My heart races, beating at it’s own pace- not even bothering to listen to my head. I clutch it. I slide down the wall into a sitting position, then crawl to my room. For several minutes I exercise my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. What I just witnessed…it had to be fake. In the entirety of ones life, no one should have to observe what I just saw. I bolt my door, but not before hearing more of the noises that rose me out of bed in the first place. Disgusting sounds, sounds of betrayal. Deceived and heartbroken, I lay awry on my floor. The hard wood is cold beneath my skin, and I shudder. Anger begins to well up inside me, but instead of punching a wall or screaming, I begin to cry. Tears cascade down my cheeks, and I am hopeless in my attempts to stop the salty flow. As I taste the bittersweetness of one, I clench my eyes and begin to breathe normally once again. In. Out. In. Out.
I had to get out. Release of the mind was not an option within this house. How could they do this to me? They are both fully aware of the consequences, yet they both chose to further the situation regardless of how it may affect me. Although I’m sure they never expected me to find out. It is three in the morning. I’m not supposed to be awake. Has this occurred before?
I began to remember certain instances that may have lead up to tonight. When my mother asked me about Gale’s new job. How I should bring him home for dinner. When she asked me why he and I never dated, in all the years we had been best friends. We have been best friends since we were eleven. We’re twenty-three now.
My mother is fifty.
Home from grad school, I thought this summer would be a chance for me to find love, perhaps in who I thought my love had always existed in. Boy, was I wrong. I guess a lot changed since I was home over Christmas; Gale’s new job was local, and apparently my mom made a lot of trips to the hardware store.
Sure, she’s beautiful. Much prettier then I have ever been, and ever will be. At fifty, she is probably the prettiest woman in town. She has long, thick, wavy brown hair opposed to my short, thin blonde strands. She has large, doughy brown eyes lined with wide lashes in contrast to my plain gray eyes. Her body, after all this time, looks the same as it did when she was seventeen. Breasts doubling the size of mine, all my life I’ve been inferior to my mom. Principals, teachers, bankers, cab drivers, policemen, my friends’ fathers…I’ve woken up many mornings to the works. By age sixteen, I had learned to accept it.
However, around Gale, I had always believed it to be different. He was my first kiss. Right before he kissed me, when we were thirteen, he told me I was the most special girl he’d ever met. But things never progressed. Best buddies for life. On my eighteenth birthday Gale threw me a huge surprise party. All of my family and friends were there, even my dad. I remember Gale’s words clearly.
“All for you, beautiful, all for you.”
Alive in the moment, I had flung my arms around him and thanked him. Sometime around then, I realized I was in love with him. Obviously, we were never more then friends.
Sure, when we were fifteen he would joke around with the other boys about my mom being a “MILF”. He did make crude comments, and he did offend me. My mom was young, and she was stunning. I never expected him to put his fantisizings into action.
He never had a steady girlfriend; I knew because we talked on the phone at least three times a week when I was at school. He was certainly handsome, with his dark features and toned physique. I had always believed him to be afraid of commitment, ever since that first kiss on my apartment steps in the seventh grade. But at the moment, three rooms over, he was undoubtedly committing himself.
Technically, I had three boyfriends within the time I spent with Gale. One when I was fifteen, one when I was nineteen, and one when I was twenty-one. I thought I was in love with the one I had at fifteen. His name was Ronnie. I remember Gale threatening to beat up Ronnie if he ever hurt me, and I remember him punching pillows in my living room to prove it as we laughed. I remember when Gale found out I gave away my innocence to my second boyfriend, Taylor. I recall Gale holding me as I sobbed when Taylor moved to Canada and broke my heart. I remember Gale convincing me to decline my third boyfriend’s marriage proposal, and I remember thinking it meant so much more when he told me to say no.
I remember how we met. Walking to the bus stop, I tripped and scraped my knee on the pavement. Grasping the stinging wound, I fought back hot tears. Gale, who lived in the apartment complex across the street, happened to be walking out to the bus at the same time.
“Hey, girl, what are you doing?” He inquired. I simply turned my back.
He started to laugh when he saw my bloody knee.
