Visible Monsters

I take in a deep breath. I stopped studying my textbooks, stopped looking into criminal justice, stopped watching Court TV. Did I really want to be a lawyer? No. Then what did I really want to do?

I don't know.

Some spend a lifetime trying to learn what to do with the rest of their lives. I don't want to be one of those people. I thought for two weeks, trying to figure out what I wanted to do. I contemplated, stared at a ceiling for hours during my vacation, ignored the phone calls from my friends. I needed to know what I wanted to aspire to be, and I came up with this:

I wanted to be an actress.

Was I sure? Not really. Was I going to change my major anyway? Yes. Why else would I work at that fancy opera house? Why else would I volunteer to help with productions down at the church nearby? I'm not even Methodist. I don't go to church often, and when I do, everyone stares at me. Even the priest. Whenever he says "let us pray", he glares at me. This is why I don't go to church anymore.

Santa Monica hates me. She's a backstabbing bitch that has friends everywhere. She's watching me crumble.She took Andrew away from me. I fucking hate you, you snide and cunning little bitch.

Madeline knocks on my door, and I let her in. She's not smiling like she usually is, and she slumps down onto the bed. I sit up. "Something bothering you?" I ask, turning to face my sister. She shrugs. "Well, I have to leave in ten minutes, so..."

"Where's Andrew?"

I hold my breath. Exhale, Tawn. "I don't know." I start to go out the door. "I'll see you in a little bit."

"Tawny!" Madeline is trailing out behind me. I'm sprinting down the street now, amd once I'm a fair distance away, I start to walk. After fifteen minutes, I'm in the university registrar's office, picking up a form. I finish it while sitting in the office, and hand it over to the secretary, who's frowning at me.

"Honey, acting will get you nowhere." She hands me back the paper. "I'm sorry, hon, but I think you should reconsider this. Being a lawyer would make your life so much simpler."

I push it back towards her. "I've made my decision," I answer, my smile forced on my face. If you want it badly enough, it will eventually all work out. Of course, I can't really say the same forUncle Paul and my white trash family, but not everything's peachy-keen. Life is a game of failure, much like an AP Exam. The one who fails the least wins. I guess I'm the loser, considering my history.

The grim smile on my face must have meant something, because the old hag backs off. I thank her and exit quickly, before security calls that little thing verbal abuse. I decide to hang out in the coffee shop, this time without my sunglasses. I ask for a bottle of water, and the cashier stares at me. His sandy blond hair and brown eyes...possibly a familiar face? He's squinting at me as I hand him two dollars. "Aren't you Terri Barnes, or whatever?"

I stare at him. It's not often that someone butchers my name that badly. Behrend and Barnes aren't really too similar.

"Sorry, but you've got the wrong person." I go over to my usually seat and sit down, looking over at the beach. All those people are having so much fun, and yet I'm in here, miserable.

"No, I don't." The kid follows me to the table and sits down. "You're the girl with the fucked up family, right? You're like a celebrity here." He laughs. I don't. "I've seen you before. You were all over the gossip column weeks ago." He grins. "By the way, my name's Jess."

Thank you, enemies of my grandparents, for posting my life story in the free newspaper delivered to every home in Santa Monica each morning.

The door bursts open. "Hey, Joe Shmo, get me some coffee. I have to pretend I'm sober." The girl slicks back her voluminous hair and pulls it into a bun. It's Desiree. She stumbles to the counter and fumbles with her wallet as Jess hands her a small cup of black coffee. She looks up, and our eyes meet. "Hey," Desiree says, giving me a small wave. "You haven't come down to play darts with me in forever." She looks around. "Where's that guy you're always with? Little boys' room?"

I shrug.

I don't know where he is.

Maybe he's decided hanging around this sorry-ass girl was boring. He's had enough. Andrew's left me for good.

Why does it hurt so much to think that?

"..Say something. The silence is killing me." Desiree pretends to faint. "Tawn, you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm good." All of a sudden, I hear "The Summer of '69" going off. I whip out my cell phone. "Hello?"

"Where are you? Mady said you ran off about two hours ago," Daphne says, flustered. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm a little busy, but I'll be back soon." I turn to Desiree. "How've you been? How's the whole music thing working out for you?"

"Pretty good. Everyone cheers when I finish singing, so I guess that's a good sign." She laughs. "So, where is he?"

I shrug. "He's not here."

She frowns. "I swear I saw you with him a couple of hours ago. He gave me a friendly wave after I shouted a greeting."

"...Are you sure it was him?" I thought Andrew was out of town or something. Maybe he really didn't want to be around me anymore.

Desiree nods. "I was sober when I spotted you two."

I don't sleep walk. I would remember being out with Andrew. I would remember seeing Desiree. Madeline looks nothing like me. Did Andrew think that this dopple-ganger was Tawny Behrend? "I gotta go." I quickly walk out of the coffee shop, and shield my face from the passer-bys. I stiffly march back home, hearing whispers everywhere. I jam my key into the doorknob, and as I struggle, the door unlocks. Madeline lets me inside. "Thanks," I manage to say, rushing inside.

"Hey. The school just called. The dean wants to talk to you," Daphne says, confused. "What'd you do? Did you fail a test?"

I shake my head. "Changed my major." I open the fridge for some orange juice.

She's excited. "To what?"

I pour myself a glass. "...Now, now. That's a secret."