I know, quite some time passed since my last chapter...I'm really sorry... so I hope you enjoy this one...
and if you are happy with me, please make me happy and leave a review... :)
If you are not, a review is also welcome, so I can do better next time...
Starting... OVER!
"That machine ate my
change!" complained the fat woman.
Really, you stupid bitch?
I don't mind. I don't mind at all. As if I care, what happens to your
change. You're upset because of a few quarters? Hey, ask me. Your few
fucking quarters are my least problem right now. I was supposed to
start over! Now look at me - would you call this starting over? I'm
working twelve hour shifts on minimum wages in this shitty laundry to
get at least my sleazy little motel room paid. Just great, isn't it?
Couldn't think of a better premise for a fresh start. But indeed...
there are worse premises - Corona isn't by no means that far from
Chino, as I would have liked it. But with only 300 bucks in my pocket
I haven't much choice, have I? 300 bucks, that's what I got, when I
sold my past. Okay I fess up, it wasn't exactly my past... stuff, but
hell, how cares? He was freeloading off me for so long, so there's
nothing wrong with a little compensation – I guess. Not that he's
going to accept this as an excuse... but... his stuff is sold, so
what? Only another guy on a long list of people I'm not eager to see
in the near future. Maybe this wasn't my best idea, but I was drunk
and stoned and frustrated and pissed and... what ever... Maybe this
machine has eaten your change lady, but there's someone out there who
is going to eat me alive if he can lay his hands on me. I only can
try to keep my head down and hope that his interest in me isn't that
strong. 300 bucks aren't enough... it'll never be enough to get out
of this.
"Okay, okay. That
one's always broken." replied Dawn with shirty friendliness.
Maybe
you didn't notice, but this isn't some high class laundry – 'lady'.
So what do you expect? There's not a single machine which isn't
broken in one or another way. Too bad for that you choose the one,
which is always broken. Bad luck? Fate? Coincidence? Call it what
ever you want, but I call it life. But I tell you what –
live hasn't given me any chance. I'm not like this damn machine over
there, which is always broken – no, I'm like you, I'm only making
wrong decisions... sometimes... It's good to see it's not me,
getting the bad part of it, for a change. Maybe I'm not good in
making choices and maybe most of them suck, but it isn't because of
my lack of good intentions. Somehow things never work out for me. Or,
as other would say – I'm not able to work things out. They say,
that everytime someone gives me a try, I let him down, everytime
there's a new chance, I fuck up. But hell, the don't know how wrong
the are - because I can work out... now and then... or at least I
pretend...
"Here you go." said
Dawn and gave her some coins. "Try the next one over."
Because
that it, how it works. If I can't handle it anymore, I walk away and
try something else. It's so simple when everything else is
complicated, it's so easy when everything else costs too much effort.
Partly that's why I'm changing my boyfriends like my clothes.
Sometimes they were shit indeed, taking only my money and
spending it without a second thought about me or what it took me to
get it. The only thing they returned were a few comforting moments
for me compared to a hell of beatings for me but mostly my sons. But
sometimes there were quite good guys as well if I had only tried a
little more. But I had neither the strength nor the patient to deal
with them. I know my faults pretty well, but it wasn't up to them to
rub my nose in it. So I walked away and looked for another one – a
easier one with less need for self-maintenance, someone who didn't
care... and be assured there is always a next one. And
don't think I'll spent another thought about them – I never did.
So, here you go lady, feel free to try another one, see, if
the next one will work. That's what I do all the time – and it
works... more or less... or not at all...
"Dawn Atwood?" a
man asked.
I'm turning around hearing my name. My heart misses
a beat when my eyes met his. I'm not prepared to meet him here.
Everything in me is in a urge to run – to run as fast as I could,
but I'm frozen by merely his sight. I thought I always feared most
that AJ would show up, with concentrated hate and a raised fist. But
now my fears became flesh and blood in the way I never expected them
to. It's his friendly smile which scares the shit out of me. Because
suddenly I know, that what he will bring is worse, than AJ ever could
be. I could have dealt with AJs anger, but I don't know how to fight
this tiny little voice which is rising in the deepest corner of my
soul. Like an avenging angel this
handsome man shows me a truth, which I never wanted to admit or even
exist. And as hard as I'm trying to hold it back, bad conscience, is
crushing over me like a wave and drowning me in its depths.
"Sandy Cohen." the
man introduced himself. "Ryan's attorney."
No
need for an introduction, smart ass. Even I have seen you only for
this few rage filled moments a week ago, I recognized you
immediately. Maybe I was drunk, but definitely not that drunk as I
liked to be. Definitely not too drunk to forget you or this fucking
little episode ... Because if, I wouldn't be so nervous. A drink –
that's what I need now. One week without was definitely to long...
because if I would be drunk by now, you would leave me alone. You
would see that I'm of no use. But I'm not drunk – fuck... so I have
to deal with you. But I don't know how. Maybe if I ignore you, you'll
go away. Maybe if I don't show any interest, you give up. So I look
down at my hands, which are grabbing the box firm and try to hide
their shaking.
"I'd love to talk to
you." he continued after a short hesitation.
