I could write a lot.

I've been so deep in thought my water has gone cold and my CD is skipping. I shiver as I drain the tub and stop the CD. I wrap a big, fluffy, towel around myself and pad my way into the bedroom. Snuggles is sprawled on my bed, napping. I rub his head as I walk to my vanity.

I notice some dark circles under my eyes. I wish I could sleep like I did in Clark's arms every time. I've never felt so secure. Not even with David. Whom I've decided to refer to as jerk-who-shall-go-un-named.

I suppose its time to tally the toll all this has taken. I've lost fifteen pounds from not eating. I've lost the will to look beautiful. I don't sleep. And when I do it is the worst sleep ever. My honey-gold hair looks lackluster and my cocoa colored eyes have lost their shine. I've become a slut. All because of one measly ten year relationship. One stupid jerk-who-shall-go-un-named. What an asshole.

Its only four o'clock and I want to give up for the day. I am just about to go take a nap when my phone rings. The caller ID lists a number I don't recognize. I don't think I'll answer it. I don't know if I want to answer. I debate, internally of course, for a moment.

"Hello?" I say.

"I know the rule is three days," says a sexy voice similar to that of Sam Eliot. "but I couldn't stand to wait. Do you want to go get dinner tonight?"

"Clark? Didn't we just have breakfast?" I giggle.

"I know, I know. But won't you be hungry again in two hours or so?" He sounds so sweet. I really do want to go out with him tonight. If only to feel like I'm not completely alone. Maybe we could have a repeat of last night (without the crying) and I can get some well-deserved rest.

"Sure," I say. "why not? Where do you want to meet?"

We decide on an Albanian restaurant downtown. I say I'll meet him at seven. He lingers on the line for a moment before hanging up. Sounds like he likes me too.

I know what song I want to remember Clark by. After all we've been through, I know we're cool.

It hasn't been very long, but already I'm thinking of breaking up with him. We aren't even officially dating yet and I'm thinking of ending this fledgling relationship. Common sense says to give it a couple months and then bail, but my heart is terrified I'll fall in love with him.

I'll give it a couple months. I can't bail now, that defeats the point of break up songs and random relationships with random people. This isn't what I wanted. This isn't what I want. I'm too deep to get out now, though.

Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Here's to the plunge.

Thanksgiving Wishes

I wish I wouldn't get so frustrated by my writing.

I wish the world was a perfect place.

I wish I was skinny.

Oh, wait. Thanksgiving isn't a wishing holiday? Well, damn.

The Nook

So my mom bought me a Nook Tablet for some strange reason. I don't mind, its just weird. That is what I am posting from now. It is kind of cool though. I can play music and watch videos as well as check out my favorite websites. Now, as soon as I find my wallet I will start downloading free e-books and we'll give it a go.

Quote Me

Donnie: You know what's nice?
Me: What?
Donnie: Lesbians. Lesbians are nice.
Me: Thanks for that.

Me: You're not allowed to die. Because if you do, who will I have sex with?
Pomme: Oh my god!
Donnie: Fawn.
Pomme: AHHH!!!
Donnie: Problem Solved.

Pomme: Ya know I would question Sarai more, but then I look at who she is married to and all my questions disappear.

Derrick J: To paraphrase Scotty, "I'm givin' it all I've got, world, not to punch ye in the face! If ye push my engines any further they'll tell ye to blow me!"

Me: You know it is Halloween when you turn on your car and the radio is playing "Ghostbusters".

Me: Don't be a cunt muffin!!

Donnie: Waffle cones are superior to cake cones. Discuss.

Me: I swear to god, I will flick you in the tit.
Pomme: Umma! Not only is that child abuse, its awkward!
Donnie: That's the point. If its awkward enough they won't report the child abuse to the police.
Pomme: That's fucked up.

Me: My Swedish Meatballs box says to stir the macaroni and cheese. Except, its Swedish Meatballs... Where did the mac and cheese come from?

Me: You know what really makes the "White and Nerdy" music video by Weird Al? Donny Osmond dancing like an idiot in the background. That part just never gets old.

Me: Of all the gin joints in all the world, she had to karaoke in mine.

Joe T: Oh, c'mon! You can't fool me! You gay park your car all of the time! (Are your pants on fire, yet?) :-)
Jaime N: Did u at least lezbo park it? lol

Pomme: So Sarai and Donnie had their troll flakes this morning!! DID YOU?

Donnie: My name is Pajamy and I LOVE nightwear!
Adam C.: Pajamy, meet Teddy :-)

Uncle Jerry: Hay, you forgot to tell me it was your birthday. Great Uncles don't know about these things 'caus we don't have birthdays anymore. HAVE A HAPPY ONE!!!!!!

Kid: HAPPY BIRTHDAY YOU CRAZY ASS LEPRECHAUN.

Me: Also, Donnie needs to stop breathing leaves... just sayin'.

Mom: They are liquidating their cattle.
Me: Ew! No one wants liquid cattle!

Thanksgiving will never be the same again.

Facebook is a strange place. However there is a fun thing that I just decided to do at random and the resulting conversation occurred.

It's THANKSGIVING time!!! How Dysfunctional is YOUR Dinner???
Go to your profile and put in the first 10 people on the left...NO CHEATING!!! (I cheated :P I knew who it was going to be when I went looking for it!)

Forgot the Turkey: Brooke T.
Burns the Dressing: Jennifer H.
Drops the Potato Salad: Megan M.
Eats all the Pecan Pie before Anybody Else gets Any: Melissa H.
Spills Red Wine All Over Your White Tablecloth: Cassie C.
Brings a "Surprise Guest" Nobody was Expecting: Kyle M.
Gets Mad & Leaves in the Middle of Dinner: Fawny
Starts Crying Over Something Silly: Samantha B.
Forgets to Show Up at All: Saira J.

Comments:

Fawn: YEAH! FUCK THANKSGIVING! ROFLMMFAO!

Pom Pomme Pomegranate: To be fair I think any thanksgiving is going to be strange with Sarai and Fawn! LOL

Brooke T: I don't think I'd forget the turkey, I think I would just bring a ham instead... lol

Fawn: Bringing pork products to the table is what makes me get angry and leave! ;)

Pomme: lol

Me: There we are. We've figured out a coherent story for this.

Pomme: ‎:P umm I am posting what you all just said on my status.

Me: Nice, Pomme, nice~

Brooke: now we just need to figure out how to bring unicorns into this and it'll be the perfect dysfunctional thanksgiving

Me: Agreed. Um, Joe N. is the surprise guest, even though Kyle M. has no clue who he is and by his awesomeness Joe has unicorns. Problem solved.

Fawn: No... Japanese boys pretending to be girls, pretending to be boys, pretending to be girls, riding those unicorns, and it would be a PERFECT Thanksgiving, I'd be thankful for that... 1 wish, and Aoi in front of me, what's more perfect than that?

Me: Oh my.... That's why you get mad too. Unicorns no longer grant wishes...

