Post by MitchAllen on Aug 5, 2019 21:06:14 GMT -5
Sometimes losing is what is needed to appreciate the wins in life. At least that is something that my mother used to tell me, my siblings. We would usually laugh thinking it was some hallmark trash she has read. But, as I age, and I go through life's tough lessons, I realize how much she was right. I have come to accept over the years that life is filled more with shot than triumphs. And what we should all learn to focus on is ourselves and not those that surround us. Life can be a blessing and a curse and it's up to us to decide which to embrace.
"Another round?" A young male voice asks from the other side of the bar. I nodded, without saying much. "Weren't you in here not too long ago?" He asked, about two years younger than me. I wasn't really interested in his bartender charm. I miss the guy I had last time. A few grunts here and there. Just served the booze and kept to himself but, I forced the friendly moment. "Yeah, I guess. If by 'not too long ago' you mean a week or so ago." I said as he put the glass down in front of me, filled with the brown liquor I had asked for.
I took a sip as he lingered, I sure hated it when they did that. He clearly wasn't done interrogating me. "I think I saw you recently. Like on TV or something?" I couldn't help but, laugh a little. "I didn't think anyone watched TV anymore," I said, mid-sip. He smiled and opened his arms a bit to sort of gesture to all the televisions in the bar. "Ah, I see. So, you probably saw me on a commercial break between one of the games or something." I said, remaining entirely disinterested. I just wanted to enjoy my drink and go home.
"So, you gonna tell me or not?" He asked. I hesitated. I knew what he wanted but, I wasn't overly interested in talking about my after-hours hobbies and that is why I liked coming here. No one knew me and I didn't know any of them. Then again, I guess I was becoming a sort of regular. "How about you tell me your name?" I asked. I could play around, I guess. "Tyler." He said, stretching out his hand to shake mine. I hesitated but, I took it anyway. "Names Mila." We shook and he smiled. And then he went to polishing more glasses.
He continued to stare at me, I had sort of gotten lost in the introduction process. "Alright, Tyler. I am a wrestler. For Riot Star Wrestling. I am also -" And before I could finish, he got excited. "Holy shit, you're that chick that wrote those books about that creepy chick uh... Roseanne... Reba..." I could have let him continue but, didn't want him to. "Ruby," I said, as he slapped the top of the bar, excited. "Yeah! Ruby! The creepy bitch in the baby doll mask! I have to tell you, I haven't read too many of your books but, my sister Felicia, HUUUUGE fan! Has like posters and shit in her room!"
He said he hadn't read any of my books and yet here he was fangirling... for his sister? I didn't buy it. For whatever reason, it was considered 'girly' for males to read books written by women, regardless of the subject matter. Or they read us for educational value. The majority of people into my books have been women but, more than a few men were in there as well. Sometimes the girl fans annoyed me, who seemed to enjoy romanticizing characters that were never meant to, especially in the Walsh books. There was even fan art. I couldn't help but, to shudder at that thought sometimes.
"... so, when is the next one coming?" I heard Tyler ask but, I hadn't been listening to this entire time. I finished off the drink and gestured for another. He was all too eager to please. "I'm not sure yet. It's hard to get inspired nowadays. It's sort of why I started wrestling. Was hoping someone or something would inspire me." I said, starting to feel a little more social and Tyler was cute. Younger and bit dorky. You could tell he was one of those types that had been spoiled rotten his whole life and had just moved out recently. The bills haven't caught up to him yet. Poor, innocent, guy.
"Any luck with that, yet?" He wondered as I shook my head. "Not really. Some of the guys are a bit cartoony like or like these bland meathead types guys. And the girls... well..." I trailed off as he finished, "Are not interesting?" He asked, polishing more glasses. "Pretty much," I said with a shrug, looking around the bar, there were only two other patrons around. Two men separately alone. One covered in camouflage the other in plaid. This was the majority of their clientele. Older redneck/white trash looking guys. "So, what are you up to after this?" Tyler asked.
