Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stories. Show all posts

Monday, June 5, 2017

Beating-Chapter 1 stories

It's 3 in the morning and I'm clutching the sheets tightly...sweating, slowly rocking on my bed.... gasping and...sweating. My heart is pounding out of control, butterflies in my stomach, legs cramping, and the rocking continues slowly on my bed....rocking and sweating...oh lots of sweating. I can't hold this anymore, I need a release...but it's not coming. I clutch the sheets again, feeling my legs cramp, and my sweat increases damping the sheets of my bed. Wow! This is like hardcore cardio. I think I feel it coming, I feel it reach it's peek. Yes! It finally happened....Oh fuck! Again, I am having a panic attack in the middle of the night. This has been my nights for the past 3 months, or was it 4? I don't even know at this point. I need to get out of bed, I feel like something bad is going to happen, and my heart wants to come out of my chest. What should I do? Should I call mom, or dad? I don't want to do that anymore, no, let me rephrase that, I am not doing that anymore. Just embrace this and hope to God that this anxiety and panic attacks will stop one day. I have a nice life, despite this horrible disorder, I have a wonderful job, a nice apartment in soho.small, but nice, and I have terrific friends that despite these resent events, are there for me. But these horrible dementors, yeah that's what I said, dementors. Hard core Harry Potter fan here and that's how I decided to call anxiety, dementors. Oh! Your Royal Highness J. K. Rowling, you do know the feels. These damn dementors are not going to stop me, even though they tried. I get out of bed, walk pass my hallway and into the kitchen to get some water. As I open the refrigerator door, lots of horrible thoughts go through my mind. ''I'm sick", "I have a heart problem, these palpitations are not normal"-URGH!- I scream, and that scream becomes a sob and there I go again, crying on my kitchen floor at 3 in the AM, welcome to Mia Castelo's new life. I am on the floor, crying and my whole body is numb. This sucks and hurts, I don't know what to do and the fear is too much to deal with. As I lay on the floor, I fail to cover my screaming cries with my mouth because I think I hear a soft voice whispering. "Ok, baby girl, get your ass up the floor" Says my wonderful roommate/ best friend Cindy Lang. She tries to get me up, but I don't move "Get up you whore, I had sex on that very same spot yesterday, so if you don't want to be the first person in the world to have a STD's on her back I will suggest you to get up" she shouts. I slowly stand, feeling extremely light headed and disgusted by the recent revelation. "Did you really had sex on the floor...here?" I ask her. "Yeah, with Jimmy Jonson, didn't tell you because it wasn't that memorable. My head kept banging on the refrigerator" She says. Cindy works as a fashion photographer therefore, I assume our Jimmy Jonson is a model. I sat down on the bar stool and try to recuperate my equilibrium and sense of being. "Want something to drink, eat?" Asks my lovely 5'2'' roommate. "No, thanks..I'm ok, I better get back to sleep, I have an important meeting tomorrow at work" I said calmly. I work in a tailor's studio. As soon as I graduated from Parson's I was hired by Grey & Grey Co. a very famous and very old tailor studio in the Garment Industry. I think they hired me because I was young and knew how to use a computer. Grey & Grey Co. are a very old fashion company, which is what gives them that unique charm and countless returning clients. I stand up from my daze and head to my bedroom. I feel a small soft hand holding my arm. "Are you sure you are ok?" Asks Cindy "No, I'm not, I feel like shit, and I'm super scared. But I have to go to work tomorrow" I said calmly as I open the door of my bedroom "You know, you can ask for some time off, you therapist can give you the necessary paper work for your bosses. I'm pretty sure Lara wouldn't mind" Says Cindy referring to my boss. Cindy has been pushing to have some time off away from New York and away from everybody. She calls it a trip to find myself. "We talked about this Cindy, I can't. I don't have enough money saved up and this therapist is super expensive" I said to her shacking my head. "I can always help" Says Cindy with a grin. Her job as a photographer has been sky rocketing lately there are days that she does only one photo-shoot a day and that allows her to pay three months of rent and have spare money, a lot of spare money. "I know you can, but I don't want to bother you or anyone, I'm going to bed." I finally said and walk slowly to bed. As I close the door I hear her shout "I LOVE YOU!!". I can't contain my smile, she really cares for me and I thank the Gods for putting her in my life. Back when the dementors started attacking me, I thought she was going to move out because the burden was too big to bear, but she didn't. There were days that I would stop in the middle of a conversation and start panicking out of the blue, but Cindy was always there for me, supporting me. As I lay in bed, a returning thought came into my mind, why? Why me? It's been three months and I still don't know why I am having this panic attacks and generalize anxiety. As this familiar thought enters my head, I fell into a heavy but troubled sleep.

