Dawnie-7, Pacifica is close to my heart too! My mother was from there, so I spent some childhood years there.
Anyways, thanks for the reviews, I know I say it every time, but they really just make my life.
By the way, down in this chapter is NOT the bar fight scene from the movie. This one is different.
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There is that great urban myth that suicide rates increase over the holidays. In reality, they decrease.
Christmas time was approaching alarmingly fast, and I found myself severely depressed. I was snorting more dope each day, and Dylan was beginning to pick up on my distant persona.
I had never known a person like Dylan. He never wanted to speak about his past, yet was always trying to get me to talk about my own. He had been abandoned his whole life, and clung to me with surprising force. If I so much as went off with Hazel for a few days, he would do everything in his power to get in touch with me. He was intense and passionate, and always had weed, heroin, or mushrooms on him. I had never noticed, but he had tattoos on his forearms, wrists, and one stretching down his back. They all stood for something I soon found out; each possessed it's own depressing story. He had no family, wasn't sure what his name really was, and always looked upon everyone in a cynical matter.
We enjoyed being cynics together.
We began spending every second together, and he was very possessive of me. We could get into raging arguments about the fact that I wouldn't let him know the 'real me' and somehow, end up having crazy sex afterwards.
The day of Christmas Eve, a group of us had all gone camping. I awoke in the bright sunlight to a chilly day, with wet dew soaking through my dress. Dylan was right next to me, shivering. I examined the intricate design on his upper arm, which I had discovered symbolized his friend who had committed suicide by overdosing.
Crawling out from under his grasp and out into the brisk morning light, I blinked several times. Wasn't it supposed to be a 'white Christmas?' I had never seen one. The wooded area we had slept in stretched around a small beautiful pond that we had swam in the previous night. Bending down and throwing on Dylan's long black jacket and my scarf, I set off on a walk around the pond.
All I could think about was my gate shot I had yet to retrieve. My head pounded from last night, and my feet were freezing. Glancing back at the area where we had fallen asleep I saw Opal and Alex lying in a huddle, while Ryvre and Hazel had snuck off into the woods. Dylan's eyes were open, and he was watching me, watching him, from across the pond that glinted with the golden color of the sunlight. He stood up, put on his leather jacket, and walked to the edge of the pond, across from me. We stared at each other for a long time, until Opal woke up, and the moment was tarnished. I made my way back to them, and we decided to go to the commune and rest.
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When our van pulled up to the commune, there was a wreath hanging upon the door that someone had weaved.
"What, another admirer of Hazel's?" Opal joked, fingering the red bow upon it.
"Well, if it is, they should know I'm a theist," Hazel replied simply.
We strode inside, and I went straight to the bed in the front room, which was just a lot of pillows in a pile, and set myself down. Immediately, I noticed my heavenly pillow. I bent over and inhaled deeply: sandalwood.
"And?"
"I got your shit. It's all your clothes, and your favorite feather pillow."
"Azure," Dylan's rough voice entered my uncharacteristic flashback. My eyes shot open, and my head flew away from the pillow.
"What?"
He gently took my hand and led me to our room. He began to prepare himself a shot of dope, and threw me the bag so I could snort some. I lifted it up to eyesight, and looked at Dylan.
"How different is it?" I asked.
"What, sleeping on heroin? It's nice, but sorta pointless," he laughed.
"No, no… I mean, shooting than snorting."
He paused, and scrutinized me. "Azure, this isn't a fucking joke."
"Is it amazing?"
"Look-"
"Is it worth it?"
"Why do you get like this? I don't want you rashly deciding to do this! Jesus, I wish you would stop being so fucking curious! It makes me feel weird even shooting up in front of you!" he yelled.
"You can't talk to me about that, you fucking hypocrite! If I wanna shoot up, I'm gonna shoot up!" I screamed back.
"You don't understand!"
"Really? I don't understand? You can go to hell!" I was grumpy from the long drive home, and lack of heroin in my system.
"Real mature, real mature," he mumbled, inserting the heroin into a syringe. I watched in awe as he did this, and he noticed. Not bothering to tell me to look away, as he normally did, he pulled up his jacket sleeve, tied a shoestring above the bend of his elbow, and pushed the needle into the clearly visible vein. A small dot of blood appeared as his eyes rolled in satisfaction. Removing the needle and the shoestring, he wiped off the blood without realizing it was even there. He admired me with loving eyes, and I craved to know what the experience was like. Gliding over to me, he wrapped his arms around my lower back and kissed me.
"I don't wanna fight," he murmured into my neck. I shoved him away.
"Well, I don't either. But you can't pretend like it'll never happen," I snarled, exiting the room. Storming through the place and out the front door, I thundered down the sidewalk, not sure where I was going. I heard Dylan chasing after me, which forced me to start sprinting.
