"So."
"So."
"I'm surprised Sophie didn't write down Group sentences for us to ask."
"Yeah- bet she had a lesson plan on her or something."
"Get the feeling she didn't pencil in the rope breaking?"
"Or the radio getting wet!"
"Yeah." He paused. "So you don't mind being told to stay behind with me?"
"Not your fault the blood loss slows you down."
"I should have thought out what I was doing."
"Nah. You saved the day, oh Superman."
"Yeah and now me and you get to toddle behind everyone else. Like we're the grandpas of the group."
"We were never exactly keeping up with the group." I paused.
"Jaime?" He spoke my name like it flowed easy off his tongue. Wish I had that gift was his. My tongue craved his name and always seemed reluctant to let it go, releasing it short and harsh. So I tried not to say it, though it echoed screaming through my mind.
"Yeah?"
"I know you didn't really have a choice but. thanks. And thanks for not making a big deal out of the scars."
"No prob." Really, the pleasure was all mine.
"No really. I know I don't exactly have body crème selling skin." Your skin looked perfect to me.
"It's not that big of a deal." Now what do I say? This is probably going to ruin the moment but the Curious George in me longs to know." Don't mean to be rude but how did you get so many?"
"My dad. Foster care circuit. Fights. JuV. Myself."
"You're a cutter too, right?" Damn. I should have said were. Now he'll think I still do it. I only dream about it.
"Yeah. Cutting, hanging, anything that releases pain. In case you haven't noticed by now but I'm real intent on dieing."
"Yeah- no one wants to say certain words around you. And no one seems to feel the need to tell dead baby jokes around you." And everyone walks on coals when they talk to you. Like now- am I going to get burned?
"Well, I dunno why no dead baby jokes but yeah. Ever since I raided the nurse's office." What? Pills? Drugs?
"What?"
"That's right. You wouldn't know. About a month ago I kinda broke into the medicine cabinet in the infirmary literally- I smashed the glass-and stole a couple of bottles of pills. I ended up puking them all back up but you know. It was the thought that counted."
"Yeah, generally that's all it takes. Unless you have my parents who are oblivious as all get out." Their only self defense mechanism.
"Speaking of your parents, I noticed you don't look like either. Any reasoning behind that or am I going into private knowledge here?"
"My dad ran off a long time ago. The guy you saw was my step dad. He's cool- he makes my mom happy. That's all that matters." Really. It is. My feelings mean nothing.
"Got any siblings? And if I'm being a git, just slug me. You can hit injured Rowans. We like the pain." Breathe deep. Confession time.
"My real dad used to hit and, rape my older brother Kyle. My mom found out and kicked my dad out when I was 8. My brother ran out like a week later. Couldn't take my mom always staring at him, the way everyone stared. I was looked at weird but Kyle- my brother- he always got it worse. Kyle was like 12 when he ran." Breath in. Air is good. Don't look at him. Don't look at the pity. Wonder how long he'll wait before telling everyone.
"That sucks." Hmm- no pity. Weird. Maybe he's saving himself for a bigger sob story. "I know how you feel."
"How?" Good job at keep that disbelief out of your voice Jaime. Way to treat the cripple-at-the-moment.
"My sister- Sara? The picture? She, um, she committed suicide 9 years ago, when I was 8 too. She was 16. She died cause the night before my dad brought a guy home who paid my dad money to rape my sister. My dad joined in while I was locked in Sara and my bedroom. Next day my dad hands her a gun and she kills herself." Oh. So that's how he knows.
"I'm sorry. I still-"
Rowan kept talking. Getting it all out at once. "Then when I was 11 I was put with this fuck Frank who raped me and got me on the streets, turning tricks. Got me into drugs. Hate him so bad." Now what do I say? Rowan picked up a rock and chucked it at a far off tree, ringing true against the bark.
"I still hear from Kyle. He hits me up for money. That's why I started prostituting. And in a sick way, I wanted to know what he went through. And then I started doing it more for drugs until I started raiding pill cabinets." Well I feel all exposed and tabloid-ish.
Rowan didn't say anything for a moment. "Sucks."
"Yeah. Most things do." We didn't say much, just stared at the weak fire. I look at Rowan's still dripping hand.
"So while we're having this Oprah-esq. confession, is there anything else that needs to be said? Because I for one hate eggplant." Is this it? Should I say it? Just let go. The words jumbled from my mouth before I could control them.
"I'm, I'm, I'm gay." He turned, his face, mouth about to say something. "And I kinda have a crush on you." Oh God.
A/N Note- Topic of ironies and weird co-inky dinks: Jaime and Rowan lose their older siblings at age 9. I as going through my files and realized I made Rowan's fathers' middle name Jaime (look way back in Knife Thrower- Files and a Fight). And the older siblings abused by fathers. I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO THIS!!! And I want a cookie. Or whipped cream..