I woke up in a jolt, as always, with my heart in my mouth and beyond anxious. Urgh! Fuck you dementor, fuck you. I slowly get out of bed and check my clock, its 6 o'clock, not even 7. I remember the days that I would wake with only 20 minutes to finish my morning routine. I was such heavy sleeper, I did love to sleep. But that is not the case anymore. I always wake up early and with extreme anxiety. I start undressing to jump into the shower, I might as well start my day because there is no way this anxious ass will fall back to sleep. I enter the shower and start soaping my body feeling the welcoming hot water on my body and notice how skinny I am. I was always skinnier than other girls and not because I tried, no matter how much food I ate, I wouldn't gain weight. That is why losing weight was a bog no for me. But lately, that was out of my control. I had lost 10 pounds and that's not good for me. I look like walking unpleasant skeleton. I finish soaping and rinsing but I don't want to get out of the shower, and so I don't. I sit on the warm floor title and begun to cry. Not because I am sad or depress, but because of desperation. My life has changed so much in the past three months, I only expect the worse to happen next and the feeling in unsettling. I finally get out of the shower and check the time, it's 7AM, I managed to take a hour shower. This is my new morning routine now, better get used to it. I quickly change into ripped jeans, a white baggy blouse and white Converse. I check myself in the mirror, and do not recognize the girl on the other side. Well that's Mia Castelo ladies and gentlemen, pale and skinny. I grab my bag and decided to head out for work. I walk pass the kitchen and hear "HEY! Have some breakfast would ya! Look at you, you are flesh and bones. If you would be a bit taller, you could be a high paid model" Scolds Cindy. "I'll grab a hot chocolate on my way to Grey's, bye ...love ya!" I shout as I ran towards the door and then stop. My damn heart is pounding fast again. I hold my chest and try to breath and relax but it's not working. Cindy looks at me with sadness as I feel her soft hand on my shoulder "Visit my aunt Mary, she is a cardiologist in Manhattan and I told her about you. She won't charge you and will run all the necessary test to rule out anything bad, ok?" Says Cindy as she walks besides me. She knows me to well, and knows my constant worrying about having a heart problem. I knew about her aunt, but I thought she only accepts high-rollers for patients, as her clinic is in Manhattan and all. But it seems that she is going to make an exception for her favorite niece "Oh...thank you so much Cindy, thank you" I said hugging my Asian beauty. "Yes, so go as soon as you can, but call first" She shouts as she opens the door. I was so shy and embarrassed to ask for that favor, but I guess she read my mind. I need to stop acting like this, not everyone is an intuitive genius like Cindy. I need to learn to express my needs without fear and embarrassment. I open the door and say my goodbyes to Cindy. I walk towards the elevator, one of the things I hate about this building. The elevator tends to break very easily and that is not well received due to my current state. I press the number 1 button and the door opens. I enter and smile at the guy that is inside. The whole elevator smells of Dior's Sauvage, little homeboy loves that perfume. I see him moving from the corner of my eyes and put my headphones on before he can say anything. I am not rude, just not in the mood. I had seen him before all googly eyed every time he sees Cindy, but the 6' tall Dior extraordinaire doesn't have the balls to talk to Cindy. The elevator arrives at the lobby, I smile at Mr. Sauvage and run off, quickly reminding myself of my rapid heartbeat.