"Azure, Azure! Wait!" he yelled from behind me. The cold was whipping my hair around my face and stinging every inch of my skin. I cut through many alleys, and dove down different streets, until I came upon a bar with neon signs. I slowed my pace, and stared into the window. It seemed as though the people inside were ones who despised the movement I was with. They were the ones who wore all black, and hated peace and love. It was not the bar I should have entered, but decided to push the door open and head to the bar.
The bartender glared at me.
"What the fuck you doing in here, flower child?"
"I just need a drink."
"We don't serve hippie freaks."
"Man, I would never say something like that about you," I stated, not really knowing how to respond. He rolled his eyes, and turned away from me.
I didn't recognize the music at all; I could only decipher screaming. I remained where I was standing, examining all the fast movements and mohawks. For the first time in several months, I felt awkward. I became very aware of my hands hanging lamely at my sides. I was receiving very odd looks, and a lot of middle fingers.
"Hey, beatnik, what you doing here?" a raspy voice hissed in my ear. I slowly turned around and saw an enormous man with a shaved head two inches from my face. It sent chills down my spine that he was so close to me. I averted my eyes from him, and locked them on a television in the corner of the bar. Without really watching, I stared. Then, familiar pictures began to register in my head. Moving closer, I realized it was the news report, and P.O.P. was being reported on. Listening carefully, I strained to hear what the newscaster was saying.
"Last night, Pacific Ocean Pier Park burned to the ground. This is one of many fires of the park that have occurred since it's opening in 1967. In other news-"
I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't think. This was too much. The photographs that had been shown were of the pier lying in ruins and ashes. My body froze. Somebody shoved me, and I tripped and fell to the cold floor. I wanted to lie there forever; P.O.P. was gone, and was nothing but a memory. Tony, Jay, Stacy, and I would never walk that pier again. A hot tear leaked out of my eye and hit the stone floor.
Suddenly, a sharp kick to my ribcage jolted me out of my thoughts. I lost my breath, and rolled over to my back, gasping for air, and trying not to focus on the pangs in my side.
"Get the hell away from her," I heard Dylan hiss.
"What you gonna do, huh?"
I then picked myself up, only to see Dylan tackle the huge bald man, and begin punching him fiercely. Blood ran down the strangers face, and covered Dylan's fists.
"Stop! Stop!" I shrieked, trying to pull Dylan off. The shaven man's friends pushed me back to the floor, and were more successful in ripping Dylan away. They then proceeded to forcibly remove him from the bar and out into the streets, where they then threw him to the ground and started kicking him in the face, stomach, and sides. I followed, and started panicking. They would kill him.
"No! No, please stop! Fuck, stop it!" I screeched. I leaped through a gap between the three men, and hovered over Dylan's limp body. The blows were now hitting me. I hoped I would die, and allow this pain to be over with; I could not stand it. My eyes fluttered open and close, between consciousness and unconsciousness. My breath was coming out in short breaths, but I could feel Dylan stirring underneath me. I felt my body hit the pavement, and witnessed Dylan's blurry image stand up, and whip out a blade. It was long, and glinted in the light of the neon signs. The three men retreated, swearing and yelling at us.
His strong arms slid under my back and legs, and hoisted me close to his chest. I knew we were moving, but did not have the willpower to open my eyes. It seemed like seconds later when he laid my down in a soft patch of grass. I then opened my eyes wide, and took in his wounds.
His beautiful face was smeared with blood, and his nose seemed to have been broken again. His lower lip was busted, and his shirt was ripped in several spots.
"Azure, I need to take you somewhere. You look bad," he told me softly, touching my cheek, which immediately stung.
"No, no, Dylan, I am so sorry," I choked out. "If I wasn't so god damned stupid, you wouldn't be hurt!"
He grinned, but it did not reach his eyes. "I've seen people bleed to death. Don't think I don't know my injuries aren't as severe."
I let this fact soak in as I looked at him sympathetically.
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After our conversation, Dylan and I had walked home in the setting sun, saying nothing.
When we returned to the house, everyone began to fuss over us. Hazel and Opal tried to clean our wounds, while Ryvre and Alex convinced us to smoke three bowls for the pain. Dylan and I didn't speak much, but allowed them to do whatever they felt necessary.
Finally, we entered our room and collapsed on the bed. His arms were wrapped around my bruised body. After a while, I spoke.
"I'm so sorry."
"I'm sorry I let you run away."
"That's not your fault."
He paused. "Why were you on the floor?"
"I fell."
"It didn't have anything to do with whatever you were watching?" he asked.
"How-how did you know that?"
"I saw you."
"Well, the news always freaks me out," I lied.
"Stop making things up," he growled, his eyes bright with fire. "It was about the fire, right?" I blinked, which he took as a yes. "Why was that important to you?"
I sighed, and waited. "I learned how to surf there," I mumbled quickly.
He nodded, and stopped questioning me.
"Wh-who did you see… die?" I stuttered.
He didn't respond. "Get some sleep, Azure."
"I'm sorry," I whispered. His face had moved closer to mine, when he quietly said, "I love you," and shut his sparkling eyes.
My chest clenched up, and heart began to race. Love was such a strong word, one I had never used.
