hey guys...so this is the first actual chapter. sorry it took so long to update. it takes place ten years after the prologue. R&R!! please and thank you. and enjoy:)
disclaimer: i don't own ANYTHING.
Once upon a time in a land of bliss and happiness when all was well with the world, Casey had had high hopes for her future. She had been accepted into the prestigious Harvard Institute right after she graduated from Thompson High. Her maks in high school had been high, so much so that she had found it hard to decide which path to take upon entering post-secondary education life. She had finally decided to go into the path of journalism. Writing had always been her strongest skill. The prospect of travelling and seeing the world also entranced her into the subject. Her whole life up ahead seemed layed out and perfect for her. She had thought that nothing could possibly go wrong.
Now, as she balanced groceries on one hand, a coffee mug on the other, and as she tried to juggle her house keys out of her pocket with gritted teeth, she realized how fake and superficial she had been. There was no such thing as a happy life right after comfort zone of leaving life with the parents, let alone a happily ever after ending. Her life was strictly wound around money, money, and more money. Without money she was screwed beyong explanation. Or one she could supply to her mother, in any case. Life was just…bah, why dignify it with philosophiocal reasoning? Why be philosophical, period?
She threw open the rusty apartment door and let herself in, slamming the door shut with her foot. Groceries tumbled on the oak dining table. Her precious caffeine source was placed neatly on the kitchen counter. The keys were thrown away…somewhere. She collapsed on the moth-eaten sofa in front of the not-so-wide-screen television set. Life wasn't just bah. Life was starting to get ridiculous beyond belief.
That same once upon a time ago, Casey was neat and precise and careful and organized with everything from her bras to her work stuff. Now? Not so much. The apartment was a mess. It stunk of diapers. Casey hated the stench of diapers. She hated the stench of anything. Lately, however, she hadn't had time to clean up or be wise. Kids' toys were littered everywhere…everything from Barbies to those stupid little cars with the intense wheels. The dishes hadn't been done since the Ice Age. The TV remote had mysteriously vanished. Dear Lord, what else? There was crap everywhere. Casey was getting sincerely sick of crap.
She forced herself to her feet to consult with her broken refrigerator. Nothing but old lettuce and expired cottage cheese. Then again, what else was new? She opened the freezer and found peas. If she could defrost them, she could make…rice stuff, of some sorts. Or she could just order pizza. Eh, why not? She didn't need to worry about her calorie intake. Lately, she had been so stressed out, she was beginning to fear she was starting to look like one of those supermodels-on-drugs with the jutted collar bones and the skinny limbs…only minus the irrepressable beauty.
She grabbed the cordless phone from underneath the dining table and speed-dialed Greg from Pizza Hut. She checked the time. 8:30. Not bad. Greg wouldn't be too pissed with the last-minute-and-please-hurry-up call. Besides, he owed her one. She had pretended to be his wife when his maniacle ex-girlfriend had come to town. Betsy had been her name. Eating men had been her game.
"This is Pizza Hut. How may I help you?" Greg barked into the phone.
"Greggy, darling, it's me."
"The usual?"
Casey smiled. "You know me well by now. Hold a bit on the hot peppers, will you?"
"Be there in a flash."
Casey hung up and placed the phone on the table. She began sorting through her groceries. Milk in the fridge. Nutri-Grain bars in the kitchen cabinets. Cookies in the cookie jar far away from outstretched toddler hands. Bread…on the kitchen counter. Peanut butter and jelly inside. Oh yeah, and veggies. She stuffed them all in the fridge. She had a pounding headache. She grabbed the coffee mug and took a long satisfying sip. The last thing to put away was a packet of cigarettes. Damn those cigs. After solemnly promising to herself that she wouldn't go crazy on them like she did last time, she put them behind the peanut butter where no one would find them. Muah.
Someone knocked on the door. "Door's unlocked," she called out. In New York City, one became wary of molesters who went door-to-door looking for loot and boot. Molesters never knocked. They just barged in.
The door slammed open and slammed shut. She heard the usual shrieks from Tricia and Dylan as they waddled inside, followed by Vanessa, who was waddling too as she carried a laundry basket laden with laundry stuff. Nessa grinned when she saw Casey.
"And how are we doing today, Mama?" she asked, placing the laundry basket on the kitchen counter.
"Mama's just fine. How were the munchkins?"
"They were terrible." Nessa reached over and scooped twe-year-old Dylan up in the air. He began screeching, trying to writhe away from Nessa's iron grip. With a sigh, Nessa replaced him on the floor. He began waddling towards the TV. Dylan was smart enough to know the magic button to switch the idiot box on.
"Mommy, I'm hungry," Tricia declared, tugging on Casey's pants. Casey smiled and grabbed her three-year-old daughter. Tricia had Casey's brown hair and green eyes. She also had Casey's habit of sponging up information and squeezing it out at just the wrong time.