It's a warm June morning in New York City and I know it's going to be humid very soon. I am en route to West 37th St, Garment District where Grey & Grey Co. is located not before grabbing a bagel and hot cocoa. Damn a hot cocoa on this hot New York day, very smart of me. As I wait for my drink, I get a glimpse of me in the tinted Starbucks window. Cindy was right, I am just flesh and bones. I get closer and see my face on the window's reflection, I have heavy dark bags under my eyes, making my light brown eyes look ghostly. Jesus! I need to fix this, I will never get a man looking like a walking zombie. Not that I care, my last long lasting...very long lasting relationship ended four years ago. Zachary Smith, dated him since I was 17, a very long relationship of 8 years. Long story short, I guess we didn't see eye to eye and we prefer different things. I liked him, but not as much as he liked his "best friend" David. Let's just say that I encountered Zach and David having a very interesting night of Call of Duty, horizontally on his bed. I got over it, it took a while and lots of tequila, but I got over it. I guess, I didn't love him as much as I thought I did. We are good friends still, we shared many memories and experiences together, you just don't throw that out of the way with a simple snap of your fingers. And besides, he is incredibly fabulous now that he is out.

"Tall hot soy chocolate for Mia" The barista shouts as I approach to get my drink. Belly almost full and feeling extremely anxious and panicky as always, I walk towards Gray & Gray Co. As I open the door of the studio, I hear "Good morning Mia!" shouted by Lindsay, the lovely receptionist at Gray & Gray Co. "Hey, what's up?" I automatically say, I wish I was as happy and excited as her. "Lara wants to see you before you head into your office" Says Lindsay and I wonder what Mrs. Grey wants. "OK, cool, thanks Lindsay" I manage to say as I head to Lara's. I shyly knock on her door, why am I so shy? I worked for this woman for 5 years. "Yes come in" Says Lara. "Hi, you wanted to see me?" I ask. "Yes, Mia I did. These are the measurements for Mr. Jacobs and he needs his suit ready by next week. I know, I know short notice. But pull this off, and you will have paid vacation, we are noticing some employees have not taken their mandatory vacations and well it is mandatory." She says all of this extremely fast that I had to catch my breath at the last part. "What? Wait, what?" I said. I don't mind the time crunch for Mr. Jacobs' suit, it's the last part that shocks me. Vacations, a month and PAID! "Yes Mia, let's be in compliance with the law and take your vacations, I want you out by Monday. Besides, you haven't been yourself lately and it is reflecting on your work" She says as she gets a sip of her coffee. "I'm sorry, I promise this won't affect my work life. This would change, I promise, but vacations..." I'm interrupted by Lara's straight forward remark "You are taking this vacation, it is an order. Finish everything you are working on plus Mr. Jacobs. I want you in vacations by next Monday." Says Lara leaving me speechless. "Oo..Ok" That's all I manage to spit out. Trembling, I walk to my office and text Cindy the recent events. Shortly after, I hear and ding on my phone with her response. "Rue Cler's after work, I'll text Emily. Be there, if not, I'll pussy punch you today" Texts Cindy. Urgh, I don't feel like going out, specially going out at Rue Cler's, this snobby French place that Cindy and Emily love. Emily is close to me as Cindy. The 6'' tall blond Goddess is as sweet as a candy and as sour as ripe lemons and I love her to death. "Ok" It's what I only manage to reply. What the freaking fuck! A month vacation, why? Is she getting tired of me. I do admit, I was not myself the past three months and I am still recuperating from this horrible phase in my life that came out of the blue. I can't concentrate now, I am beyond nervous and anxious. This all happen way to fast and super early in the morning. It's not even 10 o'clock! I breath, they weird way that I was taught by my therapist and well, it doesn't work. Nothing works when I am anxious and especially when I'm anxious with a reason. Slowly, I manage to get my head around work and concentrate in my to-do list, it took me a whole 30 minutes to calm down but just a tiny bit. My heart still pounding uncontrollably and all my body is numb. Jesus! It is getting hard to look at the computer screen, everything is blurry. Fuck, I need to breath and relax, this has to stop! This won't affect my life anymore. Around 1 o'clock I finish almost everything, except Mr. Jacobs patterns. I have no idea how I did it. This is how I had been working lately, in autopilot. But this autopilot is not functioning very well. There some problems over at the pattern department that I need to attend. The pattern department is whole other world, I do not like it so much, but I have to do my job and fix the current issue at hand. Once that is resolved, I decided to grab a quick bite and continue working, the less I think the better.