"Look, Tyler. I am flattered and you're cute. I'm just not really looking for anything right now. I just need to focus on my work. Nothing personal." I tried to be nice. I really did but, try as I might, it wouldn't stop the hope of leaving his eyes as I shot him down. He didn't have much else to say after that. He just sorts of nodded and continued to shine glasses. I figured the encounter was now over so, I drank some more. He then slides me a piece of paper. "If you ever change your mind." He said and gives me a wink. It took everything in me to not laugh but, he was trying and god bless him.
You must be insane. A voice spoke up in my head. You haven't had sex since Brad. Why not give the little, hopeful shit a chance? I thought about it more for a moment and then caught his eye and smile at him, as he smiled back and began pouring a beer for another customer.
A Few Days Later...
"I made my debut at a pay-per-view. I crushed the competition and I found my way of earning a championship match. It was one of the better highlights of my life. At the last event, I lost. I lost to Dexter Payne. It's hard to say out loud. It's hard to admit. I always hated losing. I always hated apologizing. I have nothing to apologize for. Except for maybe to those that were in my corner, cheering me on and all I did was let them down. Insult them with my inability to take down a man like Dexter Payne. I can take down three other men but, not him.
My only triumph in that match was making him bleed. Making it through. I am still here. I have bruises, I am not going to pretend that I don't but, that sweaty, hulk of a man defeated me. He not only hurt me physically but, my ego as well. Ego is a very precious thing, you know. So incredibly fragile like a crystal vase. And people fail to realize this so often. I cannot properly convey how much of a roller coaster of emotions Riot Star Wrestling has been for me thus far. I made people hopeful, only to disappoint them. And I think the thing I disliked the most is Payne did not even see happy, excited that he won.
There was no magic in his eyes. No magic like the magic I felt the first time I was in the ring when I felt that win. The power the win shooting through my body like a shooting star. That was not there for him and as terrible as I felt for myself, seeing this giant, sweaty, victorious man stand before with no joy, no drive... it made me hurt for him as well. Is that weird? When I was in the ring at the last event, there was an energy in that ring, an undeniable force of want and need to win to prove to everyone in the ring that they were the best and they were worthy of being there.
But, being in that ring with Payne... that was different. With every push, every shove, every punch... it was like, he was absorbing it and not reacting to it. It was a feeling I have not experienced before. It felt like he wanted it to be over with. For it to be done. For it to never happen in the first place and yet there he was. His giant arms and legs and everything else destroying me and as he did this, it felt like his very soul was dying. Maybe I am just reading into someone I know very little about. But, I guess my past has always been about reading people, understanding them. What motivates them.
I'm sorry. Allow me to refocus on the upcoming Anarchy. I will be facing Isiah Zepp in a Winner Takes All match and buy Winner takes all, I know they mean his title. And I am ready. I am ready to to take on a titleholder. I am ready to focus all of my energy into proving to the Riot Star Wrestling world that I can compete with the best of them. Do not get it twisted, I recognize Zepp as one of the best that Riot Star Wrestling has the offer. People who are not good, do not hold titles. Zepp is the kind of competitor that I was hoping to face here in Riot Star Wrestling.
His career here in Riot Star Wrestling is long and dedicated. I have been watching. People here still look down on me. I am the new girl. Not just a new competitor in Riot Star Wrestling but, a new girl. The three men in my first match here doubted me. Payne didn't care about who he was facing. But, you know who should care? Zepp. I respect him but, I cannot allow that respect to get in my way of gaining that title. This will be my third event here in Riot Star Wrestling. How many people can say that they earned a title their third week anywhere... doing anything?!
Not many. I will be a force in Riot Star Wrestling and this upcoming match with Zepp will prove that. This match is the main event and I have confidence that Zepp and I will prove exactly why it should be. No matter how this may end, I will respect this man after it is all said and done and I truly hope he feels the same. It's hard to campaign against someone that I hold in such high regard but, I am looking forward to the competitive exchange between him and me. I want us to walk out with a handshake and a smile on both sides.
So, what do you say, Zepp? Let's put on one hell of a show for the fans of Riot Star Wrestling! Let's give them all something to talk about, let's sell out that arena! Just so it's clear though... I will be beating you. Feel free to try though! And don't pay any mind to the last Anarchy, just pretend it never happened, yeah?" Mila lets out a sort flirtatious laugh and winks and then skips down the hallway until she knew she could no longer be seen by the camera and then stopped. Her shoulder's slacked immediately, as she fell to the ground, breaking down and crying.
