6

The light flickered as it drew in through my squinted eyes. I didn't want to wake up to do so would be to feel the headache from the night before. I could wish it away and lay here for four more hours or I could get up. I do not choose the latter.

I feel a foot gently tapping my ribs.

"Get up! It's 4 o'clock, get up!," Dave says gently.

I wipe the mascara out of my eyes and onto the satin pillow case. My face is that of a raccoon big black circles around my eyes and trails leading down to creases by my mouth from where I the tears the day prior had landed.

I wasn't home.

I drank so much to forget why I would drive 8 hours back here. There would be no parties this night no, college antics. We graduated five years ago, yet we were still here; or I was here.

Dave had been in and out of college for ten years trying to overcome a conviction that had taken place, the type of unpleasantness you don't speak about in mixed company. We all knew that he was innocent, but not everyone believes truth when lies sound so tempting.

I looked up to see a collage of photos on his wall. The photos of cliques past, friends that now are distant memories and moments that I care not to remember. These weren't my memories... nor were they ones that I cared to remember.

"Give me the screwdriver! I need to do something," I grumbled.

He left the room as I placed my jeans on under my long shirt. He peered into the room and with a blush ran out chanting that he was sorry.

"Modesty has no place here, shut up and get back here, now!" I yelled.

He poked back in the room and held out the screwdriver. It was chipped and rusted with a black and red handle. I grabbed it and held it for a moment examining the flaws, running my fingers over the indented brand name that I could no longer make out. I then just kept starring past the screwdriver and onto the wood paneling of the floor.

"She's not there, Jen." Dave said.

I looked up at him and began wiping more of my mascara away. I attempted to straighten up my appearance but the smell of liquor somehow stained my clothes. I couldn't see straight.




"We can fit more! I know we can," she yelled. Here college sweatshirt was fresh from the dryer and smelled of chemicals and flowers. Her hair was amber colored and placed in a short pony tail.

I walked away from the car. It was beat up and periwinkle in shade with a pink racing stripe down the side. The car was full of about five men in the seats and two hidden in my trunk.

I walked towards the girl and slapped her on her behind playfully.

"Sarah are you sure we won't get in trouble? My car is only supposed to fit four?" I said.

She smiled at me and placed her hand on her hip. Cocked her head to one side and said in an authoritatively mocking voice, "We are only going 10 blocks, we can make it!"

We started to walk towards the car. I opened the door for Sarah from the inside. The boys were clammering on about how we wouldn't make it there before the bars closed.

I turned to look at her and saw her smiling at me. "Why are we doing this again?"

"Because we're "tipsy" and there's no other way to get a carload of boys to a bar!"

"They wouldn't be a carload if we weren't in a car, Sarah!" I said snidely.

Sarah looked back at the boys who were smiling and nudging each other for space.

"Just drive."




I run my hands over Dave's flip flops they are twice the size of my feet, but I don't want to bother with the effort of putting my socks on.

"Can I borrow these?" I ask. Dave nods as I'm placing them on my feet.

I start walking towards the door, wobbling slightly with the obnoxiously over-sized flip flops. I look back at Dave as I open the back door. He stands with his arms crossed in a robe.

"You KNOW she's not there!" He sighs. I look back at him and then back to the door.

"I've known that for awhile Dave, but it doesn't change things."

The door is chipped and dented in slightly I push it open to reveal the back of the house and an old parking lot facing a couple of garbage cans and a neighboring apartment building.




"Happy Birthday Brian!" rows of people started to chant through the living room and into the kitchen.

Dave ran over to Brian, a medium sized man with large muscles and a buzz cut. Brian was majoring in law enforcement and was already signed up for the Army it was his life's goal and dream. He never quit belonged in our group of hippies, liberals and and ultra lefties, but we loved him and invited him in as Dave's roommate.

Dave handed him a paper bag which Brian immediately tore threw.

"Jim Bean! How'd you know?" Brian said sarcastically.

"Well gee, Brian maybe I had a small hint?" Dave laughed as he points to the Jim Bean beach towel hanging on the wall.

I walked over to Brian and gave him a big hug!

"Thanks midget!" he said as I gave him a peck on the cheek and darted into the kitchen.

The kitchen was packed with people I'd never met or seen, but as I looked down I could see exactly why. There were three kegs in ice boxes lined up against the window.

"Jen get over here!" Sarah yelled. I made my way through the crowd and I saw her sitting on the counter with a space for me and a red plastic cup with her name written in sharpie.

I lean over and kiss her. Then jump onto the cold counter. I felt her put her arm around me. I looked over and I could tell that she's been drinking for awhile.

