Love My Existence

I used to smile. Laugh, grin, joke around...been myself. But that was a long time ago.
I've forgotten how it was like to let go of every stress because you know there are always solutions for any problems.
Nothing wasimpossible. If it was, thenpossible wouldn't be in the word.
Or so my mom always told my brother and I.
I think she even believed it herself, even if she couldn't make ends meet or when her parents died in a train-wreck. She thought it so whole-heartedly, with the completeness of her being, that I was in awe with her. Well, shedid believe in it...until a man broke her; my father.
I haven't seen anyone so devastated, or so shocked. A lifetime of true love and then...this.
A broken family.
I was the one that had to leave behind my childhood dreams and goals when I picked up the shredded pieces of my mother's confidence as I dropped out of high school, seventeen at the time, and put myself to work. The semblance of a fairytale I had lived was ripped away from my life, much like my trust.
Supporting my mother through her heartbreak was an agony, telling my little brother that...dad...was never coming home everyday yielded any lingeringsoftness for thatdeserter. I hated even while I wiped the tears that cascaded down my mom's dull eyes and my brother's sobs as he pressed himself as close to me as possible.
While I...never had the time to grieve. No consolation that everything would eventually come to rights...that there was a reason for the amount of abandonment we felt.
Maybe it was the fact that I was never home, too busy at work, and taking responsibilities for keeping my family from going under that my mom had contracted ovarian cancer.
More responsibilities.
And maybe it was my absolute hate and disgust against the male sex that I had noticed that I had stopped living...just existed. That was my only solace.
I didn't feel anything...I was invincible.
I have never smiled again. Nor laughed, nor grinned, much less been myself.
And for nine years, I have continued to exist as nothing more than a shell when all I wanted...was to live.
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"When will that boy ever learn?" I asked myself as I walked towards the brick building of Shasta High School. This was nearing the twenty-seventh time to be called in to the high school to discuss an important matter pertaining to Mr. Rylan Hunter. Much to my displeasure, the disbelief wore out when the third call came through my work's telephone. They were always the same: my little brother was in a fight. Apparently, he was the one who began the whole ordeal. I sighed, rubbing the invisible strains on my forehead as a headache began to pound against my temples. Not only was I excused from work to fetch my trouble-making, teenage brother, but I was fired. Jobless. Again. It came as no surprise to me. I stopped suddenly as my eyes met two teenage students hidden in the shadows of an alcove. I gasped quietly, my eyes trained at the heated embrace of the couple; like a voyeur I stared at every movement of their undulating hips, their frantic hands grasping at each other's chest and hair, even their bruised lips as they exchange kiss for kiss, moan for moan. Cheeks flaming, I hurried inside the school dipping my face to the ground, my blonde hair falling into my eyes, as I replayed the scene in my head. God, teenagers have evolved a little! Or a lot.

...I wonder how it would feel like to be kissed and made love to like that...as if they can't stand the separation of clothes and it kills every second of not being inside of me...Like it couldn't be quick enough...

Oh, my goodness! Did I just think that?!

I burst into the glass doors of the office, gasping and panting, trying hard to forget where my thoughts led me. Again. "I'm sorry," I said slowly as I righted myself and glanced at the receptionist who glared at me absentmindedly.

"You're a little late, Miss Hunter," the receptionist remarked nastily. "The principal has better things to do than babysit your hooligan of a brother. Upon my word, he should be taken to Juvenile Hall! Well, it is too true that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, isn't that right, Miss Hunter?"

I felt my face slip into the lifeless expression that I had donned for the last nine years, coming instinctual and comfortably, as I stared at the receptionist. "Yes, I find that saying very true, indeed. Especially when I look at your grandson," I spoke woodenly, looking her dead in the eye and turned towards the Principal's office as I heard her sputter, appalled at my articulate insult. It was always like this; people belittling me because, one: I was blonde; two: I was poor and wore second-hand clothing; three: they didn't give a rat's ass that my mother was slowly dying; and fourth: well, because I was poor and blonde. Despicable. Gritting my teeth against the torrent of harsh words against society's expectations, I opened the door to Principal Palowski's office. Upon entering, several heads turned...except my brother's. "Sorry, I am late Mr. Palowski. I had to deal with some things at work before I could catch the bus," I said as a greeting. No smile, no source of any emotion.