For the past hours I had been answering emails and double checking Mr. Jacobs pattern for his suit. Apparently, he is going to attend this big charity ball event in September but wants his suit now, talk about desperation. Later on, I glance at my phone and it's 6 o'clock already and that means Rue Cler's time and I am hating it. I drag myself out of the office and 30 minutes later, I walk into a chick bar with lots of tall girls wearing the latest season from Chanel, Hermes and Chloe while I wear the latest season of Forever 21. Rue Cler's is the newest chic bar in lower Manhattan and it is a must to be seen in here, therefore I hate it with all my guts. I find Cindy and Emily sitting at the bar, both looking disgustingly breathtaking. "Well, you could told me that you both will be dressing up as Kendall and Gigi" I said. Both of them glance at me in horror, they despite those two play pretend models "Shut up, we have more important things to talk about" Screams Emma over the crowd while Cindy nods. I can't with these two, Emma wears a long sleeveless dress with her gorgeous blond hair all messy while Cindy is rocking a black leather jacket with grey tank and denim shorts, just stunning. Taking her wine glass Emily asks "Where are you going for your month vacation?" and she says this with a very serious face, and I immediately know she means business. Emma is a journalist and a very good one, she works for the New York Posts and let's just say all her exposes had made it to the front page, therefore every time there is questioning involved in a conversation, I rise my hands and surrender. "Nowhere, I will stay home, I don't have money or a place to go." I said while sipping a glass of Perrier. "What?! Urgh! You are so exasperating" Shouts Cindy. Oh shit, she is mad. "Emily, tell her your idea. NOW!" Continues Cindy. Emily sits up straight and with a smile on her face she says: "You are going to Lake Como, Italy and will stay at my parent's place" I look at her wide eyed and spit my drink in shock. What the fuck is going on today!? Three months ago, this would have make me extremely happy but today it is just making me mad! "WHAT? NO! No Emm, I'm not going to Italy to your parents place in Lake Como" I said with a petulant tone in my voice that I regret as soon as I heard it. Emily shakes her head in anger "You are, we want to see you better, and well to be honest you haven't had a normal vacation in like....forever!" Shouts Cindy looking at Emily for support. "Listen, Mia, please use this well-deserved vacation and go to Italy. You have money saved up. Just buy your airplane ticket and you are good to go." Said Emily. "Oh my God, this is so surreal. What the fuck is going on today, first Lara, now this. I don't get it. Paid vacations and now this...I.." I stop, I can't think straight. Today has been a crazy day. Why did Lara said that to me? And these two plotting this trip. I need to see my therapist ASAP. "Listen, You have never taken a normal vacation. Calculating all the years that you worked, you, BY LAW, deserve paid vacation and well, Grey & Grey Co. is expanding incredibly fast. And now with Lara taking over, they need to do everything in compliance with the law" Says Emma, and of course she would know all of this. And well, she is right, I basically never had a vacation and if I calculate all the days and years that I had been working, I do deserve a month paid. "This is happening to fast and it's freaking me out." I said while I play around with my fingers. Jesus, I should be thankful for this vacation and my very nice friend that is offering her lovely home in Italy, but the only thing I think about is how fast my heart it beating. I had been noticing different symptoms in my body since all of this starter, let's just say I am constantly worrying that I am sick. I am afraid of becoming a hypochondriac but I do feel my heart raising and a horrible discomfort in my chest accompanied by dizziness. Going to the ER won't help because I had done that in the past and I just walked out of there with nothing more than a prescription for Valium that I quickly toss to the trash. Many doctors have said that I am healthy, but I continue feeling like I am not alright and this trip is increasing my anxiety. Emma continues to stare at me, waiting for a response, if it was up to her, I would be on the first plane to Italy now. I finally let out the breath I didn't notice I was holding, "What if I get sick when I am away?" I questioned, and millions of terrible ideas pass through my head like a wind storm. "You will not get sick because you are healthy!" Shouts Cindy, now exasperated. "Listen, live a little. I am going to tell you this for the very last time. You are in this hot mess because you don't think about yourself. You just care about others and well sweetie that's not healthy. You need to learn how to love yourself and stop thinking about the rest because let me tell you, a part from us, nobody else is here helping you cope with this issue" Finishes Cindy. And she is right, I only have Cindy and Emily. The other friends that I had where slowly dissipating when they realized I wasn't fun to be around with. I can't say the same about Zachary, despite all that he put me through, he always texts me to make sure that I am ok. Maybe this trip will be a good idea, maybe I do need to get away from New York and its stresses. I grab my glass of Perrier and slowly say "Alright, I'll go to Italy" and these three words make the two beauties in front of me extremely happy. I am starting to think, they are starting to get tired of me.