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The next morning, my entire body ached. Dylan was no longer in the bed with me. I tried to sit up, but a gasp escaped my lips and the pain was too intense. Turning my head to the side, I noticed a card with three mermaids on the front. I picked it up, and stared at the beautiful sketch. Two of the mermaids were propped on rocks, ahead of the third, which they were staring at, obscuring their faces from view; both had long dark hair. The third mermaid they were looking at had long brown hair also, and my facial features. Her body was even the same shape as mine. He had drawn me. Flipping it over, I saw Dylan's untidy scrawl:
"To be alone with you,
Just you and me,
Now won't you tell me true,
Ain't that the way it oughta be?
To hold each other tight.
The whole night through,
Ev'rything is always right,
When I'm alone with you.
To be alone with you,
At the close of the day,
With only you in view,
While evening slips away,
It only goes to show,
That while life's pleasures be few,
The only one I know,
Is when I'm alone with you.
They say that nighttime is the right time.
To be with the one you love,
Too many thoughts get in the way in the day.
But you're always what I'm thinkin' of.
I wish the night were here,
Bringin' me all of your charms,
When only you are near,
To hold me in your arms.
I'll always thank the Lord,
When my working day's through,
I get my sweet reward.
To be alone with you."
Azure, I don't have the talent to actually write this piece of art, but I hope you can appreciate it. Your eyes are capable of melting my heart away, and I could play with your long hair all day. Please, don't ever leave me.
I love you, Dylan.
Glancing up from the card, I saw the rose lying on the pillow also. I took it gently, and inhaled the sweet smell of a rose. Shutting my eyes, I decided I would never remark on the card, for I would not know what to say.
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I awoke very late that day, and remembered it was Christmas. Loud noises were echoing into the room I slept in from the front room, and I forced myself to wander outside. I saw a gathering of people, all obviously tripping. Dylan was not among them. Going into the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of him, bruised and cut up, speaking with Alex in hushed voices. A lump formed in my throat, and I ran back to my room, grabbed a jacket, and pulled the hood over my face.
As quietly as possible, I opened the front door, and headed out into the cold night. Everything hurt, and with every step, a sharp pang was sent through my body. I was walking for a long time, until I found the area we had been beaten last night. Staring at the spot on the cement, I could almost feel the kicks to my side again. Glancing up, I caught my reflection. It looked terrible; I had a black eye, large gashes on my cheeks, and my lip was busted. Not being able to look at myself any longer, I leaned against a wall and pulled a cigarette out from the coat. After I lit it, my nerves began to calm.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash, and the window of the bar shattered, as men poured through, engaged in a vicious battle. From the left ran some younger guys, about my age, who joined in the fight. It disgusted me, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. The band was still playing, loving every second of it.
Then, a boy with dirty blond hair crawled out of the crowd and to the sidewalk I was watching from. He was wearing a black bandana, and looked as though he had been shaken up.
"Man, this is why war is a hideous business," I moaned, not really caring if he listened or not.
"You don't know shit, hippie," he grunted, standing up and facing me. "What the fuck happened to your face?"
"Some of these guys decided it would be fun to bash it in," I told him, still not looking at him. He was silent for a while, and I thought it would be safe to take a look at him. My heart skipped a beat, and my breath got caught somewhere in my throat. It was Jay: the dirty blond hair, the olive skin, and those topaz eyes.
"Jay?" I exclaimed. He speculated me for a moment, and then gasped in shock.
"Kimber?" I nodded once, slowly. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"I already told you what happened. What are you doing here?"
He chose not to answer. "Did you hear about the pier?"
"Yeah," I sighed. He shifted his weight uncomfortably.
"Sid's got brain cancer. A tumor. The doctors are gonna operate soon." He said gruffly, not looking me in the eye.
"No…" I groaned. "You're serious?"
"Yeah."
We stood there silently.
"How's Tony? And Stacy?" I said, changing the subject.
"Famous."
"And Kathy?" I asked. He didn't seem amused.
"We're still together."
"Haven't cheated on her with a skanky whore yet, huh?" I snapped. He stared at his feet.
"I hear you're a junkie," he countered. It was my turn to look at the sidewalk. But then, I regained my dignity, and picked my head up.
"Well, it was nice seeing you." I said. He looked startled, as though he didn't expect me to leave so soon.
"Where are you going?"
"Dylan will be worried if I'm gone too long, especially after last night."
"Who?" He questioned.
"Dylan. My boyfriend. I'd invite you to meet him, but I don't want to," I growled.
"Merry Christmas," I then said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Spinning around and throwing my cigarette butt down, I allowed the tears to fall silently and freely. A ghost from my past reappearing, only to bring horrible news about Sid, and to inform me I was still madly in love with him.
As I walked away from Jay that night, I would never know he came looking for me. After all, Dylan had been perfect to me; there was no reason to give Jay a second thought.
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Sorry this was short, I wanted to get it up around this time of year!
Review please!!!
-lette.