1.11: Dear Diary

I had Alex take this one. Told him I wanted to test out the lens.

Entry One: May 12th
  Dear Diary, Dear Diary sounds dumb, doesn't it? This is an inanimate object. Any way, I found this pretty notebook at the consignment store where Alex (He's eighteen and graduating soon!) sells his paintings and bought it. and the store Mom says it's good for teenagers to "Express themselves" or whatever. I decided to trying writing in you. IT. I think I'm too old. Am I? I dunno. Maybe. Nobody but me know That I got a diary (I told mom that I lost it, so she wouldn't snoop. She'd not do that, butchyaknow? Privacy. Which is good, considering the fact that my hand writing is SO messy....sorta...better than Jamie's) 
   I got a cell phone for my last birthday and can use it to take pictures. I think I'll make a photo diary. That sounds cool. I like writing and taking pictures is kinda fun. I just email the photos from my flip phone (it's soo OLD!!) got to my email on the printer and  print them out. Easy.
   I can't believe I won. I won the contest, back those years ago. I've made a bunch a money, so I can buy clothing soon.  I'm going to be turning thirteen soon. Thirteen! I'll officially enter the world of hormonal crazy kids. Or teenagers. Not kids. That's why I have to buy new clothing. I can't dress like a little kid.
     I'm writing a story, again. I love books. They're you're friends. Not that I don't have friends. I have one. Her name is Cassie. She says that I write good. I wrote a story about her back when I met her in fifth grade. It was about a redhead (She has red hair, too!) who was a werewolf. She turns into a werewolf whenever the full moon comes up. All the other werewolves have brown hair, but she has red hair. She's the pack person in charge. (Ugh, I mess up. Stupid pen can't be erased.) Cassie She is nice and outgoing. And really social. We're both in eighth grade. (High schoolers soon! I'll be in HIGH school; a ninth grader!!!!!)  
   Once, she tried out for the cheer team and made it!!! The popular cheerleader girl group leader (Who are such snobby B's! Mom won't let me say that word, so I stuck with B. B sounds stupid, doesn't it?) were all like "Yay! Cay-Cay joined" Cassie is kinda prett-ish. Boys like her. They ignore me. I'm kinda reading all the time though, so I don't blame them. Least  I got a 4.0 GPA (That's all A's!!! A's are awesome.) Any ways, I was like side tracked. The cheerleaders who are like the friends of the cheerleader (I'm gonna call cheerleaders  CL. Cheerleaders is a word I'll probably use a lot, since I hate HATE them.) who are just like dumb and stand there where like "Like totes!" And Cassie was like "Uhhhh. Totes?" And quit! Nobody does that! She just wanted to prove she could make the team.

I hid on the stairs to take this picture!

    Cassie dates people a lot. She   does this thingie where she falls for a guy. Usually, it's cause she's bored. She gets bored a lot. She'll crush on a guy for a few days, ask him out (NOBODY turns down Cassie!!!) , then she'll spot a new guy. Dating isn't like emotional stuff. It's a sport for her. She isn't a playboy or anything, she usually likes him, but not really. Not like an actually connection. Not like love. I think if she ever is in love, she'll fall hard. She'll probably end up marrying the guy.
   I'd watch this TV special bout the publishing process, but Alex is working out. He does that a lot. He's athletic and stuff. I asked him the other day why he worked out so much, and he said this: "I wanna be on the soccer team in high school. Try outs are gonna be soon and I have to be in shape." Guess I won't be getting the TV any time soon.
   That's all I have to say,
                 Tiff
 P.S. When I'm bored or got writers block I'll write in my diary. That probably won't be often. I guess I'll be writing a lot.

Entry Two: May 15th

  I still haven't figured out what to say when I begin writing. I guess just start writing. I label all my entries (one, two, etc.) so maybe that counts as the "Dear Diary" part? Anyway, I'm officially a teen! Cassie is older than then(??) me so she already is one. I think I got a picture. Jamie is gonna try out for the track team tomorrow. Says they start practice before school begins so he has to try out in advance to be ready for the first meet in August. (three month before high school, exactly!) I'm excited and nervous! HIGH school! Mom said all her babies are growing up. I told her that I'm not in high school yet. She said still. 
    Cassie has a new crush. Some guy who's in tenth grade. She texted me something about it, but I ignored most of it. It isn't meant to be a mean thing, but she likes guys so often it's kinda boring and repetitive. She'll probably be dating him by tomorrow. I'll write about if it does happen. 
    I've started a new story. It's called Joy and Yesterday. It's set in Victorian England, about a peasant girl named Joy who's seventeen. Her mother died during childbirth, so she's raised by her cruel father who's forty-nine and married a twenty year old girl. Her father tries to marry her off to Edward Peters, a man twice her age. She's visiting the nobles house when she meets the gardener, who she falls madly in love with. Edward sees the gardener and tries to stab him. The gardener and Edward fight, and when the gardener deficits the knife, Edward is accidentally stabbed. She runs away to rural France with the gardener. Edwards family were werewolves, though and they begin hunting the lovers. The gardener dies later, brutally murdered by the werewolf pack, after Joy finds out that she's pregnant. Joy ends up bouncing around France trying to avoid the pack. I haven't figure out how to end it. Everything else was really boring today and yesterday. 
   That's all,
        Tiff 

Entry Three: May 21st
    Dear Hi Hello I haven't thought of a replacement for "Dear Diary" yet. I don't think I'll be able to. Hmm...I know I'm writing for a reason. What is it? I can't remember, I'll probably write it down later.
      -Tiff

Entry Four: May 22nd
   I remember what I was saying. Or going to say. Any ways, Cassie was dating this guy and (She made me SWEAR not to tell ANYone!!)he tried to kiss her! K-I-S-S! I asked her why it was a big deal. She said she's never been kissed. I asked her really. She said yeah. She didn't like anyone enough to, you know, smooch  kiss him! 
   I kinda have never been kissed either. But I'm only thirteen! I think that's in that weird you aren't a child but you aren't really a real teen. You're 13, (one-three) but you aren't like a teen. I dunno. It's confusing. I wish someone would explain it to me. But then again, who can I ask? "Hey mom when were you kissed?" No thanks!! 
     I got a secret. I like this guy kinda. KINDA!! I only like him sorta. He's cute-ish in a dorky sorta way. I like that, though. I hate the jocks and stuck up preps. The popular people. I don't like the goth, skate board, rebels either. Nerdy cute, but not obsessed fan boy comic dude. I like smart. And nice. Maybe funny. Looks is just a bonus. Ya know, love at first site isn't real. If you see someone and instantly love them, you're attracted to their looks and beauty, not personality or brains. I like brains. I like intelligence. Kinda like me. I got straight A's and...ugh, I really don't have a lot going for me.
    The Completely Normal,
                 Tiff 