She crawled her way to a wall and pressed her back to it, sitting up, she hugged her knees to her chest, hiding her face. She was miserable. You could see the emotional and mental exhaustion now that you could not see before. What had happened to Mila Rader and could she overcome it by Anarchy?
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier...
You know that saying, 'In a moment, everything can change.'? Yeah, I can REALLY feel that right now. If you ever asked me if I could ever kill someone, I would have absolutely never in a million years even thought about it. Taking life. It seems so... so... animalistic. But, it happens every day. For one reason another. People do it on purpose. On accident. And it's hard. It's hard to face the truth. The truth that with your own hands, you took a life. Does anyone ever deserve to die?
These are the questions I ask myself as I stare at the dead man in my bathtub. He is covered in water but, has not drowned. Blood as pooled in an already filled bathtub. A mixture of blood and water has saturated my entire bathroom and all I can do is stare. All I can do is stand there. I feel nothing but, at the same time, I feel everything. Am I am even breathing? I do not feel the heat, nor cold. Is this a dream? Dear God, tell me this is a dream! I have had such horrible dreams lately and I just... I hope that this is another one.
I pinch myself, remembering that, that was something people told you to do to tell yourself if you were dreaming or not. If it hurt, you were awake. If it did not, you were asleep. It's weird because, I can feel it but, it doesn't hurt. What does that mean? It wasn't proof enough. I recognized him. I met him last at the bar I slept with him. It wasn't Tyler. Tyler was far too kind, too sweet. Boyfriend material but, I wasn't looking for boyfriend material right now.
This was Brad. Brad was a loud-mouthed, college, party boy. He was ripe for the pickings. It was just supposed to be a little fun and then I'd call him a lyft and he'd go home and then we would never have to see each other. And instead, here is, dead in my bathroom. And what the hell am I supposed to do with that? The emotions and feelings were coming to me now and I could tell that this was not a dream, this was happening. This had happend and I was fucked. I was standing with a mixture of blood and water, that had saturated my bathroom and a dead college boy was in my bathtub.
Sometimes, we had to repeat to ourselves, even if not out loud to convince ourselves that what we were seeing was actually true. It was something my father taught me when I was a child and I saw a car accident happen just in front of me and I started having a panic attack. He told me that what was happening was bad but, I needed to accept it in order to calm myself. He told me to repeat over and over what it was I was seeing until it was normalized to me.
I moved to the side of the tub and I sat down. I had so many things to Brad. I knew it would be stupid to say them out loud and it was purely out of a selfish need to feel better about myself. To calm me. I also knew that the right thing to do would be to call the police. But, that would mean the end of me. No more books, no more wrestling. I would go to prison. And the worst part is, I don't even know what happened.
Did he kill himself? Did someone break in and kill him and leave him here but, left me alone? Did I.. Did I kill him?! I already know the answer. This is me trying to calm myself again. It's all just so fucking complicated because I don't remember. And that's a problem. I call the police and tell them there's a dead body in my bathtub but, I don't know how it got there! And this isn't like when I wrote Nora and fed the body to some fucking wolves. This was real fucking life and there was a dead body in my bathtub.
"I'm sorry, Brad." I manage to let exit through my lips. It was a whisper of an apology. "I'm sorry you're dead and in my tub. A writer who has not successfully written anything in years. A wrestler who has won one match and lost another and less than twenty-four hours from now, has t appear as some perky bitch of a persona I would have hated in high school. And here I am saying all of this to a dead corpse in my bathtub. Sorry, Brad. I don't what happened. But, really, I can't say I am sorry enough."
I fell quiet, trying to come up with an idea. A win-win idea. When I heard a clearing of one's throat. "You don't know what happened?" A British male asked, breaking the silence as I looked up to him. I couldn't grasp the idea of him being here right now. A part of my mind. Apart I had not seen in years. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice shallow but, not surprised. Concerned for the moment. Not me. "You know the drill. I am here to comfort in a moment of disaster. Remember, you find the accent soothing."