Submitted June 06, 2017 at 07:59AM by wendyarellano http://ift.tt/2qZRTF8 stories

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

Meet the Smiths stories

When I was seventeen, I spent about two months out of the summer at my grandparents’ house up north. They run a volunteer-based house for war refugees, people seeking political asylum, etc., & in recent years, it had become a tradition in my family to volunteer – for a month, a year – there before heading off to university.

It was my turn, & I looked forward to it. It’s an old house, built back in 1867 & settled in a quiet, close-knit community. Almost to the point where everyone knew each other. The second part of the tradition was that you’d volunteer with at least someone else, usually between 13-28 years old or so, because the house attracted volunteers (usually foreigners). They’d be our peers, more or less. I was blessed with not one, but three over my visit, plus another two volunteers who were local.

The first three were distantly related to me, & I’d met one of them before. The other two were two brothers who I’d never met before, hailing from Georgia. We’ll name them, David, Steven, & Glenn.

David was just a few months shy of my age, but bigger, having played football. At this time, he had his heart set on culinary school, & rightly so. Steven was about sixteen, I think, & his younger brother Glenn maybe twelve to fourteen. Steven & Glenn seemed so typically southern, given the way they’d interact, if that gives you any more for you to visualize them.

“Any coincidence why you guys sport the same haircut?” I asked, not having known them that long? I was referring to their single-length military haircuts.

“Yeah, our mom said you could have any haircut you want, just shorter,” Steven answered.

If I remember correctly, the three of them never encountered each other. Instead, it was first Steven & Glenn, then once they went home to Georgia, David & another very distantly related cousin of mine who I won’t introduce since he’s a dickbag & not really noteworthy. A full summer.

Steven & Glenn were actually my brothers, though not through blood. I won’t go into it because it’s unique & potentially identifying. Anyways, we didn’t come to the house to be lazy; our grandfather set us to work with what I can only describe as landscaping: a lot of weeding, digging out old tree stumps, fashioning a new stone staircase, taming some wild brush, watering, digging a new water spout trench, & excavating a whole lot of work. I loved the work because it wasn’t academics, & took pride in the fruits of my labor.

Then I met the Smiths. The Smiths were a local family; their mother was the reverend at the Catholic church not more than a quarter mile down the street to the miniscule downtown area. The Smiths were a family of five: John, the eldest, a university junior, Morgan, the next eldest at sixteen years old, & Margot, the youngest at thirteen.

I first met Margot. Through their mother, they too were connected to my grandparents & their mission. Margot volunteered for the hell of it, & would work alongside Steven, Glenn & I in the heavy summer sun. I was the oldest of them all, & led them through a lot of our work. The way I talked, & the way I acted left the impression on them that I was very smart, an intellectual.

