Break Apart My Heart

Sacramento; possibly the main reason for my downfall.

Seven years in this place and I am no longer the same person. I often wonder what I might have been like if I stayed in Huntington with my brother. Would I still be this fucked up? Would I be worse? Or would I still be the angelic child, with a slight cursing problem? There are too many questions, without enough answers. Regardless, I’m sure no angel now. In the seven years I’ve been here, I’ve experienced things no one my age should ever have to. I’m 17; I should be carefree, hanging out in pizza parlors and pool halls on Saturday nights talking about how hot the boys at school are. Instead, I waste away in my own personal hell.

Now, it hasn’t all been bad. I actually made friends; two to be exact. They’ve been the only ones to keep me sane.

I made my first friend a year after I moved here, when I was 11.

Bella, who was my 14 year old neighbor, was sent straight from hell. Her high cheek bones and skinny frame reminded me of a model, but her attitude and presence was comparable to Satan himself. She lived 3 houses down from me, with her alcoholic Aunt who, after taking a few to many Vicodin, would usually sleep through the day. She had free range to do, and say, whatever she wanted to, and didn’t care about the public scrutiny she faced on a daily basis. It’s something I envied most about her, actually. Once you got past her ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude, she was really one of the greatest people I’ve had the privilege to know.

We met one afternoon when my mother sent me to the convenient store on the end of our street. I had never seen her before that day. I entered the store, grabbing a two liter of soda, and made my way to the register. She was arguing with the cashier because he wouldn’t sell her a pack of Newport’s. I stood by idly waiting for her to give up, or for him to sell them to her, but neither happened. I watched in horror as she cocked her arm back and punched the older man in the face, hopped over the counter and took a carton of Newport’s. She began to run, and knocked me over in the process. She sighed, obviously annoyed, and grabbed the soda and my hand, dragging me out with her. I got to keep the $5 and we’ve been friends ever since.

Bella taught me a lot about life, and how to survive. We didn’t live in the greatest area, and people were often attacked on the streets. Aside from life, she also taught me a few other things as we grew older; how to inhale a cigarette, how to shotgun a beer and how to roll a blunt, just to name a few. She was both my corrupter, and my savior, all wrapped up in a shiny leather jacket.

Once Bella and I established our friendship, she introduced me to her best friend, Andy.

Andy, who was 15 when I met him, was, and still is, the quintessential 80’s guy, with a flamboyant twist. With his care-free attitude and ADHD the kid was like a coked up superman on a crime spree. He, like Bella, always rocked his leather jacket and Aviators. Even when the sun retreated into the horizon and the moon took over the sky, those sunglasses never left his perfectly structured face. At 15, he was a lot scrawnier then he is now, but the rest of his looks remained almost the same. He lived about 10 minutes down the road from Bella and me in a basement apartment. He was kicked out of his parent’s house in Long Beach when he was 13, and lived on the streets for a year. Last year, when his cousin got wind of his living situation, he fixed up the basement and took Andy in. His cousins not home very often, so Andy’s house has become the unofficial chill spot. His basement is like our bat cave, we flock their to do our business. His cousin’s not bad; he lets us hang out there, and often supplies us with our drug of choice.

The liquor, however, Bella and I retrieve on our own. We’ve nailed it down to a science. Since Bella has an ass, and I have the chest, we’ve got the perfect combination for world domination. We’ll find a liquor store, and while I distract the men by flirting and asking them for liquors that don’t exist, she slips in behind me and jacks a few bottles in her messenger bag. Or, when she has on her baggy pants, she hides the, right in her waste band. I’ve gotta give it to the girl; she’s good. I’m catching up, though.

As for my family? Well, that’s a different story…

After moving in with my grandparents, things got real bad between my mother and me. We’d argue all the time, mostly about nothing at all. Her mere presence annoyed me to no end, and she felt the same about me. She couldn’t control the way I’d dress anymore, so I’d taken to wearing whatever the hell I wanted. My grandparents hated it, and ridiculed her for being a bad mother. After my grandfather died, my grandmother became even more bitter. I felt bad for her, but she rode me as hard as her mother rode her. It’s a cycle that, if I ever have a daughter, I plan on breaking.

