Status: Partners in Crime!
There's No Way To Fix Us
Nine
*Carla*
The wrinkled bus driver decides to take my neighborhood home first without explaining the method to her madness. As I got off she tugged my jacket's arm and whispers:
"I saw you and Brad and it didn't look good. Thought I'd bring you home first." A small smile escapes my mouth and I nod to her in my gratitude. I enter my house and drop my bag in my foyer. I walk into the hallway that led to my kitchen. I walk over to my lap top that sits on the rectangular table, open, the was I had left it a few days ago. I type in my email and realize that there are three in my inbox. One from both Scarlet and Stephanie when they were in business and one from my mom? I take a second glance at it to make sure I wasn't seeing things:
From: Mom
To: Me
Subject: Work
Why would the subject be work? Uh oh. She BETTER not be...
Hello Dear,
I know this is rather odd having me email you instead of call but I couldn't call you during school. I have to work late tonight thanks to this London case we got a couple of days ago. Leftover of all sorts are in the fridge and numbers are on the...
Why should I read on if I knew exactly what she was saying:
*Fend for yourself... again!! Ms. Sharon will help you 'cause I won't!!*
I sit down on the stool to the table and put my head in my hands. I have become ashamed of all my crying even though everyone says it is okay. If I cared less about those people that love me enough to care and about my life, I'd go die in a hole; or overdose since my mom's not here and it would be perfect opportunity. For some reason I just can't bring myself to do it, or cry anymore than I have. I pick up my Impression and hold down a speed dial number. I need to hear his voice, feel his touch, taste his lips.
"Hello," he mumbles without expression.
"Brad," I exclaim louder than I meant. I can tell he was smiling.
"What's up, Carla? Something wrong?" he asked with surprising concern.
"Well, sort of. You know I'm serious when I say I'm ready to have sex," I explain to him, hoping to make him cave.
"Carla, I say no," he mutters. I can here him shaking his head.
"Brad.... Please," I whined. Oops. Could he tell I really wanted him? Yeah I know he can.
"Carla, no. End of story. I love you, but I'm not risking all you have ahead of you," he exclaimed. He was speaking with his mind, not his heart, or body.
"Brad, it's my choice," I spat to him. He just won't budge will he?
"It's my choice, too," he argued.
"And you know you want nothing more than to have sex with me," I press on.
"Carla, we can do this all day, but I'm not changing my mind," he fight with a firm tone.
"Baby, come over, please. I need to talk to you," I whined into the phone.
"Carla Marie," he says sternly. It is so sexy when he says my full name.
"Brad, I need you," I complained, trying to sound upset that he wouldn't give.
"I'll come," he caves. Success! I jump up and down in my mind.
"Good," I say, not doing a very good job in hiding my excitement.
"I need to go somewhere first, though. I'll call you after I leave Bl...." he stops short.
"Wait. Brad!" I yelled into the phone.
"Bye," he said, hanging up on me.
"Brad?" I stare blankly into my screen as my screen saver pops up.
Me and my gangster beanie and sunglasses hugged close next to Brad at lunch. That was a fun day. I find myself carrying my lap top from the sea green kitchen into the over plush living room just a little to colorful for my taste. I sink into the only chair in the house that I like to sit in. I open up the top to the computer again and type the email into the address bar and read the emails for my friends.
They were both about the same thing; me and Brad. What happened? Are you talking? What are ya'll talking about? Of course they already knew now. Did I really need to answer? I next check my Facebook that is overloaded with comments on my wall and inbox... I just ignore them because most of them are people I don't know the slightest bit about. I shut the top down and lay it on my desk. Blinded by the corner of the chair, I slap the desk in order to grasp the remote. With the left index finger, I click on the 52" flat. I don't realize the time when I fall asleep.
