"So, you actually spoke to your mother, and you're life's magically not
shit anymore," Parker gave a sort of not amused chuckle. "Some kind of
fairy tale to me." She lit the cigarette in her hand and took a puff,
letting smoke cascade around her young face. When did THIS happen to
Parker? The thought crossed my mind several times during our new "chance
meetings". The girl was practically my stalker at times.
The roof became our "place". I found myself wandering there often now, for a good think. I learned to expect to welcome Parker silently. Sometimes there was no room for words.
March 19
Everyone, supposedly, has a guardian angel. At least that's what my parents told me in my gullible stage. I had always figured myself to have two; my best friends. Gradually enough, I stopped looking for one. I'm not saying Parker's mine, or anything. Or maybe I am. I'm not quite sure of anything anymore.
"Oh, you keep a journal?," Parker watched me scribble, interested.
"I have been lately," I replied, closing it. "Helps me sort out things, you know?"
"Yeah. I did that once. completely backfired. I just kept writing about math class. I had a series of dreams where I was doing algebra problems in my underwear. scary crap like that," She laughed, blowing smoke into the air. She stared at the cigarette for a moment, and then put it out. "Stupid habit."
"When did you start?," I questioned quietly.
"Last year," She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I still have no idea why." I nodded. She looked at me. "A little advice, Randy? Stop fooling yourself. You're in love, and pretty damn afraid to admit it. But there's no reason to be afraid. You aren't exactly a weak person. Go and kick ass!" She hit my arm and got up. "I'm out of here."
"Bye." And she left me to think. I threw pebbles at the sunset and wondered why,
~@~
"Miranda!" I turned when my name rang out. It was produced from Lizzie, who was beckoning me to come sit with her. And Kate.
I no longer had a major issue with Kate. Now that Lizzie was friends with her, I tolerated her slightly more, and maybe understood her. I actually pitied her too.
But I wasn't about to go over and hold an actual conversation with her. I shook my head back, but her beckons became so persistent I braced myself, then walked over.
"Hi, guys," I plastered on a bright smile. Kate did the same, for Lizzie's sake. I thought this was nice of her, considering she would never ordinarily do that for any of her other friends.
"How are you, Miranda?," Kate questioned cheerfully, in the same tone as she used on adults.
"I'm great, Kate," I smiled, holding back the temptation to roll my eyes.
"I'll be right back, you guys," Lizzie stood up and walked away, leaving Kate and me with grass and silence.
"Okay.let's cut through the bull here," Kate said, her voice turning snobby. "I hate you. You hate me. But Lizzie still enjoys your company from her loser days, so I HAVE to be nice to you. So just work with me here." She flipped her mass of golden curls.
"Fine! You don't have to be a jerk about it," I rolled my eyes at her. "Why do you always have to be so miserable about EVERYTHING?"
"Oh, cut the crap, Sanchez," She snapped. "You don't give a shit about me and my misery, so don't ask about it."
"Fine! I won't," I stared down at the grass. "What happened to us all, Kate?"
"Life happened," She almost lost her snotty tone.
"Whatever," I shook my head.
"I'm back," Lizzie sat down.
"Way to state the obvious," Kate angrily grabbed her purse and ran off. Lizzie looked after her, confused.
"What happened?," She questioned.
"Life," I said shortly, standing up. "I'll see you later, Lizzie."
~@~
I sat on the couch, flipping through the channels lazily. Nothing I wanted to watch was on. Talk show, talk show, news, cartoon, soap opera, talk show, talk show, news...
Whoever said TV isn't like real life was an idiot (yes, half the population are idiots). Just flip through the channels! Nothing you want it ever on, and when it is, you don't feel like watching. It all follows this gigantic pattern of hatred! And then everyone is acting unlike themselves. We are all ACTORS.
I ran this theory by myself several times until the door slammed. Mom was already home.
"Hello, Miranda," My dad's voice chorused tiredly. It was so familiar..yet not. I turned off the TV and sat up suddenly, as if being appraised or something. Buy me, daddy, pick ME to be your daughter!
"Dad," I tried to keep my surprised tone to a bare minimum.
"I need to talk to you," He began.
"Dad, I..I know," It was somehow much harder to tell him I listened in. "I know you and mom are.. I know you. I know about your.. I know."
"How?," He seemed confused. "Did your mother.?"
"No," I said quickly, standing up. "I heard." I was having serious déjà vu.
"Thank GOD," He said, sitting down. "THAT was difficult."
"Where have you been?," I asked, trying to hide my resentful tone.
"I needed to think," He closed his eyes.
"Where have you been?," I repeated.
"The beach," He answered vaguely.
"Does.," I shifted uncomfortably, "Does HE live there?" He just nodded.
"Miranda.," he began. I didn't want to hear it.
The phone rang, very conveniently. I ran into the other room to answer it.
"Hey, Miranda." Gordo is GOD.
"Gordo, Hi!," I greeted him.
"I just got my car back from the garage; do you want to go miniature golfing?," He asked. I glanced nervously in the next room.
"Sure! Sounds great," I chirped.