I am very humble in that regard, because I know the opposite is true. Having come to university, I am humbled everyday by how smart everyone else is, but that’s besides the point. Then, I was still in high school, in top ten, & I was fairly confident but unassumingly so. It pained me then, & it pains me now to talk about myself that way with others though. I can’t keep a straight face while spouting some r/iamverysmart shit. It’s so ludicrously painful that I’d leave all my dignity trailing a full five feet behind me.

Anyways, the Smith sisters were quite attractive, red-haired gals, but I’ll get to that. I couldn’t avoid an uncomfortable feeling when thinking about Margot though, even though four years is socially acceptable once you’re both over twenty. For a seventeen year old though, the maturity gap just seemed a bit too great.

They looked up to me, & seemed readily impressed with what I did. I think refusing to acknowledge it made them think I was smarter. Once they posed a hypothetical thought:

“Say, Mrs. Clairmont (local mom) had three kids – all boys – what’s the chances of that?” Margot asked. They all turned to me looking for a half-second response. Too bad probability is my weak point.

“Well, each birth would be independent of the others, so the probability wouldn’t change for each birth,” I replied. But I couldn’t answer any further. Yes, I know the answer now.

I felt so bad about their confidence that at one point I even flat out told David & Margot:

“You know, however smart you think I might be, there’ll always be someone else I think is that much smarter than I am. It’s all relative.” They probably thought I was wiser still.

I wasn’t always impressing them, though. The house had a work-hard, play-hard philosophy, so when it came time for us to relax, Margot had us meet up with her older sister, Morgan. Morgan was more my age, but I seemed to notice maturity scaled disproportionately given their ages. Maybe it was just me, because I was mature for my age, & younger teenage girls on phones didn’t give off a very responsible vibe.

We made our way to the local bridge, for bridge-jumping of course, & holy hell did it look like a huge fall standing on the edge of the bridge. I jumped three times. It didn’t help that I wasn’t a very good swimmer. When I was eight or so, I was extremely confident in the water, but alas, not anymore. I could swim just enough to stay afloat for a little bit, but doing it across any real distance was out of the question. You’d have to climb some large, mossy, slimy rocks on the edge to get back on the bridge, & it was more precarious yet since I knew snapping turtles to be local.

Morgan was a lifeguard & Steven, seeming to fit in with his Georgia background, was also an excellent swimmer in his own right. They both tried to race just under the keystone of the bridge, but stayed in place – the tide was coming back. No way in hell I would be able to keep up with them.

“eucix, you gonna go again?” one of them asked.

“No, I think I a little disoriented from the jumping now,” I said, bullshitting. I was terrified of jumping, bad at swimming, & put on my shirt to hide my ribs. Two times was enough.

We retreated to the Smiths’ house when we had had our fill, which was a lovely abode kept lively by a box turtle who lived on bok choy in front of the refrigerator & a tortoise-furred cat. We played cards, & I met my superior – John. John was in university, & seemed like a cool guy, which made me envy him all the more. He was studying mathematics at Yale, I think. Despite the age difference between him & hell, even me, he meshed well. Morgan changed into a lovely navy dress, & I stared at her breasts for too long.

The card games shifted to the only thing that interested them – Mao. Now, I had never played Mao before & I sucked at it terribly. Glenn, the youngest, put me to shame, which was even more humiliating. My frustration climbed when they explained that they reverted to the rules of Crazy Eights (Eighty-eights? Am I thinking of Kill Bill?).

This visit was exacerbated by a poorly timed need to shit. Earlier, when I was failing at swimming, I attempted a frog like actuation of my legs, which I think allowed some seawater to enter my asshole or something, because my anus was angry at me in front of this adorable girl.

“’scuse me, where’s the bathroom?” I asked.

“Just under the stairs, over there,” Morgan said, pointing towards the living room.

“Thanks.”

I shuffled my feet quickly & let the seawater return to the sea. I hope it wasn’t too loud.

The summer drew on, & we kept working, graced by Margot’s presence every so often. My grandfather is a man of conviction (which I greatly respect) & a devout Catholic, yet extremely tolerant of other (we’d housed many Muslim war refugees in the house), but in spite of his good nature & generosity, he was known to impress his ideology on others. Once, he told Margot & I while we were working the garden about this project to simulate the entire human brain in a computer. He’s referring to this project, which I was already familiar with. Incidentally this is the article from which I learned about it.

