She moves to the city. And she doesn't call her parents anymore. Maybe she is sleeping it off - because they were all drinking and it was free (pretty faces get lots of things) - or maybe she is still awake, watching the dawn crack the sky open.
Her mother worries. Her father stares at her picture. Yea, she is just like a Beatles song ('she's leaving home...') and no one can stop her. It's called growing up. It's called running away.
Because Ohio could never hold her, could never kiss her, could never make her sweat like this place can.
And she moves in the city. Dancing like her life depends on it and shouting down the stairwell of her broken-down building and pushing caulk into the gaps in the wintertime.
Maybe she isn't going to find a damn thing that she is searching for.
But maybe she will.
/
Born and bred here, one of those roses busting past the pavement, yea... that's her. And she knows the in places - clubs and hang-outs and dives. And she knows the bad places - alleys and street corners and emergency rooms.
No one is calling her home. No one is waiting for her call. No one is leaving the light on.
She drinks her coffee black. She spends her money all the time. And boys love to grab her like they own her - but she sets them straight with a kiss and shove.
No one is taking her to bed tonight. No one is pressing against her skin tonight.
She downs one shot. Then another. Then another. Then another.
And California is like some drug-induced dream, hazy golden light of a childhood memory, more beautiful than it really was.
Because, even on the beach, she was born here - she was bred here - in this fucking city.
And that's where she will make it or break it.
/ /
When the lights drop this low, it means drugs and sex.
Maybe both. Maybe at the same time.
Ohio spins out of control, swept up in chemical waves, blissfully taking hit after hit. And bodies look like waves to her glazed blue eyes. She reaches out to touch them and just seems to sink right in.
Dive in. Drown. Swim. Gasp for air again.
And California weaves around like a pro, because she is one. Good at stepping in when she wants to and avoiding when she has to - she isn't high anymore. Her bought joy is dying, pulling her toward the exit.
Pale arms slide over her waist and two states collide.
Everyone looks better in strobe-lights. Everyone feels nice when you are flying.
Ohio lays a sloppy kiss to California's cheek.
"Isn't this wonderful? Don't you just want to fuck this song?"
"Sure."
"God, I'd love to stay right here... right now... forever. You won't make me go home, will you?"
California shakes her head slowly and leans in and they kiss, pretending to know one another. And maybe they do. For tonight.
/ / /
California doesn't know why the sun is so harsh today.
But she rolls over and she finds so much unknown flesh on display, buried under her unwashed sheets.
And there is something there - in the corner of her eye - a lot like a recollection.
"Want some of this?"
"Oh yea... please?"
"Do it slow. Okay... Okay, just like that..."
"God... God, this is so good... sooooo good..."
A smile that could kill men. A touch that could wound children. And snow white off of the fingertips and along the tongue and the sweet sounds of orgasm.
It is soooooo good.
California doesn't know why she is still staring at this passed-out girl in her bed, twisted at all sorts of strange angles and bound up in daylight.
But it is all she can do.
It is all she is doing.
"What's your name, pretty girl?" California whispers aloud.
/ / / /
Ohio stumbles home and slips into her shower, another night forgotten... another face like a mystery, a morning caper... and she runs fast from the bed that cradled her through the hours.
No note. No number. No word at all to the sounds from another room, the splash of water and the brushing of teeth.
Oh yea, she is good at this, too.
She ran from that home-town. She ran from that family.
She runs from these people and their sex and their beds.
Ohio is a runner, muscles oh so strong. And yet, weakest of them all, in her chest - beating beating beating...
Silver and pink, shots in the dark, splitting the sky with color - that is some excellent shit and there is no coming down, with thrusts that never end and with pleasure that never ceases.
"Don't stop... don't stop..."
Who said that? Was it...? Is it...?
Silver. And pink. And explode. Again. And again.
/ / / / /
Taking it in stride, just another cycle, but different worlds are looking for each other now.
They are looking for each other now.
Looking for escape, masquerading as casual... but who are you fooling?
California has never had a family. No sisters or fathers. No mothers or brothers. No real friends - just people who take and take.
Ohio has never been on her own like this. At the mercy of muggers and hookers and dealers. At the mercy of the skyscrapers and the sewers and the rats and the night - just life on the farm.
Taking it in stride. Just another cycle.
But their eyes meet and they are disturbingly sober.
But they'll fix that soon enough.
"Do you... umm... do you have more of that stuff? I really, uh, liked it."
"Yea. Yea, I do. Let's get out of here, yea?"
"Yea. Okay."
California takes a chance, though, taking Ohio's hand.
And Ohio can't remember the last time that happened, no road to really cross and no monsters under in the closet... But she holds on tighter.
She holds on. She grips and she likes it. She is terrified and she likes it.
And California takes a chance, keeping close when normally she keeps her distance.
Taking it in stride. Just another cycle. Just another moment in time.
And they both get so fucked-up, because they are used to it.
Better to be numb than to feel.
Right? Right. Right.
/ / / / / /
Waking up. And arms are full of someone. Legs all tangled up.
Those clothes are on the floor. That lamp is still on.
"Tell me something about you."
I am afraid of ending up like my mother.
I am afraid of ending up alone.
"Do I scare you? Are you scared?"
I am afraid of liking this too much.
I am afraid of liking you too much.
"What can I call you... I'd like to say your name, just once..."
Ashley slides her fingers through Spencer's hair and they kiss like lovers do, even though they are so far from that. So far from that world and that fantasy.
But...
...they are way too close as well.
And Spencer tastes like happiness. And Ashley feels like laughter.
And they are too close.
And Spencer groans and Ashley drinks the girl up and they are too close.
Waking up.
Together.
"What would happen if you... just stayed for a while...?" Ashley asks.
"I don't know..." Spencer responds.
Waking up.
Sticking around. Just lying there. Just for a while.
Just for a little while.
/ / / / / / /
Spencer flies back home and she promises to come back.
And Ashley has never believed anyone, not ever, but she will. Today, she will.
They don't say the words. They don't make promises. They don't try and change the world they live in... the one they have created... the world that brought them together.
And Ashley walks all the way to her apartment, bypassing her usual haunts.
She cleans the floors. She buys some food. She does the laundry.
One last hit. For now. One last drag. For now.
She is like Rome, not built in one damn day.
And Spencer steps into that house, into weeping and hugs and such, walks right into it and falls apart. Falls down and begs for entrance... and it is granted.
It is granted and given and she takes it.
Ohio and all its wounds, right outside her window, trees and grass and silence.
Not at all like that city, with its noise and its concrete and its accessible demons.
But she misses it all the same.
She misses someone all the same.
One last pill. For now. One last tab. For now.
She is not perfect, not that gap-toothed grin of ten years ago.
/ / / / / / / /
"Hey."
"Hi."
"Uh, so, I have some food... if you are hungry. Or whatever."
"Yea, I could eat. Let's eat."
Tell me something about yourself. Stay for a while. Don't be afraid.
/
END