He smiled a charming smile. Something that worked better when I was a child. "You can't fix this with being a wonderful voice in my head a figment of my imagination. This is not something I can write about to feel better about later. This is serious!" I say, as I stand up and look to him, he looked far too comfortable leaning in the doorway and I locked eyes with him. "How do you know this isn't just another juicy story of yours, Mila? As a good, old song goes... is this real life? Is this just fantasy?"
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
I sat at my desk, trying my best to write for a project in English. Something I dreaded. It was a look at the works of Shakespeare. Double dread. I liked writing my own stuff, my own things. I hated being told what to write and about and there was no such thing as cutting corners. I had to focus on one play and then talk about all the metaphors and the similes. And how it could all be connected to today. How we as a society of today could connect to something so old and medieval.
"Mila, did you finish your homework?" My father asked as he hung in the doorway, smiling. I sighed and shook my head turning to him, I must have looked so defeated since he then approached me. "No, I just... it's really hard for me to focus on such a specific task and Shakespeare is so wordy and weird." I whined and as I did, I annoyed even myself. He squatted down and rubbed my shoulder, in an attempt to comfort me. I smiled. "Well, why don't you take a break and we go get ourselves some ice cream?"
I simply nodded in silence and tried to force a smile. And we were off. Didn't even ask my siblings, which I secretly loved. I loved my father a lot and it was rare nowadays that he and I got time to just visit with each other. We listened to older music and he would tell me about how insane it was that we started school so early nowadays because, when he was a kid my age, they didn't start school until the end of September. And he couldn't believe it even more that I already had a big project like this.
He would go on and on about his childhood, his experiences. The one time he kissed Beth Malone when they were in Romeo and Juliet together in middle school. The first and last play he ever did. He told that story once a month to me it felt like. Sometimes I would grow annoyed with this and lash out with some weird irritation that had nothing to do with anything, in a desperate attempt to change the subject. But, not today. Today I let him go on and on because it's just him and I.
We reached Izzy's Ice Cream Shoppe, which was still busy because of the Summer though it would be closing soon due to end of the season so, everybody came here to get one final scoop before it closed for the next six months. My father would get his favorite, butter pecan. And I would get mine, mint chocolate chip. Then we would tease each other to no end about how one couldn't stand the other's flavor. These were the Summer nights I enjoyed, forgetting about whatever else was going on at home. I l lived for these moments.
And then it happened. A crash. Horns blaring, a screeching of tires and BANG! Just like that. Then screaming and crying began. A terrible car accident. Involving five people. One person on a cell phone to cause one terrible thing. Five lives lost. Thirty-nine, twenty-one, nine, seven, and five. Three females, two males. Two of the three children being launched through the windshield, brain mattered splatted, innards being turned outwards, smoke rising from the cars, parents, and children fleeing from Izzy's Ice Cream Shoppe as one of the passengers opens their car door and an explosion. Chaos.
Noise and sound were happening all around me but, I could not register any of it. I just sat there, numb. Unfeeling. Was this a dream? A nightmare? My fathers were distant but, desperate, trying to reach me. Shake me. I could stop looking, at the fire. Just starring ahead. I could feel my ice cream falling, nothing to wake me. My father, who had moved me at some point, and I started to realize what was happening, all of my senses. And they were rushing at me, one by one. Then all at the same time like a wave.
I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was drowning, sinking away. Further and further, I left the surface. My eyes started to water and I could hear my father but, he was muffled. He forced my body up and forced my head to look at what was happening. "Mila, there has been a car accident, five people. They have died." He repeated to me continuously until, I could blink again, breathe again. "What happened?" I asked him, my voice shallow and filled with hurt. Hurt for the victims. The family. The devastation. "Mila, there has been a car accident, five people. They have died" He repeated.
I started to cry hysterically as I have never before. It felt like someone had put multiple weights in my stomach as my father held me and squeezed me tight. I could hear the screaming, the crying, the chaos all around me like never before. He pushed me back slightly and looked me in the eyes, he kissed my forehead and we stood up from the ground, holding hands, he guided me back to the car. I could still hear all the horrible and chaotic sounds that came with the event. Those poor people.