“That’s it!? You’re crying your girly eyes our over a scrape?” His eleven year old body rocked with laughter. He was laughing so hard, I began to laugh. He reached out his hand, and the two of us walked all the way to school.
I shoved open my rickety wooden window and climbed out onto the fire escape. Breathing in the smoky air, I sighed. I love Gale Landen.
And he is currently in my mother’s bedroom.
I had to get out. Release of the mind was not an option within this house. How could they do this to me? They are both fully aware of the consequences, yet they both chose to further the situation regardless of how it may affect me. Although I’m sure they never expected me to find out. It is three in the morning. I’m not supposed to be awake. Has this occurred before?
I began to remember certain instances that may have lead up to tonight. When my mother asked me about Gale’s new job. How I should bring him home for dinner. When she asked me why he and I never dated, in all the years we had been best friends. We have been best friends since we were eleven. We’re twenty-three now.
My mother is fifty.
Home from grad school, I thought this summer would be a chance for me to find love, perhaps in who I thought my love had always existed in. Boy, was I wrong. I guess a lot changed since I was home over Christmas; Gale’s new job was local, and apparently my mom made a lot of trips to the hardware store.
Sure, she’s beautiful. Much prettier then I have ever been, and ever will be. At fifty, she is probably the prettiest woman in town. She has long, thick, wavy brown hair opposed to my short, thin blonde strands. She has large, doughy brown eyes lined with wide lashes in contrast to my plain gray eyes. Her body, after all this time, looks the same as it did when she was seventeen. Breasts doubling the size of mine, all my life I’ve been inferior to my mom. Principals, teachers, bankers, cab drivers, policemen, my friends’ fathers…I’ve woken up many mornings to the works. By age sixteen, I had learned to accept it.
However, around Gale, I had always believed it to be different. He was my first kiss. Right before he kissed me, when we were thirteen, he told me I was the most special girl he’d ever met. But things never progressed. Best buddies for life. On my eighteenth birthday Gale threw me a huge surprise party. All of my family and friends were there, even my dad. I remember Gale’s words clearly.
“All for you, beautiful, all for you.”
Alive in the moment, I had flung my arms around him and thanked him. Sometime around then, I realized I was in love with him. Obviously, we were never more then friends.
Sure, when we were fifteen he would joke around with the other boys about my mom being a “MILF”. He did make crude comments, and he did offend me. My mom was young, and she was stunning. I never expected him to put his fantisizings into action.
He never had a steady girlfriend; I knew because we talked on the phone at least three times a week when I was at school. He was certainly handsome, with his dark features and toned physique. I had always believed him to be afraid of commitment, ever since that first kiss on my apartment steps in the seventh grade. But at the moment, three rooms over, he was undoubtedly committing himself.
Technically, I had three boyfriends within the time I spent with Gale. One when I was fifteen, one when I was nineteen, and one when I was twenty-one. I thought I was in love with the one I had at fifteen. His name was Ronnie. I remember Gale threatening to beat up Ronnie if he ever hurt me, and I remember him punching pillows in my living room to prove it as we laughed. I remember when Gale found out I gave away my innocence to my second boyfriend, Taylor. I recall Gale holding me as I sobbed when Taylor moved to Canada and broke my heart. I remember Gale convincing me to decline my third boyfriend’s marriage proposal, and I remember thinking it meant so much more when he told me to say no.
I remember how we met. Walking to the bus stop, I tripped and scraped my knee on the pavement. Grasping the stinging wound, I fought back hot tears. Gale, who lived in the apartment complex across the street, happened to be walking out to the bus at the same time.
“Hey, girl, what are you doing?” He inquired. I simply turned my back.
He started to laugh when he saw my bloody knee.
“That’s it!? You’re crying your girly eyes our over a scrape?” His eleven year old body rocked with laughter. He was laughing so hard, I began to laugh. He reached out his hand, and the two of us walked all the way to school.
I shoved open my rickety wooden window and climbed out onto the fire escape. Breathing in the smoky air, I sighed. I love Gale Landen.
And he is currently in my mother’s bedroom.
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