**********************
The glow of the TV settles on my face and changes almost ever second. The sound of Tom hitting a wall while Jerry escapes to his mouse hole enters my ear canals. My still heavy eyelids open slowly to look out the window. It's later in the day, but not to late. Turning my head to the bright screen of my phone, I see that it is 5:48pm. Shouldn't he have been here by now? There were no missed calls or texts from anyone. That was just weird altogether. I struggle to get out of the chair and stroll into the kitchen. I go over to the silver refrigerator and open the doors. I am so hungry. Maybe it is just because I'm worried. I don't know. I take out some cheese and chicken and put it together. Chicken sandwich, my favorite. I sit on the stool I sat on earlier and eat my sandwich silently. Where is he? Could something have happened to him? Maybe I should call him, just to make sure.
But, knowing myself well enough, I can't find my phone. I've lost it... again. And quite frankly I am to lazy to get up and go look for it. Honestly, if something were wrong, he would call, right? I mean his is a big boy with his responsibilities straightened out. I would think so. I mean if he won't have sex wit me, he should, right?
I look ever my shoulder to the oven clock and it shines in big, green numbers 8:04 pm. It seems so much later than that. My empty chicken plate sits right in front of me, but it just seems so far away. I scoop it up and set it on the pile of dishes in the sink. With nothing else to do, I decide to wash them, and the kitchen as a whole. By the time I was done, everything shined with a twinkle. I again look over to the now sparkling clock on the stove. 11:34 pm. Where was my mom? Shouldn't she be home by now? I don't care anymore because she's never here anyway.
I am just shot by the time I reach my bed. I found my phone in between the cushions of the chair. I tried to call him but his phone was off. Or it just died, I'm not sure. All I know is that I am now freaking out. I'm so tired but I'm stressing out so bad I can't get myself to fall asleep. Tears streak down my face and my nose is a faucet that won't shut off. My knees are squeezed to my chest, my arms wrapped around them, and I am rocking myself back and forth. It just doesn't feel right. Crying has become a new friend of mine but this is something else, something completely new. My breaths become short and quite; my body shakes with anxiety and fatigue. His phone is off, why? It never is, it never dies! Dizziness sets over and my sobs are loud and choke-like. My body is shivering and my vision becomes blurry. Why is this happening?
***************************
I wake up with my heart racing, a jolt in my body wakes me at -what time is it anyway?- 5:30. My phone is going off with an unknown number on the front. I answer it, still shaken by my "emotion attack".
"Hello?" I ask into the speaker, choking out my works.
"Hey! Carla baby!" Speaks a gruff man-voice into my ear.
"Umm, h-who is this?" I trip my words on my tongue.
"Oh, Carla, baby! You must be hearing something else! It's Chris!" He says in an over jolly voice.
"Oh... Hi Chris.... Wait. Why are you calling me? How did you get my number?" I ask with sudden concern and way to fast.
"Let us just say I skimmed over some numbers in a "special" friends phone." He laughs quite loud into the mouth piece. It scares me enough to make me jump.
"Where is he?" Is all I can muster in my fear.
"Where all the bad boys who sleep with the slut are. At my bar!" And the dial tone sounds. He hung up on me. Brad's at the bar again. He slept with a slut... HE SLEPT WITH A SLUT!
I called Brad with trembling fingers.
"Hello?" He slurs into the mic. The tears I have been fighting back spill over onto my already pale face.
"Brad, where are you? What happened last night? Why did Chris say you and Samantha..... well...." I ask, choking back more tears.
"Carla, I honestly don't know what happened last night. Sorry I didn't come. Me and Chris got caught up talking," he spoke with a quiver in his voice. Is he LYING to me?!?!
"Brad, please come over," I begged him so I could maybe just help him or SOMETHING!
"Carla, I have a massive headache. I need to go home. Maybe later," he slurs into the mic again and hangs up like earlier. I start to bawl and choke on my tears. On my bed I curl into human ball. What's the point in living anymore? I guess I'm falling into depression. I'm going to call it that, even though it is so much more. I can't get myself to stop this crying and choking on these not-needed tears. I start to have trouble breathing and it feels as though I'm being choked. In my panic, and scratch at my throat, making sure that no one was there, trying to kill me. Of course there wasn't anyone there because I'm the only one in the house. I can't breath. My sight was fading. I can't breath. I can't feel anything. I ca...