Once we're able to drive home, my father and I sat quietly in the car on the way home until we reached the driveway where my father turned off the car and sighed. "I'm sorry that happened today, Mila. This world... this world is filled with bad people and bad things and you must know that. You must live in each moment. You have to accept the bad with the good. You mother shelters you and your siblings a lot from so much. She and I don't see eye to eye on that. I love you, Mila." And then he left the car and left me there for a few minutes.
"Another round?" A young male voice asks from the other side of the bar. I nodded, without saying much. "Weren't you in here not too long ago?" He asked, about two years younger than me. I wasn't really interested in his bartender charm. I miss the guy I had last time. A few grunts here and there. Just served the booze and kept to himself but, I forced the friendly moment. "Yeah, I guess. If by 'not too long ago' you mean a week or so ago." I said as he put the glass down in front of me, filled with the brown liquor I had asked for.
I took a sip as he lingered, I sure hated it when they did that. He clearly wasn't done interrogating me. "I think I saw you recently. Like on TV or something?" I couldn't help but, laugh a little. "I didn't think anyone watched TV anymore," I said, mid-sip. He smiled and opened his arms a bit to sort of gesture to all the televisions in the bar. "Ah, I see. So, you probably saw me on a commercial break between one of the games or something." I said, remaining entirely disinterested. I just wanted to enjoy my drink and go home.
"So, you gonna tell me or not?" He asked. I hesitated. I knew what he wanted but, I wasn't overly interested in talking about my after-hours hobbies and that is why I liked coming here. No one knew me and I didn't know any of them. Then again, I guess I was becoming a sort of regular. "How about you tell me your name?" I asked. I could play around, I guess. "Tyler." He said, stretching out his hand to shake mine. I hesitated but, I took it anyway. "Names Mila." We shook and he smiled. And then he went to polishing more glasses.
He continued to stare at me, I had sort of gotten lost in the introduction process. "Alright, Tyler. I am a wrestler. For Riot Star Wrestling. I am also -" And before I could finish, he got excited. "Holy shit, you're that chick that wrote those books about that creepy chick uh... Roseanne... Reba..." I could have let him continue but, didn't want him to. "Ruby," I said, as he slapped the top of the bar, excited. "Yeah! Ruby! The creepy bitch in the baby doll mask! I have to tell you, I haven't read too many of your books but, my sister Felicia, HUUUUGE fan! Has like posters and shit in her room!"
He said he hadn't read any of my books and yet here he was fangirling... for his sister? I didn't buy it. For whatever reason, it was considered 'girly' for males to read books written by women, regardless of the subject matter. Or they read us for educational value. The majority of people into my books have been women but, more than a few men were in there as well. Sometimes the girl fans annoyed me, who seemed to enjoy romanticizing characters that were never meant to, especially in the Walsh books. There was even fan art. I couldn't help but, to shudder at that thought sometimes.
"... so, when is the next one coming?" I heard Tyler ask but, I hadn't been listening to this entire time. I finished off the drink and gestured for another. He was all too eager to please. "I'm not sure yet. It's hard to get inspired nowadays. It's sort of why I started wrestling. Was hoping someone or something would inspire me." I said, starting to feel a little more social and Tyler was cute. Younger and bit dorky. You could tell he was one of those types that had been spoiled rotten his whole life and had just moved out recently. The bills haven't caught up to him yet. Poor, innocent, guy.
"Any luck with that, yet?" He wondered as I shook my head. "Not really. Some of the guys are a bit cartoony like or like these bland meathead types guys. And the girls... well..." I trailed off as he finished, "Are not interesting?" He asked, polishing more glasses. "Pretty much," I said with a shrug, looking around the bar, there were only two other patrons around. Two men separately alone. One covered in camouflage the other in plaid. This was the majority of their clientele. Older redneck/white trash looking guys. "So, what are you up to after this?" Tyler asked.
"Look, Tyler. I am flattered and you're cute. I'm just not really looking for anything right now. I just need to focus on my work. Nothing personal." I tried to be nice. I really did but, try as I might, it wouldn't stop the hope of leaving his eyes as I shot him down. He didn't have much else to say after that. He just sorts of nodded and continued to shine glasses. I figured the encounter was now over so, I drank some more. He then slides me a piece of paper. "If you ever change your mind." He said and gives me a wink. It took everything in me to not laugh but, he was trying and god bless him.
