A/N- Filler feel; I'm happy to say, even though later in school I won't be, that after today, there will be no more Day XX. If you have been paying attention, you'll find that they represent something.
A/N- Dozens of thankyous to all my followers, reviewers, and readers! Ya'll keep me goin'.
Day 88
Bills, bills…bills—bills from the fucking water supplier, bills from ComEd, bills fromNicor, bills from Comcast. Essentially, the typical American household will pay a hefty amount of money to keep those lazy, greedy, corporate hicks wanting to supply them with life's necessities. Top that with hospital stay bills—one has to pay to bring another human, one that will someday be paying these same bills, into this fucking world. One would think that these things would be free but no.
Yanking a patch of hair from my scalp, I let out a frustrated growl. This is me looking through all the bills that have accumulated. Every envelope that I rip open spills out a letter or statement with wordy bullshit but the 3-digit money signs are quite clear. Coming back to the 'real world' has proved to be difficult already. Reaching over for my 5rd shot of vodka, I put it to my lips and savor what I can. It's midnight and I've yet to sleep with all this thinking of how in the sane heck I'm gonna put money into these motherfucker's pockets by the end of the month. Shit's swimmy… I hug the Absolut bottle and lay my head on the table.
Creaking of the front door welcomes a late, as usual for the past 2 weeks, Phillip Brooks. "You should really tell that hussy to let you off the hook sooner, you know?", I voice from my seat at the table.
Footsteps near closer until they're right behind me and lips peck my cheek while a scruffy beard tickles it, "I've tried but damn that woman does wonders, and besides I thought you'd be in bed by now.", he jokes
I half-smile, even though he can't see it, as he brings a chair and sits down beside me but let it drop, "Ha…ha. Sorry to disappoint."
Punk lifts my head and tries, emphasis on 'tries', to pry the bottle from my tight grip, "What's wrong, sweetcheeks?"
"Other than my jeans pancaking my ass, feeling like a bloated whale, my hair needing an address of its' own, the appliances rebelling against me, Micks giving me the silent treatment, Rosa mothering le kids because neither of their maternal figures are up to par, people who keep sending 'Are you alive?' texts, getting up for work but then feeling too fatigued, THESE BILLS THAT COME IN LIKE LATE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS!", I wave a couple of envelopes to prove my point,
He whistles, "Quite a list. Don't worry, princess, I've got solutions and answers…", he sits up and leans closer to me, whispering in my ear, "Your ass, like the rest of you, is amazing…unless there's someone else who isn't happy with it?"
I gasp and smack him, "Shut up."
"As for the appliances, poor things they are. They have the right to rebel! The ONE time I let you do MY load of laundry…people could smell me from a mile away!", he chuckles and I turn tomato red, "Micks is alright, I check on her before I leave…she's getting better believe me or not. Hey, all those fuckers that hit up your phone better JUST be asking that.", he deadpans and I smirk, "I got the bills under control.", he adds quickly, "Champ and Baby Snorlax ar—"
Barely getting the gulp down my throat, "Did you just refer to la bebe as a lazy, fat Pokemon?"
He grins, "Uh…SI, SENORITA!"
At this I couldn't help but laugh, "You're terrible!"
"What?", he tries to stifle his laughter, "All the midget does is cry, eat, shit, and sleep—all in that order!"
I facepalm, "What you expect her to do: suplex and tombstone people?"
"Yeah?", he grins even more as I laugh on his shoulder, "See, I make shit better when I'm around.", he says arrogantly
I smack him lightly upside the head, "Que chistoso eres…", I mutter taking another a gulp straight from the bottle
Phillip frowns at the sight, "How 'bout you fork up the bottle, you've had enough, little one.", he reaches for it but I turn
"How 'bout you tell me what's up with you and I'll give it.", I suggest. Give in, bitch, give in…
Boy taps his chin, "How 'bout we toss the bottle and head to bed. I'm tired as fuck and cold…you can be my furnace tonight?", he wags his brows insinuatingly. Fuck that, I want words and answers!
With a frown of my own, "I never finished tellin' ya' what's wrong. I didn't mention that this fuckin' vodka tastes like shit…dunno why in hell I bought it. Neither did I mention, you.", I poke him
Amused, "Me?", he asks
"Yes, you.", I observe the letters on the bottle like they're interesting, "You being out from dusk 'till dawn doing who knows what with who knows who, coming home expecting me to be oblivious and okay with that, and pussyfooting around questions and avoiding talking about anything about what you're on since-since—", I take a breather, "Whatever. Other than that, nothin's wrong…nada"
Punk stares at me as if I've spoken nonsense and I fume. I push off my chair and hand him the bottle, "You ain't sleeping anywhere near my bed."
"Are you—are you shittin' me right now?", he asks his patience with crumbling You're playing the jealous card, already?