Entry Five: May 29th
      I liked a guy. LIKED. As in past tense. Cause I don't like him anymore. But I did. But know I don't. He ate a worm on a dare. And he's obsessed with Superman. And he failed PRE Algebra, English, and Spanish One. And he's an idiot. Cass went to this bonfire (I stayed home) and was hanging out with some chick (She broke up with that one guy she was dating who tried to kiss her on the 22nd, she just didn't tell me that part because she was too mad about the kissing thing) and was talking to him. The bonfire was held by this jock-y rich stuck up dude who's gonna be a junior and his little brother is the guy I now hate, but use to like, so a lot of freshies (Freshman) got invited cause of him. Cassie learned a lot about him and turns out he's an idiot. So I don't like him. And I though he was SMART. Am I an idiot? I feel dumb for liking a guy like him. What does "like him" mean? Idiotic sense of humor? I don't know. I'm tired. I think I'll go to bed now, it's ten thirty.
              'Night,
                   Tiff
Entry Six: June 3rd
 Jamie's trying out for track team today. I'll get the TV back, then. I really wanted to see a documentary about English poets, but you know. Jamie. He's athletic-y now. I bet he'll be the jock and I'll be the nerdy twin. Nerd. I kinda like that....
                Simply,  
                    Tiff

Entry Seven: June 15th 
     Jamie made the soccer team. And mom started dating this guy. She didn't tell me, but she's been singing and dancing around the house, wearing makeup, and laughing and chatting with a guy (I heard his voice) on her cell. Should I be worried? I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. Hmm... Having someone to make mom happy and help with bills would be nice.(Don't tell mom that I read the bills from the mail!) Maybe he'd be nice. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I have a lot of maybes, but no solid yeses. Or nos. I have no answers.
              The Clueless,
                      Tiff
             
Entry Eight: June 17th
     Mom introduced us to her boyfriend! BOYFRIEND! He's the soccer coach at the high school and the Pre-Calc teacher. He's nice. I like him. Not like like that. He seems like he'd be a good daddy. I haven't seen my daddy in so long...I barely remember him. I know he slapped mom. I saw. I know he's mean. I don't like my real dad. I like mom's boyfriend, though. 
    She arranged this tour of a butterfly garden and a picnic on the beach for all of us. It's a fun family activity. I liked it.
               The Hopes He's Our Dad,
                                     Tiff
       

1.10: The Girlfriend

  I can hardly believe it. Alex is turning seventeen soon. I'm almost thirty-six.Where has my life gone? Almost twenty years in Bridgeport and I'm still single. What am I doing wrong with my life? Marry an idiot? Check. Have three kids? check. Divorce so called idiot? Check. It isn't like there's a bestsellers entitled: How to Fall in Love: A Book for the Desperate (Seriously, You Have to be Desperate! You Bought this Book.)If there was, I'd be happily married by now.But there isn't.
     He's been painting a lot lately. Roses, kittens, hearts; gushy romantic paintings. Of course, I know why. My little baby has a girlfriend! I remember when he told me. Of course, that day was only yesterday...the day was special for me, too.

Two Days Ago

   
  I sighed as I walked into the diner. I'd have to go through another day in my waitress dress that was only enough fabric to cover the bare necessities and showed off  a large portion of my chest with the deep V neck cut. I assume that's how the diner sells food; with sexual appeal. The food is only average, the service average, everything average. Except the waitresses. That's where the money is.
    I stomped inside, surveying the customer scene. Johnny was sipping coffee in a back booth. Lovely. I hate this job. I honest to goodness hate it for so many reasons. Why did Johnny have to come here and give me another one?
   "Alyce!" The owner smiled. "Guess what?"
   "What." I sighed.
   "I've sold the place!This one lady wanted a nice family friendly diner." Did that mean the dresses would be exchanged for something decent?
    "Great."
    "You're fired."
    "What?!"
    "The new owner says they want this place family friendly. Girls sticking their chests into the guys faces isn't exactly family friendly."
     "Change the outfits, then!"
     "Sorry, no can do." The man winked. "But you know...."
     "I'm not hooking up with you!"
     "Really?"
     "Yes! I'm a mother! If I wanted to do it for money, I'd be a prostitute; a stripper! Not a waitress!"
     "The new owner is remodeling the place, so you be completly out of a job."
     "How am I suppose to pay the bills?"
    "Don't ask me. I offered you-"
    "Never mind!"
    "Way to go Alyce! Guess your commitment issues are happy know." Johnny called out.
     "Go to hel-"
     "Actually, I'm moving. T-"To I stormed out of the restaurant and plopped myself down to cry. Everyone had seen what had happened. Everyone. Even Johnny. 
     "Hey, are you okay?" A man asked, smiling.
     "No. I lost my job, my ex-husband is a jerk, I have three kids to feed, and my boss, ex-boss, wants me to do it with him for cash!"
    "Huh." He sat down and offered me a tissue.
    "Thanks." I sniffled.
    "I can help you get a job."
    "Really?"
    "At the book store. It would only be part time, but it's the best I can do. One of my friends owes me a favor."
    "Thanks!" I threw my arms around him. He had muscles. He was cute, and kind. I felt attracted to him. Strongly attracted.
     "Let me make a call." A few minutes late, I had a job. "The hours are mostly nights and weekends, but it's better than nothing."
     "I owe you."
    "No you don't. I like helping people out."
   "Yeah, but I'm a stranger."
   "And? You're a single mother who just lost her job. And you're what, thirty?"
   "Thirty-five."
  "Thirty-five. You have your whole life ahead of you. I don't want you ruining it by taking up your boss's offer."
    "I wouldn't..." I couldn't say I wouldn't. I was a desperate mother and would do whatever I could to make life work for my children. "I still owe you."
    "How about this, I take you to my home, we have some drinks, you tell me what's wrong, I'll try to fix it.  Then we're even."
    "Well..." I smiled. It was ten o'clock, I had plenty of time before the children would  be home. "That isn't me doing anything, though."
    "You're going to sit through an entire martini with me. I think that's asking for a lot."
    "You don't seem bad, though."
   "Come on," he drove me to a large home.
   "Who's house is this?" I asked.
   "Mine."
   "It's a mansion!"
   "I bought it after I moved to Bridgeport with my retirement money."
   "Retirement?How old are you?" I blushed after I realized what I'd asked.
   "Forty-one." He shrugged.
   "What was your job?"
   "I was an athlete for the Sunset Valley soccer team. I  hurt my back playing one night and had to retire."
    "Wow..." I whispered.
    "Let me get you those drinks I offered." He quickly mixed up a tray of four martinis and lead me over to the pool. "You can sit." He gestured to one of the two pool chairs.
     "Thanks." I sat down, taking the drink he handed me.
     "What happened?" He asked, sitting next to me.
     "I was a stupid nineteen year old," And the story of my life unraveled.
     "It'll be okay." He comforted me after I'd finished.
     "What brought you to Bridgeport?" I asked.
     "I was twenty-one. A star athlete. I made millions. When I turned thirty, I got married to a girl. She was a retired cheerleader. Six years ago, she died in a car crash. I couldn't focus on the game and ended up getting injured; I couldn't play any more. I donated most of my money to her favorite charity, bought a furnished house in Bridgeport from a family of five, and became a high shool math teacher and the soccer coach. That's all."
     "Do you have any children? Or did you remarry." Stupid, stupid me!  "You don't have to answer that! If it's to personal."
      "It's fine. My  deceased wife couldn't have children, so I never did. I always wanted some, though....a little boy I could take to soccer games and watch him compete. Course, I'm old know so that'll never happen."
      "You could adopt or remarry."
      "I wouldn't want a poor child to have to live with my crazy schedule."
     "You know, most ladies in their mid thirties can have kids. You're only talking three of four years younger than you. Not much."  What was I implying?
     "Alyce, I like you. You're honest and quite frank. I've dated in the past, but I can't find a connection. You know?"
     "Kinda." I sighed. "It's two o'clock!" I gasped. "I have to get home. The kids!"
     "I'll drive you."
     ""Okay." I liked this man a lot. He was nice and honest. He didn't hide his past. "Thanks for driving me." I said, after he had pulled up in front of my house. I leaned forwards and kissed his cheek.
     "Alyyyce. Your top!"
     "Ohmi-!" My V neck had aided me in accidentally flashing my entire chest to him. Great. Suddenly, I was sober. I wasn't sure what to do. Awkwardly exit the car? That seemed like the best plan. "Thanks, er-I got to go."I climbed out and ran to the house. I probably ruined everything!