You must be insane. A voice spoke up in my head. You haven't had sex since Brad. Why not give the little, hopeful shit a chance? I thought about it more for a moment and then caught his eye and smile at him, as he smiled back and began pouring a beer for another customer.
A Few Days Later...
"I made my debut at a pay-per-view. I crushed the competition and I found my way of earning a championship match. It was one of the better highlights of my life. At the last event, I lost. I lost to Dexter Payne. It's hard to say out loud. It's hard to admit. I always hated losing. I always hated apologizing. I have nothing to apologize for. Except for maybe to those that were in my corner, cheering me on and all I did was let them down. Insult them with my inability to take down a man like Dexter Payne. I can take down three other men but, not him.
My only triumph in that match was making him bleed. Making it through. I am still here. I have bruises, I am not going to pretend that I don't but, that sweaty, hulk of a man defeated me. He not only hurt me physically but, my ego as well. Ego is a very precious thing, you know. So incredibly fragile like a crystal vase. And people fail to realize this so often. I cannot properly convey how much of a roller coaster of emotions Riot Star Wrestling has been for me thus far. I made people hopeful, only to disappoint them. And I think the thing I disliked the most is Payne did not even see happy, excited that he won.
There was no magic in his eyes. No magic like the magic I felt the first time I was in the ring when I felt that win. The power the win shooting through my body like a shooting star. That was not there for him and as terrible as I felt for myself, seeing this giant, sweaty, victorious man stand before with no joy, no drive... it made me hurt for him as well. Is that weird? When I was in the ring at the last event, there was an energy in that ring, an undeniable force of want and need to win to prove to everyone in the ring that they were the best and they were worthy of being there.
But, being in that ring with Payne... that was different. With every push, every shove, every punch... it was like, he was absorbing it and not reacting to it. It was a feeling I have not experienced before. It felt like he wanted it to be over with. For it to be done. For it to never happen in the first place and yet there he was. His giant arms and legs and everything else destroying me and as he did this, it felt like his very soul was dying. Maybe I am just reading into someone I know very little about. But, I guess my past has always been about reading people, understanding them. What motivates them.
I'm sorry. Allow me to refocus on the upcoming Anarchy. I will be facing Isiah Zepp in a Winner Takes All match and buy Winner takes all, I know they mean his title. And I am ready. I am ready to to take on a titleholder. I am ready to focus all of my energy into proving to the Riot Star Wrestling world that I can compete with the best of them. Do not get it twisted, I recognize Zepp as one of the best that Riot Star Wrestling has the offer. People who are not good, do not hold titles. Zepp is the kind of competitor that I was hoping to face here in Riot Star Wrestling.
His career here in Riot Star Wrestling is long and dedicated. I have been watching. People here still look down on me. I am the new girl. Not just a new competitor in Riot Star Wrestling but, a new girl. The three men in my first match here doubted me. Payne didn't care about who he was facing. But, you know who should care? Zepp. I respect him but, I cannot allow that respect to get in my way of gaining that title. This will be my third event here in Riot Star Wrestling. How many people can say that they earned a title their third week anywhere... doing anything?!
Not many. I will be a force in Riot Star Wrestling and this upcoming match with Zepp will prove that. This match is the main event and I have confidence that Zepp and I will prove exactly why it should be. No matter how this may end, I will respect this man after it is all said and done and I truly hope he feels the same. It's hard to campaign against someone that I hold in such high regard but, I am looking forward to the competitive exchange between him and me. I want us to walk out with a handshake and a smile on both sides.
So, what do you say, Zepp? Let's put on one hell of a show for the fans of Riot Star Wrestling! Let's give them all something to talk about, let's sell out that arena! Just so it's clear though... I will be beating you. Feel free to try though! And don't pay any mind to the last Anarchy, just pretend it never happened, yeah?" Mila lets out a sort flirtatious laugh and winks and then skips down the hallway until she knew she could no longer be seen by the camera and then stopped. Her shoulder's slacked immediately, as she fell to the ground, breaking down and crying.
She crawled her way to a wall and pressed her back to it, sitting up, she hugged her knees to her chest, hiding her face. She was miserable. You could see the emotional and mental exhaustion now that you could not see before. What had happened to Mila Rader and could she overcome it by Anarchy?
