Archive for Daily

Pity and the Bottle

Posted in Dialogue, Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 1, 2016 by Rathan Krueger

POLLY
Why don’t you put the bottle down?

FRANCESCA
No point, didn’t you know? I’m worthless.

POLLY
No one’s worthless, Francesca.

FRANCESCA
Tell that to the dead.

POLLY
But you’re not.

FRANCESCA
Sure as fuck seems like it.

POLLY
You’re talking to me right now, and drinking more than you should. The dead don’t do much else besides bloat and rot.

FRANCESCA
Once a month, I get bloated and feel rotten. Same diff.

POLLY
That has nothing to do with being dead and you know it. What’s with this pity parade?

FRANCESCA
A gal can’t feel fucking sorry for herself sometimes?

POLLY
Not when it leads to being self-destructive.

FRANCESCA
I don’t see any broken windows.

POLLY
I see empty bottles.

FRANCESCA
Ah, shut–

POLLY
They weren’t here last week when I was here. Which means they were bought recently. You’re the only one who lives here. Which means that your liver and bladder are at least 70-proof.

FRANCESCA
Maybe I wanted to pretend I’m in college again.

POLLY
You hated college.

FRANCESCA
Then my behavior isn’t so outstanding, is it?

POLLY
Yes, Francesca, yes, it fucking is. You’re better than this. You’re so much better than this. We used to make fun of people who did what you’re doing.

FRANCESCA
And what, my captain, am I doing that’s bait for our mocking eyes?

POLLY
You’re trying to burn whatever problem you’re going through with fire water, but it’s never the answer. Not in college. Not now. Not when you’re dead. Talk to me.

FRANCESCA
I am talking to you. See? “Hi, Polly! Sunny day, eh? Want a cracker?”

POLLY
Is it because of something I did?

FRANCESCA
“I bet you think this song is about you…”

POLLY
You’re trying to make me angry and you’re scaring me.

FRANCESCA
You want scary, you should look at what I left in the bathroom. It gets really hard to find the toilet sometimes.

POLLY
What? What the fuck is it?

FRANCESCA
I’ve got you swearing.

POLLY
Yes, Francesca, damnit. You’ve got me fucking swearing. Are you fucking happy now?

FRANCESCA
If I was happy, would I be surrounded by all these dead soldiers?

POLLY
I know what you’re trying to do.

FRANCESCA
Oh? Share your feelings with the group.

POLLY
You’re trying to push me away. You’re trying to make yourself the victim so that you can feel better about this bullshit you’re putting your body through.

FRANCESCA
Actually, this is high-end tequila.

POLLY
I don’t care, give it to me.

FRANCESCA
No. And if you try to take it from me, I will beat you to death with it, bitch, I don’t care how long we’ve been friends.

POLLY
You’d break the bottle.

FRANCESCA
And I would sip whatever I could off your corpse. You’ve had body shots done off of you, you know what that’s like.

POLLY
Did something happen with your family?

FRANCESCA
No, nothing happened with my family. Nothing ever happens with my family. Nothing never-ever happens with my fucking family. Fuck, I thought you were my friend.

POLLY
Stop being condescending.

FRANCESCA
I’ll be what I want, I’m grown.

POLLY
Yes, you are, so stop acting like a brat.

FRANCESCA
Ooo, “brat”! I thought I had you swearing. You should’ve said something more along the lines of “bitch”. Or are you going back to schoolyard swears, doody-head?

POLLY
I don’t get you right now.

FRANCESCA
You’re not supposed to.

POLLY
Did someone turn you down?

FRANCESCA
“Want a cracker?”

POLLY
That’s it? You’re destroying your life because of a piece of ass?

FRANCESCA
Would that make me the stereotype? Would my pain be less valid if I was a trope?

POLLY
Nothing about you is less valid, Francesca, it’s just that…

FRANCESCA
Just what? A woman can’t have her heart broken and be a mess? I’m sorry if I’m not evolved enough to match your critique on modern femininity.

POLLY
Was it a man?

FRANCESCA
Why would it matter? Heartache is heartache. I didn’t know agony depended on gender. It was a hermaphrodite. There. Now the feminists won’t know what to make of me.

POLLY
I don’t… I don’t get…

FRANCESCA
What? Just because you have thoughts different from mine about relationships doesn’t make my problems enigmatic. I never felt that your issues were weird. Your jumping from person to person because you got what you needed from them… that sort of thing made you you and those you dated knew what they were getting into.

POLLY
But you’re killing yourself over someone.

FRANCESCA
I’m mourning what could’ve been. If that’s too romantic for you, there’s the door. I didn’t ask you to be a part of this. Fuck, I didn’t even ask you to be here. Why did you come here in the first fucking place?

POLLY
I wanted to… I wanted to know if… if…

FRANCESCA
Speak, bitch.

POLLY
I wanted to know if you’d be my fucking wingman, ok? But I know how fucking ridiculously absurd that is now, with the state of you.

FRANCESCA
Yeah, I think it’d be a bad idea to bring the relapsed alcoholic into a situation that made her slip up in the first place.

POLLY
…you were an alcoholic?

FRANCESCA
Wanna see my chips? Or what’s left of them. I cut ’em all up last night.

POLLY
I didn’t know.

FRANCESCA
That’s the thing about drunks: they’re very clever about hiding their problems. At least, until they throw up on a cop after they bust you for a DUI.

POLLY
But you can’t let yourself go, I don’t care who hurt you.

FRANCESCA
That’s the thing about romantics: they can.

empty_glass_bottles_000056169688

Daily Dialogue: The Pickle Pregancy

Posted in Dialogue, Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , , on March 3, 2015 by Rathan Krueger

Forty minutes a day, I type the words of two made-up women. