Every Day After That

If I had to listen to this lady one more fucking time I was going to blow a gasket full of terrifying proportions. I didn't usually concern myself with such strong feelings for people, but this was unavoidable. (Which is vermeiden in German, by the way). I might have been able to preserve my temper, if it wasn't for the fact that she kept glancing over at me and, I swear to god, twitching like it itched just to be near me. Every few seconds or so I took a deep breath in order to calm myself, but nothing was working. Today just happened to be an angry day.

I have angry days every once in a while. They're usually very unpredictable, and very monstrous. They also, coincidentally, occur around the time of my period. I say that this is unpredictable because my blood supply makes its appearance at odd intervals. And anything could set me off for any reason: a person using a word too loudly, the bag from my favorite candy (Jelly beans) carelessly left on the floor for a million other people to carelessly stomp their giant feet on, or a birth control guest speaker with blue eye shadow and a crazy twitch in her eye.

The blue eye shadow was absolutely revolting. Any other day I might have shrugged indifferently and say she could do what she wants. But today was an angry day, and in result I let my usually invisible prejudices make their appearances.

I was sitting next to my mother, and that in itself didn't thrill me all that much. My mother, Carolina Hart, had taken it upon herself to teach me of the joys of sex and the consequences that come from it. Her words were pretty much exactly like that. It was an awful experience:

"Bills, why don't you have a boyfriend?" I was in my room at the time, tidying my bed and then jumping on it multiple times. It was wonderful.

"And who would you suggest I take that step with?" Her face turned very grim, as it always did when I wasn't speaking her language.

"Billie you're way too old for your age, you realize that right? I mean, Jesus, you sound like my mother." Granny was my very best friend in the world until she died two and a half years ago. I didn't appreciate it when my mother used her name in vain, so I didn't respond.

"Have you had any sort of feelings?" I tidied my bed again, except this time I just sat on it.

"Yes mother. I feel happy all the time, peaceful even. I get angry and tired and upset and amazed all the time." She glared at me. I didn't glare back because I knew I deserved it. I was kind of a bitch to her sometimes.

"No, I have yet to feel any sort of significant feelings towards another person." I said. I never actually outwardly say my orientation. Mainly because I know it gets people antsy. And what I said is not technically true. In third grade I felt a deep passion for Jordan Brooks, who was the only other kid in the school to know what monotonous means.

"Well it'll happen. And it'll happen sooner than you think. You may even be feeling them now! And I just want you to know that there are many joys to sex darling. You don't have to be afraid." I played footsies with myself and decided to reflect on what she just said.

"What are the joys?" I was curious. Her face lit up. That wasn't actually the reaction I expected, but I suppose any response from me makes her feel accomplished.

"Well, pleasure would be the obvious one. You'd just be amazed, Bills, by how good it can feel. The connection that stirs from that is also a great feeling. It really bonds you." I found this ironic because I had never known her to ever have a bond with another person. Ever. But I nodded anyways.

"Just think about enjoying yourself okay?" I stayed silent for a full minute.

"Okay. You've convinced me. I'll consider having sex." As soon as I utter those words, she froze. I could see the blood draining from her face and the complete horror at what I said.

"Well no! You mustn't (I'd never heard her say that, ever). I mean, of course you should think about it, as all teenagers do but Billie! You really need to be more aware of the consequences that could come from that." I shrugged indifferently. At this point I was out of the conversation.

"Kendra showed me this brochure from this seminar where this sexual expert talks about everything: the good and the bad. What do you say we go to it together?" Somehow, that is how I ended up here.

Now that I thought about it, my mother sounded vaguely like a parenting guide book. And as I recall, she isn't actually friends with Kendra. She's supposedly this forty year old witch who thinks she's the best mother since Mary.

I turned to my mother in outrage. "How could you!" I didn't actually say this very loud, but every one in the room turned around to stare at me. The old woman twitched like crazy. Mother's eyes got wide and she looked confused.

"If you could please be quiet during the seminar..." The speaker trailed off. My mother sent her a tight-lipped smile and glared at me. I scooted my chair towards hers. Her hand found its place on my knee and she squeezed. Hard.

"You did this to brag to Kendra." I said this calmly. She looked anywhere but at me.

"Just enjoy it." She murmured. I huffed and scooted back over.

"...it certainly can be useful for many other things including period regulations, acne, hormonal regulations, and the obvious one, pregnancy. Now, while these all may be very well and possible, they are not guaranteed, so..." Last year in my health class we took a trip to one of these. I liked to think that I was well attentive and learned a lot. I just didn't see how anybody could sit through one of these so peacefully.

I took the time to study the room. There were a lot of moms, a couple of uncomfortable dads, and three or four 13 year olds that looked like they wanted to die. I could feel their pain. I could relate in every way.

"Let me give you an example. Say a 16 year old decides she's going to have sex with her boyfriend. Fine. So they do. And after three or four days she decides to take the morning after pill. The results will most likely not be what she hoped for. Hence the emphasis on MORNING AFTER pill." A couple of parents and a confused teen laughs. I look around at me thinking, what the hell am I doing here? Mostly because I know most of these tips are for my mother, rather than myself. I hate it when people do that.