Pomme: O_O now I am scared...

Fawn: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Aw well, fuck the wish, and fuck Aoi... right on the Thanksgiving table... <.< ... >.>

Pomme: there there Fawny~ (before she realizes what Fawn just said...) OMO~ I DIDN'T NEED TO SEE THAT!

Me: Oh my... I think Thanksgiving is canceled.

Fawn: ROFLMMFAO!!!!!

Pomme: Well we are having thanksgiving we are just not letting Aoi come~~

Me: THAT WAS AWFUL WORDING ON YOUR PART!!! (BTW, Brooke, I'm sorry lol)

Pomme: OMG~ SERIOUSLY I DIDN'T MEAN IT THAT WAY! *dies*

Fawn: ROFLMMFAO!!!! OH MY GOD I'M DYING OF LAUGHTER, AND MY GAMING PARTY IS WONDERING WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME!!!!

Me: Her and her transvestite barbarian.

Brooke: the whole time I read this conversation, I thought: HAPPY THANKSGIVING! XD

Fawn: DAMN STRAIGHT! My transvestite barbarian is sexy.

Me: Thanksgiving will never be the same again.

Pomme: OMO~ *Dies* Yes to some it is a very happy thanksgiving~ LOL NEVER~~ I don't even know how I am going to eat with my family now. lol

Fawn: Err... guys... Aoi and I kind of ruined the food... anyone in the mood for takeout?

Me: Why, Fawn, why?!

Pomme: O_O ya know... I think I am no longer hungry..... *Cries self to sleep*

Fawn: *dies of laughter* Oh that was fun. Until next year.

Pomme: LOL OH thanksgiving will never be forgotten. LOL My moms are some crazy people~

Brooke: good God PLEASE don't ruin my Christmas

Pomme: LOL!!!!! I am with Brooke!

Fawn: Oh an encore at Christmas sounds devine...

Pomme: PRAY FOR SNOW!!!! SO THEY CAN BE SNOWED IN!!!!

Brooke: but not with us... lol

Fawn: Snow makes for a chilly Christmas orgy...

Pomme: LOL THAT IS TRUE!!! NEVERMIND NO SNOW!! I don't want them snowed in with us! LOL

Fawn: Saga will see it, he will tell Ruki, and Ruki will tell Aoi... and I will get emails rofl!!!

Brooke: never again will I be able to have an innocent Christmas dinner at my grandmother's

Fawn: Grandma is not invited to my orgy damn it... that would just be weird...

Pomme: I don't want to be there either you guys are my mothers!!!! *cries* AND OMO I wish I would have known he would see this!!! No one involve the damn Tiger! OKAY!

Brooke: Hmm....I'm afraid if I go to sleep now then I'll have some jacked-up nightmares

Pomme: Brooke I am scared too~

Fawn: Honey if Saga sees it, Tora will hear about it lol.

Pomme: Great if they ever meet us they are going to think we are all fucked up~ Thanks Fawn!

Fawn: You're welcome. ^______^V

Pomme: YOu love us so much~~ I can tell

Fawn: I do, hence I invited you to the orgy, what kind of parent would I be if I hadn't? :D

Pomme: ‎*head on desk*

An Angel on the Moon

Its 1:50 am. I'm sitting up, crying. And maybe that isn't such a bad thing, because I've been holding it for so long. I am trying to do it quietly, I don't want to wake Donnie up.

I keep listening to "Angels On the Moon" by Thriving Ivory, hoping it will make me feel better. I can't stop listening to it. I can't stop thinking about everything I'm doing wrong and feeling like if I don't run now I'm never going to escape. And maybe I'm just running away from my problems. Maybe I'm fucking everything up.

I want to drive, but I have no where to go. I have no money, even if I found a place to go. And I couldn't get Donnie to wake up to go with me. I wouldn't try.

I feel like I'm drowning. I feel like I'm the Titanic and I'm dragging everyone near me down. I'm ruining my own life. Even while I try to save it.

Maybe I just need to give up now. If I have no expectations for the future I won't be disappointed when I fail. It won't even be an actual failure. It will be more like an ending to one of many beginnings. And that's really all we are. Beginnings and ends.

"Don't tell me if I'm dying. 'Cause I don't want to know. If I can't see the sun, maybe I should go. Don't wake me, 'cause I'm dreaming of Angels on the moon. Where everyone you know never leaves too soon."

Heavy In Your Arms

I love this song, after just hearing it for the first time. It should come as no surprise, but Florence is amazing. I love almost all of her music. It always has such dark undertones and such beautiful sentiments.

I was such a heavy heart to carry, my beloved was weighed down.

Heavy in Your Arms - Florence and the Machine

Go Softly

At about 20 'til 8 this morning my grandmother, Robertia, passed away. Sleep Well, Grandma Bobbi, sleep well.

The Woods Are Lovely, Dark and Deep.

Today's song plays at work all the time, but for some reason I still love it. I was first drawn to it by the line "We're too far out, we're in too deep. And we've got miles to go before we can sleep." Which reminds me of a poem by Robert Frost that I had to memorize for school, when I was 14 (ah, so many years gone by since then).

Robert Frost is my all time favorite poet. Bar none, truthfully. Though Poe and Shakespeare come in a close tie for second. He wrote my soul without even knowing me. Which is cliched, but I don't care. It is so completely and utterly true.

This is one of those bits of trivia I love at work, but I can't say to a customer. I also love it when a dollar amount comes up as a palindrome. Which nobody but me gets enjoyment out of. I do so love a good palindrome. Even if it is just numbers. Not that anyone cares, but me.

I tried to tell a customer once how a line from this song was from a Robert Frost poem. She ignored me until I asked for her type of payment. That made me sad.

My favorite part of the song however (aside from the beginning line) is towards the end. It speaks to me, it really does. I don't know why, but it does. Such a beautiful song.

"See I have to believe that there's more than this seems.
More than a soul in a boat in a sea of sinking dreams.
And I have to be sure that there's gonna be a cure
'cause, somewhere down the line, I lost that part of me that's pure."

For your pleasure, "Where We Belong" by Thriving Ivory (who has the coolest band name, I think).

All of Her: Chapter Five

I order an appletini. The girliest drink to ever grace a menu, as Noah would say. I suddenly wish he was here to tell me I’m an idiot for even thinking of going on with this venture. My pride won’t let me text him.

“What do you do for a living?” asks Mr. Samson, who insists that I call him Clark.

“I work as an intern for an accounting firm. To pay the bills, however, I work at a local rare and used book shop.”

“What made you choose accounting?” He takes a sip of his whisky and soda.

“I love math and I’m good with numbers. But enough about me. Do you do anything besides teaching?”

“Flirt with women too young for me and drink whisky and soda.” He gives a saucy wink and raises his glass in a mock toast. “In truth, I don’t do anything too exciting. I have a motorcycle that I take cross country once a year. I teach some boxing at the local gym.”

