What's Your Story?

Kylie walked down the crowded street in Times Square, looking for anyone that seemed remotely interesting. No such luck. The crisp October wind blew her knee length, blood read jacket behind her before she tied the belt. Her always present black messenger bag, which held two notebooks, numerous pens, and various other supplies, hung on her shoulder and swung slightly as she wove her way around slow moving people. Her dark brown hair was in a messy bun with some pieces falling in her hazel eyes.

“What now?” she groaned quietly as a cell phone started vibrating and playing Popular from Wicked. She pulled out the purple phone, glanced at the caller ID, and pressed answer. “This better be good,” she snapped.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” her best friend and editor, Conner, asked.

“No one has a good story! I have less than ten months to make this book and so far we only have that one girls recount on the train crash! This is not good, Conner! If this book fails we’re all screwed!”

“Calm down for one second, Ky. Where are you?”

“Times Square.”

“Head over to my place and I’ll tell you some good news.”

“You found a survivor from the Titanic?!” She exclaimed, earning a few looks. Her eyes had lit up at the thought; she had always wanted to interview someone that lived through the sinking.

“No sorry,” he said, breaking Kylie out of her hopeful thoughts.

“This better be good then. I’ll be there in a half hour.” She snapped the phone shut and threw it into her bag.

As she waited to cross the street a woman in a yellow prom dress with a puffed out skirt and rhinestones all over was in an argument with two men. The taller man was in a grey suit and had large sunglasses covering his tan face. The shorter man’s face was beet red and he seemed to be shouting, it was hard to hear over the sounds of the city.

“Just stay the hell away! You got that? Can you understand that?” I heard him say when I was able to walk forward a few feet.

The tall man put a restraining hand on the shouting man’s shoulder as he closer to the scowling woman. Her curly red hair was all over like she had just woken up but hadn’t bothered to brush it. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin had a sort of gray tinge to it.

“Andrew we should leave now,” the tall man said, moving his head to look at the small crowd that was forming.

Andrew nodded and locked eyes with the woman. Then he spit at her feet and walked away. The woman flipped him off then turned to go in the opposite direction.

“Ma’am, ma’am, wait!” Kylie shouted and several women turned their heads. She just continued to push on through the crowd. “Lady in the prom dress! Stop please.”

“The woman heard her this time and spun around. Kylie caught up with her and took a few moments to catch her breath.

“What do you want?” the woman barked in a sharp Brooklyn accent.

“I’m just wondering, what happened back there?”

“What’s it to ya?”

“I write a book and put people’s stories in it. Maybe you’ve heard of it? What’s Your Story?” The woman just stared at Kylie. “No? Whatever. I want to know if your story is a good one.”

“I guess it is.”

“Would you tell me?”

“Would you listen?” she countered.

“Intently.”

She stared at Kylie for a moment then nodded.

“Come on, there’s a pizza place nearby.” She began walking swiftly with Kylie hurrying to stay next to her.

The pizza place was ten minutes and cramped. Everyone seemed to know the woman and they were seated at a table in the back. It was very warm so Kylie shed her coat and scarf before getting out her recorder, notebook, and black pen.

“Let’s start with your name,” she said, opening the book to a clean page and pressing the record button.

“Loraine Ruppert.”

“I’m guessing you live in Brooklyn?”

“Yep, lived there since I was born.”

“Do you like it?”

She shrugged, taking a sip of her soda which a waited had just bought over. “I’ve never lived anywhere else so I guess.”

Kylie was furiously writing down everything that was happening.

“Now, what exactly happened out there?”

Loraine sighed and waved over a server.

“What can I get you, Lor?” He asked, pulling out a notebook and tiny pencil.

“The usual.”

“And for you?” He asked, turning to Kylie.

“Um…a plain slice and some fries.”

“It’ll be right out.” He walked away to the crowded counter and gave them woman there the order, Kylie was writing down what had just happened.

“Now my story,” Loraine said sadly, making Kylie look up. She was frowning and staring off into space. “I’m not the brightest bulb in the box; I jump into things without thinking and very often regret my choices. That guy out there, that was Andrew,” she sneered at his name. “I knew him from my old job at a bakery. He came in almost every day and got a bagel and coffee. Well we started talking and after about two months he asked me out to dinner. This was about three and a half years ago. We dated for maybe six, seven months and it was great. He was so nice and always bought me these cheesy but cute presents like a little stuffed bear or some pink roses. He always called me beautiful and kept insisting on it when I would turn away and tell him he was just saying it to make me happy.

“Those were the good times. Andrew works for the paper and when he came home I’d have dinner ready and we’d have a nice meal, talk about our day, and just relax together. Then he proposed. It was real romantic too. I came home late from the bakery one Saturday; it was our busiest day because of all the parties and things. I was so tired and just wanted to crawl into bed. All the lights were out so I figured Andrew had either gone to bed or was watching sports down at the bar. After grabbing a cold slice of pizza I went to the living room to see if he had bought the mail in. Thanks, Mike,” Loraine said as the food was bought over.

“No problem, ladies,” he said, setting the food down. “I couldn’t help but hear-“

“I’m sure you couldn’t.”

“Well I’m going on break soon; would I be able to hang out here for a half hour?”

“Sure, will it affect anything?” Loraine asked Kylie.

