My Paper Heart

I pushed the cart along, feeling the loose, retarded wheel slip every time I turned the cart to the right. It happened every single time I came to the damn grocery store, I got the cart with the stupid wheel. Sasha walked silently a little bit in front of the cart, and Darcie and Nick sat in the cart, Darcie with her legs dangling out of the cart, and leaned against Nick's chest. She sucked on a lollipop she had found in the glove compartment of my truck. Needless to say, our little group got a lot of looks from the locals. We looked weird, and out where we lived, weird was bad. Most people thought we were Satanists because we dyed our hair, wore a lot of black, and listened to loud music. But then again, out here, in what we affectionately called "Hillbilly Hell," all people listened to was country, grew their hair into mullets, and wore stained wife beaters and oil splattered jeans.

Truthfully our town wasn't as small, closed in, and inbred as other counties like Partlow and Leesburg. Now those towns were way the hell out, and inbred. My uncle lived in Leesburg, and his closet neighbor was three miles away. He was also a hermit, so that worked for him.

A sound of breaking glass, my ears pricked up. "I'm sorry gramma!" a little voice squealed. I ditched the cart, and followed the sound of quiet consoling by a motherly voice, and adolescent bawling. In the next aisle over, I found a small, reddish-brown haired boy, face red, eyes pink from crying. He was crouched on the ground, trying to pick up shards of glass from a pickle jar, the juice soaking the bottoms of his Power Rangers Velcro sandals. Snot ran down his upper lip, and he was continually shooed away by a kind older woman, an employee of Food Lion.

A blond woman, in about her mid-forties, held a sleepy eyed baby on her hip, telling the little boy -- who was now trying to pick up pickles instead of glass, in a way to make up for it -- that it was okay, and it was simply an accident that he dropped the jar. She bounced the baby a little, and her eyes lit up pleadingly as she looked at me. She wanted me to get the boy away from the mess. Miss Aimee, Darcie's mom. The little boy who was crying his eyes out was Anthony, who was better known as Ant, and the sleepy little child on Miss Aimee's hip was Seth. Darcie's babies.

I walked over to Ant, who was still crouched down and attempting to help. "Ant," I said in the softest, nicest voice I could manage. He looked up at me, his gray-green eyes shining apologetically. A terrified glint hid behind the apology. I knew this was all his father's doing. He had beat it into Ant that the little boy's charming clumsiness was bad, and not to be tolerated.

I took his hand, his other hand fisted around two pickles. I smiled at him, and he sniffed roughly. Tears streaked down his dirt coated cheeks. He always loved playing outside, and getting dirty was often a product of this love. I walked him away from the mess. Within a few seconds, Darcie had sprinted into the aisle, Nick jogging behind her. I wondered where Sasha was, until I saw him pushing the cart behind them. He looked like he hadn't seen a little kid that had an accident before.

Darcie crouched on the ground, and kissed Ant's face all over, going, "Oh baby, honey, are you okay? Huh? Please tell me you're okay." Ant disregarded her, and looked up at Nick.

"I'm sorry Daddy." Nick just smiled and ruffled his hair. Nick wasn't their dad, but he was around long enough, and often enough for them to consider him their father. Their real father was a twenty three-year-old piss ant who had nothing better to do than annoy the hell out of Darcie, and rough up his kids. The guy was a major alcoholic and coke-head. His name was Austin, and he was currently living somewhere in North Carolina with a college girl a few years older than him.

Darcie had the unfortunate luck of happening upon the then eighteen-year-old Austin at a party. Darcie and I had been jockeying around with her brother to parties for a while by then -- we were fourteen, and still in eighth grade. This was the only time that Nick hadn't come with us to a party. While I was getting chatted up by a drunken, goth sophomore, Darcie was making out with Austin. That led on to sex -- loss of Darcie's virginity -- and a relationship that would send Darcie into hell. After a few dates, Darcie had gotten pregnant.