"Great! Pick you up in five?"
"Sure. Bye!" I gently placed the receiver back in the cradle, biting my lip. My father abandoned me. Let me abandon him..to mini golf.
The roof became our "place". I found myself wandering there often now, for a good think. I learned to expect to welcome Parker silently. Sometimes there was no room for words.
March 19
Everyone, supposedly, has a guardian angel. At least that's what my parents told me in my gullible stage. I had always figured myself to have two; my best friends. Gradually enough, I stopped looking for one. I'm not saying Parker's mine, or anything. Or maybe I am. I'm not quite sure of anything anymore.
"Oh, you keep a journal?," Parker watched me scribble, interested.
"I have been lately," I replied, closing it. "Helps me sort out things, you know?"
"Yeah. I did that once. completely backfired. I just kept writing about math class. I had a series of dreams where I was doing algebra problems in my underwear. scary crap like that," She laughed, blowing smoke into the air. She stared at the cigarette for a moment, and then put it out. "Stupid habit."
"When did you start?," I questioned quietly.
"Last year," She shook her head, closing her eyes. "I still have no idea why." I nodded. She looked at me. "A little advice, Randy? Stop fooling yourself. You're in love, and pretty damn afraid to admit it. But there's no reason to be afraid. You aren't exactly a weak person. Go and kick ass!" She hit my arm and got up. "I'm out of here."
"Bye." And she left me to think. I threw pebbles at the sunset and wondered why,
~@~
"Miranda!" I turned when my name rang out. It was produced from Lizzie, who was beckoning me to come sit with her. And Kate.
I no longer had a major issue with Kate. Now that Lizzie was friends with her, I tolerated her slightly more, and maybe understood her. I actually pitied her too.
But I wasn't about to go over and hold an actual conversation with her. I shook my head back, but her beckons became so persistent I braced myself, then walked over.
"Hi, guys," I plastered on a bright smile. Kate did the same, for Lizzie's sake. I thought this was nice of her, considering she would never ordinarily do that for any of her other friends.
"How are you, Miranda?," Kate questioned cheerfully, in the same tone as she used on adults.
"I'm great, Kate," I smiled, holding back the temptation to roll my eyes.
"I'll be right back, you guys," Lizzie stood up and walked away, leaving Kate and me with grass and silence.
"Okay.let's cut through the bull here," Kate said, her voice turning snobby. "I hate you. You hate me. But Lizzie still enjoys your company from her loser days, so I HAVE to be nice to you. So just work with me here." She flipped her mass of golden curls.
"Fine! You don't have to be a jerk about it," I rolled my eyes at her. "Why do you always have to be so miserable about EVERYTHING?"
"Oh, cut the crap, Sanchez," She snapped. "You don't give a shit about me and my misery, so don't ask about it."
"Fine! I won't," I stared down at the grass. "What happened to us all, Kate?"
"Life happened," She almost lost her snotty tone.
"Whatever," I shook my head.
"I'm back," Lizzie sat down.
"Way to state the obvious," Kate angrily grabbed her purse and ran off. Lizzie looked after her, confused.
"What happened?," She questioned.
"Life," I said shortly, standing up. "I'll see you later, Lizzie."
~@~
I sat on the couch, flipping through the channels lazily. Nothing I wanted to watch was on. Talk show, talk show, news, cartoon, soap opera, talk show, talk show, news...
Whoever said TV isn't like real life was an idiot (yes, half the population are idiots). Just flip through the channels! Nothing you want it ever on, and when it is, you don't feel like watching. It all follows this gigantic pattern of hatred! And then everyone is acting unlike themselves. We are all ACTORS.
I ran this theory by myself several times until the door slammed. Mom was already home.
"Hello, Miranda," My dad's voice chorused tiredly. It was so familiar..yet not. I turned off the TV and sat up suddenly, as if being appraised or something. Buy me, daddy, pick ME to be your daughter!
"Dad," I tried to keep my surprised tone to a bare minimum.
"I need to talk to you," He began.
"Dad, I..I know," It was somehow much harder to tell him I listened in. "I know you and mom are.. I know you. I know about your.. I know."
"How?," He seemed confused. "Did your mother.?"
"No," I said quickly, standing up. "I heard." I was having serious déjà vu.
"Thank GOD," He said, sitting down. "THAT was difficult."
"Where have you been?," I asked, trying to hide my resentful tone.
"I needed to think," He closed his eyes.
"Where have you been?," I repeated.
"The beach," He answered vaguely.
"Does.," I shifted uncomfortably, "Does HE live there?" He just nodded.
"Miranda.," he began. I didn't want to hear it.
The phone rang, very conveniently. I ran into the other room to answer it.
"Hey, Miranda." Gordo is GOD.
"Gordo, Hi!," I greeted him.
"I just got my car back from the garage; do you want to go miniature golfing?," He asked. I glanced nervously in the next room.
"Sure! Sounds great," I chirped.
"Great! Pick you up in five?"
"Sure. Bye!" I gently placed the receiver back in the cradle, biting my lip. My father abandoned me. Let me abandon him..to mini golf.