The wrinkled bus driver decides to take my neighborhood home first without explaining the method to her madness. As I got off she tugged my jacket's arm and whispers:
"I saw you and Brad and it didn't look good. Thought I'd bring you home first." A small smile escapes my mouth and I nod to her in my gratitude. I enter my house and drop my bag in my foyer. I walk into the hallway that led to my kitchen. I walk over to my lap top that sits on the rectangular table, open, the was I had left it a few days ago. I type in my email and realize that there are three in my inbox. One from both Scarlet and Stephanie when they were in business and one from my mom? I take a second glance at it to make sure I wasn't seeing things:
From: Mom
To: Me
Subject: Work
Why would the subject be work? Uh oh. She BETTER not be...
Hello Dear,
I know this is rather odd having me email you instead of call but I couldn't call you during school. I have to work late tonight thanks to this London case we got a couple of days ago. Leftover of all sorts are in the fridge and numbers are on the...
Why should I read on if I knew exactly what she was saying:
*Fend for yourself... again!! Ms. Sharon will help you 'cause I won't!!*
I sit down on the stool to the table and put my head in my hands. I have become ashamed of all my crying even though everyone says it is okay. If I cared less about those people that love me enough to care and about my life, I'd go die in a hole; or overdose since my mom's not here and it would be perfect opportunity. For some reason I just can't bring myself to do it, or cry anymore than I have. I pick up my Impression and hold down a speed dial number. I need to hear his voice, feel his touch, taste his lips.
"Hello," he mumbles without expression.
"Brad," I exclaim louder than I meant. I can tell he was smiling.
"What's up, Carla? Something wrong?" he asked with surprising concern.
"Well, sort of. You know I'm serious when I say I'm ready to have sex," I explain to him, hoping to make him cave.
"Carla, I say no," he mutters. I can here him shaking his head.
"Brad.... Please," I whined. Oops. Could he tell I really wanted him? Yeah I know he can.
"Carla, no. End of story. I love you, but I'm not risking all you have ahead of you," he exclaimed. He was speaking with his mind, not his heart, or body.
"Brad, it's my choice," I spat to him. He just won't budge will he?
"It's my choice, too," he argued.
"And you know you want nothing more than to have sex with me," I press on.
"Carla, we can do this all day, but I'm not changing my mind," he fight with a firm tone.
"Baby, come over, please. I need to talk to you," I whined into the phone.
"Carla Marie," he says sternly. It is so sexy when he says my full name.
"Brad, I need you," I complained, trying to sound upset that he wouldn't give.
"I'll come," he caves. Success! I jump up and down in my mind.
"Good," I say, not doing a very good job in hiding my excitement.
"I need to go somewhere first, though. I'll call you after I leave Bl...." he stops short.
"Wait. Brad!" I yelled into the phone.
"Bye," he said, hanging up on me.
"Brad?" I stare blankly into my screen as my screen saver pops up.
Me and my gangster beanie and sunglasses hugged close next to Brad at lunch. That was a fun day. I find myself carrying my lap top from the sea green kitchen into the over plush living room just a little to colorful for my taste. I sink into the only chair in the house that I like to sit in. I open up the top to the computer again and type the email into the address bar and read the emails for my friends.
They were both about the same thing; me and Brad. What happened? Are you talking? What are ya'll talking about? Of course they already knew now. Did I really need to answer? I next check my Facebook that is overloaded with comments on my wall and inbox... I just ignore them because most of them are people I don't know the slightest bit about. I shut the top down and lay it on my desk. Blinded by the corner of the chair, I slap the desk in order to grasp the remote. With the left index finger, I click on the 52" flat. I don't realize the time when I fall asleep.