I remember spending the last half of eighth grade staying at Darcie's house, making sure her pregnant ass didn't slip in the tub or something. During the summer, when she wasn't being wooed by Austin, who thought it was romantic and a sign of everlasting love to have a baby at their age, we were trying to escape the heat and the fact that Darcie's house had no air conditioning. Most afternoons, when the heat got too unbearable, we'd get decked out in our bathing suits -- Darcie wearing her mother's maternity bathing suit -- and set up the TV in the bathroom, on the counter in front of the huge whirlpool bathtub, well away from the edge and by any means out of the way of electrocution. We'd cut off the lights and watch re-runs of cartoons and HBO movies, while smoking cigarettes while a small, cheap fan oscillated back and forth, in a sad attempt at cooling us. Darcie would soak in the tub in cool water, while I'd soak my feet.

Ant was born in September, making Darcie loose even more school. She would load off Ant on her mother during school, and when she partied. The day I got my license, Darcie got pregnant again. The first half of my sophomore year I spent at home with Darcie, alternating between soaks in the tub, and getting hunkered down in blankets on her bed. Both times we watched TV.

"S'okay, kiddo," Nick said, forgiving Ant. For all of the kid's bumbling, he had a good heart, he was just a little goofy and uncoordinated.

"Baby girl, do you mind going and getting him cleaned up?" Miss Aimee asked me. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yup, let's go get you cleaned up, bub," I said, grabbing underneath Ant's armpits, and resting him on my hip. He wrapped his hands around my neck, and cried into my shoulder. As we walked to the bathrooms, I pet his back, and shushed him. Too bad abuse was never undone. "Mhmm....n-nnn...mhmm...n-nnn," I hummed, still rubbing his back. My mom used to do it for me when I was upset. It would calm me down and she'd just rock me back and forth.

Ant was my favorite out of Darcie's kids. Seth just seemed like a Prima Donna to me. What with his dirty blond hair and baby blue eyes. Ant just seemed to mesh better with me, no matter what situation. I walked into the bathroom -- the men's room, didn't want Ant growing up confused -- and set him on the sink. I turned on the faucet, and ran it until it was warm. He was still sniffling, and it broke my heart.

I rubbed his knee and smiled at him. "It's okay kiddo, it was only an accident," I assured him. He looked down, still ashamed of his act. It took a piece of brown paper towel, wet it under the faucet, and wiped off his nose. He made eye contact with me.

"I'm sorry, Goldie," he whispered. I smiled softly, got another piece of paper towel, and wiped his eyes down. I then took his hands and started washing them off, inspecting them for any cuts. There were none, and he seemed to have calmed down. I heard a toilet flush, and a tall man walked out of a stall. He was entirely too skinny, and he look like he was trying to be "hip," what with his slacks and leather tennis shoes. His hair was bleached at the ends, and he had the sleeves of his shirt rolled up. He seemed familiar.

He looked at me funny as I dried off Ant's hands, and set him on the floor. The guy smiled at me. "So, are you baby sitting?" he asked, his smile turning into somewhat of a flirtatious smirk. Then it clicked with me; he was my eighth grade English teacher, Mr. Saunders.

"Something like that," I answered, screaming disgustedly on the inside about being hit on by my ex-teacher.

"So, you doin' anything tonight?" he asked, leaning on the sink where Ant once sat. Ant hid behind my legs. I strictly remember him hating me back then, because I was usually wittier than him. Huh, stuff changes quick -- not.

"Nope," I said, smiling just as flirtatiously as he was.

"I'm Dave," he said, putting out his hand, "Dave Saunders." I took his hand and shook it. With an evilly happy feeling bubbling up in my gut, I said, "And I'm Goldie. Goldie Marshall. You know, from your eighth grade class a few years ago?" His eyes went wide, and I smiled. "Uhm, you might wanna close your mouth and wash your hands. Flesh eating disease going around," I warned sarcastically. I closed his mouth with my finger, and picked up Ant. After situating him on my hip, I walked outside, leaving Mr. Saunders dumbfounded.