“Not at all. I actually have to make a quick call. I’ll be right back.” Kylie stopped the recorder, grabbed her phone, and went outside. She dialed Conner’s familiar number and shifted from foot to foot as it rang.

“Where are you?” He demanded after three rings.

“I’m sorry! There was this lady and I’m listening to her story now. I’ll probably be another half hour, possibly more. I’ll call when I’m coming.”

“You better. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

She closed her phone and hurried back into the pizza place. The server was out of his apron and sitting next to Loraine at the table.

“Hey, I’m Mike,” he said, reaching out to shake her hand.

“Kylie,” she said, taking it. “Did Loraine explain what we’re doing?” she asked, writing down what was happening.

“Yeah, it seems cool. So you just go around and ask people for their life story?”
“Just stuff that’s really affected them or seems interesting. I found Loraine fighting with Andrew and asked her to tell me. Are you ready to continue?”

“Yep. Where was I?” she thought as Kylie pressed record.

“You were looking through the mail.”

“Ah yes. Well the mail was in a pile on the coffee table, where it’s always put. On top of it was a bright pink post-it note. It said: Lor, there’s a DVD in the player watch it, Andy. I didn’t get why but I put it on anyway. Our song, Scenes From An Italian Restaurant, came on and then it was a slide show of us over the months. At the end were four pictures of him holding signs that said ‘Will you marry me?’ Then he came into the room and proposed. I was in tears and, like I said, I don’t think things over so I said yes. Three months later we had a small wedding. The honey moon was great but when we got home he was different.

“The first month was all right, nothing really changed. Two months after that he was a little more distant and came home later. He said it was just because of a larger workload and it was nothing. It seemed possible so I thought nothing of it. Then he started coming home later and smelling like beer. After it went on for a couple of weeks I asked him about it, that night he was drunk.”

She paused and took a deep breath. Mike gave her a worried look but she continued on.

“He got extremely angry and hit me with a beer bottle he had next to him. It left a bruise and the next morning he didn’t remember a thing. I didn’t say anything, I was such a coward. A few more weeks went by and he came home drunk again. I asked him what his problem was and he punched me a few times. The next morning Andy asked what happened to me, why I had a huge bruise on my face. I told him but it didn’t make sense to him in the hung over state. When he was better and I explained everything again he apologized profusely and promised it would never happen again.” She scoffed and smiled humorlessly.

“How often do you hear that bologna and actually believe it? Of course it happened again, he was an alcoholic and his buds at work went out to drink every week. The months went by and I was miserable. My body was covered with bruises and I was running out of lies to tell. Finally one day I had enough of everything. The abuse had been going on for about a year with one or two week breaks from when he went on business trips and short vacations. Now we’re up to about June last year. After I told my one friend from work, Emily, what happened she convinced me to go to the cops and tell them everything.”

“Andy was held under arrest for a month until I got a court date settled for the divorce and abuse. He was let free after serving the month and the trial as set for three months later. I moved out of the apartment and to my sister’s place. I got a lawyer but Andy got a better one, that was asshole you saw out there was Johnny. He’s a real slim ball and sneaky as anything. When it was time for court my bruises were faded but I had pictures of them and I brought them with me. In the court room, Andy looked pretty confident for a man being tried for abuse. I didn’t get it until we got to that part. Johnny wanted to tell the judge something important, that I used to self-harm myself. I flipped! There was no way he could have found out that stuff unless he’d been snooping, I never even told Andy about that. He also knew that I never completed my set time of therapy. That was because my therapist told me I was good to go after a year and a half. I was seventeen! I listened to her and left, what else was I supposed to do? The whole thing made me mad so I never did anything after I was told I could leave.”

Loraine stopped again to sip her drink. “Because of my history it was ruled that my bruises could be self-inflicted without any other evidence. I’m going back to court with a different lawyer; I did my research this time. My sister and I found this guy who’s supposed to be great.”

“Now, what happened when you were out there?” Kylie asked. “Why are you in a prom dress?”

“I was at a party and ended up spending the night at a friend’s house. This morning I got a call from my sister that Andrew and Johnny were bothering her at work. Since the only outfit I had was this dress I out it on and hurried over to her. I’ve been getting quite a few stares.”

“Would you mind if I took a picture?”

“Go for it,” Loraine shrugged, brushing her hair from her shoulders.

Kylie stopped the recorder and dug though her bag until she found her new camera. After playing around with some of the buttons to get the settings right she got the picture.

Loraine sat at the table with the dirty dishes in front of her. On the wall behind her was a painting of Italy and a red strip that ran along the restaurant. She wasn’t wearing any makeup and her hair wasn’t done. There was a hint of a smile to Loraine’s face but you could see how heavy her eyes were. It was the perfect picture.

“Thanks so much for sharing,” Kylie said, putting the camera and recorder away. “Do you want to give me your email address so I can tell you when the book comes out?”

“Sure.” Loraine took out a pen and wrote in the margin of the last page Kyle had written on.

Kylie paid the bill even though Loraine argued with her. “I always pay after hearing a story, it’s only right.”

They hugged before departing then left in opposite directions. Kylie took out her phone and dialed Conner’s number again.

“Wait until you hear this story,” she began as she crossed the street.