He shrugs, as if that should be enough. I have nothing to really say. I have no idea what I’m doing here. This isn’t exactly how I pictured this going. I’ve never dated anyone other than David. I’ve never even thought about it. David was all I needed. My be all, end all. And now all has ended.

I decide that I will just have to drink a little more. Drink enough that he gives me a ride home, or we grab a taxi. Drink enough that I loosen up a little. I am clearly not thinking this one through. I am so nervous. I have no idea what to do. The silence is stretching out in taffy long pulls of discomfort before me. This was a bad idea.

Just as I am about to excuse myself for the evening, just as I am about to give up on this foolishness for good, just as I am about to apologize for wasting his time, he kisses me. I close my eyes, in Hollywood fashion, and kiss him back. Very quickly, I lose track of time. My world narrows to his lips on mine, the slight scruff on his face scratching my chin. I don’t know how long we are there making out. All I hear is the last call for the bar and we come up for air. We aren’t up for long before we drop back under.

I don’t even finish my second drink. The next few moments are a blur. He pulls me up and out of the booth we are in. He takes me to his car, a snow white Maserati. It is the classiest car I’ve ever been in. He doesn’t ask where I want to go. He just drives to his apartment, which is on the south side of town. I am not even paying attention, I’m buzzing from the drinks and the sexual tension. I’m a pent up bottle about to explode. I have no idea what will happen once we reach our destination, but if the making out in the bar was any indicator I know what I should expect.

When we arrive he opens the car door for me. He takes my hand and leads me to his apartment. I’m nervous. I’m shaking. He smiles at me as he opens the apartment door.

His apartment is sparsely furnished and neat. He has a small book case stuffed to the brim with books on various topics, including anatomy and popular French names. There is a tiny kitchen, decorated with a rack of blood red wines and a basket of white glass apples. That’s all I have time to see as he pulls me into his bedroom.

The bed is low to the ground and the plushest thing I’ve ever felt. He pushes me down and kisses me. Every exposed piece of skin I have, he kisses. He kisses the hollow of my throat, while his hands brush my hair away from my face. He kisses the skin below my ears. He nuzzles me and teasingly tugs my earlobe with his teeth. He kisses me and I think this is what heaven must feel like. I’ve never had someone pay this much attention to me. David didn’t even care about these little details. As soon as he comes into my mind I push him out. He has no place in this scenario.

He tries to take off my dress, unsuccessfully. We stand up to remedy this situation. He unzips the back and grazes the exposed skin with his lips. I shiver. While I finish removing my dress he turns the lights down and puts on a CD of classical music. I unbutton his shirt and his pants. His desire to be rid of these items is very apparent at this point. I try to hide a blush. He unhooks my bra with ease, sliding the straps over my shoulders and down. I don’t even notice when it touches the burgundy carpeting.

I am almost nude when he gently pushes me back onto the bed. He is almost naked too, but he doesn’t seem to care. He kisses me some more. I feel like I’m going to explode in a moment. I’ve never felt so alive. I’ve never felt so aroused by someone. Or that someone was so aroused by me.

Before I can think about David and Alice, I am completely and thoroughly distracted. I am wrapped up in new sensations. It hurts a little. Not just physically, though there is a little physical pain as well. I let everything else go for the moment. The world could be going to hell and I don’t care. I am lost in this new world and these new things. I feel as though I am present that has just been opened. I don’t remember how to breathe. Am I breathing?

I crest great heights, spiraling into a fresh world of delights. Each earthquake takes me higher; each note on a cello reverberates until I can barely see. I have never felt this way. I have never tasted something this sweet. With a final gasp for air, I am finished. He follows me quickly and I am drowned in pulsating sensation.

After, as we lie stretched out on his silky sheets, I promise I won’t cry. I promise I won’t allow David and Alice to ruin this for me. I promise I won’t. I can’t help myself. I curl into the curve of his arm and I bawl like a lost child. He kisses my forehead and just holds me. I thank him for that. I kiss him. I apologize for crying. I promise it was wonderful and the tears have nothing to do with the sex. Actually, it has everything to do with it, but not because it was bad. Those terrifyingly real and beautiful sensations are things I never had with David. Things I will never have with David. I also cry because I realize that, whilst this was a wonderful experience that I would never wish to trade for anything else, Clark Samson and I are not going to last. We may be perfect for a few months or even a year. But this relationship has no lasting powers. I sincerely wish it did.

Or maybe I don’t. Maybe I am the problem. I don’t want it to have lasting powers. We haven’t even begun dating and I’m already posed to sabotage everything.

For now I fall asleep in his arms and sleep like I haven’t slept in years. I want to be happy with this for now. If he asks to see me again, I’ll say yes. For the time being.

The next morning, I wake up alone. I wonder if I dreamed last night. When everything comes into focus I realize I didn’t. I am surrounded by fluffy pillows and white silk sheets. The smell of waffles drifts into the room and I am very hungry. Pulling the sheet up around myself, I walk out of the bedroom and into the little living room.

Clark is cooking. He is in a pair of plaid pajama pants that tie at his waist. Not a bad view at all. Another view comes to mind and I blush furiously. I clear my throat, quietly, and he turns. He smiles brightly in response.

“Do you like waffles? I am not the most skilled in the kitchen, but I do make a mean Belgian waffle.”

I nod. I’m in shock. David never made me breakfast. Well, not a breakfast like this. A bowl of Oreo O’s doesn’t count.

“Do you like anything with your waffles? I have butter and syrup. I also have some apple or cherry pie filling that you could use as a topping. Being a bachelor, I don’t have much in the way of breakfast stuff, but you can feel free to take whatever you want. Do you want milk or coffee?”

“I’ll gladly take a glass of milk.” I say. “Just butter for my waffles will be fine. Waffles are delicious enough without anything extra.”

He smiles, again. He piles three thick waffles on a plate, placing a pat of butter on top, and motions for me to sit at a little coffee table. He piles another plate with waffles before he joins me at the little table. He looks at my sheet outfit and gets up again. He disappears into his room for a moment and returns with a large white shirt and a small pair of shorts.

“This might be a little more comfortable than the sheets, love.” He says, as he hands the clothing to me. Even though we had sex last night, I am embarrassed for him to see me naked. Blushing, I get up and change in his room. When I come back, he is patiently waiting for me. There is steam rising from the waffles. I could fall for this man, if only for this moment.

We eat in relative silence. Though we sneak glances at one another through out. It is like we are children. After breakfast, we shower. A repeat of last night’s pleasure occurs immediately after our shower. It’s even better than the previous performance. This time, however, there are no tears. We talk and enjoy a few laughs. It is well past noon when he drives me back to my car at “The Wilford and Brimley.”

“When can I see you again?” he asks. I dig in my little black clutch for my keys. Not quite looking at him, but not completely giving him my attention either.

“Well, I don’t know, Clark.” I look up at him, with a hand above my eyebrows. It is bright outside and I can barely see him with the light behind him. “What works best for you? You have classes to teach. I have numbers to account and books to dust.”