Someone knocked on the door again. Nessa rolled her eyes. "Greg? You've got to be kidding me."
"The man gives me discounts and flowers everytime he sees me," Casey said innocently, shrugging. She handed Tricia over to Nessa and went to open the door. One of Greg's "men", Fenton, grinned toothedly at her, handing her a pizza box. "Dat'll be…umm…" Fenton thought for a few seconds. Casey shook her head. She grabbed her wallet from her jeans pocket and stuffed crumpled bills into Fenton's stcky hands. Fenton counted the money, pondering. He looked up, a regular case of space case.
"Wat about ma tip, lady?" he demanded.
"Here." Casey irritabily handed him a penny and shooed him out. She shot Nessa a thumbs up and slammed the box on the table. The prospect of food made Tricia happy. She wriggled down to the floor and jumped on a chair.
"Help set the table, and you can have a nice big piece," Casey promised her and went to collect Dylan from channel surfing. He was "watching" (as much as his tiny brain could grasp) the fashion channel. Casey switched the TV off and Dylan began screaming. Casey sighed and palced him on his high chair, stuffing his pacifier into his mouth.
"There we go." Nessa (with supervision from Tricia) had placed cutlery and plates on the table. Casey grabbed a big slice of vegetarian pizza and began cutting it into little pieces for Dylan. Nessa did the same for Tricia.
"I can't thank you enough for babysitting these two for me today," Casey began conversationally.
"Not a problem," Nessa said cheerfully. "It was fun. This hot single parent with twins hit on me. I think he thought these the munchkins were mine. It was very nice."
Casey laughed. She placed Dylan's Elmo plate on the mini high chair table. Dylan had already begun exhibiting signs of independence: nobody was allowed to feed him but him. Casey grabbed a slice for herself and took a bite: Greg's pizza was to die for. Well, no it wasn't. She used to be a picky eater, but not anymore. Just as long as there was cheap veggie food available, why complain?
"So, how was talking to the boss?" Nessa asked.
Casey swallowed tomato and onion. "Great. Nina told me my column has been getting high ratings, so much so that she's agreed to transfer me to…" Casey did a drum roll. Nessa's raised eyebrows went all the way up into her reddish-brown bangs. "The New York Times!" Casey finished.
Nessa screamed. "Oh, my God! Where?! WHEN?!"
"Right after the summer." Casey smiled. "I'll get to work from home. It's a liesure section of the paper, geared to young adults and real adults."
"Kinda like Carrie Bradshaw and Sex and the City?" Nessa demanded.
"Kind of," Casey agreed. "Only, I won't really be talking about sex. I'm not sure I'm as big an expert as Sarah Jessica Parker is."
"The NYT," Nessa said in awe. "I always knew you were big enough stuff to handle the fame and glory."
"I'll be writing short stories and short epics and poems and funny narratives," Casey pointed out. "It'll be a while before anyone recognizes my name in print."
"So? It's a step close to being a chief editor or whatever." Nessa was a chef; she had absolutely nil idea about the journalistic steps towards actually being considered a "writer". "Does that mean your Mom will stop shoving money at your face?" Nessa continued.
Casey shrugged. "I'll have to find out during my sister's wedding."
Nina took a bite from her side of the pizza, the one with pepperoni on it. "When do you leave? For your Mom's place, I mean."
Casey wiped her mouth on a napkin. "Tomorrow. Stepfather George volunteered to drive all this way to pick me up, but they're all so busy. I feel kinda guilty, you know. I am the wedding planner of this century. The only help I can do at this point is show up and give the bride and groom my blessings."
Nessa laughed. "I'm sure that'll be enough. Are you still on for your old column?"
Casey nodded. "Yep. Until August. This summer is going to be one hell of a summer. And I don't mean it in a good way."
"Call me when you get back, okay?"
"Duh. Who else to call to have fun pizza memories with?" Casey reached over squeezed her friend's shoulder.
"Just as long as you have your priorities straightened," Nessa assured her.
Dylan had grabbed a pepperoni pizza and was stuffing his face with it. Casey groaned. Nessa laughed. "I think your son is protesting against the strict diet you've tried to implement ono him."
Casey grabbed the pizza from him. Dylan roared. Casey hastily handed him the remaining veggie pizza slice. Dylan continued to roar. The veggie pizza didn't have the favorable red chunks of meat on it. Nessa was practically on the floor, laughing. Casey shot her a death glare, then suddenly started to laugh herself. The two woman slid off their chairs and cluthed their stomachs. Tears were rolling down their cheeks. Tricia and Dylan looked up in alarm to see their mother and their mother's best friend practically yelping with laughter. Casey moaned, massaging her head.
Nessa wiped her tear-stained face. "Well, that was uncalled for. Not to mention undignified"
Casey grinned. Life might be bah, but it was a good bah, spent over pizza and meat-eating carnivorous children, and her best friend in all the world. It couldn't get any different than that.
How very wrong she was.