   Later, after I felt completely sober and safe to get behind the wheel, I thought Alex to drive.
    "Mom, I have something to tell you."  He nervously said.
    "What sweetie?"
    "I'm dating this girl from my grade...."
   "Congrats! Honey, that's great!"
   "You're not mad?"
   "Why would I be mad...oh....honey, is there more to this story? Is she pr-" Please don't make me a grandma. Please.
     "No! We haven't even kissed, much less, you know. It."
     "Thank goodness. What's her name?"
     "Evelyn Wilks."
     "That's a pretty name."
    "It is." He got a dreamy look on his.
    "When will I meet her?"
   "Uh, that's the new. We've been dating secretly for two years. I asked her to come over for dinner tomorrow."
   "Saturday?"
   "Yeah, er, is that okay?"
    "Sure. I have to work so can we make it a late lunch or early dinner?"
    "Of course!" He exclaimed. "Uh, I was going to take her to the gardens afterwards. Is that okay?"
    "Honey, as long as you two aren't making me a grandmother, drinking, or doing drugs, I'm okay with whatever."
    "Thanks."  He looked excited. Meet the girlfriend. This was going to be interesting.
    "Honey, will her parents be okay with this?"
    "She lives with her mom, who gives her a ton of freedom. She hasn't really told  anything about her dad."
    "Oh." A girl from a broken home. I couldn't criticize, since my father had left and I'd left Johnny. "I won't embarrass you to much." I smiled.
    "Please don't! I like her...a lot."
   "I'd say. Two years is a long time for a teenager to date someone." He must really like this girl. I hope everything works out. I'm routing for young love.
   

Alex's Point of View (Saturday)

  My girlfriend. Evelyn. Meeting my mom! That was huge. I nervously thought as I drove to her apartment.  I climbed in the elevator and knocked on the door, waiting. 

    "Hey, Alex!" Evelyn greeted me. "I'm excited. You look so handsome. Is this formal?" She blushed, looking at her outfit.

      "No." I smiled. "Besides, you look beautiful in whatever you wear." 

      "You're so sweet." She looked at me, in a way I couldn't place. It was like admiration. Like the way two people who're in love look at each other.

     "Thanks." I pulled the roses out from behind my back. 

     "Roses?" She pulled me into a hug. "Thanks." She whispered in my ear. "You know, I'm planning my own little surprise later."

      "I can't wait." We walked down to the car together, holding hands.

      "Thank you."

      "For what?" I asked.

      "Being you. Being nice and romantic and sweet and honest and sexy. For everything."

      "I should thank you."

      "For what?" she mimicked me. 

      "For putting up with me. For dating me. For being smart and kind and gorgeous and hot."

      "You forgot sexy." She giggled.

      "Oh Evelyn." I parked the car in the driveway. We both climber out of my mother's car and went inside. For the next hour, I made small talk with my brother, sister, and mom. Evelyn was great with children.

       "Thank you for dinner, Ms. Janes. It was fabulous."

       "Thanks, Evelyn." My mom blushed. "It's just rotisserie chicken I  seasoned with some Italian herbs."

       "My mom doesn't cook much. I wish she did. I can only make macaroni and toast and salad and hot dogs!"

       "I'm sure you're a great cook. And please, call my Alyce."

       "Thanks, Alyce." 

       "Tiff, Jamie can you help me clean up?"
       "Sure!" Tiff smiled.

       "I guess." Jamie groaned.

      "Alex, Evelyn, you two go enjoy your date."

      "We will Ms. Ja-Alyce." We walked outside, and I hailed a cab. "Alex, that was great."

     "Really?" I asked, surpriesed.

     "Yeah, I have such a small family and my mom and I aren't close at all. I like the close knit large family thing."

       "That's good." I paid the cabbie. 

       "Look at the stars! They're so pretty!" Evelyn said. We sat on the ground, gazing the silver sky that was sprinkled with drops of shining light as the sweet scent of flowers wafted past our noses and butterflies flew around us.

      "Alex. I...I know this might be kinda....you, know....but....I love you. A lot." She looked at me. "You don't have to say it.....if you don't, you know. If you do, er-"

     "Evelyn, I love you." I looked at her. The moment was perfect. I leaned forwards  and shyly kissed her. As our lips met, I felt fireworks. She was it. This was the girl. We pulled apart, reluctantly.

       "Fireworks...." She whispered. She kissed me again, ala French; we were making out in the moonlight.

     As I hailed a cab home after I'd seen her home, I felt a little disappointed that the night was over. I loved Evelyn a lot. What did that mean next? I felt confused, but happy. I was sixteen, in high school, legally I couldn't do anything but drive, but I knew I loved her. I loved in a teenager way. Not in a, think about the future way. Just a we're together, this may not go any where, but we both like each other, so lets start on that.  

     People say all sorts of things about kids in love. That it isn't real. Most kids aren't serious about dating though, one week equals one decade in teenage time. I've heard kids say "I can be in love! Romeo and Juliet where like thirteen!" That's a horrible excuse. It's more of a "I'll do it as an act of defiance" thing then anything. Those kids must have forgot that those kids died when they were thirteen. And that it was written  a good two centuries ago. And that it was written, not real. It was just a story. You can't compare love to a story, because love is different for everyone. I'm glad I'm smart enough to figure that out. It makes everything easier for the future. Because Evelyn and I are together, it may not go any where, but we both like each other, so lets start on that.  Maybe this is it, maybe it's a silly high school crush. You'll never know if you don't keep an open mind.

1.9: Alex's View

  Painting. It's so simple, yet I love it. Painting lets me think. I can't believe that I'm almost fifteen. Fifteen! I'll be graduating middle school and going onto high school. High school. Every movie makes it seem like a place where you're either a nerd or a jock; the bully or the bullied. I hope that isn't true. I'm really nervous. Not that I should be. I have...friends...sorta. I have one. One real friends is better than a billion false ones, though. I hope that's true. It's another quote my English teacher has stick noted to the front of her desk. Whenever she starts babbling about boring things, like Shakespeare or Edgar Allen Poe, I can gaze around the desk, reading the inspirational, mass produced posters.

   "Alex?"

   "Mom."

   "We're going to the Spring festival. Want to come with us?"

