My Story, Part 2

Seattle, Washington wasn’t the safest place in the world, but that never stopped them from heading out on their own. As far back as Laura could remember, they’d always wandered around, barefoot, through the neighborhood. There were gangs, sure, but this was the nineties. Mom wasn’t worried about it, so why should they. They spent hours riding along the sidewalks, pretending they were on motorcycles and had to stop at every store for birthday party items. What was a birthday party without a cake?
“You get the presents, I’ll go pick up the cake from the bakery,” Laura instructed. And off they went, stopping their bikes at every doorstep, pretending to load on bags of purchases. Laura loved living there. It was the perfect place for pretend. Once, they’d found a couple of shopping carts and loaded them with baby dolls, playing like mom’s grocery shopping. The fun of that afternoon had ended when earwigs had come crawling out of her doll’s mouth, and the girls had run, screaming for home. Earwigs were everywhere.
Laura shivered just thinking about it. She hated earwigs, hated spiders. She was a girl, after all.

Laura stopped her bike, turned it around, and started back for home, pleased with the pretend cake she’d bought. Something pricked her bare foot, and she stopped, sitting on a random car to pull the small shard of glass from her foot.
“Does it hurt,” Erin asked, leaning in close to watch.
“No. There’s always glass on the ground.” And Laura was back on her feet, pedaling away. “Bet I beat you home, slow poke.”
Erin took off, racing past, always the faster of the two. Laura didn’t mind. The wind in her face, pedaling down the sidewalk, life couldn’t get better than this. She loved playing outside, would stay outside all day if she could. But, at some point, she knew Mom would make her come in. Miranda, their seventeen-year-old sister, stayed out as late as she wanted. She practically didn’t live with them anymore. She’d recently had a baby she named Katelyn, and had been married not long before Katelyn was born. Laura wasn’t sure, but she thought Miranda was living with her husband’s grandpa. All her stuff was still in the bedroom upstairs, but Miranda was hardly ever home.
“Hey,” Laura said with sudden inspiration. “Let’s go see Melissa.”
Melissa was a friend of Carrie’s. Laura liked her, mostly because she had red hair. That and because Carrie said she was crazy. According to Carrie, Melissa wore shorts in the winter and coats in the summer. Couldn’t get much crazier than that, Laura thought. Secretly, she wished she could be just like Melissa. She wished her mind was backwards, too.

They knocked on the door. Melissa’s grandma answered, allowing the girls to enter the room. At least, Laura figured she was Melissa’s grandma. She never thought to ask where her parents were. Like Mom, she chose to let things go.
“Hi, guys.”
Melissa wore a coat that reached to her knees. But she also had on shorts.
“I was about to go to Fred Meyer across the street. We need more Ramen Noodles.”
It had been Melissa who’d taught them to eat the noodles raw. Open the wrapper, dump on some seasoning, eat. Even without the seasoning, the noodles were good and crunchy. Laura didn’t care that everyone else said they would expand in her tummy and kill her. She liked to eat them that way because it was cool. Melissa was cool.
“Can we go?” Erin asked.
“Sure.”
They didn’t even bother to ask their mom. They went to the store all the time, she didn’t really mind. It was against the rules to go in the store without shoes, but Melissa never wore shoes. Laura would never have the guts to do that, if she weren’t with Melissa. Melissa was a teenager, like Carrie. But, unlike Carrie, Melissa had time for Laura and Erin, and even Diana. The fact that they were kids never bothered her, she treated them like they were older. It made Laura feel important. In such a crazy, crowded life like hers, it was always nice when someone paid attention.

