Another night on the town, another bar packed with strangers... Why this was my friends' idea of fun, or why they would think that I might find it enjoyable, I have no idea. Actually, that's not entirely true, my friends think that they're doing me a favor by dragging me off to some bar or club so I can hook up with some chick who won't be able to remember most of what happened anyway. It's not like I have a problem with the ladies, I'm a decent-looking guy, but I don't really see the point of having sex just to have had sex...especially not with someone who needs at least half a dozen shots of tequila to "loosen up". Besides, most of the women just wind up looking at me like I'm some brainless hunk of meat. Some of them use gender equality as an excuse, as in "Men constantly ogle at women, so why can't we do the same", whereas others just don't care or have their own little reasons for approaching me.
So, here I am...putting on a good show for da boyz. Be it in the name of solidarity, in the name of bromance, whatever...I just go through the motions. Smiling, laughing, pretending to listen to their stupid jokes and anecdotes, pretending to scan the room for a pretty face, drowning in the sea of laughter and idle conversation. "Ayo bro! Are you gonna drink that or what?! Or are you already narrowing down the list of honeys you wanna hunt down later?" "Hey...what about that one cute brunette we saw over by the dancefloor when we walked in?" "Dude no, did you see how big her entourage is? She ain't here to play. At least not with us." "Maybe if we can find a trio, Mark and I can distract two of them while you disappear with the third to a more private location." "Yeah, but let's make sure we find some quality chicks this time, okay?"
Blablablabbitybla... I like my friends...I do, but sometimes...okay, a lot of times...I just have to tune them out. For the sake of my own sanity, of course. Fine...so I'll look at the ladies present tonight...each and every one beautiful in her own right. Dolled up, wearing their prettiest clothes, some here on girls' night out, some here to unwind after a hectic work week, some just here for a bit of youthful fun, some here to hunt and play. And that's when my eyes fall on her...sitting at the bar...possibly the rarest of sights for this kind of place. All alone with only a vodka soda to keep her company, she seems to be scanning the room for something and yet nothing at the same time. Her body posture exudes an extraordinary level of cool and casualness, while giving off the vibe that she is in no mood to play games of any kind or with anyone. Some people stare, especially other women...and why not? She isn't adhering to some unwritten code, she simply doesn't fit. Like an errant puzzle piece, she is upsetting some kind of balance, breaking some imaginary law of nature, but in the most delicious way possible. How dare she not conform? How dare she not play along? She is the lonesome wolf refusing to operate according to the pack mentality. Through her mere presence she seems to be defying all of the superficiality and bullshit. She isn't here for them, she isn't here for me, she is just here.
I can't help it, I feel drawn to her. To her alabaster skin that reflects the blue and pink lights from the dancefloor. To her hair that is just the right amount of disheveled. To her lips that are just plump and pink enough. But especially to her eyes. They seem to be able to cut right through to the center of one's very being. Despite that meticulously-crafted tough and cool exterior, I can still see her pain and sadness, and I can't help but want to take her away. Away from these people, away from this bar, away from whatever might be hurting her. I wan't to be selfish and tell her about my feelings and what I see when I look at her. And so I find myself walking towards her with the greatest of ease. It's almost as if I'm not moving at all and the universe is merely shifting around me. Ignoring the ramblings of my friends, the glances from other people... As I get closer, I can see her eyes turn sideways ever so slightly. Great, she realizes that I'm approaching. Now what? Sure, I could always turn back...and look like a moron...but no, there's no turning back now. Come hell or high water, I will talk to her, I will at least try to get to know her. It's now or never, do or die, deep breaths, don't look like you're about to have a stroke, smile...but gently, you don't want her to call the cops...here goes nothing... "Hi..."
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label short story. Show all posts
Friday, November 06, 2015
Sunday, December 01, 2013
Death of Selflessness
Before I start with the actual entry, I would like to apologize, yet again, for not updating my blog more often. I promise to do my best, and hopefully, I will be able to provide you guys (whoever you may be) with more frequent and entertaining rants/stories/etc. on a more regular basis.
Alright, on to the main event: The following is a short story I wrote in November 2008 for one of my classes. I don't want to go into too much detail, but there were a couple of things that happened to me in that year which may have influenced the storyline just a wee bit. When I started out, all I knew was how I wanted the story to end, and so I basically worked my way backwards. It isn't the best story in the world, I discovered a few things that I wanted to change as I was retyping it for this blog, but I got a good grade for it, the instructor liked it, so (with a few tiny exceptions) I left it the way it was. Feel free to comment or not comment, either way I hope you all enjoy it!