"Nobody mess with my girlfriend!" she yelled.

I just laughed and kissed her again but that time I didn't stop.




Standing on the porch I could feel the cold breathe all over my body. It was still winter and I started to have second thoughts about my shoe decision. I could see the place where Sarah's and my red plastic cups remained for two weeks before Dave finally picked them up after the party. I walked over to the neighboring apartment building and into the car port.

The walls were still dingy and cold with the stucko coming off. I walked through the wooden door leading into the apartments and up the carpeted stairs that smelled of old mildew. My hands traced over the cold railings and up the two flights.

I stood before a door with the number 6 in front of it. My eyes started to well up as I took the screwdriver and placed it over the head of the screw and started to twist it. I wanted to be gentle as to not awaken the tenant.

I couldn't stop thinking about how many nights I had slept in room number 6 or how many nights I had drank in room number 6 or how many times I wish I had made love in room number 6.

The metal number hit the floor with a loud clang. Startled and scared I snatched up the number and ran down the stairs and over to Dave's house with the flip flops smashing against my feet.

"I did it," I yelled. "I have the number!"

Dave just sat there against the bed as I walked over and sat in front of him with my back facing me. His hands crept out of his robe and onto my shoulders as he massaged them.

"But, you know it won't bring her back Jen... there's really no point to it. It's just a number."

I looked down at the floor and onto the flip flops. My eyes again started to tear up.

"But, Dave its her number," I cried as my fingers traced over the cool brass plates of the number 6. "Its my number."

Diligence.

My head begins to pound from the over powering aroma, the smell reminds me of the women you see coming out of a cheap motel, the kind you can still smell after they passed by you five minutes prior

It feels like someone bite my foot I look down and there's a shard sticking out of my flesh and swolen deep into the meaty part of my heel. The blood makes puddles around the tile and small blots onto the nearby white shag carpet.

I don't panic.

I swing open the medicine cabinet and take out the tweezer, you always have to make sure to get it all. I roll up a wade of toilet paper and begin to operate. Biting my lower lip the seemingly smooth glass starts cutting its way outside of my body; as I blot the blood away. It leaves quit a hole which I pour anticeptic in causing an eruption similar to a science experiment.

There's a knock on the door.

I ignore it. I know he's out there but, he can wait. I start to put the supplies away.

Still the knock increases.

I close the medicine cabinet and wash my hands diligently from the blood and cotton. I look up and Brady is standing behind me. I see him for a moment then all I can see is my reflection in the mirror, its one of worry and alarm... I know I want him to go, but I know I can't make him.

I turn around and walk towards him with arms open.

Lacey Run.

There is something about pillows that make me feel comforted like an old lover holding you in your vacancy. I stack them up high around me like a mound.

In the comfort I can feel the drip and I know there is no way to sleep, not in this paranoia. I pound back two tall boys and a bowl and watch my hands slowly caress the pillows...I know I can sleep...now.

The table keeps echoing the same vibrations from Brady's relentless power struggle.

Lacey get your ass over here.

I know that there are most likely three other woman receiving the same message from him a pure way of putting all your eggs in three separate baskets. I pick up my phone and start texting an ex boyfriend who I haven't seen in five years. The description of my blouse and the local of my hands entices him to create an explicit conversation.

Do I dare to keep it up?

I tell him that I want him and that I need him and that I wish he was laying besides me. Then I press send, but its not his name on the screen it's Brady. As soon as it vanishes my phone starts to vibrate.

I'm on my way! =)

"Fuck!" I scream, while running to the bathroom. I reach for the towel accidentally toppling over my perfume and smashing the glass vile. The room is now overpowering with the smell of mildly cheap cologne. I scrap my face with the wash clothe and tear off my clothes it must look like I've been sleeping for an hour or more. He'd buy that right? I'd buy that. I'd buy anything.

Lacey.

(first off I apologize for the last piece of shit entry)

I look down at my phone again. It just won't stop the vibrating every night with the drunk texting. It was cute at first and now its becoming unbearable, the constant struggle over whether or not he means well or he is blacked out again.

"I hate you!" I roll my eyes slamming the phone.

Lacey come out, please...

It hasn't always been like this. There wasn't always this constant power struggle, even though I've been winning this whole time; or at least I like to think that I've been winning.

I walk over to the table and reach for my wallet, pulling out a money tree plastic card. Its a source of embarrassment and relief. I throw my body against the bed, something about the flop is always comforting like being caught in your father's arms in the deep end of the pool.

The table is relatively clean just a few pieces of paper lying about, the usual bills. Under the table I pull a small jar that my mother gave to me the last time she went with "Uncle" Charlie to Tahiti. The smooth round jar is cold clay with an emerald color lining. Pulling out my safety pack I take a pinch of powder and fill the table using the money tree card to divide and conquer.

I snort the line.

I go to the bathroom to run some water around my nose, the numbness always throws me off. The aspirin tasting drip is like an annoying poke in the side by my baby brother. I whip the crust and blot. I can hear my phone vibrating on the table top.

Lacey, where are you.

I text back, I'm coming Brady, just had a few errands to run.

I flop back on the bed and curl up in the blankets, its so warm and so comforting. The vibration sound is becoming more obnoxious.

Where are you?

"I'm coming, ahhh! God! You're obnoxious!" I scream. I throw the jar under the table. I trace over the line with a dampened finger and then lick the remains. The drip won't stop.

Brady, No.

Her phone begins to vibrate violently, echoing a loud thunder on the wooden table. She looks at the phone it reads, "Message from Brady." (CHANGING TENSES HERE)

He's a lush, yet I hate the fact that I'm still intrigued by him, there's some thing almost novelty about him in so many ways that I keep him at arms lengths. She lays back on the bed thinking, Brady is the biggest dick in a bottle except the bottle has a million cracks in it. To many break in case of emergency cases, but not a big enough emergency... yet.

She kneels over the table, flips her phone and reads the message:

Please come out and play, please? I miss you.

My eyes roll up and then back at the floor. Its always the same thing every time that bottle touches his lips. The phone starts to vibrate again. I don't have time for this.

Prove to me that you like me come to me!

Again the classic eye roll now followed by a few signs and a hand on the waist. I wish I knew a way to slap the bottle from his hand. Apparently there are new and emerging problems every day at the disadvantages of texting.

She Came.

There was a moment when she said, "I'd rather be alone than fill my life with pointless relationships that will never go anywhere." Looking around the room she then turned back to the floor. "I don't want to give myself up to fill my legs, I would rather fill my mind." Sighing she laid on the bed, the room was still spinning, but she knew that her decision would keep her pillows dry.

"Why string someone along? Why waste the moment?" Her eyes raised higher and upwards. "What type of dichotomy is it really when you have no say in anything?" She looked through the closet door, her eyes burned and blurred by the overhead light. "I just want more for myself and to feel more for myself."

"Tonight isn't a night to make an abundance of excuses for you, tonight is the night when I'm alone and I am." She held her hand out, but there would be no embrace on the other side, nor did she long for one. "Why does society say you must find someone to make you whole? What kind of person were you for those 26 odd years prior to meeting this polyman, were you just in waiting then not really living life...are you codependent before you even meet?"

Each question she muttered slowly to herself her fingers tracing through her hair not waiting for someone, not waiting for something...not waiting.

Diary Begins...

And know that this will be a new chapter... =)

I've decided to start a date diary (fuck you Bridget Jones!) something funny for just me really and since no one else knows that I have this its my way of having a laugh at some of the things that are going on in my life.

A joke that I am starting to write right now is based on expressions given to me by ex boyfriend and perhaps current relations... he doesn't read this nor does he know I have this so I can write whatever I want.

The three most absurd and stupid phrases ever uttered by men I've been in a relationship with.

1. I know it's been only three months, but I really think you should move in.

2. I would have asked anyone to help me move, don't consider yourself special!

3. Are you still on your period? (Yes) Good! Because that means your body is working properly.

As noted previously in other blogs I am keeping the majority of the guys I've been dating at arms length to avoid getting caught up in anything and to avoid... well, getting attached entirely. Its become more of a...

A Conversation with Rachel in the break room today:
"I have about 5 guys right now that I am interested in and going on dates with. I like to put out a really big net and go out with about ten guys or more and then dwindle them down until I have maybe 3 or so and then have fun with that group for awhile and then widdle it down to the guy I want to date," I said.
"Sounds like a good idea, but hard to keep track of all of them," Rachel said.
"I've done it before, its not hard and its not like I'm hooking up with each of them..." I said.

Which brings us to... A Conversation with Paul:
"Just go out there and experience everything you can!" Paul said.
"Oh, I intend to but not in a skanky way," I said.
"No, not in a whore way..." Paul said.
"No, not in a whore way, Paul... you can't call me that now... but if it were college you could and I'd agree with you," I said.

(Insert: typical Paul laugh here...)

I think I have a date with Johnny tomorrow to watch a horror movie and Christian on Friday to watch a classic film at my place. =)

-Jen.