“Any evening is fine.” He says. “You could come over for dinner sometime and we can talk while I grade papers. If you have time between accounting numbers and dusting books.”

“I’d like that.” I say. I am actually quite sincere. I really like him. Not just for the obvious reasons, of course. Though that does help in this situation. However, I’m already counting the minutes until it is over. I give this ‘relationship’ three months. It will be intense, passionate even. We will think we are in love and will be together forever. Eventually, we will grow tired of each other and everything will become a fight. We’ll have hot, angry, sex a couple of times and then call it quits. At least, that is what I see happening.

I re-write my number down for him. I tell him to call me when he can. No rush. He kisses me goodbye and I watch as he drives off. I want him, but I don’t. I will never love another man like I love David. No matter how much I may want to, it will never happen. In the meantime, however, I can have a little fun.

I have six messages on my phone. All of them, but one is from Noah. The one is from my mother. She called to check up on me. To let me know that Sophie is feeling much better today. With a pang of guilt, I remember my poor sister and her being abandoned at the dance last night. I should’ve stayed the night at Mom’s house so that I could help continue to comfort her this morning. Instead I was in the throes of a burgeoning romance. A secret affair, if you will.

Noah’s messages all consist of the same material: “Where the hell are you? And why aren’t you answering either phone? If you don’t call me soon I’m going to think you have killed yourself and I will be forced to resurrect you so that I can kill you again.”

I smile at his messages and wonder what he would think if he found out what I did last night. I blush, remembering it. I will call him back after I change into some yoga pants and a tank top. Today is my last day off. I took a month off for the final wedding preparations and the honeymoon that didn’t happen. What a waste of time and resources. I want to attempt to enjoy myself.

Before I can even dial his number, my phone rings. Noah, again.

“Yes, oh fairest of fair folk?” I say, laughing.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick! I tried to text you, I tried to call you. I thought you had gone a rampage and murdered a town of kindly Buddhists or something!” He is actually mad. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. Why is he so angry?

“I chaperoned Sophie’s dance last night. I told you that I was going to.”

“Yes, but that should’ve ended at what? Ten? Eleven? Where were you after that?”

“Sophie got stood up. I ended up staying at Mom’s with her until two. After that I went for a drink at ‘The Wilford and Brimley’. What does it matter? You are acting like the sky is falling.” I tuck the phone in-between my shoulder and my ear to pour myself a soda.

“I was worried. I hadn’t heard from you in like a week. You haven’t been online, even. I don’t want you to become one of those creepy old lady recluses who never get over the asshole that left them. You know, like that one character in that one Charles Dickens story. Havisham? That sounds right.”

“I seriously doubt I’m going to end up like Miss Havisham. After all, I am not sitting here in my wedding dress with rotting wedding cake, though the cake did rot before I could finish it all. Besides, I’ve been busy.” That last bit sounds a little suspicious. Especially the way I say it.

“What do you mean by busy? You haven’t gone back to work yet have you?”

“No…”

“Then how have you been so busy you couldn’t even text me a line to say you weren’t an old cat lady recluse wasting away in her wedding dress?”

“Well, I met someone.”

There is a significant pause on the other end of the phone. This isn’t good. Noah being quiet is surely one of the seven signs of the apocalypse.

“Who?”

“A teacher at Sophie’s school.”

“Did you meet last night at the dance?”

“Yes.” I say, knowing that is a mistake.

“Did you go for a drink with him after the dance?” He is definitely catching on. He isn’t an idiot, I know this. I really wish I hadn’t brought it up. I’m such an idiot.

“Please tell me you did not go home with someone you just met last night.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” I reply. I know this is stupid and I’m going to get lectured.

“You did! You could’ve been murdered or raped or something equally awful! Why would you do that? You know what, don’t even answer. I’ll be at your place in ten minutes.” With that he hangs up on me.

Well, shit. This is not what I wanted. Over the phone lectures I can handle, because I can tune most of it out. Now he is going to be here and all in my face. Probably yelling at me for being a stupid idiot. Which I was, but that is beside the point. Instead of trying to escape my fate like a sensible person, I set about making some coffee and setting out some snack like food I have in the cupboards. I need to go grocery shopping soon. I’m running out of snack foods.

Noah doesn’t even knock. He bursts in while I am making my mental list of foods I would like to get the next time I go shopping.

“Stop what you are doing and tell me everything that happened last night.” He grabs my hand and drags me over to the couch. He sets me down, firmly, and then sits next to me in an angry/impatient funk.

“I met a guy, he asked me to go out for drinks at ‘The Wilford and Brimley’, I said yes and I did.” I purposefully leave out the awesome sex, the delicious waffles and the second round of awesome sex.

“You aren’t telling the whole truth, Abra Faye.” Well, he just pulled out the big guns. Middle name and everything. I’m really shaking in my boots now. Not.

“You do know that using my middle name isn’t going to bother me right?”

“I know, but it makes me feel better. Now tell me the rest of what happened. What did you drink? Who is this guy? Did you go home with him? Did you two have an ‘intimate’ encounter?”

I just look at him for a moment. I’ve never known Noah to be shy about anything. The fact that he just phrased it as ‘an intimate encounter’ kind of frightens me.

“I had an appletini.” I say, stalling.

“The girliest drink to ever grace a menu.” He says, just like I knew he would.

“His name is Clark Samson. He teaches Latin and Roman history.”

“How old is he, Abe?”

“I don’t know. Late thirties?” I know immediately that was another mistake.

“Late thirties? What are you thinking? He’s more than ten years your senior! You were just learning to ride a bike when he was graduating high school!”

“Look whose talking!” I say in a huffy tone. “You were dating Matthias for three years and he was fifteen years older than you. Why can you do it and I can’t?”

To avoid an argument, he ignores my last comment and goes straight into his next question.

“What did he drink?” Noah is a firm believer in drink analysis. Supposedly whatever he (or she, depending) is drinking tells everything about him (or her).

“Whisky and soda.” I stand up from the couch and go to grab a handful of something. Anything. I’m not actually hungry, but I’m about to spill the beans on my plans and I’m already getting lectured enough.

“Whisky and soda? That’s a hard drink. Which means he’s a hard man, who probably beats women in his spare time. Honey, what were you thinking? Never go for a man drinking whisky!”

I turn to face Noah. I’m a little pissed right now, actually. I would say something except I just shoved a handful of cereal into my mouth. Instead I just give him a malevolent stare and go to get my drink.

“You went home with him right? After those drinks. Or drink. How many did you have? It must have been a lot, since the Abra I know isn’t a fool who sleeps with just anyone with genitalia.”

“I didn’t even finish my second drink.” I say. “I really like him. And I am tired of being alone. He was a pleasant distraction from my woes.”

“Let’s hope he is a pleasant distraction that you can forget about.” He looks pointedly at my stomach, as if just thinking about sex can cause pregnancy.