“Wait! You forgot your lunch!” “Ah, you are too good to me,” Jacob replied as he gave Rebecca a kiss on the lips. “Yeah, yeah...just leave or you'll be late for work.” Laughing, Jacob drove off, and as his taillights disappeared in the distance, Rebecca let out a long sigh, placed her hands on her hips and returned to the house. The house always seemed so dark when Jacob was gone, even with all the curtains and windows open. “So depressing...,” was all Rebecca managed to mutter as she let herself plop onto the living room couch. After turning on the television and realizing that, as always, nothing interesting was on at eight in the morning, she turned the television back off and stared blankly at the wall.
Rebecca and Jacob had lived in their six-bedroom house for three years now. She personally felt that living in such a huge house was overkill, but since she knew that it would please her husband, she had decided to give in. Yes, Jacob and Rebecca were married, even though the road to the wedding had been littered with its own share of bumps and potholes. They had separated five times before finally settling down. Each break-up had its own reason: Jacob cheated on Rebecca, Rebecca cheated on Jacob, he thought Rebecca had cheated on him, Rebecca went to Europe to advance her career, and the cause of the final break-up was Rebecca's pregnancy. This last separation had been especially devastating and surprisingly unifying at the same time. Jacob had run out on her, and Rebecca had gotten into a horrible accident. It had been so damaging that she ended up losing the child. When Jacob had come crawling back with an increased amount of affection for her after the miscarriage, all she had wanted to do was shove a few fuck yous up his ass, but she eventually took him back anyway, mainly because she saw how miserable he was without her. Funny, Jacob never struck anyone as the miserable type. He was, after all, a CEO at a Fortune 500 company...
Still staring at the wall as if in a hypnotic state, Rebecca couldn't help but think that having a child would keep her preoccupied...and of course, how different her life would be if she hadn't miscarried. However, she couldn't possibly have a child now...well, SHE could. Her body had managed to recover from that experience. Unfortunately, Jacob was still very adamant about not having kids, which is odd considering that he was hardly ever home to begin with. Being the good wife that she was, Rebecca had given in...and secretly hated herself for it. That was just the way it seemed to be lately...or maybe it hadn't been that way just lately. She had always catered to everyone else's needs and wants, and during the times she had to herself, Rebecca just didn't know what to do. “No wonder I'm so bored whenever Jacob's at work. I have nobody to look after but myself,” Rebecca said to nobody in particular, “Am I really that pathetic?”
Twelve hours later and nobody to talk to but herself, Rebecca was fuming. Her husband should have been back three hours ago, and he didn't even have the courtesy to call her and let her know that he would be late. Sure, Rebecca could have spent hours on end chatting and hanging out with her friends, but most of them lived overseas. She could have spent time with her mother, but she lived faraway, and talking to her was also out of the question because she had to learn to live on her own and not constantly rely on her mother. Rebecca hated shopping or partying or any type of socializing, and so had no other choice than to stay at home...and think. Most days, she didn't mind being alone, but today was an entirely different story. She had built up a rage to end all of modern civilization if packaged in a nuclear weapon, and that upset her even more because she couldn't explain this extreme onslaught of hostility. And yet, here she was, stewing in it, with Jacob set up as the most convenient target. Somehow, after spending most of her life living for others, all of a sudden, she was sick of it. Something had to be done, and before this black hole of self-neglect swallowed her whole... There he was...that selfish prick of a husband. “Hey sweetheart! I missed you soooo much! There was so much work to do...,” Jacob exclaimed while swooping down and showering Rebecca with tender kisses. Usually, this gesture would have been enough to placate Rebecca; instead it just added fuel to the fire. To keep herself from blowing up at him, she tried to say as little as possible, and therefore could only reply with a dry “Aha...” Of course, she was thinking about slapping that stupid grin off his face, but she figured that physical violence was still uncalled for. “Just let him push me a little bit further,” was all she could think while grinding her teeth. Everything would have gone well, and Rebecca would have calmed down if Jacob hadn't said this: “Sooo, what's for dinner, lover?” “First off, save yourself the sweet talk, and how does a fist down your throat sound for dinner?!” “Umm, not good? What's wrong, hon...” “What did I say about the sweet talk? Zip it. If you want something