I kept my mouth shut as he said: “but it’s a silly project. It’ll never work. You know why? Because a computer can’t capture the human spirit.” Margot nodded in agreement (who can blame her? She was raised by the local reverend?). I was all for my grandfather’s benevolent intentions & mission, but this was too much. I voiced my discontentment by not talking, or otherwise acknowledging that his talk was falling on deaf ears.

“eucix, are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, sure, absolutely. Sorry,” I said.

“Good.”

After my grandfather went back inside, I stopped & told Margot:

“Margot, do you believe all that?”

“Well, I believe in evolution & all that, so I guess I’m not sure.”

“Good. Don’t believe everything he says, & don’t believe what I say either. Find out for yourself,” I said. If there’s ever a moment I thought I’d be a good parent, this is one of them.

Work was steady, but so was play. The Smiths’ mother invited us to tag along at a local swim spot in the local river, which was also popular for its canoeing/kayaking options. From the dock, you could swim about an eighth mile to a small stand & swing. We ended up coming back here a few times.

The rope swing was set about fifteen feet off the water, & you had to climb a stand to get up there. Once up, you could have a full four seconds swinging before you had to bail to avoid breaking bones on the shoreline. Of course I was still foreign to the water, & although I took part in using the swing (which was also absolutely terrifying, by the way), I limited my participation.

Every summer brings a new threat, known locally as greenheads. I don’t even know if they carry off sizeable chunks of flesh when they bite you, but getting bit hurts like a bitch. Thankfully, the widely-used remedy was readily available as Skin So Soft. I used this as a shitty excuse to avoid staying in the water & using the rope swing too much.

In my defense, I attract mosquitoes & greenheads with ridiculous frequency, which is not complete bullshit. Few people respect this, given that they’ve never the person that gets bit when I’m around. It wasn’t dignifying at all to tell Margot I wouldn’t be going in the water again because I’d lose all my Skin So Soft.

& yes, she made fun of me for that.

We fucked around in the canoes, trying to see how far upstream we could go, but got stuck negotiating the narrow bridge (fast current). A year later I went with my cousin & we went thirteen miles past there.

Once I went with Morgan, Steven, & Glenn, plus Carol, one of Morgan’s friends. Carol was an inexplicably smoking hot brunette – seriously, I guess hot girls find each other. Carol left us early once her foot was cut on a rock, & Morgan helped her get back to town.

Over the weeks that I stayed at the house, I noticed that I was somehow competing with Steven for Margot & Morgan’s attention. Maybe it’s just because I’m wired to get jealous & aggressive around other dudes. It didn’t help that Steven, despite being younger (sixteen), held a driver’s license & I didn’t. I sat in the backseat as Steven drove me, Margot, Morgan, & Glenn to nearby town to meet with some girlfriends of the Smiths. Eh, I didn’t like them. I retreated even further when we went to get frozen yogurt. I hate frozen yogurt. Morgan seemed to notice my withdrawal, & tried to make small talk with me, but it didn’t work. Thanks though. I appreciated it.

How the fuck are you guys so captivated with Steven? I wanted to ask them. What’s he got that I don’t? Well, a driver’s license, for starters. & not crippling social anxiety.

Steven would only charm them further. We returned to the bridge where we went jumping before for a midnight swim. “I’ll take lookout,” I said. Really, it was so I could lay in the back of the truck & hole up against the mosquitoes & avoid embarrassing myself in the water.

Some stoners came by & I silently wished that they’d go attacking us in some drug-fueled craze so that I could step up & heroically beat the shit out of them. They left, leaving only something for the other four (Steven, Margot, Morgan, & Glenn) to laugh about.

Another time, we were coming back to the house late at night, & Steven had the bright idea of taking yet another midnight swim in the small marina. I was left alone on the dock when Steven & Glenn stripped to their boxers & jumped in to join Margot & Morgan in the dark water. They even started doing flips off the dock.