Three bruised black-and-blue and bleeding students turned to Principal Palowski, their expressions smug and triumphant as their haughty parents sniffed regally from their up-turned noses. I restrained the urge to roll my eyes.

"Don't you worry none, Killian," Mr. Palowski said understandingly, his warm smile reaching for one that I would never give. "I have already explained the consequences to the other students' parents of their actions. Fighting in school grounds is prohibited and have resulted in suspension and community work."

I blinked. How merciful, I thought to myself. Back in the day, fighting would have resulted in expulsion and a great-big-ol' wallop in the as--er, buttocks. I guess the other parents didn't agree with my sentiments and thought it a harsh punishment.

"What?" the mother of an esteemed soccer player gasped as her features twisted into disbelief and anger. "My boy is an innocent! This unfairness shouldn't sink its claws into my dear Brian, it should be upon that--that--that thug!" She pointed an accusatory finger at my silent brother as she shrieked. I was going to bite her finger off if she doesn't get that disgusting finger away from Rylan... "My baby won't be able to play in the upcoming championships and be recognized by rich scouts! Do you know what this means?"

That you're selfish, I thought sarcastically, looking at the red-faced woman.

"Madam, as I have explained, I was there when this transpired. Brian along with Jeremy and Mitchell were the first to instigate verbal violence; Rylan, here, made the mistake to throw fisticuffs rather than walk away. Now, you know the verdict of your sons actions. I would like to speak with Miss Hunter and her brother alone. Good day," Principal Palowski said assertively, knowing his breaching point. The parents and students filed away, making sure that their exclaims of outrage was heard throughout the school as they gave me dirty looks. The principal sighed and clenched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. I tentatively walked towards a chair and quietyl sat. "How can I say this..." he sighed again and looked up again. "Rylan, you should know better than to let those ruffians get to you. You were a great, model citizen in this school; participated in extra-curricular activities, talented in sports and in art, wonderfully high grades, and non-violent. What changed?"

I looked at my brother. Blue eyes the color of the sea met my own blue-green. Rylan stared at me, his face a small sneer of disgust and something else; he looked away before I could probe him. He straightened his back as he crossed his arms over his chest and turned to look out the window. I sighed, an added weight made my shoulders hunch. Principal Palowski turned to me with disappointed eyes.

"Your brother will begin his suspension the next week and pick up community work the following week after. Since its Saturday tomorrow and all, his suspension will last a week and community work for at least two weeks. I will call you at work when I decide what community work he will attend," he said kindly though resilient.

I looked down but quickly raised my eyes as well as myself from the chair. "I'm sorry, Mr. Palowski, but you won't be able to reach me during the daytime," I said watching his forehead crinkle in confusion and sought to make him understand. "I was fired, you see, from my daytime job today before I came because of my numerous personal calls that disturbed the professional environment." From the corner of my eye, I saw my brother jerk his face towards me with a guilty and outraged look. I ignored him. "But the manager of my nighttime work is a kind man and he will deliver my messages when I clock in. I will give you the number if I find a new daytime job. I apologize in behalf of my brother and mother that she couldn't come in instead."

"It's quite alright, Killian," Mr. Palowski said gently, his voice soft with concern and respect. "Take your time."

"As soon as possible, you mean," I corrected tonelessly. "Good day, sir." I ushered my growing brother ahead of me and walked towards the glass doors.

"Wretched boy," the receptionist muttered in a stage whisper as Rylan and I walked by her. "Should have expelled him and sent him to a correctional institution, or better yet, locked away!"