to eat, you can make it your damned self. I'm sick and tired of catering to your lazy ass! Yeah, you might earn most of the money, but at least you get to leave this depressing hole for eight to ten hours every day. I've done whatever you have wanted me to: I took you back after you cheated on me; I groveled before you, begging you to take me back after I cheated on you; I accepted your apology and took you back again after you falsely accused me of cheating on you; I refused a prestigious position at one of the leading international publishing companies so I could be with you; and then, I took you back again after you left me when I was pregnant and then miscarried!!! Why? Because you were so pathetic, I thought you were going to slit your wrists! And still...that's not enough, is it?! I'm a good housewife! I stay in shape for you! I do things in the bedroom that I could never, NEVER, mention to a living soul! And most importantly...I desperately want children, but because you're still so “traumatized,” I can never have children! I mean what's the point of this damn six-bedroom house, if we aren't going to fill it with children...or other people anyways! And why do I settle for not having any children? Because I am TOO FUCKING GOOD TO YOU!!!!” Storming out of the house, she heard Jacob yell something, but she couldn't have cared less about him at that moment. Rebecca was feeling energized and free as she drove off in her car. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do once she got to this unknown destination, but she felt lighter than she had felt since...well, ever. It hit her about fifteen minutes later: hunger...and something else, something rather sneaky... She hadn't meant to blow up at him like that. What would happen once she got back home? Will Jacob have changed the locks? Put her things on the street? File for divorce? This guilt and anxiety started to eat away at her in much the same way as she wanted to eat away at burritos, hamburgers, and huge bowls of spaghetti drowned in tomato sauce and shredded cheese. Chewing on her lower lip until it bled, she fought with herself about whether she had been in the right or the wrong. “Yes, a conversation was necessary, but that wasn't a conversation...that was me tearing him a new asshole... It's my fault because I could have just stopped catering to him all the time, and haven't I always been that way towards everyone? He should be more sensitive towards my needs and wants though too...” This mental and emotional war of worlds went on until Rebecca could have passed for one of the wax figures at Madame Tussaud's. Old habits die hard, and before Rebecca could smother the last bit of life out of her self-destructive selflessness, it came back with a vengeance. She decided to not only get herself something to eat, but also decided to get Jacob his favorite fast food. While waiting for the food, she thought to herself, “We'll get through this somehow. We just need to have a calm, more thorough conversation about this. We can work it out.” A new spring in her step, smile on her face, and food in her hands, she was ready for a new start. For a new Rebecca, who could be selfless and take care of herself as well. She couldn't wait. However, she would have to wait forever for she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She was confused. Confused as to why she was losing control over her body. Confused as to why her shirt was getting wetter and wetter and darker and darker. Confused as to why the ground was getting closer and closer to her face. Confused as to why the world around her was getting darker and darker. Somehow she now knew what was happening as she started crying. “No...I can't...not now...” was all she could say before everything went completely dark.
The next morning the police reported that a young woman named Rebecca Marie James had died from a gunshot wound to the abdominal region at the age of 28. On an even sadder note, her unborn child had also died. To this day, nobody knows who shot her or why. Many people who knew her intimately, not that there were many people who knew her to begin with, also asked themselves what her last thought could have been. If they had truly known her, it would have become clear that the last thought would not have been of what she would lose. Even though it seems silly, she could only think of getting her husband his food.
Alright, on to the main event: The following is a short story I wrote in November 2008 for one of my classes. I don't want to go into too much detail, but there were a couple of things that happened to me in that year which may have influenced the storyline just a wee bit. When I started out, all I knew was how I wanted the story to end, and so I basically worked my way backwards. It isn't the best story in the world, I discovered a few things that I wanted to change as I was retyping it for this blog, but I got a good grade for it, the instructor liked it, so (with a few tiny exceptions) I left it the way it was. Feel free to comment or not comment, either way I hope you all enjoy it!