I bet you do –
but I don't. So what is your unasked visit about? Should
I prepare for the worst? Are you going to bring me down,
because I... abandoned him? NO, that's not what I've done! I see it
in your face that you think otherwise, but I haven't done 'that'. I
don't know what Ryan has told you, but I know, he hasn't told you
about me – he never will. He knows my flaws by heart, he knows I'm
not a perfect person – but I'm still family and he'll understand.
He always did. He knows I'm of no use for him anymore. He is old
enough to get himself in troubles – he is old enough to face the
music. He don't need me, and I'm sure he don't want me - like Trey
denied me when I tried to visit him... the jail guards words still
hurts like hell...
"I can't talk." she
snapped at him.
Or to be honest, I'm sick of talking. Talking
about things means I have to think about them and that's nothing I'd
like to do. Because then I have to ask myself if I was wrong or
right. Because then I have to judge myself. I didn't know I was wrong
when I left a week ago and I don't want to know it now, even that may
be the truth. Did you know he's haunting me in my dreams? That he's
torturing me every night? That I can still hear is disbelieving
question. But Mom, where am I gonna go? And every time I'm
giving him the same answer. I want you out of my house. I want you
out of my life. You see, I already talked to much and nothing good
came out of it. I can't help him and I'm not sure if I want to...
because he's going down... he failed, because I failed him in the
first place. I don't like to admit this, but it's true. You got me,
huh? It's not that I'm going to tell your or anyone about that. This
will remain unsaid, only buried by a drink – make it two or three
or how many are necessary. That's my little hiding place - welcome
and hated at the same time...
"This stupid thing's
stuck." she blustered.
...this fucking machine, my life,
simply everything. I'm running in circles
and no matter how fast I run, I'm still stuck here – in this shitty
place, in this shitty life. It's like trying another machine in a
third class laundry where the chances are good it might be broken as
well. I'm like this coin – neither able to move forward nor back. I
tried to start over – really to start over, but I'm stuck in the
same problems again. Why did you miss to tell me, that I can't run
from myself...
"It'll only take a
couple of minutes." he tried to convince her.
That's a good
one! As if a couple of minutes can change anything! I tried to put my
past where it belongs - in the past - and you have nothing better to
do than to blow it right back into my face. Fuck you! I won't let
this happen. Go to hell with your talking. I don't want to hear it.
I'm done – no matter what. I turn around, to tell him to hit the
road, but somehow I snagged on this stupid box and a few dozen coins
spread themselves jingling on the floor.
"Damn it." Dawn
growled.
Everything is going to pieces, even this stupid box
is conspiring against me. I'm crawling the floor - thankful for this
welcomed distraction and angry for the missed opportunity to get away
from him. My hands are still shaking, while I try to pick up the
change. Every time I get hold of a coin it slips through my unsteady
fingers and I have to try hard to bite back angry tears of
frustration. Eventually I loose the fight with keeping my straight
face. I'm kneeling in front of you like a penitent, with tears in my
eyes. Not able to face you, I'm starring at your
expensive shoes. You stand there – firm as a rock and I
realize, that you're not going to give up. Please go, go away, the
little girl in me is pleading. Go and take the conscience you
brought, with you. Leave me alone in my misery. I know I was wrong,
but I can't speak it out loud. So why can't you just leave? I'm like
a deer you caught in your spot light and even I can see what's going
to hit me, I can't run. He's only a job for you, but a son to me. So
why do you care, when I can't, why do you try, when I gave up? You do
what I never could and that's wrong so terribly wrong. You're not
going to leave until you finished your business with me, are you? If
I can't get away from this, I do what I always do, I pretend that I'm
dealing with it. So I sit back and look up to you with pathetic eyes,
because there is one thing you can't take from me – because pity is
my strongest weapon...
"How is he?" she
asked whiny-voiced.
Strange, huh? I shouldn't be the one
asking, I should be the one knowing the answer, because I'm his Mom.
But I'm not sure if I care about or not? It didn't a week ago. My
words don't convince me, but I can see, they convince you. I know
quite well, that this was what you expected me to ask. I can see it
in your eyes and in your smile. You think it's not to late and that
we can sort this out in some miraculous way. I know what I should
have done and didn't. I know what I haven't done and should do now.
But... there's still this little 'but'... As easy it was to walk
away, as much harder it is to come back. Not because I hurt him, he
should be used to it by now. Not because I know quite well that he
isn't. Not because of the pain I saw too often in his eyes. But
because of the truth, that cuts through my soul. I miss the girl I
was once and I hate the woman I became. I hate the way I couldn't
take care for myself and least of all for others. I hate so many
things. I failed – not him, but me. Let's face it, my life is a
gathering of gambled away chances – literally. And he... he is only
one of them...
"Why don't we grab a
cup of coffee and talk about it?" the man offered in a friendly
manner.
I could do with something stronger than coffee. Hell,
I'm trapped. Between you, the law, my son and maybe my conscience.
I'll play along... for now... Why? Because I don't want you to see
what I see in me. Because as long as I pretend otherwise it's not
official that I fucked up. Maybe I'm doing this for Ryan. He was my
hope... and maybe he still is, even if I'm going to loose him. I miss
him already, I hate him for what he did and I still love him...
somehow. So... just tell me he's doing fine. Just tell me, he's not
angry at me. Just tell me... tell me what ever you want... even if
you tell me lies... even if your words are the most frightened thing
I ever heard... just tell me about him and I will listen... that's
what you expect me to do... because as long as I listen, I can
pretend...