"You see me smillin'?", I spit, "Go ask that hussy or whoever the fuck to warm you up.", I mutter and stomp of ALMOST tripping over myself but stomping. Maybe it's jealousy, perhaps his refusal to let me know what's going on, maybe it the alcohol…whatever…
"We aren't even official…remember? You don't need labels!", he shout after me. Fuck! Caught up with my own words!
Day 90
With a loud thump and a sharp pain in my back, I woke up. I rub my back and notice that I've fallen off the bed due to Fanny and Caro taking up the whole space. Huffing, I get up and look out the window to see that it's barely sunrise.
Heading out the door I hear voices yelling and I shake my head to hear that my parents are at it…once again. What's weird about this is that my dad's home—AND NOT WORKING. A smile squirms its way onto my face and I scurry my way to the kitchen where Estella is going off like a total prima donna at my father who just leans against the counter pretending to listen…like he always does.
"Ya ando pero bien pinche cansada de esta pinche vida, Israel…BIEN PIN—"
"Marley, hija!", my father comes over to me and lifts me up into his arms, "What you doing up so early?", he tickles me
I giggle, "I fell off the bed, Pa'."
He gasps, "Ah, donde se pego mi nena bonita?",I motion to my back
"ISRAEL! ISRAEL!", shouts Estella trying to get his attention
"Que?", he asks still playing with me
My mother groans in fury, "I'm going out.", she picks up her wallet and trudges out the door, slamming it.
I recoil into my father, "Don't worry, mija. She's just grumpy.", I nod unconvinced, "Oye, por que no te vistes and I'll take you, Caro, and Fanny to school."
I light up, "Does that mean that you're gonna go to Career Day with me?", I ask excitedly for my old man never was able to make it to any of my school things due to his job
He nuzzles my cheek, "Of course, now go wake up your sisters.", he puts me down and I dash off like Roadrunner.
Parent after parent, they all go and talk about their career; some firefighters on their off-day, others chefs and bakers, one a neurological surgeon on break, a car salesman, etc. most, if not all, of these parents are white. Rarely do you see a Latino parent come in a talk about her/his job at a fastfood gig or metalworks factory.
Standing proudly, holding my old man's hand, I bring him forward and begin to tell that class what he does, "So, this is my Dad…", I smile up at him, "he works at Ford Motors…he helps build cars.", my entire 3rd grade class claps and my pops begins to explain a little bit about what he does.
Smiling proudly, I stand off to the side while my dad goes on. I turn to see the parents in the back whisper amongst themselves and snicker while shooting funny looks at my dad. Other days, I'd be quiet as a mouse…but not this day.
Pulling on my dad's shirt, "Can I say something?", he smiles and nods. I clear my throat and look at the floor, "Astronaut, teacher, detective, salesman, chef, surgeon—out of all of those my-my…uh…my Dad isn't one of them. His job may not seem to be anything important BUT without people like him that assemble cars…none of us would have one. With that, all of you parents should be respectful because my Dad is MY rolemodel/hero…just like you are in YOUR kids eyes…and I respected that when you were up.", I then shyly hug my Dad
It's for the American Dream that people like my father put themselves through hardships and jobs that other educated people wouldn't ever take. The American Dream is something that one has to stride for because it isn't given to you. To achieve the white picket fence, family dog, luxury car, 2 kids, wife/husband, and a two-story house in a nice neighborhood one has to put in the effort whether going to school or using their own two hands.
Today is THAT day: the day I go back to work in hopes that one day I too will have a shot at MY American Dream. Today is the day I finally walk through those Inkblot doors and greet the people who have daily texted me asking for my return.
Cracking my stiff muscles, I look over to my side and remember that I kicked Phil out of my bed 2 days ago. Staring at the clock, it reads 9p.m which means that the mentioned man is probably long gone, as usual. Rolling my eyes I crawl out of bed and over to my drawers to choose out a semi-decent outfit for tonight. Better late than never…
Snatching up an all black, save for the Rockawear silver logo, and my phone, I head into the bathroom to get beautified and ready to roll out.
(30 MINUTES LATER)
Coming out of the bathroom with my hair did, make-up did—everything did, I enter Micks' room to let her know where I'm going and all that shit. She nods and I slug my way over to her drawer to find her extra set of keys for Wes's trusty muscle car.
Outside, I take a moment to breathe in the fresh air and run my fingertips along the chrome linings of the prized possession. I open the door and start the ignition, let the motor warm up and back out. I roll a window down as I drive down the streets of my beloved town and blare up the speakers with Mexican ass music. It feels…good to be alive.
Being that it has been approximately 17mins that I've been outside of the parlor, sitting in Wes's car deciding on whether or not this is a good idea, I finally get myself together and slowly make my way towards the door. An unfamiliar redhead passes by me and I slide through the door.