Death of Selflessness
Twelve hours later and nobody to talk to but herself, Rebecca was fuming. Her husband should have been back three hours ago, and he didn't even have the courtesy to call her and let her know that he would be late. Sure, Rebecca could have spent hours on end chatting and hanging out with her friends, but most of them lived overseas. She could have spent time with her mother, but she lived faraway, and talking to her was also out of the question because she had to learn to live on her own and not constantly rely on her mother. Rebecca hated shopping or partying or any type of socializing, and so had no other choice than to stay at home...and think. Most days, she didn't mind being alone, but today was an entirely different story. She had built up a rage to end all of modern civilization if packaged in a nuclear weapon, and that upset her even more because she couldn't explain this extreme onslaught of hostility. And yet, here she was, stewing in it, with Jacob set up as the most convenient target. Somehow, after spending most of her life living for others, all of a sudden, she was sick of it. Something had to be done, and before this black hole of self-neglect swallowed her whole... There he was...that selfish prick of a husband. “Hey sweetheart! I missed you soooo much! There was so much work to do...,” Jacob exclaimed while swooping down and showering Rebecca with tender kisses. Usually, this gesture would have been enough to placate Rebecca; instead it just added fuel to the fire. To keep herself from blowing up at him, she tried to say as little as possible, and therefore could only reply with a dry “Aha...” Of course, she was thinking about slapping that stupid grin off his face, but she figured that physical violence was still uncalled for. “Just let him push me a little bit further,” was all she could think while grinding her teeth. Everything would have gone well, and Rebecca would have calmed down if Jacob hadn't said this: “Sooo, what's for dinner, lover?” “First off, save yourself the sweet talk, and how does a fist down your throat sound for dinner?!” “Umm, not good? What's wrong, hon...” “What did I say about the sweet talk? Zip it. If you want something to eat, you can make it your damned self. I'm sick and tired of catering to your lazy ass! Yeah, you might earn most of the money, but at least you get to leave this depressing hole for eight to ten hours every day. I've done whatever you have wanted me to: I took you back after you cheated on me; I groveled before you, begging you to take me back after I cheated on you; I accepted your apology and took you back again after you falsely accused me of cheating on you; I refused a prestigious position at one of the leading international publishing companies so I could be with you; and then, I took you back again after you left me when I was pregnant and then miscarried!!! Why? Because you were so pathetic, I thought you were going to slit your wrists! And still...that's not enough, is it?! I'm a good housewife! I stay in shape for you! I do things in the bedroom that I could never, NEVER, mention to a living soul! And most importantly...I desperately want children, but because you're still so “traumatized,” I can never have children! I mean what's the point of this damn six-bedroom house, if we aren't going to fill it with children...or other people anyways! And why do I settle for not having any children? Because I am TOO FUCKING GOOD TO YOU!!!!” Storming out of the house, she heard Jacob yell something, but she couldn't have cared less about him at that moment. Rebecca was feeling energized and free as she drove off in her car. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do once she got to this unknown destination, but she felt lighter than she had felt since...well, ever. It hit her about fifteen minutes later: hunger...and something else, something rather sneaky... She hadn't meant to blow up at him like that. What would happen once she got back home? Will Jacob have changed the locks? Put her things on the street? File for divorce? This guilt and anxiety started to eat away at her in much the same way as she wanted to eat away at burritos, hamburgers, and huge bowls of spaghetti drowned in tomato sauce and shredded cheese. Chewing on her lower lip until it bled, she fought with herself about whether she had been in the right or the wrong. “Yes, a conversation was necessary, but that wasn't a conversation...that was me tearing him a new asshole... It's my fault because I could have just stopped catering to him all the time, and haven't I always been that way towards everyone? He should be more sensitive towards my needs and wants though too...” This mental and emotional war of worlds went on until Rebecca could have passed for one of the wax figures at Madame Tussaud's. Old habits die hard, and before Rebecca could smother the last bit of life out of her self-destructive selflessness, it came back with a vengeance. She decided to not only get herself something to eat, but also decided to get Jacob his favorite fast food. While waiting for the food, she thought to herself, “We'll get through this somehow. We just need to have a calm, more thorough conversation about this. We can work it out.” A new spring in her step, smile on her face, and food in her hands, she was ready for a new start. For a new Rebecca, who could be selfless and take care of herself as well. She couldn't wait. However, she would have to wait forever for she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach. She was confused. Confused as to why she was losing control over her body. Confused as to why her shirt was getting wetter and wetter and darker and darker. Confused as to why the ground was getting closer and closer to her face. Confused as to why the world around her was getting darker and darker. Somehow she now knew what was happening as she started crying. “No...I can't...not now...” was all she could say before everything went completely dark.
The next morning the police reported that a young woman named Rebecca Marie James had died from a gunshot wound to the abdominal region at the age of 28. On an even sadder note, her unborn child had also died. To this day, nobody knows who shot her or why. Many people who knew her intimately, not that there were many people who knew her to begin with, also asked themselves what her last thought could have been. If they had truly known her, it would have become clear that the last thought would not have been of what she would lose. Even though it seems silly, she could only think of getting her husband his food.
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