“eucix, why don’t you come in? Water’s warm,” said one of the Smith girls.

“Naw, I’m fine up here. Didn’t bring any swimwear,” I responded. Well, I had boxers on too.

We walked back to the house, & our grandfather stood in the floodlit driveway, smiling.

“You guys go for a little midnight swim?” he yelled, smiling.

“Sure did,” Steven replied, with a grin as we approached. “Why you think I’m soaking wet & in my boxers?”



Submitted January 04, 2017 at 09:18AM by eucix http://ift.tt/2iNAigJ stories

Sunday, October 19, 2014

I am Here stories


I am Here. Where Here is, I couldn’t tell you. I have what I call ten walls. Two of which I am calling walls for my sake. They are more like the ends of two walls, if that makes any sense. The room is shaped like the letter “U” if you could only use straight lines to write it.

Room 1, the beginning of the “u,” has a curb side pick up, two shelved bookcase with a small pirate ship wheel hung on the wall above it. This bookcase holds a scale that perfectly balances a white stone made of quartz and a black stone that’s name escapes me. This was all for symbolic reasons that would leave a guest either feeling like I am deep or feeling that I am a tool. I choose to believe that I am deep and have a significant vantage point compared to others. The rest of the top shelf comprises of a lamp, a custom made candle made from a Makers Mark whiskey bottle, an actual bottle of some what I have concluded to be moonshine or a strong brandy, and a hand carved African knight. The second shelf contains nautical things such as a ship in a bottle, an empty bottle with a note rolled up inside it, a tin mug, and a fake bookcase that opened only to be empty. The bottom shelf had assorted magazines stacked from Snowboarder and Outdoors to Cosmo. This bookcase in itself makes me feel like I am in a house that I don’t belong. But that brings up the problem; there is no door on any of these ten walls. Then dining room, the bottom of the “u,” has a round, three foot diameter, oak poker table with one oak chair. I’ve turned the chair to face the wall that has the curtains on it. They open, only to display a beautiful concrete wall. It’s like whoever made this place got lazy. Or creative. I guess that is relative. I keep the curtains closed. I pretend I am in different countries and to have open blinds is too dangerous. Or the other day I let myself believe that I was on a spaceship and the rooms where made to be familiar but if I opened the curtain, I would only see darkness; or maybe Orion 472… Orion 472 was showing up any day. Room 2, the end of the “u,” has a counter made of concrete, a chill box (which I have only named this because it is neither a refrigerator nor an ice box), a hot pan, and the toilet. The toilet situation was something that I really had to overcome. I mean, who the fuck designed this place? I would rather go to Craigs frat barefoot than live in a house that only has a toilet- in the kitchen. What. The. Fuck. But yeah. That’s the kitchen. I eat and shit in there. I really feel like that was a solid job of describing this place. Man, if I die you need to write a book or something. Put my actual letters in it so Liz and Kylie really get the feels. Then at least I’ll remembered as a great guy! Oh, and I think this goes without saying, but don’t include this last paragraph. That wouldn’t go over well. Haha. But yeah, the bottom left corner of this room has a typewriter and the whole in the wall is perfect for mail. So maybe whoever put me here wants me to write? I don’t know. Do you think they will put a stamp on it for me? They didn’t leave me any stamps. Umm… yeah. That is all I have to say. Trying to stay optimistic here, Chad. It doesn’t look good. It feels like the Twilight Zone or something. I just want to wake up. But if this is my only chance to talk to you, I wanted to say I love you. You passed me a while ago in most everything. Except for strength, but I mean, come on. I always did my best to look after you, so I hope that any hard feelings you have can be forgotten. I always thought it was for the best, whatever it was.

I love you, baby brother. You have the biggest heart I have ever met. You better always use it. You’re my favorite person on this damn planet, losing only to two miss universe contestants and my strong belief in string theory. But yeah, if this turns out to be normal mail and you somehow find me and we both live, throw this away, bitch. Love, Matt


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Submitted October 20, 2014 at 08:51AM by oughta http://ift.tt/1vSw4HV stories