Something More Than Temporary
Disclaimer: Alright, this is the usual disclaimer I guess, lol. I don't own Newsies, but I guess I own Fleck. Okay? Okay…and thank you so much to those of you who reviewed! It definitely makes my day!
Chapter 6: The Morning After
Fleck awoke lying on her side, facing away from where Spot was. As she opened her eyes, she knew it was still pretty early in the morning, but much later than she would wake up to sell papers. She felt her stomach sink when she realized that this would be the second day in a row she wasn't going to sell, but she shrugged it off easily. It was worth it. Fleck smiled as she turned over to see if Spot had woken up yet. But she turned over to an empty bed. She stared at where he should have been for a moment, and then sat up in bed. She searched around the room for his clothes, a note; anything to tell her that he hadn't actually left her. Seeing nothing, she looked to the door and found it not only unlocked, but also slightly ajar. SO he had left her. He left her on the morning after. Fleck let out a sigh and got out of bed. This had happened plenty of times before, but she had hoped that this time would be different. That Spot would be different. He was one of the few that she wanted to be different. But he was one of the few that would actually break her heart.
Despite Fleck's strong desire to crawl back into bed and cry herself to sleep, she continued her daily routine of getting ready. She put on the rest of her clothes and headed to the washroom of the foreign lodging house. She poked around timidly for a relatively clean hairbrush and upon finding one, convinced herself to use it. The owner of it would never find out anyway. However, she drew the line at searching for a toothbrush, no matter how scummy her mouth felt. Instead, she washed her face quickly and rinsed her mouth out with some water. No amount of water could wash away the mix of feelings she was experiencing at that moment though.
Fleck descended the stairs and entered the lobby-ish type room that led to the front door. As she stepped into the room, she was surprised to find Pen, the boy she had encountered last night, behind the desk. He must not have heard her come down because he didn't look up from what he was doing. Sensing this, she approached the desk and cleared her throat. Pen glanced up, looked at her as if trying to put a name to her face, and then put down what he was doing. "What's ya name again?"
"Fleck. An' you're Pen, right?"
"Yeah."
"Whaddya doin' heah?"
"I live heah."
"Behind da desk I mean."
"Da guy dat runs da place is outta town at a funeral. Left me in charge a da books an' stuff since I can read an' write da best."
"Why's dat?"
He shrugged. "Went ta school da longest.
"Oh."
"An' why are you heah?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"No reason."
"Yeah, shoah. Den why'd ya come from upstairs-"
"Have ya seen Spot?" Fleck said, abruptly changing the subject. She was in no mood to talk about what had happened last night.
"He ain't heah."
"Well, wheah is he?"
"Wheah do ya think?" he answered sarcastically.
"If I knew, would I be askin' ya?"
"He's out sellin' papes, stupid."
"Don't call me stupid!"
"Well, every newsie knows a nice Satahday mornin's one a da best days fer sellin'. Ya got people everywheah, goin' on walks, spendin' time with dere families, strollin' through da parks-"
"I know all a dat, I just thought dat maybe…"
"Dat what?"
"Nothin'. Nevahmind."
"What? Dat he'd sleep in with ya an' miss a prime day fer sellin'? Fat chance."
Fleck sighed. She should've known that it was too good to be true. She never should've gotten her hopes up by thinking a guy like Spot would not only sleep with her, but stay with her for the morning after. Things like that just didn't happen to her. "Did he at least leave a message fer me or anythin'?"
"Nope. Nothin'."
"Oh," Fleck said, hiding her disappointment. That would teach her to mix emotions with sex. That only brought her pain. "I'm gonna go den."
"Fine. Want me ta tell him you was lookin' fer him?"
"Nah, don't bothah. Just tell him…tell him…well, just tell him I went home an' I'll see him when I see him."
"You got it. Latah, Fleck."
Fleck nodded a recognition and left the quiet lodging house for the bustling city street. As she walked slowly through downtown Brooklyn and across the bridge back to Manhattan, she mentally cursed herself for ever liking Spot Conlon in the first place. The conversation from a couple of nights ago replayed in her head over and over:
"Ya know Spot'll just bed ya an' leave ya."
"Dat's what always happens ta me. I'se gotten used ta dat by now."
"Doncha evah get sick of it?"
"Nah…"
But the truth was, she was sick of it now. 'Nevah again,' she told herself. 'I ain't gonna be used no more.'