Everything has remained the same; everything, except a giant painting of Wes, tattoo guns, and his beloved muscle car. The beauty, detail, creativity, and love put into this brings tears to my eyes. In his honor…
"Mar, is that…? Is that you?", asks a shocked Bree as she steps over cautiously. I stare at her dumbly and she gasps and catches me in a hug, "OH MY GOD, MAR!", she shrieks while rocking me side to side. The blonde holds my face between her hands and plants one on me, "You whore, I FUCKING missed you!", she hugs me once more…this time sobbing into my shoulder, "Had us wo-worried…", I rub her back lovingly
The click-clack of heels I hear, "What's all this damn ruckus? Wild child makin' everybody stop what they doin' fo—", I let go of Bree and smile at the complaining woman, JoAnne. The gum drops out of her mouth, "Oh my heavenly lord, Jesus.", she whispers, "Mar—child, that you?", she asks bustling towards me. I nod and she hugs me tightly, "Oh my…!", she giggles like a kid in a candyshop, "Girl, it's you…really you!"
I smile embarrassedly at all the attention, "Guys calm the fuck down—it's nothing big.", I urge them
Both of my co-workers, close friends, gasp and Bree shrieks, "NOTHING BIG?"
JoAnne claps her hands together, "PEOPLE HOLD YO' SHIT…AND PLEASE GIVE OUR BELOVED, MARLEENE A WARM WELCOME! BITCH BEEN GONE FOR TOO LONG—LETMME HEAR THOSE CLAPS!", JoAnne shoot me a 'Nothing big?' look
I facepalm and receive wolf-whistles, cat-calls, claps, hoots, and hollers from everybody in the damn room. Jesus Christ…, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? YA'LL TRYING TO GET THE COPS ON US?", barks the one and only Carlos Torres as he snakes through the crowd with Jee on his track. The noise lowers until it's quite and both men see the cause for such disorder, "Curlyfries?", he says with a confused look etched on his face
"Marley?", says Jee with a dumbfounded look. Both men stare at each other and then make a run towards me almost knocking me over due to the force.
"He-hey guys…", I whisper as all the wind is sucked from my lungs
(15 MINUTES LATER)
After getting all the hype down, the group and I sit about the office talking about happenings and shit. Bree talks about her recent fling with a married man and how she ALMOST got her tits done, JoAnne tells about her pending date with her husband who has just returned after 2yrs abroad, Jee recounts his spiritual enlightening and details on his amazing tribute to the late Wes, and Carlos summarizes how he has decided to get his GED and finally settle down or at least try. I give my best synopsis of the past 3months of my life and end up in tears.
After more small talk, we all accompany JoAnne outside to greet her long-missed hubby and we go back in. I see that Remy, a new addition to the parlor, has taken over my throne but still has my pictures on the counters. Everybody is at work, I observe. That's when I notice a very familiar Ace of Spades tattoo, alongside a cobra, and various other body art.
With my eyebrow raised, I creep close to my girl Piper who currently wraps up a Rosie the Riveter tat on a fellow StraightEdge. The man has his eyes closed and I smirk, "WELL, HELLO THERE!", I shout in his ear
He spasms back to life and glares daggers at me, "YOU TRYING TO SCARE BE TO DEATH, LA—Marleene?"
"One and only, sugar.", I wink. Still got it…
Punk lays back down and motions for me to take a seat next to him but I pass, "What brings you here?"
"Around town and decided to make my grand return…you know since I've got nothing to do but wait on you to grace me with your presence."
He raises a brow, "Is that so…?", he pouts mockingly, "And here I was believing that you didn't want to see me, not in your house, not in your bed…not ever."
I roll my eyes and count backwards from 10 to refrain from hitting him, "Very cute, Punk…", I grumble
He flutters his lashes, "I try…", Piper finisher wrapping his tat and removes herself from the scene
"So, this is what you've been doing all this time?"
"Sure, if that'll get me into that warm be of yours…", he responds with a sly smirk. Oh God…
Fixing a flyaway, "Nope, BUT telling me what's up with you disappearing wi—"
"CURLYFRIES! COME UP! WE THROWING YOU A LIL' SOME'-SOME'!", shouts Carlos from the staircase
"BE THERE IN A SEC!", I shout back
Green eyes bore into the man who has just called me, "Well…go on Curlyfries, they await thou.", he hops off the chair and walks out the door, grabbing his hoody along the way, "Later, your Majesty.", STUPID BITCH! Whatever…he can wait 'till tomorrow…
Upstairs, everyone inside the parlor is splayed about the hippy-themed room. Piper and Claudia both go to work the mini bar. Jee medicates a couple of people and me on the house. Carlos orders food. The ambiance is set with some music and dimmed down lights.
Sometime between body shots and sniffs of powder, we took one in honor of Wes, and mine for returning. Between highs and blackouts, I saw Wes hand in hand with Fanny and maybe it was an illusion of my dulled out mind but hell…we believe what we want.
Slurry and blurrily I made a toast to love, lust, and the American Dream. Mentally, I made one for the struggle I went through and the struggle to come.