I’ve gotten over the bitterness I felt towards my father, and we talk once a week. Him and my mother are still “figuring things out”, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that their probably never getting back together. Mostly we talk about what’s going on in our lives, and his career, and I of coarse leave out certain information that a father should never know about his daughter.

Brian and I have started to drift apart. Dad will pass him the phone every so often, and he’ll tell me how the guys are. He knows not to bring Matt up, after I had a meltdown the one day on the phone with him. It’s a sore subject. He’ll tell me about the band, and we’ll talk about guitar stuff and then I won’t hear from him for another couple months. He and Dad come down for Christmas and Thanksgiving every year, and as the wrinkles on dads face increase, Brian gets bigger and bigger. He’s always been a bigger than me, but the last time I saw him he was huge. Then again, everyone is huge next to my 5’3 frame. Regardless, he seems pretty cool. His arm tattoos are all visible, while mine are all hidden. I still don’t think he knows about them. Alas, as the years have flown by, he’s started calling less and less. We both have our own lives to live, and they don’t include each other in them anymore.

I write to Kim and Gary every so often, letting them know how I am, and I call on holidays. I’ve kept in touch with Amy, as promised, and we talk on the phone once a week. She’s the only person in Huntington that knows the shit I do, to an extent. There are still certain things I wouldn’t feel comfortable telling her about, like robbing liquor stores. She’s turned out to be a pretty awesome chick. She’s against smoking, which is one of my favorite hobbies, but she drinks. She doesn’t pester me about the smoking, which I’m thankful for. Amy’s turned into quite the little partier, from what she’s told me. One day I’ll introduce her to Bella and Andy, and we’ll all go shot for shot.

Regarding Matt, Amy doesn’t talk much about him, because like Brian, she knows it bother’s me. The only time he’s brought up in our conversations is when he would get in trouble with the police, and Amy needed someone to vent to. From what she’s told me, he’s got a nice record going for him; over a dozen cases of Aggravated Assault. It upsets me as much as it upsets Amy, because both of us know he’s better than that. Amy, because she thinks he should find a way to control his anger, and me, because I feel he’s an idiot for getting caught. With all the stupid things I’ve done, I’m thankful to say, I’ve never been caught once.

From what I know, he and Valary are still together. It doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, but at the same time, as much as I hate to admit it, I still miss him. Even after all this time, I really do. We barely speak anymore, and that’s something that hurts me everyday.

When I first moved, Matt and I would talk on the phone for hour’s everyday. He would call when he got home at night, and we’d talk into the early hours of the morning. He never once would mention Valary, which gave me hope he didn’t really like her as much as I had thought. Mostly we’d talk about school, music, and crazy stuff the guys did. I guess after a while, once we both graduated, school wasn’t an interest. He’d talk music all day with the guys, and the old stories we told began to get repetitive. The phone calls got shorter and shorter, and farther in between before they stopped coming all together. We now talk twice a year; once on his birthday, and once on mine. It’s not much, but I’ll take what I can get.

Currently, it’s September 16th, 2000, which means my 18th birthday is in 9 days. Bella, who’s finally 21, can actually buy liquor now for the party their throwing me. Andy’s 22, so he’s always been able to get it for us, but Bella likes a challenge. She wanted to get it on her own, and if they wouldn’t sell it to her, she’d steal it.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

I looked myself over in the mirror and smiled to myself. I don’t look half bad today, other than my hair. I’ve given up on my mess of black curls, and I usually just put hairspray in it. It’s become a nest, but it’s my nest and I love the craziness of it. I wore black jeans, my vans, and my ripped up misfits shirt, that’s so destroyed I’m not sure if it can even be considered a shirt anymore. I glanced at the glowing clock on my nightstand that said it was 10:33 P.M. Bella should be here any …

tap, tap, tap.

I walked over to my window and opened it quietly, hopping out of it with ease and leaving it open just enough so I could get back in later.

“Damn, baby doll, were you spying on me?” She asked, glancing down at her own outfit. The only differences between our outfits were the coloring of our shirts and shoes. While my Misfits shirt was white, and my vans were slightly green, her Misfits shirt was black and her shoes were slightly purple. Her jeans were also ripped up a bit more.

