Battling the Loss You Live For.

The first thing that Mrs. Way did when she met Sazzy was… well, stare, to be quite frank. But not in the way that was rude in any way, but kind of… pondering, in wonderment. It was weird. But anyways, no one else seemed to notice. But nevertheless, they got on really well. Too well, in fact, it was almost scary and even Gee thought so. He never thinks about stuff like this, so if he thought it was weird, it was definitely weird.

“You got on well with Donna,” I said to her in the car, and she nodded. Donna was Mrs. Way.
“Yeah, she was really nice…”
“What?” I asked, glancing at her. She was kind of acting… strangely. Maybe it was the hormones again. God, I hoped not. It tired me out, and I was already about to fall asleep.
“It’s nothing,” she replied, shrugging and fiddling with the cassette player.
“Sazzy…”
“Seriously, Frank, I’m fine,” she said, smiling at me reassuringly. I let it drop, uncertain. I hated it when stuff like that happened, but I only let it go on account of how fucking tired I was.
“Are you alright?”
She said it in such a way, it was like I’d just come out of a coma or something.
“Yes, of course. …Why?”
“You look kind of… grey. Tired, fed up,” she explained, pushing buttons on the cassette player as Black Flag’s Nervous Breakdown EP began.
“I’m alright.”
“You’re stressed…”
“I’m just sleepy.”
“Nyona was saying that-”
“I’m. Fine.”
She didn’t say anything, but leaned back into her seat, looking straight out of the windscreen, her arms crossed over her chest.
“…I’m sorry.”
Nothing.
“Sazzy-”
“Go away.”
“Kind of impossible,” I joked, the corner of my mouth lifting up. She shot me a look.
“I’m really sorry, Sazz-”
“You’re a prick.”
“I know.”
“Stop it!”
“…Okay.”
For some reason this conversation slightly amused me, even though I knew what kind of situation I’d put myself in. She’ll put itching power in my boxers if I’m not careful…
I pulled up at the house, Sazzy still sat in her seat, glaring at me.
“I said I was sorry,” I replied, pulling the keys out of the ignition. She didn’t move or say anything.
“Can we talk about it?” she said, after a long minute.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I snapped, scowling and opening the door. I heard her follow, getting to the front door before me.
“Frank, please?”
“I just said-”
“I think I need the itching pow-”
“Alright, alright!”
She grinned triumphantly, stepping aside so I could unlock the door.
“I’ll put the kettle on!” she said, bouncing into the house, kicking her converse off in the hallway. I sighed, sliding off my Vans and followed her into the kitchen.
“Hot chocolate, yeah?” she said, flicking the button on the kettle and getting out two mugs. I nodded, pulling off my jacket and went to put it in the bedroom, and changed into some old grey plaid pyjama pants and a black tee.
When I walked back into the kitchen, Sazzy was just setting down the mugs on the table. I sat opposite her.
“So what did Nyona say?” I started, wrapping my hands around my mug, my back hunched towards the table.
“That you wanted to drop out of Rutgers,” she mumbled, looking into her mug. I didn’t say anything. She looked… hurt, to say the least.
“Why?” she asked, still not looking up at me.
“Why do you think? We have no financial stability, it makes sense-”
“Frankie,” she began, looking up at me, “do you remember why I moved to Jersey with you in the first place?”
“…So we can stay together?” I said, turning the statement into a question. She was making me doubt.
“Yeah, of course, to stay with you, so we can be together. But you… -I would’ve really thought about it then. I said yes without a second thought because I know you deserved this scholarship. Because you, if anyone, need a future, Frank. Your past-”
“Don’t-”
“I’m sorry, but it’s what I thought and how I felt. I know that-”
“Listen, Sazzy. I want to drop out not for just our future, but for Dymian’s and Marilyn’s. We’ve got almost next to no money, and if I drop out of college, get a job, I can do something about it. I’m not gonna sit back and let our kid’s future turn to shit, because I know what it’s like, I know the stuff my Mom had to do for me when I was a kid when she had no money and I don’t want that for us. I can’t let that happen.”
She looked at me, deep in thought, that dim light behind her eyes.
“Why can’t you just… Frankie… let me work.”
“I- you what? No!” I said, stunned at her proposal. No way, she was pregnant, and this was Jersey. And it’s not like she’s bad to look at, either.
“Don’t be so manly and sexist. Why not?” she said, her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Because it’s Jersey! You’re pregnant, with twins, just to name a few! Jesus, Sazzy,” I said, still in awe. No fucking way!
“I can get a call centre job or something… receptionist? At somewhere nice… like… actually, maybe I could ask Mikey if there’s anything going on at Eyeball,” she began, her eyes going all hazy like they did when she was engrossed in thought.
“Sazzy, stop it, no. It doesn’t change the fact that this is New Jersey and that almost everyone is rough, sick and twisted.”
“But let me just fucking try, you prick. I know what I’m going to be doing, I’m not a dumbass,” she said, rolling her eyes and taking a small sip on her hot chocolate. I looked down at my own mug, bringing it to my lips.
“…Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I do!” I choked, swallowing a mouthful of the hot drink.
“Then just let me, okay?” she said, putting a hand on mine. I sighed, tilting my head to the side, nodding slightly. She smiled, leaning over at pecking me on the lips.
“Love you!”
I grunted, drinking my hot chocolate while she grinned.
“Your words just fill me with fluffy stuff inside,” she said sarcastically, but I could tell she didn’t really care. I smiled at her, getting up and putting our mugs in the sink.
“C’mon, I’m knackered.”