Laura and Erin weren’t allowed to cross the busy street by themselves, but it was okay if they went with someone older. Melissa pressed the button at the light and waited, toes painted pink, for the signal to change. Crosswalks were a dangerous thing. They made Laura nervous. The orange hand always appeared before they’d gotten halfway across. Usually Laura liked to run, but running across a street was for babies. Instead she walked next to Melissa and Erin, head held high, ignoring the flashing hand. Naturally, they made it before the cars started moving again.
“So, how’s Karate class?” Melissa asked as they walked through the automatic doors.
“Fun,” Erin said, and proceeded to count to ten in Japanese.
“We just moved from white belts to yellow,” Laura informed her, proud of the accomplishment, even if she had to share it with Erin. “Miranda, Carrie, and Brian are on, like, orange, blue, purple…something.”
“Someday, I’m going to be a black belt,” Erin said, roundhouse kicking the air. A woman in a business suit sidestepped her and glared, making a rude sound in her throat.
Laura liked the store better at Halloween. She remembered coming here once with Melissa in October. They had tried on scary masks and laughed at the silly costumes. That’s when shopping was the most fun, when the stores stocked up on candy and fun dress-up clothes.
Melissa paid for the noodles, ignoring the glares from the cashiers as they noticed all the bare feet coming through the checkout lane. Laura tried to not look at them, too scared of getting into trouble for purposely disobeying the rules. Melissa, on the other hand, held her head high, acting like it was the most natural thing in the world, wandering around with no shoes on. Laura wished for confidence like hers. She figured confidence like that came with being crazy. What did crazy people have to worry about? If your crazy, people took your odd behavior as a sign. If you weren’t crazy, you were simply rude and disobedient. Laura was in awe of Melissa’s freedom from society’s rules.

“Come on, it’ll be dark soon,” Melissa headed out the door...

One Of Those Days (yesterday)

I knew it would be one of Those days. My alarm went off thirty minutes before I had to leave for work. I reset the alarm for fifteen more minutes like I do every day I have to open cafe. Usually I lie there, mind running in circles thinking about everything I have to do, bills that are overdue cause I don't have the money. I might as well get up, I don't get that extra fifteen minutes of sleep.
But this morning I did. I was out the second I reset the alarm on my phone. And in those fifteen minutes I had an hour's worth of dream. Don't remember the dream, but I was in a deep sleep. Then, groggy, I got out of bed, dressed quickly, took the puppies out, started the car. Yesterday I called in, had Sarah work because she lives a few minutes away from work and there was way too much snow I wasn't about to risk my life driving the thirty-five minute drive to work. Today the streets had melted.

Anyway, even though this morning it was only about 67 degrees in the house, I was hot. I felt like my shirt was choking me, the animals were under my feet, tripping me as I went about the house. Things kept falling off the bathroom counter. Grrr...

I got to work to find out that mocha needed to be made. We only have twenty minutes to open cafe now instead of fourty-five minutes. We used to come in an hour before the store opens to set everything up, but now only a half hour, and about ten to fifteen minute morning meeting...there's just no time to do everything. So, of course, having to make mocha, and all the employees stopping by for coffee and scones is, indeed, a nuisance! Grrr...again.

By 10:45 a.m. I had already dumped a pan of just-out-of-the-oven cookies on the floor, ran low on almost all baked items, tripped over my own feet and almost fell, got stuck in the swinging doors because I had the step-ladder there between the doors as I stood on it to reach above the ice machine to get more to-go bags, had to have a manager exchange something, (the lady said, "Two of the cookies with the sprinkles." So, I gave her two cookies with sprinkles. Turns out, she meant the fudgy brownie bites. Brownies are not cookies. She should have said brownie. Pay attention people to what you're ordering! Grr.) I couldn't find the porcelain espresso mug, I really had to piddle (pee), but my break was at noon, and my shirt was still choking me. Things kept jumping off the counter in the kitchen, I got mocha everywhere, and some genius last night put the retail chips where the sandwich chips go and the sandwich chips where the retail chips go, mixing them all together, so I had to sort through that. This all before eleven a.m. Open almost two hours...Wow, not much hope for the rest of the day. Nine hour shift.

Naturally, nobody bothered to chop up the growing mountain of ice in the ice machine. The ice sometimes becomes a huge, solid block. All it takes is a few seconds of banging on the solid ice for it to come apart. But no one does this except Megan and I. After a few days, there's a mountain of ice, the machine has turned itself off, and there is no loose ice. So I remove the ice shield that keeps the ice from pouring out and landing on the floor, and I start beating the ice mountain with the ice scoop. Fairly easy, but tiring job. Soon, most of the ice was apart, and we're really low on ice. I hit the chunk a few more times to break a few more cubes apart, and my knuckles scrape the ice. Of course I would do this today. Just as my knuckle started to bleed, I hear a customer at the swinging doors. "Excuse me!" What a morning. I really wanted to holler at the person to go away, but the old man turned out to be quite pleasant, and we talked a little while before he left. Real nice guy, though not a real nice day.