“Hell yea, you know I love watching that sexy ass move.” I winked, slapping her ass playfully.
“I always knew you swung that way; Andy owes me $50.” She smirked.

We started walking the 10 minutes to Andy’s house.

“How does it feel to know that in a few days you’ll be legal?” She asked.
“It makes me feel like finding Tim Armstrong and having my way with him.” I chuckled.
“You wish, girl. He’s mine.” She stuck her tongue out.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, doll.”

We arrived at Andy’s house shortly, where I was promptly tackled to the floor upon entrance.

“Happy almost birthday!” Andy yelled, pushing himself up on his hands and knees, still on top of me.
I giggled. “A week and 2 days!”
“Then I can rape her?” Andy asked, staring over his shoulder at Bella.
“DeeDee, I already told you she doesn’t have a penis.” Bella stated, sitting on the couch and pulling a dutch out of Andy’s side-table.
“WHAT?” He screamed. “You told me you had a 12-inch dick!” He accused.
“I do!” I defended. “It’s just … imaginary.” A sly smile spread across my lips.
“Such a liar.” He shook his head and stood up, pulling me with him in the process.

I took the seat next to Bella, and she handed me a bag of the leafy green substance I’ve grown to love so much.

“Baby Doll, break up for me, would you?”
“Yea, no sweat.” I started my task, handing her the finished product a few minutes later.
“Tonight, we celebrate!” Andy cheered.
I raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that, Anders?”
“It’s fucking Wednesday, duh!” He stated.
Bella and I shared a glance before she spoke.
“What the hell did you take before we got here?”
“Little of this, little of that.” He shrugged. “But that’s besides the point! I’m creating a new holiday.”
“Okay, what is it?” I smiled.
“It comes around 48 days of the year; every Wednesday.” He clarified. “Wasted Wednesday!”
“That’s like Tasty Tuesday, Thirsty Thursday, Fucked up Friday and Sleepy Sunday.” I rambled off. Thirsty Thursday is universal, but Andy’s crazy ass made up the rest.
“Exactly, now we have something to celebrate on Wednesdays! I just need something for Monday and Saturday now.”
I chuckled, and Bella passed me the blunt.

I took a pull of the brown cigarette-looking thing and inhaled, closing my eyes and tilting my head back to enjoy it a little longer. I exhaled the toxins through my nose and watched the smoke rise and dance about the room. It was beautiful, in its own right.

By the time 2 rolled around, I was ridiculously stoned and ready for bed; Andy was already passed out on the couch across from us.

“Baby Girl, let’s get going.” Bella suggested.
I yawned. “Good plan.”

We both kissed Andy’s cheek and left, making the walk back to our street in hysterics. I’m not sure what we were laughing about, but whatever it was, was hilarious.

I stumbled to my window, tripping over a rock or something, and as quietly as I could, opened my window. Climbing through, I stepped onto my desk and slid myself across, giving myself a better chance of not falling and waking everyone up. Unfortunatley, I was too late.

“Nicollette Angelina Haner, where the hell have you been?!” My mother whispered harshly.
“Out.” I replied, smirking to myself.
“You were out with Bella, weren’t you?” She asked.
“Actually, I was walking around and these 3 men in a car asked if I wanted some cash. So, I decided to hop in and take a ride. Turns out-”
“That’s enough!” She shouted.
To be honest, I found the whole thing amusing.
“You’re grounded.” She stated.
I actually laughed out loud at that statement. “Riiight.”
“I’m serious, you are not aloud out of this house, do you understand me?”
“And I’m telling you that I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want. Do you understand me?” Her mouth fell ajar and she was rendered speechless.
“Exactly. Now, if you could leave, that’d be great. I need some sleep.” I turned towards my dresser and began picking out pajamas when I heard the door close behind me.

I honestly have no respect for the woman, so her so called authority means nothing to me. Really, she supplies me with a roof over my head and that’s it. And even if she were to kick me out, Andy and his cousin have offered numerous times to let me move in with them. I buy my own cloths, my own food, and pay my own way. I probably work harder than she has in her entire life.

Which reminds me, I forgot to mention my occupation.

I’m currently an Exotic Dancer at the Banger club in Downtown.
Like I said, I sure as hell aint no angel.