I roll my eyes and grab another handful of cereal. This is a losing battle. I just have to tell him my plans. He’ll never rest until he finds out anyway. Just as I open my mouth to speak, there is a knock at the door. And if anyone was guessing it was David, you just won the grand prize.

The Grandparent

As I'm sure some of you noticed I posted chapter four of "All of Her." I am slowly working on chapter five... Its a process.

I put in my two weeks at Kohl's (finally!) and my last day is November 20th. I am hoping to hear from Barnes and Noble, as the one in my area is hiring. The hiring manager implied that I'd be getting a call, however that is no guarantee. Its not like I can't find another job right now, as it is holiday season.

In the mean time I will continue working at Sam's Club doing food/product demonstrations. Its a living.

The only other thing that is bothering me right now is My Grandmother.

As many of you remember, a little over two years ago my Grandfather passed away (this was before my car accident). This was incredibly upsetting to me, as I had a rather close relationship with my grandpa (whom I miss greatly).

For several years now my Grandmother (my mom's mom, my grandfather's wife) has been suffering from Alzheimer's disease. Since Grandpa's death she has gone very far down hill. And, it seems, that she will not be among the living much longer. She has been refusing food and drink for several days now. And her desire was to not be kept alive.

On the one hand she has been pretty much dead to me for the past couple of years. Its easier than you think to let go of someone who is almost a total stranger, especially when they can no longer remember who you are. Okay, that isn't entirely true. She thinks I'm my mother. And that my mother is my mother. Which is very confusing for us all.

On the other hand this nearing of the grim reaper just makes me sad that I have never had a good relationship with her. And I wish I had. I wish that she and I had gotten along. But, unfortunately for me, most of my memories of her are abusive comments and abusive actions. I remember a few times where she liked me. But most of the time there were hateful comments about my weight, my choices in relationships (threats of disownment were not uncommon in my family) and my hair (usually that it needed cut, because she hated long hair).

In my own mind, my last grandparent died when Grandpa passed. Unfair to my grandmother, but in my own mind it seemed fair. And now I feel guilty. Maybe if I had tried harder to please her? Maybe if I had done everything she demanded I do and had lost the weight and cut my hair and given up on ever marrying a cute african-american man (which I obviously did, but beside the point) she would've loved me.

My mother says that she did love me. When I was an infant. Before the onset of free will and personality.

To be fair, she likes me well enough now. But that's because she doesn't know who I am. And that isn't a relationship. Its a lie.

I hate visiting her. I can't stand to see her like that. I can't stand to be in the nursing home. I can't stand seeing my, often times, worst enemy in a debilitated state like that. It is so strange to see someone you've been terrified of like that. Its strangely terrifying in its own way. And when I see her, its like I'm in a dream.

Should I have gone to the nursing home this last Sunday? Even though I felt like crap and it was my only day off? Should I have gone? Should I go before she is gone forever? I don't know. I'm confused and I'm torn. Part of me is so numb to the whole thing that I don't care. But there have been so many I didn't get to say goodbye to. Should I let this one go by me, without so much as a pause? Should I say goodbye?

It may be too late now. Will I regret this moment next year? Or the year after that? Will I regret it at the funeral? Am I a terrible grandchild? Am I an awful person for feeling so numb and so disillusioned?

All of Her: Chapter Four

The night of Sophie's homecoming dance arrives. Before her art class, Mom drops her off at my apartment.

I have been flip-flopping on the plan I have made. I try to believe in true love finding me, but I discover I no longer believe in it. He took my belief in beautiful things like that. I am no longer naive. But does that mean I want to go through with my plan?

Its shortly after Sophie arrives that I make a decision. I won't go through with my plan. I won't just date and break up with random people. I am an adult. I will behave like one.

I have resolve. My mother survived, so can I. She didn't resort to sleeping around. Of course, wasn't betrayed by my father, but that is beside the point.

I am okay. Until a knock at the door.

Through the peephole I see that its David. I knew it would be. Sophie asks if she should answer the door. I shush her and have her go to the bedroom to do her make-up.

I open the door, cautiously. He smiles at me. He has such a beautiful smile.

"What do you need David?" I ask.

"Can I come in?" he asks.

Against my better judgment I open the door and step aside. I catch a whiff of his cologne and I begin to melt.

He comes in and sits on the couch. He motions for me to sit with him. I go to sit and he pulls me into his lap. He begins kissing me. An insistent kiss, full of desire. He pulls at my tank top and I don't resist.

I have missed him so much. I want him. My body is reacting, against all sense. God, I am in love with him. I can feel him begin to react. It sends a thrill through me like nothing else. I want him. I want this.

My sister is in my bedroom.

That thought somehow bubbles up through the lust and loneliness I've been feeling ever since he left me. I am such a slut.

I pull away. Some reason coming back to me. Some bitterness as well.

"What's wrong?" He asks. As if he doesn't know.

"You love Alice now, remember? Why are you here? What do you want?"

"I want you." he says.

"Liar. What do you really want?" I demand. I stand up and look down at him, his slowly wilting erection at the bottom edge of my vision. He is starting to look angry. He is acting as if I am slow or something. Like I should know exactly what is going on right now.

"I want to sleep with you. I want you. Isn't that obvious?" He makes a slight gesture down. I don't look.

"I don't want you."

"Now who is the liar?" he says sarcastically. "You miss me. I know you do."

"Of course I do. But you made your choice. You've already hurt me enough. Get out." I go to the door.

"I want the engagement ring back."

I stop. A knife just slit my throat. It just stabbed into my back, through my heart and then slit my throat. A pain I didn't know was possible punches the air out of my chest. I can't breathe. I turn toward him. He has stood up from the couch, no sign of love or lust anymore. He has the audacity to look a little guilty.

"That was your master plan? Seduce me to get the ring back? Am I a whore? You think I'd even want to sleep with you, after everything you've done to me? You think I'll be so grateful for the attention I'll give you back the ring? Are you wanting it so you don't have to buy another for her?" I tug at the simple silver band with one white sapphire surrounded by tiny pink diamonds.

"I just want it back. What does it matter what I do with it?" he shouts.

"Then take it!" I cry, throwing it at him. "Take it and get the fuck out of my house!"

"This isn't what I wanted, Abra." he says, softly. "Let's just talk a moment."

"No," I say, the tears streaming down my cheeks. "you made your choice and we are done talking. Please, leave."

I open the door. Tears still streaming down my face. He shakes his head, picks up the ring and walks out. I slam the door behind him and scream.

Sophie runs out as I collapse in front of the door. Being a perfect little sister, she holds me while I cry. Again. And, just like that, the little piece of my heart that my mother had put back in place splinters.

"We don't have to go, Abe." says Sophie. She holds me and croons, like a mother to her baby.

"That's sweet, So." I say. "But I want to go. I have to get out of this apartment for a little while. Let's finish getting ready."

Though she looks unsure, my sister trusts me. We stand up and head toward the bathroom.