   "Sure." I smiled. I cleaned my brush and set it in the cup I used to store brushes. I wiped my hands on my  PJs, smearing reds and brilliant oranges all over them. I changed into a tee and jeans mom bought me a month ago, and hurried downstairs. Mom had bought a car. It was an old, used, clunker, but it was a car. It defiantly wasn't the fastest thing or the prettiest, but it worked. That's what mattered in our house. Functionality, not looks. We parked the car in the park's parking lot and climbed out, into the hot summer sun. Tiff and Jamie instantly dashed away, looking for the pastel eggs.

  "Look mum!" Tiffi cried out. She'd found a star covered festival egg. "Isn't it pretty?"
   "Yes, it is." Mom wandered over to the benches, sitting down. I noticed a love-o-meter. Was she upset because she didn't have anyone to test it with? No one to dance with, no one to hug? No one to celebrate Valentine's Day with. "Hey kiddos," she smiled, noticing a roller rink. "Who wants to skate?"
    "Yeah!" Tiffi cheered. She was excitable. I noticed at school, she was as quiet as a mouse, but at home she was a twenty-four hour blabber machine.
    "Moooom!" I screamed, I stepped onto the rink,  I tried skating around the rink, but ended up falling, crashing into the railing.
   "Honey! Are you okay?"
   "Fine." I said, gruffly.  She skated over to me and helped me stand up.
    "Are you sure? We could go home."
   "I'm fine."
   "Honey." She hugged me and slipped a five dollar bill into my pocket. "I trust you."
   "Thanks." I tried skating more, but ended up crashing into the Jamie and Tiff, who where spinning around the rink in a graceful way that made me jealous that I'd inherited the uncoordinated gene. I stepped off the rink, sighing. Everyone else could do spins and turns, except me. I sat on the bench, gazing into the crystal sky. That would be beautiful to paint. I wish I had a brush and canvas right now. I could paint the birds and the sky and the flowers. That's something I could do.
   "That was fun." Jamie laughed.
   "Who wants ice cream?" My mom asked.
   "Yay!" The twins cheered. She walked over to the stand with them, each ordering them a strawberry ice cream cone with double chocolate sprinkles and vanilla cream.
   "Jamie?" She called out.
   "Uh huh?" I stood up, wandering behind her.
   "What would you like?"
   "Nothing."
   "Are you sure? Ice cream? Fruit punch? A snack?"
   "I'm fine."
   "Okay." She looked concerned, then quickly turned to the concession stand lady and paid her. Jamie and Tiff each got their ice cream and sat down to lick it. Why was mom concerned? I was fine. Fine....oh. I never said anything. If someone asked a question, I brushed it off, saying I was fine. Fine. She must think I'm involved in a crazy, stupid teenager plan. I heard my stomach grumble and regretted not getting anything. I should have. I walked over to the concession stand as far from my family as I could get.
   "Hello, sonny."An elderly woman with gray hair and well defined wrinkles greeted me.
   "Uh, hey."
   "What would you like?"
   "Coffee?" I read the word off the miniscule menu, which bragged that they used Starbucks premium dark roast coffee pre-grounded beans. All the other kids drank coffee. Except for me and my friend...she says it stunts your growth and thinks it's some stupid peer pressure thing. I didn't want to upset her, so I never drank coffee. I guess that was a stupid peer pressure thing, too.
   "Alrighty, four ninety seven." I handed her my bill and she gave my three pennies, as I fumbled with my pockets, not wanting someone to think I was frugal enough to want three worthless pennies. Isn't it something you do, too? Nobody can admit they hate giving up change and count every nickel and dime. She gave me a steaming foam cup of dark brown liquid that looked like Starbucks had gone "What the heck?" and decided to let them label the cheap ninety-nine cent store coffee grinds as "premium" to bring in the coffee-holics.
   "Thanks." I walked away and took a sip. It was disgustingly bitter and tasted, and felt, like sludge. I spit it out and vowed never to drink coffee again. No wonder she was so against it. It was gross!
    "Alex! Alex!" My mom called again. She tends to think she...how do I nicely put it? Loses me, a lot. It isn't that she can't keep up with her children, it's that her children don't want to be kept up. Namely me. I love her, but I like freedom. Freedom....any parent reading my thoughts would roll their eyes and laugh. Classic teenager. They'd snort. Wanting freedom, thinking they know everything. Let them see the real world, then they'll come running back, wanting the sheltered protection you gave them. It wasn't like that for me. I just liked being alone, painting. I could take care of myself.
    "Mom." I taped her on her shoulder.
    "Alex!" She gasped, flying around to face me. "I though I lost you."
    "I was right there." I pointed.
    "Oh." She blushed. "Well, we're going to go to the library, then the grocery store to pick up cake ingredients. What kind did you want? Chocolate?"
    "Vanilla with chocolate icing." I mumbled.
    "Okay," she scribbled that down on a post it. "Next up, the library." We lumbered into the car, unwilling to argue with her. We  pulled into the parking lot, and climbed out. I immediately went to the history section. I browsed the titles, until I found something that interested me. Life of a Painter I sat down and read about the Mona Lisa, The Birth of Venus, Madonna and Child, The Gulf Stream, and The Scream. The colors were magnificent. I wish I could be like the artists one day.
   "Hey, Alex!" Tiff poked me.
   "Shhh! I'm reading."
   "Pllllleeeeasssse?"
   "What?"
   "I wrote a story."
   "Cool."
   "Wanna read it?"
   "Sure." I stood up, putting the book back, and followed Tiff.
   "Mr. Elephant's Pants." I read.
    "Mr. Georgie O'Brien," She read aloud to me. The jest of the story was a man was lonely. His IQ was the highest in the world, and everyone hated him for it. The man worked at NASA, for a government funded mission, building a space vehicle  to send Americans to Mars to explore the possibility of life on other planets. The man isn't aloud to tell any one about his government NASA job, so he has to work another place, the zoo, as a cover. He befriends the elephant, named Pants, and is dubbed Mr. Elephant, by the tourists. Hence the title, Mr. Elephant's Pants. The man is talking about his mission with Pants, when Mrs. Prudence Keith hears him. She thinks he's insane and fires him. Mr. Elephant is sad, and so is Pants. In the end, Mr. Elephant ends up buying the zoo with his raise from the NASA project and everyone is happily ever after. 
   "This is really good." I commented.
   "Thanks!" She hugged me. "My teacher liked it so much, she sent it to the Young Authors contest! Mom doesn't know, but I'm really hoping to win!"
   "I bet you will."
   "I hope so. The winner gets a publishing deal for the next ten years."
   "TEN?!"
   "Ten. If I wrote a good enough story, I'd be set for life!"
   "Wow..."
   "I know, right." You could paint, Jamie could be an athlete, and I could write!"
   "That sounds great," I smiled.
   "You think? Really?" Her eyes shined. "I haven't told anyone else."
   "I don't think. I know. I read that story and it's great."
   "Thanks, Alex."
   As I rode in the car, I felt my eyes droop. I was becoming drowsy. Tiff could write....I could paint.....Jamie sports.....that would be perfect.....make mom proud. Paint. Perfect. Sell. Artist. I fell asleep as I dreamed of becoming a famous artist. I could be an artist and paint and then marry....I didn't think anything else while I silently slept, my dreams halting.