I giggled with Ant, who knew what was happening, as I spouted my usual distaste for that man regularly, even now, and began walking back to the aisle in which was last seen my amigos and a grand-mama. Ant seemed to feel better, as he was now gabbing on about something or another, and he was smiling and laughing.

I found the aisle where Miss Aimee was thanking the woman for helping clean up, and she said no problem, then left with her mop bucket. Darcie held Seth on her hip, bouncing him up and down, and I saw Nick talking to Sasha. Most likely about the merits of top shelf vodka at a high price versus cheap vodka at a cheap price. But that's only knowing Nick.

My entrance forward made Darcie run up and trade children with me. Seth promptly fell asleep on my bony-ass shoulder, sucking his index finger.

"Baby, baby are you okay? What happened?" Darcie twittered again. I just laughed and handed Seth back to Miss Aimee, who looked rather bored with the whole thing. She set him in the baby-seat on her cart, which was filled with all sorts of sugary goodness for the babies and the turd; a.k.a. her son, Cheddar . She was the same height as her daughter, and she was just about the coolest mama you could come across. She was laid-back, nice, and just an enjoyable person to be around.

"Hey there ma," I said, smiling slightly. She smiled back.

"Hey cutie, how're you?" she asked.

"I'm good." I looked back to Darcie who was kissing Ant's cheeks and making Nick hug him. And a few years ago this was the child who wanted to through herself down a set of stairs so she couldn't have a baby. She set Ant on the floor on his feet.

"Okay, kid, go back to gramma and be her helper. Mama'll be back tomorrow, mmkay?" she said, rubbing his little hand with hers. He nodded, smiling wide, and running back to Miss Aimee.

"Well, mama, we gots to go," Darcie said, "I'm staying over at Goldie's for the night. I'll try calling to say goodnight to Seth and Ant, but you know how this shit usually goes." She shrugged. Miss Aimee nodded.

"I know. Just call in the morning, okay?" she asked. I nodded, as Darcie was already back in the cart, getting herself resituated on Nick.

"Hey, Sash, you mind pushing the cart for me? Darcie's fatness is hard to push, and I'm sure you can push it no trouble at all," I said, batting my lashes at him.

"Yeah, sure," he said, laughing and rolling his eyes. He manned the cart, and steered it casually to the frozen drinks section, which was our personal favorite. I picked up a frozen pina coloata mix for Darcie and Nick -- I can't stand them -- and a strawberry daiquiri for myself -- I liked how it was zingy. I looked at Sasha. "Whaddaya want Sash?" I asked. He blushed at the tips of his ears and mumbled something. "I'm sorry, I don't speak mouse, a little louder please?" I said, cupping my ear.

"Peach daiquiri!" he said rather loudly. An old lady looked at us funny down the aisle.

Nick shouted at her, "Eh, Grandmamma! Get back to lookin' at your damn peas before I have to come down there and tear me up some of that vintage ass!" She looked shocked and ran out of the aisle. That coaxed an obnoxious laugh out of our entire party. A loud goofy snort was heard above all the rest. I looked over at Sasha, whose face had turned pink, and he looked embarrassed, and like he was suppressing more snorts.

This got me snorting, which got Darcie pointing at me and snorting, which got Nick cackling. Sasha bust out into a snorting-cackling fit that got everyone looking at us stupidly. We just ignored them. I suppose if there was any group of people in this store that knew you couldn't have these stupid, forgivable outbursts forever, it would be us, because, I guess we know that it can be taken away easily. So we just enjoyed it, and went with the embarrassment that would annoy us until we were puking drunk.

I dumped all of our stuff into the cart, mostly in Darcie's lap, and Sasha started pushing it again, following my lead. His ears and face were still pink-ish, but I think he'd survive the ordeal.

We neared check-out when I realized that we forgotten the damn wine cooler. I sneered, and turned to Darcie, who was sucking on a tootsie pop that Nick had gotten for her from a stand. "I forgot the damned wine cooler, I'll be back in a second." She nodded, not saying anything, and I turned around and started jogging to the lukewarm wine coolers. If I remembered right, they were next to the--

Oh God.

