Drills Before Coffee? Srsly?

One holiday tradition I could do without: the annual reinstallation. The ‘rents don’t only buy big stuff but that mostly what they hang downstairs to “showcase.” They have a lot of parties for the holidays and so everything gets moved around.

There’s a ginormous Brice Marden in the foyer that gets put in storage so we have a place for a tree. They put up a big crow instead. I think it’s creepy but Mom likes the “nature theme.” I get it, but this evil creature looks like she’s going for your eyes! Like Christmas with Tippi Hedren.

Anyway, things get moved around and some holiday art comes out of hiding and that’s all good. Except that it takes all day to do and so the art handlers are already here making as much hella noise as humanly possible. I guess I’m up for good and that means espresso needs to be in me now, but I’m not going down to the kitchen until I comb out this rat’s nest. Hey, some art handlers are cute!

Speaking of cute, here’s Brice Marden’s daughter, Mirabelle. She’s the girl in the brown dress. I don’t know the kid that’s macking on my sugar but she better back off! Seriously, Mirabelle, you’ve got my digits, right?



Coffee . . . .

Dirty Clothes Packed

I’m leaving for the airport. Everything is packed, mostly dirty clothes I’ll wash when I get home. Or Mom will wash them. I’ll just leave my bag in the garage on top of the washing machine. My private stuff is in my backpack, and anyway, I left anything suspicious at his place.

Mom will ask the usual nosey questions. How are your suite mates? Did you tell Julie I said hello? Was Liam sad to see you leave on break? I’ll answer honestly about my suite mates and Julie. I can even say that yeah, Liam will miss me. It’s the truth. I can leave out that he’s been missing me for months. I tried staying his girlfriend after I met my man, but I couldn’t keep it up. He was too hurt and I was too bored.

Anyway, it was too hard to hide the marks. The marks that tell me I’m his. The marks I feel under my clothes when I walk. The marks I can’t help poking and feeling when I’m alone in the shower, or in my tiny bed at night, under the covers, remembering what it’s like to be in his bed.

I’ll tell Mom the real truth about Liam. Maybe I’ll say we broke up when spring break comes, so I won’t have to explain why we’re not going someplace together. I can just be a single girl until summer, at least so far as Mom knows. After that I’ll invent some new boyfriend to tell her about.

I can’t tell her the truth. Mom, I’m seeing an older man. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt. He makes love to me all night. He ties me up. He hits me. I’m addicted to his touch. Everything in my life until now is just another stone in my pocket. I’m weighed down until I leap into him. Then, by some miracle, my body sinks but I float, my consciousness as light as a leaf in his current.