1.8: Moving On

     Johnny found out. Johnny found out about my bulimia. He was horrified that I'd do something like that. For three years since, I'd been going to therapy. Johnny honestly cared about me, he just had anger issues. Everything he does, I can justify. It's my fault. He hits me, then he apologizes. He tells me that it'll be the last time. It never is. He never told me what fueled his anger.  I'm tired of this. Johnny stopped emotionally abusing Alex, but he takes everything out on me. I hate him. I wish my commitment issues kept me from marrying him. It's weird. I can't commit, until I shouldn't.

  I though silently  as I rubbed my arm. It was black and blue and hurt like hell. The result of Johnny's last fit of anger. I can't tell anyone. What would Johnny do to me if I did? I climbed out of the elevator and wandered over to the mail box. I leafed through all the bills. Cell phone, water, the car payment, my therapy bill. A letter from the Appaloosa Plains' courthouse. I signed off the bills, then opened the letter addressed to me. 

To Whom It May Concern:

   We are very apologetic, but it appears that your relative is deceased. Please call us, at 1-800-SOM-1DYD

                                               

                      Appaloosa Plains, Department of Public Health

     What? Someone died? Who was it? I flipped out my cell and dialed. One eight hundred someone died. Gee, that's a nice number.

     "Appaloosa Plains Department of Public Health. How may I help you?"

     "I received a letter." I blubbered.

     "Oh, sweetie." The soft, Southern voice comforted me. "What's you name, honey dear,I'll look it up in our death records."

     "Al-l-ly-ce Janes."

     "Alyce Janes? A-L-I-C-E?"

     "A-L-Y."

     "Okay, one minute please." I heard the sound of keyboard clicks. "Ah, yes. Sandra Janes deceased May ninth."

     "What? My mom? How?"
     "Let's see." She clucked her tongue. "Sandra Janes, female, Caucasian, oh! There it is. Suicide. She over dosed on pain killers and antidepressants."
     "Do I need to come back?"
     "She's had a private funeral. Don't worry, we try and make this as easy as possible."
     "The Will?"
     "The Will! Almost forgot, baby doll. You rich. You got fifty three thousand six hundred ten dollars and nine pennies."
     "WHAT?!" I always though my mum was dirt poor.
     "It's been deposited into your Bridgeport bank account."
     "Thank
you..."
     "Miss, do we need to put you on the line with a grief consular?"
     "No...I'm fine."
    "Alrighty deary." I hung up. I felt weird. My mother was gone...dead. I should feel like crying. But I didn't. I hadn't spoken to my mother in ten years. I called her once...told her about Alex. Johnny and I weren't dating yet. She yelled at me. Told me that she loved me, and she'd love her grand baby, but there's no way on Earth she'll accept it. Told me all guys are good for nothing, trying to knock up every soul they see. I told her it was different. She said, trust me. I thought it was too. I say I know this will work out. She told me to try and find a man as a twenty year old mom. I told her I had years to sort my life out. She said it was too late. I told her that I loved and respected her, but it was different. Johnny would understand. She said she thought exactly what I thought about Matt. About my dad. Look where it left her. I hung up. I never called her again. Look where it left me. The last words she ever told me. I was estranged from her. Hearing about her death was sad, but it was more like hearing about someone's death on the news. You feel sad; no one should die that way, or that young, or at all, but you aren't heart broken. You didn't really know them. I didn't really know my mom.
    "Oh, yeah. Give  it to me."
    "Huh?" I turned around to find Johnny, sucking face with someone that was way younger than him. He was thirty-six, yet still good looking, and I was twenty-nine.
    "Baby." The brunette slipped her hand down his shirt, unbuttoning it. He slipped his hands around her waist, squeezing her butt, kissing her chest. "Come on." She pulled her suit jacket off, revealing a skimpy yellow tank top, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to an apartment; her apartment.
    "Johnny...." I stood there, stunned.
    "Alyce, look. It isn't what you think."
    "Really?!" Hate and anger bubbled up inside me. I realized everything wasn't black and white with guys. It doesn't matter how much they do; how much you think you know them, they always surprise you. They always have a new side for you to love, or in my case loath.It looks like you two are about to do it!"
    "Alyce, you never want to anymore. Besides, she," He gestured to the stupid brunette, "does things you'll never do."
    "Like what?! I don't think miss nineteen year old old would push a brat through her-"
    "You mean will. I'm pregnant with triplets! And I'm twenty-one." She giggled.
   "Are you retarded?"  Idiot. I wasn't sure if I was calling myself or her that.
   "No, I just like se-"
   "With my man?!"
   "Look, you too need to work things out. And I only did it with him because I needed money for acting lessons. Then we started chatting and turns out we're really similar!" She awkwardly walked into her apartment, leaving me alone with Johnny.
    "Explain. Is she why you started all those years ago?"
     "Uh-" He paused. "Alyce..."
     "Tell me or I'm leaving."
     "Three year she and I started sleeping together. You were stressed with the babies and didn't want  to ever, you know..."
     "I do know! But sleep with another woman? That's why you hit me?!"
     "No...sorta....she was eighteen, looking for a source of income..."
     "I don't even want to know!" I screamed. "She a prost-"
    "No, no!" He gasped. "Lord no! I hired her as my secretary. We got to know each other and one day, she got pregnant."
     "You've been hiding a child from me!?" I screamed, wanting to slap him again.
     "No. Around five months, she had a miscarriage. She lost the kid. I felt so powerless, like I can't control anything in the world.....with you, I'm in control."
     "Your abuse is the way to make you feel powerful?! Look, boohoo, I get being upset about the kid. But hitting me?! Abusing Alex!?! You're insane! Physio!"
    "Alyce, babe, I love you. But she wants five kids! Five! You didn't want anymore and I grew up in a big family....I figure she could give me some more heirs." He tried hitting me, but I dodged.
     "Really? You love me? Isn't that a weird sentence. You love me, but you're going to sleep with the neighbor anyway. You love me, but you knocked her up. You love me-"
      "Open marriage?" He reached forwards to slap me, again.
     "NO!" I slapped him. "I HATE you. I'm too busy trying to please you to see that this relationship sucks! You're abusive and cruel....and I want a divorce"
    "A divorce? Are you insane? That'll take years, with legal fees and court dates. If we got an open marriage-"
    "I don't care. If you're going to have  that ring on, I better be the only girl you sleep with." I stepped into the elevator. I unlocked the penthouse, gathered up a few clothes, and picked up my two six year olds hands, and told my ten year old to grab  a toy or two and an outfit and to come on. I stomped downstairs, as Johnny stood there, stuttering.
    "Mommy?" Tiffani asked, confused.
    "Tiffi, we going."
    "We're leaving?" Jamie laughed.
    "Yes, Jamie." I hailed a cab and never looked back. "Courthouse." I instructed the driver, crumbling in the process. My commitment issues had taken the final stance.
    "Yes, ma'am." We rode in utter silence, to City Hall. I stormed into City Hall, furious. I walked in a legally married woman, with a politicians job, living in a fabulous penthouse. I walked out a divorced lady who was officially unemployed, had custody of her children, and owned a nice cabin that would be perfect for raising three kids. I never wanted to see Johnny again, and I'd never have to.
    The days past, and I was rather happy. I'd gotten a waitress job at a local cafe and hired a babysitter to watch the twins while I was at work. I worked nights and weekends, two to ten. My time with the children was minimal, but I wanted to be financially secure. I had approximately twenty thousand dollars left, which was a lot of money to someone like me, who was use to having half that, but I decided I wanted something more in life. Forget being Ms. Politician. I was going to work my way up and give my children the life they deserved. I was going to get fifty thousand dollars; I was already two fifths of the way there.
  "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb." I hummed as I whipped up two birthday cakes. If I learned anything from my slave waitress job, it was how to bake a decant cake. And that if you flirted with the customers and leaned down in your low cut dress, you got bigger tips.
   "Are you excited?" I asked Tiffani and Jamie. It was their eighth birthdays.
   "Yes!" Tiffi squealed.
   "I guess." Jamie shrugged. He was a lot more athletic then Tiff, and not so excited about academics.
  "Well, the cakes are done baking." I pulled them out of the oven, setting them on the cooling rack.
   "Can we eat them?" Jamie looked excited.
   "Not, yet silly!" Tiff giggled. We have to wait for them to cool!"
   "Awww."
   "Don't worry. It won't be long." I reassured him. "Besides, we have to wait for Alex to get home, anyway."
   "How long will that be?"
   "One hour. He's at the City Hall, delivering papers." Tiff said, before I could get a word in.
   "An hour?! That's like, a billion minutes!"
   "Actually, it's sixty." Tiff corrected.
   "Honey, I think he was exaggerating." I explained.
   "Oh.  I forgot about similes. Or, it could be an onomatopoeia. Or maybe a hyperbole, I get the two mixed up. Which one is it?"
   "Uh...the first one?" Jamie replied.
   "Simile?"
   "Yeah, that."
   "Wait! A hyperbole is an extreme exaggeration. Sorry, my bad."
   "Mom?" Alex walked in the door.
   "Yes, honey?" He was home early. I walked over and hugged him.
   "I got extra credit! I gave City Hall, the forms and my teacher gave me extra credit! I got an A in her class, now!"
    "Congrats! Would you like some cake?"
    "Cake!" He smiled. "We have cake?"
    "It's my birthday." Tiff exclaimed.
    "Mine, too." Jamie interjected.
    "I know. I was kidding."
    "Oh, darlings." I sighed, quickly frosting the cake and plopping eight candles into it. We sang happy birthday, then indulged ourselves in the chocolate raspberry cream cake Tiffi asked for, and the simpler yellow cake with vanilla frosting Jamie wanted. "I have a surprise for you two." I handed both the twins a box.
   "What is it?" Tiff asked, excitedly.
   "You can open it."
   "Yay!" She cheered, ripping the paper off the box. She revealed a new outfit I'd bought from the mall. "Oo! It's so pretty! Thanks" She scampered off to the bathroom, to try it on. "Look!" She exclaimed, emerging a minute later in her purple and dark turquoise ensemble. "Open yours Jamie!"
    "Okay." He ripped open the package I'd given him. "Nikes? Thanks mom!" I smiled as he tried on his new sneakers. I'd done well picking out gifts this year.
   Two eight year old and a thirteen year old. It's hard to believe...wow. I left Johnny three years ago and had never looked back. I wonder if he ever remarried...what happened to the eighteen year old brunette and the triplets. I know he wanted more kids, I just didn't know if he'd bother to stay with the dumb college kid. I could easily read the paper to find out, but I knew if I did it would bring too much pain. It took everything I had to run away from Johnny, if I ran back to him, crying, I'd never be able to leave again. He was cruel and abusive and he didn't know how to control himself. I felt slightly guilty, leaving him, those few years ago. He was nice, when he wasn't losing his temper, but I knew deep down that everything wasn't black and white. He had unresolved issues and me being there would only cause further turmoil. What happened if he lost control one dad and started beating the kids? I couldn't live with myself if that happened. I don't feel guilty, anymore. I feel safe.