The seminar drags on forever.

***

Sundays become me. My usual routine is go find a tranquil and beautiful place to sit on my old quilt and let my soul be free. My quilt is a dark blue with red, green, and white squares stitched into it. It's my favorite thing ever. I usually read or write or draw or take pictures or any other activity that calls to me. Some days I'll just think. Thinking is something I like to do a lot. I like to call these days my philosophical days, but to avoid sounded like a hugely self-actualized asshole, I just call them Sundays. My mother likes to say that I'm wasting my time, which is just hilarious, but I'm actually engaging myself probably one of the most important ideas of my existence.

My Labyrinth to Finality.

My Labyrinth to Finality goes hand in hand with being "real". Being real is... the idea of being real has consumed me. If I can't walk through life completely human, then I'll be disgusted with myself. Everyday I see more people than I can count (my mother included) that dedicate their whole lives to being this amateur version of themselves. People that will shed their whole personality just to attain some approval. Some might argue that is what makes us real, but I beg to differ. Being real is having all of you out in the open, even if it isn't.

It's kind of a confusing concept.

But I'll reach it eventually, even if I'm old and gray and completely out of my mind. It will happen.

At least those are the thoughts I told myself while I stared up into the sky. There weren't any clouds out, which was kind of a bummer. I like to find the shapes in the clouds, and then tell a story with them. This would probably much more enjoyable with another person, but I enjoy my own company.

I was sitting on my quilt on top of The Cave. The Cave is absolutely gorgeous. One of those places that nobody ever thinks they'd actually find. It's this, well, cave. It was created at some point from a bunch of large boulders. they've formed together to create a rounded tentlike shape. In huge white letters, somebody spray painted "The Cave" on the side of the entrance. The Cave is smack dab in the middle of a campsite, but I hardly ever see anybody there. Once in a while there will be empty beer bottles and sometimes, syringes, but for the most part it's left to nature.

I took ownership of it that day. The clear blue sky remained above me, and I found that for once in my life, I was bored. The realizing kind of startled me because I always manage to find something to occupy my time. But there I was, in one of the most beautiful places I'd ever seen personally, and it absolutely did not hold my interest. I thought back to earlier in the day during the seminar, and remembered that today was my angry day. So, I'd have to be angry.

I sighed and folded up my quilt and put it on my bag and walked to my car. The Cave is about 30 minutes away from Drake, which is just 15 minutes away from Estes, so I had a long drive ahead of me. I love long drives.

On the way down the mountain I rolled down the windows and let the sun and wind catch my hair. This was one of the most amazing experiences ever.

I drove down to Taco Bell to get myself a snack. Taco bell was on one of the most crowded corners ever, so I didn't take the drive through.

"Hey! You!" I turned around to see a girl, probably around my age, walking towards me. Her hair was blue and she had a million metal objects in her face. I waited patiently for her to reach me.

"Yes?" I asked. She flipped her hair out of her face and stuck her hand out.

"I'm Cassie. Wanna hang out?" I didn't really, but I like to meet new people. So I agreed. She walked inside with me, and after I got my taco got into my car. She made herself welcome.

"Where are we going?" She asked. I shrugged and focused on getting out of the parking lot safely.

"So, I go to Sarah High School too, just so you know. I'm friends with Arceo." Isn't everybody. "And he talks about you sometimes so I was like, why not, you know? You seem cool. So then I saw you while I was walking home and I walk like, hey she has a car! Perfect time to get to know each other."

I bit into my crunchy taco. It was mostly lettuce.

".. and here we are. So. My favorite things to do is eat, sleep, and listen to music. What do you want to do?"

"Sleep." I mumbled.

"Not on the first date." She winked at me and laughed. "Kidding. I'm totally not a lesbian. People might tell you differently but I swear to god, I'm a dick chick." She laughed again and shifted in her seat. I took a left and drove around the lake. She rolled down her window and stuck her head out. She was interesting. I drove to my house.

"Ooh, is this your house?" She asked. I nodded and took my bag out of the back seat. Mother wasn't home, thank god.

"So like, what's your deal?" I set my bag down on the floor underneath the island and bit out of my taco. It was still good.

"Elaborate please."

She walked over to my couch and strewn herself across it.

"I mean, why don't you hang out with anybody? I mean obviously you do hang out with some people, but you're pretty reserved. You're like, always alone, if you know what I mean. Do you think you're too good for people?" I shook my head. The hard shell of my snack scraped the top of my mouth.

"More like, I'm too different for me." She gave me this look that said 'you have got to be kidding me'. I giggled.

"I know. It's a total cliche, but it's true. I'm looking for different things in life and I haven't met anybody that suits that."

She nodded slowly. "Don't you get like, really fucking bored?" I thought back to earlier today and shrugged.

"I enjoy my own company. It's been lovely meeting you Cassie, but I need to take you home now." she gave me a look of annoyance and curiosity. And maybe some respect.

"Then what was the point of that? I live on the other side of town."

I took her home.