And, wouldn't you know it, I ended up spilling 2% milk on myselft and the floor at some point in my day. I had the new gallon of milk tilted a little, trying to pry the stubborn seal to let go of the cap. The cap didn't want to part, so both pop off and milk goes everywhere. Speaking of spilling things, later a regular, Pat- I love her- came to get her usual drinks. Venti, ten-pump vanilla latte with whip for her friend David, and a tall, cinnamon dolce frappaccino for her with whip and red sprinkles. I put the whip on the latte, close the lid and whip shoots out the top. Oh well. Happens occasionally. But I pick it up to hand it to her, and the lid comes off, spilling latte all over my hand and the counter. Burned my fingers a bit because I warmed up Turtle Tom's soup and forgot the bowls get very hot when put in the microwave. More uncoordinated today than usual. More than ready to get out of there, as well.

But I ended up staying an hour later, sitting there reading Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister, same author as Wicked.

My Story, Part One

Morning light came through the curtain and fell across the bunk bed, waking Laura. Giggles came from the full-size bed on the other side of the room where her youngest sister slept with their mother. On the bed above her head, Erin rolled over, climbing down the metal bars at the foot of the bed, bleary eyed and yawning. Laura smiled, climbing out of her cocoon of blankets to join the giggly brigade on the queen ship.
“Good morning!” Mom said, tickling her stomach as she climbed up on the bed, Erin on her heels, Diana scooting over to make way for her older sisters. Most mornings were like this, smiles and tickles, just the four of them in one, large bed. They had to share this one room because the other three rooms were for their three teenage siblings. Someday, Laura would have her own room, but for now, she enjoyed waking up with sunshine and laughter.
“I love you!” They said, so many times just to be sure the others knew how much. You could never say those words enough. At least, Laura didn’t think you could.
After a half hour of laziness, of lying in the bed smiling, cuddling, Mom abruptly got to her feet, heading for the door. Laura sat up, sad that the morning silliness was gone, but ready to start her day.
“Breakfast?”
Downstairs, Mom poured cereal into bowls, setting them on the table with the milk.
“Can we swim today?” Laura asked. The only good thing about warm weather, was the wadding pool they had in the backyard. Swimming was her favorite thing to do, she might as well have been born a fish. The first one in the water, and the last one out, her dad called her a water baby, though she’d been born in winter.
“Maybe later.”

The doorbell rang. Mom got to her feet to answer. Laura knew it was probably her Aunt Cheryl, dropping off her kids so she could go to work. Excited, Laura followed.
“Morning,” Cheryl said, handing Mom a diaper bag. Priscilla ran through the door, Minnie Mouse shoes lighting up pink. Cheryl set the car seat on the floor in the living room, baby Ryan sleeping peacefully. She’d fix that.
Laura went to the baby, ran her hand over his tiny head, anxious to get him in her arms. There was nothing she liked better than babies, except maybe swimming.
“Can I hold him, Cheryl? Can I hold him?”
“Me first,” Erin argued. Erin loved nothing more than arguing. Starting fights, pouting, being plain-old-difficult. With a capital D.
“I’m going to hold him first,” Laura insisted. “I’m older.”
“Shhh, guys, let him sleep,” Mom whispered. She didn’t want to wake him. Mom would rather he sleep as long as his little heart desired.
“I’m running late. Thanks again, Judy.” She hugged Mom, then was out the door. Priscilla was already in the toy closet, digging through the mess of broken dolls and empty boxes.
“Chickey, you hungry?”
Priscilla’s nickname was Chickey. Laura had no earthly idea why, but that’s what it was. Chickey.