1.7: Abuse

   "Mom, when will I not have to share a room with them?"

   "Them? Sweetie, they're your siblings, not toxic waste."
   "They cry all the time! I can't sleep for a straight hour without Tiffani or Lloyd waking up screaming! Can I please get my own room? Please?"
   "Honey, I'm trying the best I can."
   "Please?"
   "Alex, I wish I could change things. I honest to goodness do."
   "Mom." He looked as if he knew everything I'd promised was an empty promise. I couldn't help but feel ashamed and look away.
   "I love you." I kissed his forehead.
   "Love you too." He muttered.
   "Now off to beddy by. And think about this, soon they'll be three."
    "Does that mean that I'll get my own room?"
    "Alex...." I sighed. My stubborn little eight year old really hates the apartment. He loves his brother and sister, but he hate shaving to share a room. I know that if we got a house, an actual home with a lawn and everything, Alex would be happier. Not that Johnny would be okay with it. He's been working later and later every week, and he stopped being romantic. He doesn't bother with kisses or tickles or anything romantic. He seems happier whenever he comes home from work. Then, he sees his family and becomes grouchy. He goes out with friends a lot and often comes home a little tipsy, slurring dirty language he'd usually reserve for the bedroom.
  I flipped off the bedroom light and wandered into the bathroom, cleaning myself up and changing into my PJs. I slipped into bed, alone. It was ten thirty on a Saturday and Johnny as gone. I know I should have been suspicious. I just couldn't bring myself to be. I'd doubted love in the beginning. If I had another  doubt, I'd leave. I slumbered on, as I heard the front door unlock and Johnny come in. He slipped into the bed and ran his hand down my side. I felt awkward and uncomfortable, but I didn't stop pretending to sleep.
   "Alyce...." He said in a creepy voice. What was wrong?
   I ignored him and tried to force myself into sleep. I fell into a cold, dreamless nap. Dark. Cold. Unloved. My thoughts swirled darkly, as I kept trying to ignore everything, everyone. If I ignored my pain and depression, it'd go away, right?
   "Mom? Are you asleep?" Asleep? I was, wasn't I? The twins weren't crying. Were they? No, I heard silence. The faint glow of a flashlight entered my room. I heard Alex tiptoe to the easel we'd bought him a few years ago. The smell of paint wafted through the room. He was painting at. I opened one eyelid to glance at the alarm clock. Three a.m. Tomorrow there was no school, what was the harm? He couldn't sleep and was painting his frustrations out. I wonder what frustrations an eight year old has.
   "What the he-ccckkk?" He censored himself.
   "D-d-dad?"
   "Yes, you little snot. Who do you think you are? It's three," He cussed horridly, "And you're what? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
   "P-p-painting."
   "Painting? PAINTING?! Again?" I heard him hop out of bed and the sound of ripping canvas. That's the third this month. You'll think twice, right snot?"
   "Y-y-yes sir."
   "Stuttering? Are you stuttering? Is da wittle bwaby stwuttewing?"
   "Dad..." I heard tears. I can't stand this. Was Johnny secretively abusing Alex?  No. He couldn't be...not sweet Johnny....
    "Dad?!" He snarled. "Are you crying? Aw look, the wittle bwaby's cwying now. Tell your mom and I beat you again." Again?
   "What the-!" I hopped out of bed and smacked Johnny.  "If you touch him or any of MY children I swear-"
   "Alyce, baby." He smiled, smoothly. "I'm sure if you want to be fired from your job and black listed you'll do that. I have some favors to cash in with a few of my lawyer and judicial friends. We'll get a divorce. I can say you beat them and I hit you out of defense. I'll get you in prison faster than one two three. You'll never see the brats again. I'll have full custody."
   "Johnny.....please."
   "Both of you, go to bed. NOW."
  "Yes, sir." We both quickly said.
  "And Alyce," he added after Alex had left. "I know you have your little daddy issues. I know everything. Think the pregnant sixteen year old who lived in a trailer park will help your career?"
   "That never happened. I was a virgin until you and I..."
   "But everyone else doesn't know that."
   "F-"
   "Alyce. Really? You're going to use that language around children?"
   "You called Alex a little-"
   "Alyce." He smacked my face. I Turned to face the other direction in bed. I tried to muffle my tears. What happened. What happened? MY life was good. Johnny was perfect and sweet and romantic and kind and nice and....and not abusive. He isn't abusive. A voice in my head kept trying to push every negative though about Johnny away. He is only doing what you deserve. It's your fault. Guilt overcame me. Was it my thought? It was, wasn't it. I'm so stupid! He's mad since I'm having trouble losing those last five pounds from my pregnancy. That's what's wrong. That's what's wrong. Maybe if I start skipping meals....maybe if I stop eating breakfast. No sugar. Salads and water. If I diet, then Johnny will stop. It's my fault. Johnny has trouble expressing his anger. That's why he hits me. Everyone does that. It's normal. My thoughts twisted and turned, until I'd drawn myself up as the issue. Johnny wasn't being cruel to Alex. He was mad at me for not being a good mother. It was my fault.
  "Mommmmma!" Tiffi began to cry. Seven a.m. I got up and walked into her room. I picked her up and took her into the hall.
  "Look Tiffi." I cooed, rocking her. "Look, look at Bridgeport." The winter weather swirled around the city, making it picture perfect. The city was beautiful. I was lucky, to live in a gorgeous, urban city and to live in my fabulous penthouse. Not mine. I corrected. Johnny's.
  "Bwigepow." She tried to say Bridgeport.