"So."
"I'm surprised Sophie didn't write down Group sentences for us to ask."
"Yeah- bet she had a lesson plan on her or something."
"Get the feeling she didn't pencil in the rope breaking?"
"Or the radio getting wet!"
"Yeah." He paused. "So you don't mind being told to stay behind with me?"
"Not your fault the blood loss slows you down."
"I should have thought out what I was doing."
"Nah. You saved the day, oh Superman."
"Yeah and now me and you get to toddle behind everyone else. Like we're the grandpas of the group."
"We were never exactly keeping up with the group." I paused.
"Jaime?" He spoke my name like it flowed easy off his tongue. Wish I had that gift was his. My tongue craved his name and always seemed reluctant to let it go, releasing it short and harsh. So I tried not to say it, though it echoed screaming through my mind.
"Yeah?"
"I know you didn't really have a choice but. thanks. And thanks for not making a big deal out of the scars."
"No prob." Really, the pleasure was all mine.
"No really. I know I don't exactly have body crème selling skin." Your skin looked perfect to me.
"It's not that big of a deal." Now what do I say? This is probably going to ruin the moment but the Curious George in me longs to know." Don't mean to be rude but how did you get so many?"
"My dad. Foster care circuit. Fights. JuV. Myself."
"You're a cutter too, right?" Damn. I should have said were. Now he'll think I still do it. I only dream about it.
"Yeah. Cutting, hanging, anything that releases pain. In case you haven't noticed by now but I'm real intent on dieing."
"Yeah- no one wants to say certain words around you. And no one seems to feel the need to tell dead baby jokes around you." And everyone walks on coals when they talk to you. Like now- am I going to get burned?
"Well, I dunno why no dead baby jokes but yeah. Ever since I raided the nurse's office." What? Pills? Drugs?
"What?"
"That's right. You wouldn't know. About a month ago I kinda broke into the medicine cabinet in the infirmary literally- I smashed the glass-and stole a couple of bottles of pills. I ended up puking them all back up but you know. It was the thought that counted."
"Yeah, generally that's all it takes. Unless you have my parents who are oblivious as all get out." Their only self defense mechanism.
"Speaking of your parents, I noticed you don't look like either. Any reasoning behind that or am I going into private knowledge here?"
"My dad ran off a long time ago. The guy you saw was my step dad. He's cool- he makes my mom happy. That's all that matters." Really. It is. My feelings mean nothing.
"Got any siblings? And if I'm being a git, just slug me. You can hit injured Rowans. We like the pain." Breathe deep. Confession time.
"My real dad used to hit and, rape my older brother Kyle. My mom found out and kicked my dad out when I was 8. My brother ran out like a week later. Couldn't take my mom always staring at him, the way everyone stared. I was looked at weird but Kyle- my brother- he always got it worse. Kyle was like 12 when he ran." Breath in. Air is good. Don't look at him. Don't look at the pity. Wonder how long he'll wait before telling everyone.
"That sucks." Hmm- no pity. Weird. Maybe he's saving himself for a bigger sob story. "I know how you feel."
"How?" Good job at keep that disbelief out of your voice Jaime. Way to treat the cripple-at-the-moment.
"My sister- Sara? The picture? She, um, she committed suicide 9 years ago, when I was 8 too. She was 16. She died cause the night before my dad brought a guy home who paid my dad money to rape my sister. My dad joined in while I was locked in Sara and my bedroom. Next day my dad hands her a gun and she kills herself." Oh. So that's how he knows.
"I'm sorry. I still-"
Rowan kept talking. Getting it all out at once. "Then when I was 11 I was put with this fuck Frank who raped me and got me on the streets, turning tricks. Got me into drugs. Hate him so bad." Now what do I say? Rowan picked up a rock and chucked it at a far off tree, ringing true against the bark.
"I still hear from Kyle. He hits me up for money. That's why I started prostituting. And in a sick way, I wanted to know what he went through. And then I started doing it more for drugs until I started raiding pill cabinets." Well I feel all exposed and tabloid-ish.
Rowan didn't say anything for a moment. "Sucks."
"Yeah. Most things do." We didn't say much, just stared at the weak fire. I look at Rowan's still dripping hand.
"So while we're having this Oprah-esq. confession, is there anything else that needs to be said? Because I for one hate eggplant." Is this it? Should I say it? Just let go. The words jumbled from my mouth before I could control them.
"I'm, I'm, I'm gay." He turned, his face, mouth about to say something. "And I kinda have a crush on you." Oh God.
A/N Note- Topic of ironies and weird co-inky dinks: Jaime and Rowan lose their older siblings at age 9. I as going through my files and realized I made Rowan's fathers' middle name Jaime (look way back in Knife Thrower- Files and a Fight). And the older siblings abused by fathers. I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO THIS!!! And I want a cookie. Or whipped cream..