“Mom, I’m going to help you baby-sit today,” Laura told her. It always made her feel all grown up to help her mom with the littler ones. She was nine, practically ready to watch Erin and Diana, should Mom decide she had to run across the street for instant mashed potatoes.
“Come finish your breakfast.” Mom pulled another bowl from the cupboard. “Chickey, come eat something.”
Ryan chose that moment to start crying, sending Laura’s heart into an excited rhythm. Quickly sitting down on the couch, she held out her arms, more than ready to hold her cousin. Resigned, Mom sighed, unbuckling the straps that kept Ryan in his seat.
“No, I wanna hold him,” Erin whined, hopping onto the sofa next to Laura. Diana, sweet at age four, waited patiently for her turn.
“One at a time.” Mom handed Ryan to Laura, who went completely still, a smile lighting her blue eyes.
“Hold his head, Laura.” Mom kept her hand under Laura’s, just in case.
“Mom, I’m going to Troy’s for breakfast,” Carrie entered the room, dressed in very holey jeans and a sluttish, red top. Her hair was true to the latest styles, and her make-up was overdone.
“Okay. Don’t be gone all day.”
Carrie rolled her eyes and was gone.

By noon, they had the swimming pool up and running, everyone in their bathing suits. As they played in the sunshine, Brian, their only brother, finally rolled out of bed to sit in front of the TV and watch reruns of Bevis and Butthead.
“Don’t put that doll in the pool, Laura.” Mom hollered through the open sliding glass door.
“But, mom, she wants to swim.”
Mom shook her head, but let it go. She had six kids, nine younger siblings of her own she helped her mother with growing up, her sister’s kids to watch during the day, she found it easier to give in most of the time. Strength was a fleeting thing, there in the morning, but by the middle of the day, she couldn’t muster enough to care.
“Laura, it’s my turn with the doll,” Erin cried.
“It’s not yours,” Laura said stubbornly, hiding the doll behind her back.
“It’s not yours, either,” Erin, eight, said smartly. “It’s Carrie’s.”
“She don’t play dolls anymore.”
“Give her to me!” Erin lunged for the rag doll, soaked through with pool water. Priscilla joined in the game and tackled Laura. Diana, cold from being in the water too long, tried climbing out of the pool, but wasn’t tall enough to simply step over the low wall.
“Laura, help Diana out,” Mom said. She sat at the kitchen table, phone to her ear, talking to someone Laura didn’t know. She talked on the phone a lot lately. Laura never thought to ask who, she was too busy living in her own world. The games they invented, her, Erin, and Diana, were the best parts of her days. They could spend all day playing make believe, having tea parties with hot water and toast. Play with their large collection of Barbie’s, make the girls get drunk and act like fools in front of Ken. That was one of Laura’s favorites. Or when they played roller skating rink. They put on their skates and went back and forth, up and down the hallway, pretending to be at a skating arena with their boyfriends.

“Laura,” Mom shouted, pulling her back to the present.
Laura sighed, helping Diana to get out of the pool. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her.
“Here you go, Bubbles,” Laura whispered. Another nickname. Diana was Tiny Bubbles. Like the song. Probably because she was the littlest, the cutest, with her tiny blond curls and bluer than blue eyes. They all had blue eyes, but Diana’s were somehow prettier.
Diana shivered, and went inside for Mom to help her put on warm clothes. Diana was always the first one out of the pool. She got cold easy.
Laura got back into the water to discover Erin had their favorite doll and was dragging her around in circles, creating a whirlpool.
“She’s my doll,” Laura insisted, yanking her from Erin’s hands. Erin shrieked bloody murder, sinking her teeth into Laura’s arm. Laura would have none of that, and grabbed Erin by the hair, pulling with all her might.
“Fukerassholebitchslut!” Erin scratched Laura, yelling the famous curse words. Always those words, in that order, real fast.
“Erin! Laura!” Mom ran out the door, a sweater in one hand, a shirtless Diana on her hip. Ryan started crying from his car seat. Angry, Mom set Diana down, tugged the shirt over her head, and grabbed Laura by the arm, pulling her from the pool. “Out, now. All of you.”
Erin climbed out, helping Priscilla. Dripping, they followed Mom into the house, where she picked up the phone from the table.