  "Yes, Bridgeport." I smiled, kissing her nose. She'd stopped crying. I stared out the window, mystified. "Today's your birthday..."
   "Happy bwirthday to me!"
   "Happy birthday! You and Lloyd turn three today! Can you say three?" Lloyd. I still hate that name. I hate it even more now that Johnny's abusing-no helping me. He's being mean to help me. Constructive criticism. Maybe Lloyd will go by his middle name, Flynn. Lloyd James Janes. Johnny had picked both names.
  "Twee?"
   "Yes, three! You're so smart. Yes you are!"
   "Thank oo, mommy."
   "Alyce?" Johnny stood behind me.
   "Yes?"
   "Isn't tomorrow those, uh, people's birthdays?"
   "If you mean your second son and only daughter, than no."
   "Really?"
   "Yes."
   "So when is it? Next week?"
   "Try today."
   "Today? Huh. I can't be bothered with all this tuff to remember. I have work. Let's get it over with."
   "Over with?"
   "Yeah, got a problem? I'm working my a-"
   "Hehehe! Hwello dada." Tiffi cooned.
   "Hey, uh, Tanya."
   "Tanya! Are you insane-"
   "Alyce," He slapped me. "Please, continue."
   "Tiffani. Your daughters name is Tiffani."
   "Really?"
   "For three years it hasn't changed."
    "Oh.....well lets get this over with. I'll get the cake out. You get thing two."
    "He has a name."
    "Right, Lewis." 
    "Lloyd! You picked the name yourself!"

    "Whatever. The brats are going to move out and will be gone soon enough. Why bother remembering all this personal crap?" He stormed downstairs. He didn't use to be this way. What changed?
   "Happy birthday," I sang alone as Johnny held Tiffani. That was the second time he's bothered touching her.
   "Aw! Look at how pretty your are!" I cooed to her. I styled her hair and dressed her in a little jean romper dress with leggings and ballet flats. This was why I'd always wanted girl. Styling hair, buying dresses and shoes, the adorable little outfits. This is why all moms want a baby girl. The drama, the innocence, the boyfriends.....nothing that I could relate to.
  
  "Well. I'm  done." Johnny literally dropped Tiffi, as I screamed. I leaned forwards and caught her.
   "You dropped her!"
   "I know."
   "Ab-" Stop. He'd hit you if you said anything. "Never mind. What about Lloyd and his birthday?"
   "Oh. Well, guess I'll miss it."
   "Miss it? It'll take five minutes!"
   "I'm busy." He grabbed his coat and walked out. This is what I was living with. Because you're fat. Like an elephant. I bet your thighs are huge. You look obese. I  pushed the blame away from Johnny and placed it on myself.

   "Poor...Jamie..." Jamie. A nickname version of James. I was calling him by his middle name. A name I could stand.
   "Happy birthday," I sang once again.
   "Hwappy bwirthday Jamie!" Tiffi chimed in.
   "Oh, babies...." I set them on the floor, then sat down next to them. I leaned forwards onto my palms and cried. I cried for me, I cried for them, I cried for life.
   Did I really think starving myself would fix anything? I knew deep down it wouldn't. But I couldn't let Johnny be the bad guy. My husband. Husband.....husband! If I made sure to not think bad about him,he might be nicer. No he won't. I  stood up and picked up the twins.
  "Mom?" Alex stood in his PJs, rubbing hi eyes, on the last step.
  "Alex. Good morning. About last night...."
  "Dad said not to talk about it. He'll hit me again if I do." He gasped and his hands flew to cover his mouth.
   "Alex, you can say whatever you want. Dad won't touch you." I wish I could say that with confidence.
   "Really?"
   "Yes, Really. Would I lie to you?"
   "No." He smiled.
   "Want to play with Jamie?"
   "Okay." I set Jamie back down, so Alex could play patty cake.
   "Alex, please forget what daddy did."
   "Okay."
   "Thanks. Want cake?"
   "For breakfast?"
   "Sure." I smiled.
   "Awesome!"
    Maybe I'm not exactly a bad mom. Maybe Johnny is just in a phase. Like Alex's I'll-only-eat-pizza phase. That's what's wrong.  Nothing more. A phase. Johnny. Phase. I sat next to Alex and indulged in a piece of strawberry cream cake. Delicious. A little family owned grocery store that sells the best home grown veggies and fruit makes fabulous desserts. I wish I could cook that well. Maybe if I cooked better Johnny would like me better. No! NO! It isn't about your cooking. The voice in my head is right. I wished I'd never thought that sentence. It's about your waist size. Size zero. Johnny loves that. Not size four. Johnny loves zero. Z-E-R-O. That's what Johnny loves. He doesn't want a fat cow! I'm not a fat cow. Four is actually really skinny for someone who popped out three kids. Four is skinny for everyone! Anyone that's a ten is probably doing well. Ten is good. And I'm a four! That means four is great! Ten isn't bad, so four is great. Haha. Look at the fatty, trying to lie to herself. 
   "Are you done?" I asked Alex.
   "Yep, thanks."
   "No problem, honey." I cleaned up the dishes and went to the bedroom. I sat on the floor and forced my stomach's contents up. There, Johnny would love me. Why did I have to get his approval? Why could I just learn that one abusive man's approval wasn't worth it? Why couldn't I leave? Why? It was just like when my dad left...I couldn't accept the fact that the person I loved might not be perfect; I had to take the blame and place it on myself. Only this time, it was a thousand times worse.