**********************
The glow of the TV settles on my face and changes almost ever second. The sound of Tom hitting a wall while Jerry escapes to his mouse hole enters my ear canals. My still heavy eyelids open slowly to look out the window. It's later in the day, but not to late. Turning my head to the bright screen of my phone, I see that it is 5:48pm. Shouldn't he have been here by now? There were no missed calls or texts from anyone. That was just weird altogether. I struggle to get out of the chair and stroll into the kitchen. I go over to the silver refrigerator and open the doors. I am so hungry. Maybe it is just because I'm worried. I don't know. I take out some cheese and chicken and put it together. Chicken sandwich, my favorite. I sit on the stool I sat on earlier and eat my sandwich silently. Where is he? Could something have happened to him? Maybe I should call him, just to make sure.
But, knowing myself well enough, I can't find my phone. I've lost it... again. And quite frankly I am to lazy to get up and go look for it. Honestly, if something were wrong, he would call, right? I mean his is a big boy with his responsibilities straightened out. I would think so. I mean if he won't have sex wit me, he should, right?
I look ever my shoulder to the oven clock and it shines in big, green numbers 8:04 pm. It seems so much later than that. My empty chicken plate sits right in front of me, but it just seems so far away. I scoop it up and set it on the pile of dishes in the sink. With nothing else to do, I decide to wash them, and the kitchen as a whole. By the time I was done, everything shined with a twinkle. I again look over to the now sparkling clock on the stove. 11:34 pm. Where was my mom? Shouldn't she be home by now? I don't care anymore because she's never here anyway.
I am just shot by the time I reach my bed. I found my phone in between the cushions of the chair. I tried to call him but his phone was off. Or it just died, I'm not sure. All I know is that I am now freaking out. I'm so tired but I'm stressing out so bad I can't get myself to fall asleep. Tears streak down my face and my nose is a faucet that won't shut off. My knees are squeezed to my chest, my arms wrapped around them, and I am rocking myself back and forth. It just doesn't feel right. Crying has become a new friend of mine but this is something else, something completely new. My breaths become short and quite; my body shakes with anxiety and fatigue. His phone is off, why? It never is, it never dies! Dizziness sets over and my sobs are loud and choke-like. My body is shivering and my vision becomes blurry. Why is this happening?
***************************
I wake up with my heart racing, a jolt in my body wakes me at -what time is it anyway?- 5:30. My phone is going off with an unknown number on the front. I answer it, still shaken by my "emotion attack".
"Hello?" I ask into the speaker, choking out my works.
"Hey! Carla baby!" Speaks a gruff man-voice into my ear.
"Umm, h-who is this?" I trip my words on my tongue.
"Oh, Carla, baby! You must be hearing something else! It's Chris!" He says in an over jolly voice.
"Oh... Hi Chris.... Wait. Why are you calling me? How did you get my number?" I ask with sudden concern and way to fast.
"Let us just say I skimmed over some numbers in a "special" friends phone." He laughs quite loud into the mouth piece. It scares me enough to make me jump.
"Where is he?" Is all I can muster in my fear.
"Where all the bad boys who sleep with the slut are. At my bar!" And the dial tone sounds. He hung up on me. Brad's at the bar again. He slept with a slut... HE SLEPT WITH A SLUT!
I called Brad with trembling fingers.
"Hello?" He slurs into the mic. The tears I have been fighting back spill over onto my already pale face.
"Brad, where are you? What happened last night? Why did Chris say you and Samantha..... well...." I ask, choking back more tears.
"Carla, I honestly don't know what happened last night. Sorry I didn't come. Me and Chris got caught up talking," he spoke with a quiver in his voice. Is he LYING to me?!?!
"Brad, please come over," I begged him so I could maybe just help him or SOMETHING!
"Carla, I have a massive headache. I need to go home. Maybe later," he slurs into the mic again and hangs up like earlier. I start to bawl and choke on my tears. On my bed I curl into human ball. What's the point in living anymore? I guess I'm falling into depression. I'm going to call it that, even though it is so much more. I can't get myself to stop this crying and choking on these not-needed tears. I start to have trouble breathing and it feels as though I'm being choked. In my panic, and scratch at my throat, making sure that no one was there, trying to kill me. Of course there wasn't anyone there because I'm the only one in the house. I can't breath. My sight was fading. I can't breath. I can't feel anything. I ca...