Rylan jerked to a stop with a glower in his face as his ocean eyes darkened nearly to black. I tugged him to move but he ignored my strong attempts. "Better than be institutionalized into a wacko's padded cell like Brian will be. Just like his pedophile of a grandmother was," he snapped and banged out of the building, leaving behind a gawking receptionist.

I shook my head and lengthened my stride to catch up with him. I studied his bruised features as he scowled down at the gum-splattered cement ground with such hatred. Maybe this went beyond teenage angst. "I know this question gets tiring, believe me, I hate saying it, but why did you fight, Rylan?" I asked, monotone, keeping my eyes straight ahead. "All this teenage, I-hate-the-world, violence-is-the-only-way, angst is not you. Leave it to someone who excels at it."

Rylan put a stopping hand around my upper arm, squeezing it in his anger. I didn't flinch, sure it hurt, but I had withstood pain greater than physical pain. "Why do you keep interfering in my life, Killian! Stop being such a nagging bitch and leave me alone!" Rylan growled as he threw down my arm and stomped his way to the bus stop, his hands buried in the old jeans that were nearly too small for him now that he was growing excessively taller.

I bit my lip and looked around, willing the stinging that erupted behind my eyes. I looked back at my little brother; I still remember us being very close with the occasional sibling squabble, the darling boy who wanted to exceed in academics and sports instead of sniffing around tween girls in junior high. I expelled a long breath of air, squaring my thin shoulders back and ignoring the twinge that brought on. "What happened to you, Rylan?" I asked to myself as I saw him throw himself on top of the webbed bench. I followed him until I stood next to the advertisement and made plans to buy him new clothes soon. Without a second job, our finances will dwindle down next to nothing. I raised my chin up and slipped my hands inside the pockets of my raggedy pants. Frowning, I looked at the advertisement next to me to take my mind off the troubles ahead for a little while.

A vast expanse of rolling hills full of grapevines and fruit trees was the set behind the kilt-clad, sword-sheathed, well-muscled man swigging a leather pouch by its neck to let drink flow down into his mouth and a branch of grapes in his other hand. I stared unabashedly, my expression neutral, at the man as I ignored the odd clenching inside my body when I traced his features. Too beautiful and unattainable for the likes of you, Killi, my mind whispered. I nodded my head firmly and looked at the lettering.

Lahay Fruit Farms & Winery was written resolutely with bold lettering worthy of the Highlander that was boldly showing his obviously-tweaked, fake wash-board abdomen and bulging biceps. Sweet enough to tempt warriors. Hmm. Nine years ago I was told by my mother that I had excellent taste in choosing wines, even though I did not taste them. Just by smelling the sweet, aromatic concoction that I swirled and sniffed the wine glass as if it was a floral bouquet guaranteed a romantic evening. I knew the differences between white, rose, and red; if it is dry or voluptuous. I would have to unearth the past teachings... Maybe it was enough to become a sommelier's assistant or a bartender. It might add a little life into my existence.

It couldn't hurt to try.
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Stephen rubbed his nose before a sneeze could interrupt the silence of the hall as he made his way towards the office located near the small, dainty library. The stupid, greedy investors have been at their backs for months now, and it seemed that they weren't going to give up even if Aidan's many roars and chilling glares gave them phobia that they either faint, piss their pants or pay an expensive Dr. Phil-type of psychologist to cure them of their terrorized mind until the next big board meeting. Ugh. This sucked even worse than the last date he went on.

On the other hand...Duncan firing nearly half a dozen employees the last week didn't help matters. Lahay Farms was under-employed. Of course, they were all whiny, bitches-in-heat, so Stephen easily forgave the God-like Man. He had to put an emphasis on Man with a capital M, because that was what Duncan McKay was...a Man. If he were just gay...ah, no problems with fantasy dreams, now, were there? Not at all. But his demands to hire only men this time was just a tad bit barbaric; said that he didn't want to be distracted by women trying to jump into his bed and his good graces, some of them successfully, by flaunting their curves and purring sexual heat from their pores whenever he went to take a stroll.