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier...
You know that saying, 'In a moment, everything can change.'? Yeah, I can REALLY feel that right now. If you ever asked me if I could ever kill someone, I would have absolutely never in a million years even thought about it. Taking life. It seems so... so... animalistic. But, it happens every day. For one reason another. People do it on purpose. On accident. And it's hard. It's hard to face the truth. The truth that with your own hands, you took a life. Does anyone ever deserve to die?
These are the questions I ask myself as I stare at the dead man in my bathtub. He is covered in water but, has not drowned. Blood as pooled in an already filled bathtub. A mixture of blood and water has saturated my entire bathroom and all I can do is stare. All I can do is stand there. I feel nothing but, at the same time, I feel everything. Am I am even breathing? I do not feel the heat, nor cold. Is this a dream? Dear God, tell me this is a dream! I have had such horrible dreams lately and I just... I hope that this is another one.
I pinch myself, remembering that, that was something people told you to do to tell yourself if you were dreaming or not. If it hurt, you were awake. If it did not, you were asleep. It's weird because, I can feel it but, it doesn't hurt. What does that mean? It wasn't proof enough. I recognized him. I met him last at the bar I slept with him. It wasn't Tyler. Tyler was far too kind, too sweet. Boyfriend material but, I wasn't looking for boyfriend material right now.
This was Brad. Brad was a loud-mouthed, college, party boy. He was ripe for the pickings. It was just supposed to be a little fun and then I'd call him a lyft and he'd go home and then we would never have to see each other. And instead, here is, dead in my bathroom. And what the hell am I supposed to do with that? The emotions and feelings were coming to me now and I could tell that this was not a dream, this was happening. This had happend and I was fucked. I was standing with a mixture of blood and water, that had saturated my bathroom and a dead college boy was in my bathtub.
Sometimes, we had to repeat to ourselves, even if not out loud to convince ourselves that what we were seeing was actually true. It was something my father taught me when I was a child and I saw a car accident happen just in front of me and I started having a panic attack. He told me that what was happening was bad but, I needed to accept it in order to calm myself. He told me to repeat over and over what it was I was seeing until it was normalized to me.
I moved to the side of the tub and I sat down. I had so many things to Brad. I knew it would be stupid to say them out loud and it was purely out of a selfish need to feel better about myself. To calm me. I also knew that the right thing to do would be to call the police. But, that would mean the end of me. No more books, no more wrestling. I would go to prison. And the worst part is, I don't even know what happened.
Did he kill himself? Did someone break in and kill him and leave him here but, left me alone? Did I.. Did I kill him?! I already know the answer. This is me trying to calm myself again. It's all just so fucking complicated because I don't remember. And that's a problem. I call the police and tell them there's a dead body in my bathtub but, I don't know how it got there! And this isn't like when I wrote Nora and fed the body to some fucking wolves. This was real fucking life and there was a dead body in my bathtub.
"I'm sorry, Brad." I manage to let exit through my lips. It was a whisper of an apology. "I'm sorry you're dead and in my tub. A writer who has not successfully written anything in years. A wrestler who has won one match and lost another and less than twenty-four hours from now, has t appear as some perky bitch of a persona I would have hated in high school. And here I am saying all of this to a dead corpse in my bathtub. Sorry, Brad. I don't what happened. But, really, I can't say I am sorry enough."
I fell quiet, trying to come up with an idea. A win-win idea. When I heard a clearing of one's throat. "You don't know what happened?" A British male asked, breaking the silence as I looked up to him. I couldn't grasp the idea of him being here right now. A part of my mind. Apart I had not seen in years. "What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice shallow but, not surprised. Concerned for the moment. Not me. "You know the drill. I am here to comfort in a moment of disaster. Remember, you find the accent soothing."
He smiled a charming smile. Something that worked better when I was a child. "You can't fix this with being a wonderful voice in my head a figment of my imagination. This is not something I can write about to feel better about later. This is serious!" I say, as I stand up and look to him, he looked far too comfortable leaning in the doorway and I locked eyes with him. "How do you know this isn't just another juicy story of yours, Mila? As a good, old song goes... is this real life? Is this just fantasy?"