1.6: Isn't Three Enough For Him

   Being pregnant is awful. Don't get me wrong the pregnancy glow and the little life is defiantly a perk, but the morning sickness, weight gain, inability to control my bladder, morning sickness, and the aches and pains are terrible. I don't understand how some people have multiple children. I was perfectly content with one, but Johnny....Mr. Family Man, wanted more.  We mutually decided that we'd let nature take its course; if I got pregnant, great, if I didn't, even better!

    "Alyce, are you okay?" Johnny asked for the fifth time in twenty minutes. 

    "I'm fine."

    "Are you sure? Do you need anything?"

    "Nah, I'm-OOO!" 

    "A-are you-? Oh-!" He started freaking out.

    "I'm fine! Just a little pain ." I was seven months pregnant, an defiantly feeling the effects.

   "Alyce are you ready....?"

   "No!" I nearly screamed. I was going have to squeeze two watermelon headed babies through myself and Johnny thinks I'll be ready? "All your fault..." I mumbled. I hated being knocked up; worse I was having twins.

   "Oh, babe." He tried kissing me and I let him. He massaged me, and began talking in a deep voice that I couldn't resist. I was ready to nail him against the door, when Alex woke up and began crying. Crap. Please tell me that I'm not a bad parent. In the four, almost five, years since Alex's been born, I've done it one time. And that one time I happened to get knocked up.

   "Ugh. Hey, how will we fit two cribs and a bed in here?"

   "We'll figure something out." He smiled.

   "I hope so..." I whispered. I had two months to go and I felt horribly unprepared. 

   "Hey, Aly, what's today?" I mumbled off the date, mindlessly.  "Today is," He proded.

   "I told you!" 

   "Our wedding anniversary."

   "Oh, yeah....."

   "Wanna put Alex down for his nappie and-" I interrupted him by grabbing him and kissing him. "I'll take that as a yes." 

   Two days later, I felt horribly guilty. I know that it's probably just emotional hormones, but still. I probably traumatized Alex with that kiss....and the language I used....and the other things I did.....

   "Happy birthday," Johnny began to sing. Today, my baby turns five. My first baby,, that is. The twins have been rather restless and something tells me Alex won't be the only child in the house; if not this week, probably next. 

      "Smile, son." I said as I snapped his picture.

      "Mom." He said, refusing to smile.
     "Com'on, honey." I hugged him. "You're present is waiting upstairs."
     "Present? Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He ran upstairs. He's always been a little artistic, so I bought him an easel. We'd figured out living arrangements, for now at least. We bought a loft and an extra crib, and moved the master bedroom to the smaller former nursery and the nursery to my former master bedroom.
   Bright and early Monday morning, Alex was up, eagerly.
   "Mom!" He cheered. "I finally get to go to school."
   "I'm glad you're excited." I tried hugging with my gigantic balloon sized belly. I waved goodbye as he bored the school bus with his books and bag. He's growing up fast.
   "Alyce..." Johnny walked up, behind me.
   "Johnny....do you think I'm a good mother?"
   "I don't think anything."
   "Ohh..."
   "Because, Alyce," He took my chin in his hands,"I know you're a great Mother. And I love you." He kissed my lips. "And I love you, too." He rubbed my bloated tummy. "You know, I was thinking...."
   "What?"
   "We already have three-"
   "WIll have."
   "We will have three kids, why not make it five or six?"
   "Are you insane?!"
   "No, I just always wanted a big family...."
   "Try carrying a person around in your tummy for nine months, not being able to control your bladder, constantly being in pain, and then having to squeeze a watermelon through a water hose!"
   "Alyce...."
   "Let's forget it. I'm hungry." We walked downstairs and I stood by the fridge.
   "I'm sorry. Alyce? I'm sorry. Baby, please say something."

   "My water just broke."
   "Huh?"
   "My. Water. Just. Broke! IDIOT!"
   "Calm down," He got dressed and quickly drove me to the hospital.
   "Breath, breath." The nurse kept telling me.
   "Why did you do this to me!?" I screamed at Johhny. "I hate you."
   "Uh," HE glanced at the nurse.
   "Labor pains. It'll pass."
   "Oh, honey. I'm sorry. I love y-OUU! Contraction."
   "Alyce," A doctor walked in.
   "I'm afraid we have," he babbled a bunch of medical words.
   "Great. Do you have any painkillers?"
   "Alyce, we have to do a C-section."
   "Huh?"
   "Cut you open." Johnny quickly said.
   "It won't be painful," He glared at Johnny with hatred and a look that said "Shut up, I'm paid to do this."
   "Okay...."
   "The twins will die if we don't do it soon."
   "DIE?!" I began crying like a hormonal wreck.
   "It'll be okay."

   The doctors prepped me for C section as I tried to remain calm. Calm. I wasn't going to have to fit the kids through my-I blacked out. They gave me some medically words so I wouldn't feel a thing. I demanded they knocked me out, because you don't argue with someone knocked up, they agreed.
   "Congrats, Mommy." Johnny was standing by me, holding another squishy lump in a pink blanket. He handed me the lump. "Meet your daughter."
  "Tiffani...." I named her. Johnny looked like he'd protest, but let me have my way with her first name. "Wait..." I panicked. "Where's the another one?" He was alive, wasn't he."
   "Calm down." The nurse walked over and gave me another bundle wrapped in blue. My son. "What would yo like to name him?"
 "Well-"
 "Lloyd!" Johnny interrupted. Lloyd? I hated that name. My Father's middle name....Matthew Lloyd Janes....
  "Actually-" Johnny looked at me with a "You gave our daughter her name, I get to name my son." look. I was to tired to argue, so I agreed as his name was etched on a birth certificate, never to change.
   "You know," I said as I walked out of the hospital.
   "You want another baby?"
   "No! I'm good with three."
   "Plleeeaaasssse?"
   "They aren't puppies! I'm not going to pop another freaking brat out!" I screamed at him. I didn't exactly say brat or freaking, though. My language was much more.....colorful.
   "Alyce, look-"
   "No!" I stormed off to the car.
   "I love-"
   "Bull crap!" Johnny wanted kids? I gave him three freaking angels! How does he think he has the right to ask for more? How? He was a crazy thirty-one year old who was on the verge of  insane! I was sensible. Twenty-five and mother to three. Twenty-five.....sven years since I'd moved to Bridgeport...I wonder how my Mother is. I really should have called her. I should have.

   Our marriage has become a lot more strained in the past two years, ever since the twins where born. I regret it every day. Maybe, if I had stuck with one child life would be different....Maybe I'd be happier.....Maybe....maybe maybe wouldn't be what I have left. Maybe life would be different. Maybe I'd be living in that apartment still.....the apartment. I conceived all my children there...in the beginning of my life, I was a naive girl and that apartment was my safe haven with Johnny. Johnny....