Disclaimer: Alright, this is the usual disclaimer I guess, lol. I don't own Newsies, but I guess I own Fleck. Okay? Okay…and thank you so much to those of you who reviewed! It definitely makes my day!
Chapter 6: The Morning After
Fleck awoke lying on her side, facing away from where Spot was. As she opened her eyes, she knew it was still pretty early in the morning, but much later than she would wake up to sell papers. She felt her stomach sink when she realized that this would be the second day in a row she wasn't going to sell, but she shrugged it off easily. It was worth it. Fleck smiled as she turned over to see if Spot had woken up yet. But she turned over to an empty bed. She stared at where he should have been for a moment, and then sat up in bed. She searched around the room for his clothes, a note; anything to tell her that he hadn't actually left her. Seeing nothing, she looked to the door and found it not only unlocked, but also slightly ajar. SO he had left her. He left her on the morning after. Fleck let out a sigh and got out of bed. This had happened plenty of times before, but she had hoped that this time would be different. That Spot would be different. He was one of the few that she wanted to be different. But he was one of the few that would actually break her heart.
Despite Fleck's strong desire to crawl back into bed and cry herself to sleep, she continued her daily routine of getting ready. She put on the rest of her clothes and headed to the washroom of the foreign lodging house. She poked around timidly for a relatively clean hairbrush and upon finding one, convinced herself to use it. The owner of it would never find out anyway. However, she drew the line at searching for a toothbrush, no matter how scummy her mouth felt. Instead, she washed her face quickly and rinsed her mouth out with some water. No amount of water could wash away the mix of feelings she was experiencing at that moment though.
Fleck descended the stairs and entered the lobby-ish type room that led to the front door. As she stepped into the room, she was surprised to find Pen, the boy she had encountered last night, behind the desk. He must not have heard her come down because he didn't look up from what he was doing. Sensing this, she approached the desk and cleared her throat. Pen glanced up, looked at her as if trying to put a name to her face, and then put down what he was doing. "What's ya name again?"
"Fleck. An' you're Pen, right?"
"Yeah."
"Whaddya doin' heah?"
"I live heah."
"Behind da desk I mean."
"Da guy dat runs da place is outta town at a funeral. Left me in charge a da books an' stuff since I can read an' write da best."
"Why's dat?"
He shrugged. "Went ta school da longest.
"Oh."
"An' why are you heah?" he asked, already knowing the answer.
"No reason."
"Yeah, shoah. Den why'd ya come from upstairs-"
"Have ya seen Spot?" Fleck said, abruptly changing the subject. She was in no mood to talk about what had happened last night.
"He ain't heah."
"Well, wheah is he?"
"Wheah do ya think?" he answered sarcastically.
"If I knew, would I be askin' ya?"
"He's out sellin' papes, stupid."
"Don't call me stupid!"
"Well, every newsie knows a nice Satahday mornin's one a da best days fer sellin'. Ya got people everywheah, goin' on walks, spendin' time with dere families, strollin' through da parks-"
"I know all a dat, I just thought dat maybe…"
"Dat what?"
"Nothin'. Nevahmind."
"What? Dat he'd sleep in with ya an' miss a prime day fer sellin'? Fat chance."
Fleck sighed. She should've known that it was too good to be true. She never should've gotten her hopes up by thinking a guy like Spot would not only sleep with her, but stay with her for the morning after. Things like that just didn't happen to her. "Did he at least leave a message fer me or anythin'?"
"Nope. Nothin'."
"Oh," Fleck said, hiding her disappointment. That would teach her to mix emotions with sex. That only brought her pain. "I'm gonna go den."
"Fine. Want me ta tell him you was lookin' fer him?"
"Nah, don't bothah. Just tell him…tell him…well, just tell him I went home an' I'll see him when I see him."
"You got it. Latah, Fleck."
Fleck nodded a recognition and left the quiet lodging house for the bustling city street. As she walked slowly through downtown Brooklyn and across the bridge back to Manhattan, she mentally cursed herself for ever liking Spot Conlon in the first place. The conversation from a couple of nights ago replayed in her head over and over:
"Ya know Spot'll just bed ya an' leave ya."
"Dat's what always happens ta me. I'se gotten used ta dat by now."
"Doncha evah get sick of it?"
"Nah…"
But the truth was, she was sick of it now. 'Nevah again,' she told herself. 'I ain't gonna be used no more.'