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
I sat at my desk, trying my best to write for a project in English. Something I dreaded. It was a look at the works of Shakespeare. Double dread. I liked writing my own stuff, my own things. I hated being told what to write and about and there was no such thing as cutting corners. I had to focus on one play and then talk about all the metaphors and the similes. And how it could all be connected to today. How we as a society of today could connect to something so old and medieval.
"Mila, did you finish your homework?" My father asked as he hung in the doorway, smiling. I sighed and shook my head turning to him, I must have looked so defeated since he then approached me. "No, I just... it's really hard for me to focus on such a specific task and Shakespeare is so wordy and weird." I whined and as I did, I annoyed even myself. He squatted down and rubbed my shoulder, in an attempt to comfort me. I smiled. "Well, why don't you take a break and we go get ourselves some ice cream?"
I simply nodded in silence and tried to force a smile. And we were off. Didn't even ask my siblings, which I secretly loved. I loved my father a lot and it was rare nowadays that he and I got time to just visit with each other. We listened to older music and he would tell me about how insane it was that we started school so early nowadays because, when he was a kid my age, they didn't start school until the end of September. And he couldn't believe it even more that I already had a big project like this.
He would go on and on about his childhood, his experiences. The one time he kissed Beth Malone when they were in Romeo and Juliet together in middle school. The first and last play he ever did. He told that story once a month to me it felt like. Sometimes I would grow annoyed with this and lash out with some weird irritation that had nothing to do with anything, in a desperate attempt to change the subject. But, not today. Today I let him go on and on because it's just him and I.
We reached Izzy's Ice Cream Shoppe, which was still busy because of the Summer though it would be closing soon due to end of the season so, everybody came here to get one final scoop before it closed for the next six months. My father would get his favorite, butter pecan. And I would get mine, mint chocolate chip. Then we would tease each other to no end about how one couldn't stand the other's flavor. These were the Summer nights I enjoyed, forgetting about whatever else was going on at home. I l lived for these moments.
And then it happened. A crash. Horns blaring, a screeching of tires and BANG! Just like that. Then screaming and crying began. A terrible car accident. Involving five people. One person on a cell phone to cause one terrible thing. Five lives lost. Thirty-nine, twenty-one, nine, seven, and five. Three females, two males. Two of the three children being launched through the windshield, brain mattered splatted, innards being turned outwards, smoke rising from the cars, parents, and children fleeing from Izzy's Ice Cream Shoppe as one of the passengers opens their car door and an explosion. Chaos.
Noise and sound were happening all around me but, I could not register any of it. I just sat there, numb. Unfeeling. Was this a dream? A nightmare? My fathers were distant but, desperate, trying to reach me. Shake me. I could stop looking, at the fire. Just starring ahead. I could feel my ice cream falling, nothing to wake me. My father, who had moved me at some point, and I started to realize what was happening, all of my senses. And they were rushing at me, one by one. Then all at the same time like a wave.
I couldn't breathe. I felt like I was drowning, sinking away. Further and further, I left the surface. My eyes started to water and I could hear my father but, he was muffled. He forced my body up and forced my head to look at what was happening. "Mila, there has been a car accident, five people. They have died." He repeated to me continuously until, I could blink again, breathe again. "What happened?" I asked him, my voice shallow and filled with hurt. Hurt for the victims. The family. The devastation. "Mila, there has been a car accident, five people. They have died" He repeated.
I started to cry hysterically as I have never before. It felt like someone had put multiple weights in my stomach as my father held me and squeezed me tight. I could hear the screaming, the crying, the chaos all around me like never before. He pushed me back slightly and looked me in the eyes, he kissed my forehead and we stood up from the ground, holding hands, he guided me back to the car. I could still hear all the horrible and chaotic sounds that came with the event. Those poor people.
Once we're able to drive home, my father and I sat quietly in the car on the way home until we reached the driveway where my father turned off the car and sighed. "I'm sorry that happened today, Mila. This world... this world is filled with bad people and bad things and you must know that. You must live in each moment. You have to accept the bad with the good. You mother shelters you and your siblings a lot from so much. She and I don't see eye to eye on that. I love you, Mila." And then he left the car and left me there for a few minutes.