While Sophie finishes her make-up in the bathroom, I slip into a blood red strapless gown. I curl my hair and put on mascara. I have a bit of a natural flush from crying so the only other make-up I use is a dab of lipstick. Sitting at my vanity, I wipe away another tear.

He thought, nay believed, I would sleep with him. Believed I would then turn around and give him my engagement ring. The one we scrimped and saved for. The one he slipped on my finger under the white Christmas lights draped over a gazebo in the park.

And I almost fell for it. I almost believed he still loved me. Foolishly, I mistook lust and greed for love. How could I have loved someone for so long and still know nothing about him? Worst of all, I almost went through with this while my younger sister hid in my room. Waiting for me to take her to her homecoming dance.

I feel so guilty right now. I truly am a brazen hussy. My self-worth just hit an all time low. No one could bring it any lower. I am beating myself like I stole something.

Sophie comes in behind me. She is wearing a glittery blue satin gown. She looks beautiful and perfect. I don't want anyone to hurt her, ever. Not like I've been hurt. Not like I'm hurting now. It hurts to realize I can't protect her from heartbreak anymore than I can give her the moon. I wish I could.

"Are you ready, Abe?" Sophie sweeps a stray curl back into place.

Wiping away one more stray tear, I smile and nod.

Upon our arrival at the high school, Sophie looks around expectantly. I realize she has a date meeting her here. Even though I don’t know what he looks like, I glance around as well. I don’t find her date, but I see someone I’d like to have as mine.

Noticing that I’m staring, Sophie leans in to whisper.

“That’s Mr. Reed. He’s my History teacher. All of the girls in my class think he is dreamy. What do you think, Abe?”

I think he is gorgeous, if a little nerdy looking. He has longer red hair, tied back in a ponytail. He has magnificent green eyes, at least what I can see of them from here. His glasses don’t help me see them either. He is tall. Taller than David. He is thinner than I generally like, but I can deal with that. Its not like this is going to be a long relationship.

“He is okay,” I say. I brush off any further comments by taking Sophie’s hand and leading her into the school gymnasium.

The gym is decorated with ribbons in the school colors, orange and blue. A few strobe lights dance around creating a make-shift disco effect. There is punch and cookies donated by the Mothers Against Drunk Driving (MADD) organization as well as tea sandwiches donated by the Historical Society.

The music isn’t exactly amazing, but they do play some current pop and hip-hop. The kids seem to be enjoying themselves at least. The teachers are scattered around the room, including Mr. Reid who has come in from supervising the entrance.

At first I pretend to sip my punch and watch my sister dancing with her girl-friends. Secretly, I’m watching Mr. Reid. He looks to be about thirty, maybe a little younger than that. That’s when I notice another handsome gentleman, this one probably almost forty. He looks a little like a mixture of Clark Gable and Sam Eliot. Not bad looking at all and not entirely out of my age range. I decide to go and talk to him. I don’t know why.

When I come near, I realize he is talking to another teacher. His voice is gravelly, like Sam Eliot’s. I hear the other teacher call him Mr. Samson. That intrigues me. Samson, huh? Handsome, sexy voice and a strong name. I like this Mr. Samson already.

I politely wait until he and the female teacher, Ms. Emery as he called her, are finished talking and she has walked away. He looks at me and smiles. He has a great smile too.

“I’m Abra,” I say, extending my hand.

“Clark Samson.” He replies. He has a firm handshake and some beautifully rugged hands. I feel heat filling up my cheeks. I feel like I’m on fire. I try to remember that I am a brazen hussy and this is the norm for me. I act cool, removed. At least I try to.

“What subject do you teach, Mr. Samson?” I frantically think of every movie where a girl seduces a man. They always use their eyes. Or their breasts, but that is currently out of the question.

“Latin, as well as the history of the Roman Empire.” What a sexy topic.

“Really? That’s very interesting. I took Latin when I was in school. Admittedly the only thing I can clearly remember is ‘Veni Vidi Vici’.” I laugh inwardly when I see the sparkle in his eyes at my brash attitude. I have come and I have seen, though I have yet to conquer. That may change in a moment, however.

Clearly won over by my insanity, or my low cut strapless dress, Mr. Samson asks if I’d like to go for a drink after the dance. I acquiesce, saying that I would be willing to meet him somewhere if he’d like. We agree to meet at “The Wilford and Brimley” at one o’ clock. I give him my name and number on a paper napkin, give a saucy wink and go back toward my sister.

Sophie seems to have the time of her life. Though, every now and then, I’ll catch her looking around for someone that she never seems to find. She doesn’t dance with any of the boys there. I begin to feel angry for her. What jerk wouldn’t show up to a homecoming dance that he promised to attend with his girlfriend?

Except, this seems oddly familiar. David never showed up to our homecoming dance either. I waited all night for him. And Alice.

Sick to my stomach, I lurch into the bathroom. I spit in the toilet and hold my breath for a moment. This pushes some of the nausea down, but not enough. I try to be quiet as I get sick. Not that anyone can hear me with the music blaring in the gym.

They have been doing this for years. I have been with David since we were twelve. Alice has been my best friend (well, ex-best friend now) since we were ten. Have they been together behind my back for that long? I can’t even begin to comprehend this. Why continue to lead me on, if they were in love with each other? Why even propose? Why go through with the planning when he knew all along that he wasn’t actually in love with me?

I can’t make sense of this. I get sick again trying to. In the mean time, I’m sure my sister is looking for me, as well as this mysterious date. I’m supposed to be chaperoning, making sure nothing goes horrifically wrong. Except everything is going horrifically wrong in my stomach and my heart.

When I gain some composure I go back to the gym. Everyone is starting to wrap things up. Sophie’s friends are asking her to go with them to the bowling alley for a homecoming party. She declines politely. She looks like she might cry.

In the car she tells me that Nathan, a boy she has a crush on, promised to come to homecoming with her. They said they’d meet in front of the school, but he never showed up. She cries, softly, as I take her home. There is nothing I can do to ease the pain. I felt the same way as my mother drove me home from homecoming.

We are quiet on the way to Mom’s house. I have nothing to say to make it better. Kate Bush sings on my radio. We never really stop running up that hill, do we? I look over at my beautiful sister. She is still crying. Her mascara is running down her cheeks in inky trails. I hate myself right now. I hate this Nathan person for causing her to cry like I have for so many days now. I hate the whole world.

When we get to Mom’s house, Sophie gets out of the car and runs straight to her room. I go and sit in the living room. Mom will be home any moment from her art class at the community college. I don’t want to leave Sophie to Mom, but at the same time I remember Mr. Samson and “The Wilford and Brimley”. I look at the clock. It is ten-thirty. It isn’t even close to time.

Feeling extremely guilty for even considering leaving my sister in her time of need, I resign myself to staying here. I go upstairs and knock on Sophie’s door.

“Sophie, honey? Can I come in?”

“Go home, Abe. I don’t want to talk right now.” She sounds like she is sobbing out the words rather than saying them.