“I’m going to have to call you back.” She disconnected. Brian glanced over, a book in his hands. He wasn’t even paying attention to the TV anymore. He got to his feet, heading for his room where it was quieter, to read his book. There was rarely peace and quiet to be found in their household.
“Why do you always have to fight? Can’t you two ever get along?” Mom was practically screaming. Obviously she’d had enough for one day. “No more swimming. I’m going to put on Barney for Froggy, Chickey, and Ryan. Find something else to do.”
Froggy was Diana’s other nickname. One of their favorite movies of all time was The Frog Prince, starring Kermit. They loved the part where the Ogre said his “Stay asleep and let frog go” lines. They found it hysterical, and it had become a famous thing to say at bedtime, a nighttime ritual. Diana did it the best, and since she was small like Sir Robin the Brave-- as a frog, of course-- she got that nickname as well.
Laura quickly put on dry clothes, Erin did the same.
“I’m going to ride my bike.”
Mom waved them away.
“Me, too.” Erin followed.
“Copy cat,” Laura said.
“You’re a copy cat,” Erin countered.

Seattle, Washington wasn’t the safest place in the world...

Road Trip Weekend and Snow

Finally we have snow. Lots of snow. It took me an hour and a half to drive home from work in it. I left a half hour before close, which is an hour and a half before I normally would have left- the slow manager was on duty tonight. I left early because my mom kept calling my cell, calling the store, finally she called and just asked for the manager to tell him to let me go home because I kept telling her it would be fine, and I can't just leave work, there was no one to cover for me. "You'll end up in a ditch. You can't drive on ice, it's snowing and sleet." No matter how much I told her it wasnt too bad, she kept calling. Even had my friend call the store. She finally stopped calling when the manager promised I could leave sometime between eight and eight-thirty. It was really annoying. Anyway, I'm going to have to call in tomorrow. Way too much snow, no way am I driving in it again.
My sister, Erin, and her bf, Shane, are here. I went down to Arkansas Saturday to get them. I took my friend/sister Samantha or Sami James as I nicknamed her. We all stayed over at my mom's house. It felt odd being there, in the tiny town I spent more than half my life. Even more weird since mom and my stepdad, Monty, moved from the trailer they'd lived in for about ten years to go live in the house they lived in before the trailer. I hadn't been inside that house in so many years. I lived there briefly when I was nine. That was when my life fell apart, so being back in that house wasn't easy. The rooms were all smaller than I remember, but the memories flooded in, nearly drowning me. Especially when I looked into the room I had shared with my two younger sisters. And the room across the hall that had been my stepbrother's. I let Erin and Shane have our old room, choosing to sleep on one of the two couches in the front room. Sami took the other couch, and we stayed up late watching a show about hauntings. Something encounters...I think. Ghostly Encounters? She fell asleep and I watched psychic kids then went to sleep.
The next morning we had a big breakfast, then mom practically shoved us out the door, freaked because "It's going to snow and sleet and get really bad. You need to go before it gets bad. You don't need to be driving in it." We drove to Harrison, made a qucik stop at Uncommon Grounds, the coffee shop that hadn't been there when I lived there. It was very cute, and I wished I still lived in the area so I could make it a frequent hang out. Good coffee, too. Cheesecake White Chocolate Mocha. Yum, Yum. When we pulled into the parking space, I glance out my window cause a car had pulled into the space next to me.
"Guys, is it just me, or is that mom next to us?" I ask everyone.
It was mom. Erin had left her purse in mom's car, and she'd driven eighty the whole way to Harrison to try and catch us. She's too funny. So we had coffee, said our good byes again, and hit the road. I love road trips. Me and my sister, Carrie, drove here- Missouri- from Washington state when I moved here a year and a half ago. Lots of fun.
Anyway, it was really strange to be in Pyatt again. Tiny town, 253 population. It felt like a ghost town as I stood outside the house on the corner that held memories I'd tried so hard to forget. It was almost eerie, trees without leaves, breath fogging the air, complete silence as I stared across the street at the old buildings that were no longer in use. Except I believe one was turned into an apartment. I had glanced around at my surroundings, shuddered, then went inside the house.