I had the worst timing today. I went for my usual four-mile walk and was really looking forward to a relaxing swim in the pool when vicious thunderstorms roll through. Exiting the pool, I hop in the shower and the lights flicker and dim. My mom always tells me I’m bad at planning and I have a sinking suspicion that she may be ont0 something.
Like tonight, for example: one of my closest friends and one of the most influential people in my life is moving to Boston in a week. I wanted to send her off in style – with a big, sobbing crowd of friends at her favorite bar. It’s not going to happen; everyone has an excuse as to why they cannot attend and it infuriates me. I know my friend impacted their lives just as much, if not more so, than she impacted mine and yet I am the only one willing to travel to spend time with her. I feel like this situation happens to me time and time again, and it’s disheartening because I’m really starting to believe that I never get back as much as I put in regarding any of the relationships I have, which at the current moment, are restricted to friends and family.
I would punch a toddler for a romantic relationship, by the way. I’d be a catch … for the most part. I know I’m dramatic, juvenile and stunted, but I also know that I’m passionate, fiercely loyal and a decent person. Maybe it’s my physical appearance; I’m working on getting my teeth fixed so I don’t look like Sloth from that movie, “The Goonies.” I’m working on slimming down, too. Other than that, though, I think I’m sitting pretty – pun intended. I think men find me attractive, but know that they shouldn’t. Is that weird?
I just want to love – which I do freely, to the point where it breaks my own stupid heart – and to be loved in return; really loved with equal force.
By the way, I tried to sketch today. I’m really terrible at it, and thereby have no patience for it. Hopefully this attitude can be altered or improved by Tuesday.
PROMPT: “Well, if you could accuse anybody of being downright evil, it would be him.”
PIECE: “Well, if you could accuse anybody of being downright evil, it would be him.” Kelly placed his amber bottle of chilled beer back onto the wooden bar, sighing contemplatively as she did so. She understood she had just released a heavy statement into the atmosphere and wondered if it would just fall flat and leave only silence, or if Isaac would help it along by adding more words and more breath, keeping it afloat in the intimate space between the two.
Isaac’s eyes were swollen and red around the rims from intense bouts of both drinking and crying. His fiancee had been murdered about six months ago and the trail was finally underway. The perpetrator of the crime was his own brother, Eliot, who claimed self-defense. Eliot wanted the jury to believe that Cassandra had a violent, manic fit and attacked Eliot out of the blue, leaving him with no choice but to shoot her in the back. Eliot only disposed of the body improperly to save his brother from the pain of discovering his fiancee’s outburst and dead body – clearly, he was not trying to cover up the crime. He swore! He had to be telling the truth.
But he wasn’t; Isaac’s brother had been having an affair with Cassandra and when she had wanted to come clean to Isaac, Eliot had killed her. Eliot was the emotionally unstable individual who had a sudden outburst with devastating consequences. Both sides had been presented in the opening arguments, and testimony was to begin the next day, as the prosecution called their first witness – the medical examiner. Today had been hard enough for Isaac. He didn’t think he had it in him to sit through a meticulous and cold description of how his beloved had died, and what her watery grave had done to her beautiful, graceful body.
Kelly was Isaac’s cousin. She had sat patiently by his side, holding his hand and turning a blind eye to his decidedly emasculating sobs and open displays of weakness. It had been her idea to come to the local watering hole to handle it like men; to drink and grunt and feel better in the morning. She had offered the assessment of Eliot’s character as comfort. She didn’t want Isaac feeling guilty for being emotional. There was only one person who should feel guilty and that was the monster that was Eliot. She had wanted to convey all of this to her favorite cousin, but as she cleared her throat to speak and Isaac rolled his red, dead eyes to her, she lost her confidence. The planned speech that was tender and inspirational was reduced to a single sentence.
As if that single sentence could change anything. As if that single sentence could bring Cassandra back. As if that single sentence could bring Eliot back. As if that single sentence could bring Isaac back.
It did none of those things. It did nothing. Isaac nodded, released a broken sob, sniffed and drank deeply from his own bottle.