But fucking with a shipment to start a war is also a possibility. The thought gives me an uneasy feeling. War is something we’ve dealt with not too long ago, with my brother Dom. And his woman got caught up in that shit. An uneasy feeling settles in my gut. I’m not gonna let that shit happen again.
Chapter 14: Elle
I’m feeling more and more pathetic as I scroll through my phone. I literally have no one to talk to. I want to tell someone that I lost my V-card. Anyone. But I feel a bit pathetic that it took me this long, and who am I going to talk to anyway? I just realized I’ve essentially lost touch with all my friends from undergrad. We like each other’s FB posts, but I haven’t had a real conversation with Michelle or Amy in almost two years. Michelle is married now, and I think she’s pregnant. Yeah, she’s definitely pregnant. I remember seeing a picture of her with a huge belly, opening a box of blue balloons. Damn. I’m really out of touch.
That’s alright though. I’m going to start today. After all, I need to meet people in this town so that I can find a job. I applied for 20 positions, everything from waitressing and working at the hardware store, to working as a library assistant at the university. I’m almost out of gas now, too. I picked up a few applications for Mom, but she needs to get her shit together first.
The more I think about it, the more I realize I need to get mom to just sell this house. I can get a part-time job and still go to school, just like I did back in Maryland. I can do it again here. Only this time I’ll have Mom live with me so I can keep an eye on her.
I shove my phone into my clutch and take a look at myself in the dresser mirror. I have to back up and stand on my tiptoes to see my outfit fully. I like it. I think I look pretty in this yellow and white, striped cotton sundress, but still laid-back. The dress flows out from my hips in an A-line shape, but hugs the little dip in my waist. If only my boobs were bigger. I scrunch my nose wondering if I should grab my padded bra. My lips purse as I decide no, I don’t need that. He knows they’re little. It’s too late to fool him now.
I’m guessing he just wants me to run in and grab the book, which is fine. I want to look good though. And I’m not going to be clingy or anything like that. I’m going to play it cool. He doesn’t want strings, and I get that. I don’t need strings or a commitment. It’s not like I have my shit together anyway. But I don’t like the idea of it being just a fling.
I’m sure that’s what I was thinking last night, trying to hook up with him. I bet I took an extra shot or two so I’d have the courage to go through with it this time. It’s not like I’ve been saving myself. I just haven’t gotten around to it.
Each step down the stairs makes the soreness between my legs obvious. I can’t hide from what I did. Part of me is feeling ashamed. Like I should have saved myself for someone who would’ve loved me. But I keep shoving that feeling down. My father never loved my mother. Most of my friends growing up were the products of divorced parents. Love is something that comes and goes, I suppose. I don’t know if I’ll ever even fall in love. I don’t know if I have it in me.
But a quick fuck with no strings attached was something I thought I could handle. I always chickened out though. I’m not sure if I was more afraid that I’d fall for the guy and get hurt, or that I would be sorely disappointed afterward. I wince at the bottom step and try to bend down to relieve some of the ache between my thighs. So far, so good on both fronts, although the possibility of falling for Vince is high on my list. A sexy man who knows how to fuck, with his own house and an adorable puppy? Yes, please! But there’s always a catch. So I’m going to hold back. I’m not going to put my heart out there to be stomped. And everything is going to be just fine.
I look straight ahead and see my mother passed out on the couch. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself. It will all be fine. Everything will be fine. I walk over to her and brush the hair out of her face. One of her arms is hanging off of the side of the sofa and she’s drooling on a pillow. She doesn’t even have any pants on. Just a saggy old tank top and her underwear.
I bet if I looked in the kitchen, I’d find the bottle. I lean down closer and smell gin on her breath. Tears prick at my eyes. How can she keep doing this to herself? And to me, too? I spent all afternoon searching for a job while she got drunk. Deep down I know I can’t stand for this. I need to do something. I just don’t know what. I don’t know how to say no to her without hurting her. And more than anything else, I don’t want to hurt her. I put a hand on my heart and try to relieve the ache. My throat dries up, and I will the emotions away.