I could hear my heart pounding in my chest -- no, that's not even close -- I heard, and felt it pounding in the back of my throat. My body shivered a little bit, and my mouth went dry.

He stood there, examining the cheap bottle of white wine. He was tall, six foot three at least, and his skin was the color of coffee with milk. His dark brown eyes studied the label anally, like always, and his wavy brown hair had recently been cut, hitting only the tops of his ears and not his shoulders. He still wore gauges, the ones I bought him for his birthday two years ago. Hunter Jakobs. My ex-Hunter Jakobs. The boy whom I had dated for two years. Okay, this is sounding obsessive.

Just find the wine coolers, slip past him, and go. Okay, I got this.

I started walking forward, trying to seem as casual and nonchalant as possible. This cover was totally blown by me running into an open glass cooler by the little old lady from earlier. "OMPF, motherfu--" I started, rubbing my nose, accidentally tugging on my septum. This only made me wince worse. I opened my eyes and glared at the little old lady. "What the hell is your problem, granny?!" I snapped, glaring at her. She flipped me the bird, and took her frozen broccoli and walked away. I, feeling little, shouted after her, "THAT'S RIGHT, KEEP WALKIN', BAGGA-BONES!"

"Goldie?" his laughing voice said. It was a nice tenor, slow and syrupy, concerned and orgasmic at the same time. I turned around and saw Hunter looking at me disbelievingly.

"Uhm, hey Hunter! Long time no see!" I said, trying to sound casual even though I probably had a goose egg on my forehead.

"Yeah, it has been. What was with the unprovoked old lady attack? And were you trying to avoid me? I feel hurt." Yes, I am avoiding you.

"No, of course not!"

Lie. Liar, liar, pants on fire!

"And she was just some crazy old hag that Nick threatened," I added.

Hunter got this disgusted look on his face. He always hated my friends. They were never good enough for him, and neither was I; unless I did a hundred and ten things to change myself for him.

You should stop dying your hair; you should wear more normal makeup; you should stop talking to Darcie; you should, you should, you should; bladda-blah-blah.

"I guess that's cool," he said after a moment. He shifted his weight for a second, and I knew that the look on his face meant he was thinking -- a dangerous thing indeed.

"Hey, uh, here's my number, call me sometime, okay?" he said, whipping out a business card.

"Oh, a business card, how fancy," I laughed. He smiled from the corner of his mouth and nodded. I looked at the card stock paper and noticed that it had a music note on it. His name was in the middle in plain, black font, and underneath that were the words "Musical Instructor."

"Musical Instructor, eh? Sounds so official." He shook his head.

"Nah, it just means I give snotty little rich kids lessons in how to play saxophone or trumpet, or whatever their mommies want me to teach them." He shrugged.

"Still, impressive. Well, I'll give you a call," I said, pocketing the card. I doubted I'd call him. He smiled softly again, and I couldn't help but feel like I was melting again. He leaned forward, cupped my cheek, and brushed his lips against mine, then pushed them softly together. He kissed me.

"I hope you do; I miss you," he said, his eyes glittering. I forced myself not to forgive him in any way.

"Eh, pinky!"

I looked down the aisle and saw Sasha standing in the middle of if. "Darcie said to get your ass moving." I nodded, and noticed that Hunter was glaring at him. I laughed internally, and patted Hunter's cheek. He looked at me, smiling. He was always smiling. Maybe this time he thought he'd get into my pants. I think not.

I walked behind him, and grabbed a bottle of mango wine cooler. My jog back to Sasha was brisk, passing Hunter by a lightly as I could, knowing he was watching me like a hawk. I grabbed Sasha's wrist, which immediately got him blacklisted with my ex.

Darcie gave me a hateful glare for taking so long, and I dropped the wine cooler on the conveyor belt. We rung up, and started out towards the car, Nick getting a piggyback ride on Darcie's back. I ran into the VABC and bought a big bottle of vodka, flashed my fake I.D., and returned to my truck, hiding the black bag underneath Darcie's seat.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to my house we go, I guess.