Yes, it has been collecting dust, but no longer! Here is an excerpt that I wrote over a year ago, maybe even two, who knows? *shrugs* From now on, I will be making a commitment to writing a blog every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday (or at least three times a week, whichever comes first). I must get my 10,000 hours in. Enjoy!
“You bitch!” she breathed. “You got me pregnant!”
It was a Sunday morning, around four. He’d woken up to the sound of furious pounding at the door. He tried ignoring it, thinking it was a confused neighbor. But the knocking only grew louder and louder. He shook his head, threw on a pair of jeans, and swung the door open.
It was her…who else would it be?
Her silhouette grabbed him and pushed him back into the living room.
“You son of a bitch! I’m pregnant!”
Stupid question (in retrospect?)
“You must be stupid. You got me pregnant! “
She hit one of his walls. “I don’t want your fucking kids! I need to work on myself. I’ve got enough on my plate without bringing your spawn into the world.” She punched the wall again, louder than first time.
“I need a drink! That’s what I need.”
“You really don’t…”
“You got a beer in the fridge? ” She went on, clearly ignoring him.
“No,” he lied.
She stared at him. “You’re lying!” She yelled at him. “Son of a bitch!” She yelled again as she jumped over his couch and violently opened the refrigerator.
“Liar, liar, LIAR! You have a six pack in here!” she pulled one out.” I will help myself to one.”
He grabbed it out of her hand.
She smacked him in the face. Hard.
He slammed her against the wall.
Then he left. He walked past the complexes. The convenient stores. The bar. The park. He sat under a tree by the lake. He stared at that lake, in all its glory. The moon was only a sliver, but it still reflected on the lake quite beautifully. For awhile, he was lost in the merging of moon and water.
He didn’t want to have a kid. He was still young. And that girl was crazy. He couldn’t have a kid with her. She would do crazy things with that kid. That kid would have half her crazy genes. He couldn’t have that.
He sighed. He knew what he had to do. She was crazy, she drank, and she did drugs. She was always downing a cocktail of chemicals. It was a hit or miss – sometimes she was the most wonderful person in the world, but others, she was a paranoid, overemotional, and sometimes violent brat.
He didn’t understand why he put up with her, and for so long. Maybe she was adding some excitement to his life? Maybe he saw a little of himself in her – the confusion, the uncertainty of it all. Life. Maybe he had a Messiah complex and wanted to save her from herself. She was very beautiful, he thought. But she was a lost soul, her head forever stuck in the clouds. And she found reality extremely difficult to cope with – that’s why the drugs and alcohol were always there. A baby couldn’t survive in an environment like that.
He got up and headed back to his apartment. The door was still open. She lay sprawled on the floor, crying quietly.
She sensed his presence and straightened up. Her stare was hollow.
He walked over to the small box on the fake fireplace and opened it. Surprisingly his money was still there (she would usually take some whenever he refused to feed into her habit). He grabbed a wad of fifties and gave them to her.
They had a moment: he looked at her, she at him. They knew what was going to happen.
She cried out, jumped up, and gave him a nearly suffocating hug. “Thanks, baby. I love you so much!” She started kissing him. That was their normal routine. But his heart wasn’t in it this time. He felt nothing towards her. He wasn’t surprised. This too, was routine: the breaking up and the shouting match that ensued, the long periods of not speaking to each other, the inevitable getting back together and acting as if it never happened dozens of times before.
It was a cycle that had been going on for years. He knew it wasn’t going anywhere. But who was going to stop it?