It started with a break up. The college whatever relationship, three plus years, came to its inevitable end. And though it comes with freedom it doesn't come without pain and uncertainty. So I decided to get the fuck away from her and myself, or that is, the me I was with her. Didn't even want to know that person. Either of us. So unload the bank account and move.
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I hate it when they keep moving stuff around. When it comes to things like fish or produce, I find better quality at the local health food chain store. But the produce department here seems to like to move things around from week to week, I guess to create a more seasonally appropriate display. But I'm a pragmatic man, and I like to find things in the same place.
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"Welcome home, Jane." My wife greeted me as I walked through the door and into the warmth of our home. She was zipping up the coats of our three year old son, Andrew and our five year old daughter, Julie.
"Thanks, babe." I replied, going over to kiss her. Then I gave kisses to my kids atop their hatted heads. "And where are you little rascals going at this time of night?"
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The dance music was loud. The club was packed with sweaty bodies, and Karen was thirsty. She moved past gyrating bodies and through entangled couples. The dance club charged a lot for drinks, so she ordered a bottle of water and retreated to a corner. She sipped it and stared out at the dance floor. Karen was a twenty three year old senior in college, finishing up a Masters in communication.
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I just about keeled over when I walked into the pool on the Saturday of Memorial Day weekend and saw who this year's lifeguards were. I knew them of course, heck, just last year I'd graduated high school with them and I'd thought I'd never see them again since we'd all headed off in different directions for college! Well, they headed off. I went to the local state University so that I could save some money by living with my parents.
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You go to the fridge, dragging the door open, as the conversation continues loudly behind you. Laughter rings out over the clamor of the television and you draw four cold long-neck beers from the crisper, set them on the small silver tray you were given for your hostess duties this evening, and with a pop-pop-pop-pop the caps are all neatly removed and discarded. You brush down the leather skirt and adjust your corset before entering the living room again.
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The morning mist covered the grass and flowers; it was a beautiful May morning in Georgia. Birds were chirping and a slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees that lined the long driveway that led to a spacious mansion. It was difficult for Nora to believe that she was only sixty miles out side of Atlanta;
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Trixie lurched through the door, heels clack-clacking on the laminate flooring as she stumbled. Failing to realise the racket she had just created, she turned and carefully shut the door, just in case her boyfriend, Gary, had gone to bed already. He had let her borrow his keys just case she came home really late, as he had an early start the next morning – a weekend away with the boys.
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The week had been pure hell. Work was driving me up a wall, and I was beginning to fear that I would soon lose it. I had enough stress to supply the eastern seaboard for life. Anyway, it was Friday night, and I wanted to put the week behind me. I picked up dinner on the way home, and fought my way through the evening traffic.
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When you love music and like talking about it, radio is the way to go. But as a bill-paying career, it leaves a lot to be desired.
I'm not complaining...well, maybe a little. I'm a single mother driving a 17-year-old car and one income from my noon to 3pm gig at a local rock station wasn't cutting it. The drive-time guys make the big money, especially if their ratings are solid, and I would go play with them on the air sometimes just to feed off their fame and get a couple of weekend remotes to pull in a few extra bucks.
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