“Sweetie, let me in. At least to give you a hug.” What can I do, if she won’t open the door? Downstairs I can hear my mother coming in. Just as I almost give up and go back downstairs, Sophie opens the door. She flies into my arms and cries like the world will end. I stroke her hair and tell her everything will be all right. Everything will be okay. She asks me when and I have no answer to give.

My mother comes upstairs at the sound of crying. She sees me holding my sobbing sister and she doesn’t have to ask. She remembers this scene. As do I. Except it was Anna and I, five years ago. Without a word she goes back downstairs and makes some cups of cocoa and a plate of cookies. I coax Sophie downstairs. Once we are downstairs Mom gives her a hug and they go sit on the couch. I follow, unsure of what to do.

We sit with her for a couple of hours. She cries herself out and eventually just falls asleep in my mother’s lap. Its two AM when my mother sends me home.

“There is nothing else to do for a broken heart,” she says.

I don’t want to go home, though I am sure that Mr. Samson is no longer at “The Wilford and Brimley.” Even though I’m sure he isn’t there any longer I decide to go for a drink anyway. I could use one after everything that has been happening recently.

On the drive I listen to a mixed CD that a friend made me. It is a list of break-up songs. Angry songs, sad songs, wish I could die songs. Her heart was in the right place, but I wish she hadn’t made it. I do enjoy some of them. Some of them fit David and I. And when I hear it I think about everything and I get teary. Like the one playing now. It is by a Korean artist.

“I’m drowning myself in the memories of love…” That sounds about right.

When I arrive at the bar Rihanna is singing about the theatrics of an ex. I don’t hesitate to turn it off. I can’t handle any more sad songs. Right now I couldn’t handle a love song either. I need angry music. Maybe when I get home I’ll listen to Apocalyptica, they are usually what I need for angry cello music.

Without paying attention, still musing on break-up songs and other such topics, I almost walk right by Mr. Samson. I look up and am met with his lavender eyes, sparkling like they were in the gymnasium.

“I am surprised you are still here,” I say, looking down at my watch. It’s a quarter to three. Almost two hours after we were supposed to meet.

“A beautiful lady is worth waiting for.” He says.

Broke In (Again)

Dear Asshole who broke into my van,
I'd really appreciate it if you would've at least closed the door. Now my battery is dead. Thank you. You should've been able to see into the thing, the windows are HUGE. There is nothing to steal, I'm not an idiot who leaves valuables in their car. So, thanks, once again for ruining my day.
Sincerely,
Sarai

All of Her: Chapter Three

It has been two weeks since David fully moved out. I can't stand being alone after having lived with at least one person all of my life. The quiet scares me sometimes. So I bought a Siamese cat and named him Snuggles.

I notified the landlord of David's moving out. He's still bound to the lease until I find a roommate, though. This makes me secretly happy. Even though he is gone, he is still stuck with me through the lease.

Today I am packing up my dirty laundry and loading up my 1989 Geo Spectrum. I am going to my mother's to do laundry because I can't stand the silence at the apartment.

I haven't called it home since he left. I suppose the saying is true, "Home is where the heart is." I no longer have a heart, therefore I am homeless.

Snuggles meows at me and his silky snake of a tail swishes back and forth. His bright blue-green eyes look curious and he tilts his head to one side as if to ask a question.

I sink down to pet him and suddenly find myself crying with him snuggled against me. At least someone still loves me.

After my little cry I right myself and head out.

The drive to my mother's is not very long, but the route is curvy. Not the best drive to take when you are distracted.

I realize that it is getting warmer now. We will be fully into summer in about a week. I've been so blinded by my own despair I didn't even notice the advent of green. I actually smile. It is a bitter-sweet smile of course, but it is progress as Noah would say.

My mom's house is a beautiful two story Victorian in the middle of a luxurious suburb downtown. It is cream with pink trim, a perfectly manicured lawn and a long driveway with twin weeping willows on either side.

After my father passed away, Mom moved here with myself, my two younger sisters and my older sister, Anna. My older brother, Kevin, moved into the old house. She has since re-married and Bradley (Brad as we call him) keeps everything very neat.

When I pull up I am greeted by sweet chaos.

Anna and her husband, Greg are over with their two children. Their children, Elizabeth and Kristopher, are chasing Mom's dog, Biscuit, around the side yard. Anna and Greg are unpacking a small of box, though I am not sure of the contents. Probably pictures for Mom to hang.

Emma, my fifteen year old sister, is whining to Mom about her cell phone while Sophie, who is seventeen, is begging to go to a homecoming dance. Brad is on a ladder working on the gutters and is the only one to acknowledge my arrival with a smile and a wave.

Lastly my older brother, Kevin, pulls up in his mustang convertible.

"Looks like the gang is all here." I say, waving at Kev.

"Timing is everything." He says. He smiles at the very full yard and shuts his door.

"Have I forgotten someone's birthday? Or a major holiday?" I query. Normally everyone wouldn't just be randomly gathered at Mom's house. I begin to tick off a mental calendar. No, no holidays or birthdays. None that I can think of anyway.

"I don't think you have." says Kevin. He is going over a mental check list too.

We hug and then link arms as we walk toward Anna's minivan. Anna and Greg have stopped for a moment to kiss each other. I wince at their happiness. Just then Kris and Beth come running, shouting,

"Auntie Abra, Uncle Kev!" Chubby cherub arms twine themselves around our waists in bear hugs. I can't help but smile and laugh. I pick up Kris, who is four, and kiss his cheek. He smiles then wiggles out of my grasp.

"'Ello, Greg." says Kev. The two shake hands and Kev gives Anna's cheek a peck.

My mother finally manages to tear herself away from Sophie and Emma to come and hug us. Brad comes up and shakes Kev's hand.

"'Ello, Brad." says Kev. "Taking good care of my mother?"

"Always, Kevin, always." replies Brad. This is how they have greeted each other since Mom and Brad got married eight years ago. Brad smiles and puts a loving hand on Mom's shoulder.

"Let's all go into the house and have some tea and cookies." says Mom, beaming. She always looks so happy when we are all there.

In a cluster we go into the house and congregate, like a murder of crows, in the living room. Sophie comes and sits on the arm of chair and rests her cheek on my shoulder.

"Hello, Sophie." I say, wrapping an arm around my sister's shoulder. "How is school going?"

"Its okay. Mom doesn't want me going to the homecoming though." she sighs. I know my sister. She wants me to talk to Mom for her.

"Why not?" I ask.

"I don't have a chaperon. She has an art class to teach that night and Brad will be out of town on business." Sophie looks at me imploringly. I can't resist those pretty green puppy dog eyes.

"I'll see what I can do." I say. Sophie squeals and kisses my cheek before going to hug Kevin.

I realize that this is a perfect opportunity for me. I can start my plans at the homecoming dance. Surely Sophie has a few cute teachers. Right?

As I'm planning, Anna comes up and sits next to me.