"These women e'en appear in the latrines when I am takin' a shite, Stephen!" Duncan had exclaimed in disbelief to him one day.

Stephen shook his head, missing his closest friend, Janine, because if she were here, the women would rattle in their bones with terror if she but caught a whiff of their slattern ways to climb into Duncan's heated bed. Or so some of the lucky ones said. He shook his head with a boyish grin before he opened the door to the office, whistling when he caught the man of his fantasy dreams with his forehead banging softly against the wood of the mahogany desk, while nursing a glass of Single Malt Whiskey and loosely listening to the person of the phone.

"I ha'e explained this to ye, Marlene," Duncan mumbled nearly incoherently by his lips pressing against the glossy wood, "it was only for sex. I dinnae want to marry ye or any one for tha' matter. Only because I accepted yer blatant invitations for a lusty romp doona mean tha' it was an oath of handfastin' wi' ye---Nay, Marlene, ye arenae wi' child. It has been two months now, ye went to take a pregnancy test fifteen times, if I recall, and ye arenae bloomin' wi' me bairn." He sighed. "I dinnae want ye appearin' here wi' nothin' on but heels, Marlene. I ha'e business to attend to. Goodbye, Marlene," he said firmly and placed the phone on the cradle, deliberately cutting off the shrieking coming from the other end.

Stephen grinned. What was the best of times like these was poking at the disgruntled bear. "Maybe Marlene is pregnant this time," he said cheerfully.

"Dinnae ye start, Stephen," Duncan growled without lifting his head.

"Of course, I-told-you-so is in order for times like these, Highlander," Stephen chuckled, falling gracelessly against the plush couch adorning one side of the majestic room. "If Rory would here, she would agree with me and tell you that she told you that Karma would one day bite you on your delectable arse."

"Refrain yerself." A growl again penetrated the near-silence of the room. "Despite the gloating lectures, ha'e ye seen to arrangements of announcing hiring today?"

"Aye, Duncan." Stephen sighed contently. "I think that advertisement you agreed to doubled our popularity and Janine says that they are splendid! But in hushed tones because the twins and Aidan were sleeping fitfully."

Duncan smiled at the mention of the twins. It was fortunate that everyone was in the Highlands or else they would have missed the interesting yet frightening event of discovering that Janine was right on her suspicions of giving birth to twin bairns. He could recall the screams for Aidan's, er, monhood dismembered from his body for she cursed him for the amount of pain she was experiencing and had even gotten far enough to grab a log beside a hearth and chase him with it, to hit his stomach a dozen times to let him know what she was going through. Aidan had grown deadly pale at the mere mention of his monhood dismembered and swayed on his grand feet when another shriek pierced the air, this time bloodchillingly telling the vicinity that she was never letting his handsome rod near her ever again, she was becoming a nun. Of course, it could not compare to the joy and fright on Aidan's face when he heard the first wail of his son careening down the hall of the birthing bedroom, nor the widening of those blazing blue eyes when another wail announced itself after another grunt and scream that Janine had let loose. A wee lassie. Duncan and Brody, even Ian, could not be quick enough to tell the new da praise, Aidan had ran from the room the men were kept at and rushed to where his wee wife was; he was like a true Highland savage when he nearly kicked the door down to get inside when Vanora had told him to wait. The twins were magnificently alike their parents, it was scarily so. Now they were near three months old and he was missing them. Duncan sighed wearily, taking a sip of his malt to let it burn down his throat and settle on his stomach comfortably. His heart ached by the amount of longing for such beings that Aidan, Brody, even Ian had...it was loneliness that made him such a philanderer.

"Weel, now all we ha'e to do is wait," he said quietly. To Stephen or to himself, he did no' ken.