"You okay Abe?" she asks, using a nickname she hasn't used since we were little girls. She is worrying about me, I can see it in her eyes. Though she tries to mask it.

"I'm fine." I say, quickly. I smile my best smile to re-assure her, but she doesn't seem convinced. She knows me better than that.

"Mom says you bought a new cat. Are you happy? I know you'd been wanting to get another since Cleocatra passed on."

I love my sister so much right now. She knows I'm lying, but she goes with it anyway. Could I ask for a better one?

Before I can answer, Emma comes up and sits in my lap.

"A-baa," she says, using the baby name she called me when she was little. She lays her head on my shoulder wraps her arms around my neck. "can I spend the night with you this weekend? I miss you."

I wrap my arms around her and sigh into her hair.

"Have you already asked Mom about it?" I ask.

"No. But I know she'll say yes. Please? I'll bring my Florence and the Machine CD and we can watch Marilyn Monroe movies. We can make a sleepover of it! Please, A-baa?"

I can't resist when she calls me that. Being the youngest of the family, Emma gets away with a little more than the rest of us. Partially because we older siblings are the ones letting her get away with it.

"Okay, Em. If Mom gives the okay you can come over."

With a joyous little giggle she hops out of my lap and runs off to ask Mom's permission. A wistful smile creeps onto my face. At her age I was spending all of my time with David. I was so infatuated with him. What a waste of my time and youth.

Not being blind, Anna gives me a look of understanding. She hugs me before getting pulled away by her children.

I sit still, fighting off the overwhelming sadness that creeps up. I am so focused, I don't realize Mom has come up to sit beside me. I don't notice until she speaks.

"When your father died, we had been married for nineteen years. But we had been together for twenty-two. He was my best friend, my lover and confidante. We had five beautiful children and I believed we'd have five more. As well as many more years together.

"I was devastated. If not for you children and your grandmother, God rest her, I would never have survived. I didn't believe I was strong at all. I was a thirty-eight year old woman with five children, one of which was four, all on her own. But I lived. And I eventually fell in love with another man. Did he replace your father? No.

"But he did help support me while the gash in my heart healed into a still pink scar. Brad and I have been married for only eight years. Not even half of what I was married to your father. But he has been just as much my friend, lover and confidante. When it starts to feel overwhelming, because it will, remember it isn't the end. You are still young. You are stronger than you think. And, no matter what, I love you."

She smiles at me and pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I try to smile back. It is wobbly, but I manage and she hugs me. I snuggle into her embrace and take a deep breathe to stifle a sob. I realize how comforting the smell of her is. She smells like fresh bread and honeysuckle. She smells like home to me. I am home in my mother's arms. Even though my heart is still missing, a little piece floats back into place.

All of Her: Chapter Two

The next day Noah comes to check up on me. He shows up at the same time David and Alice do. It is awfully awkward and awkwardly awful. David seems completely unphased, but Alice stands in the doorway, frozen like an icy sculpture. I bitterly wish she was ice so I could melt her away.

Noah is the most distressed by this situation. He looks like he wants to beat the shit out of David. That or make him leave. Though the beating looks like it is going to win out.

"I should go," says Alice. And I'm surprised to see her move, she's been so still. Its like watching a statue come to life in a dream.

"No," I say, shocking everyone. "Stay. He'll need help carrying everything out, after all. Let me start by giving you back your shirt, Davey."

With a move that looks practiced, I pull off the shirt I have been wearing all night. I am not wearing anything underneath. I really don't care at this point.

Noah covers his eyes, as does Alice. David just stares. He is shocked, I can tell. I am so brazen, I don't even try to cover myself.

Proud, and a little nipply, I give David his shirt and glide out of the room. Okay, I don't glide. I run. I run and slam my door.

Then, right on cue, I burst into tears.

A thought occurs to me, amidst the tears and snot. A perfectly awful and wicked thought. Of course, I am beyond caring so it strikes me as not so evil. Stupid, obviously, but not so evil.

I've lost my mind. I know I have. But I am Alanis Morrisette in "You Oughta Know" right now. I want vengeance. Hell hath no fury and all that jazz. Except I am not thinking how this will punish me more than them. I should know better. I should think. But I don't care. I am a fool.

The old saying "A fool and his money are easily parted" is also true for virtue.

There is no point anymore. I am being super whiny and I don't care. I have no heart to speak of. I am heartless.

Was he sleeping with her this whole time? How long have I been blind to this romance blossoming? It couldn't have destroyed this much of my life that quickly could it?

No, things like this take time. A rose doesn't flower over night. Rome wasn't built in a day. And other such cliches.

Just like that I have a plan. I am going to sleep around. I've always secretly wondered about sex with other people. Now is the perfect time to find out. I am a brazen hussy after all.

Now I'm thinking about that raucous display and I'm blushing. However, I maintain that I don't care. Except now I feel how Eve must've felt when she realized her nudity. Ashamed.

I shouldn't have done that, but I've lost any will to control myself. I now have to face three people who saw me half naked. One of whom I hope remembers all of me naked. How embarrassing. Note to self, don't do that again.

Meekly, I peer out of the door. I don't see anyone. I do hear some muttered curses. The voice sounds like Noah's. Quietly, I creep down the hallway and peek into the kitchen.

Noah is in a tizzy trying to fix some coffee. My old fashioned pot confuses him. He's used to those one button brewers. Mine takes a little more time.

I don't see David or Alice. I look around, but still don't see them. Pretending I'm brave I walk into the kitchen. This time, fully dressed.

"Having trouble?" I say.

"Jesus," he says. He jumps and fumbles to catch his cup. "You scared the piss out of me! Don't do that."

I take his cup and set it on the counter. I remember when David and I decided on the dark granite when we remodeled this apartment. I also remember a few sexual episodes with me balancing on said counter. I hold back the tears and assist in the brewing of coffee.

After staring at me for a few moments, like I have suddenly transformed into Medusa, Noah shakes his head and sighs theatrically.

"I can't believe that you exposed yourself to all of us!" He finally exclaims.

"I've lost my mind, what can I say?" I go to the refrigerator and search for something, though I'm not entirely sure what.

"You mean you had one before?"

"No. Thanks for noticing." I retort sarcastically.

After the coffee is finished, I grab a cup and plop down on my purple plaid couch. I pull my legs up to my chest as Noah plops down beside me and sighs, again.

"So, where did the lovebirds go?" I ask.

"Well, after your little booby dance they promptly excused themselves saying they'd come back later. Which I'm sure they will come back. When you aren't here. In which case make sure you have everything marked."

"Ah. A ten year relationship reduced to a few boxes of crap. It really strengthens one's faith in love." I am restless. Part of me wants to tell Noah about my decision. But my mother didn't raise a fool. I become a fool all on my own. However, I have the feeling he would weaken my resolve. And that's the last thing I want.

Or maybe I want him to tell me I'm wrong and I need a hug and cookies to soften the blow of massive rejection.

I don't know what I want.

Actually, I want David. But that isn't going to happen now.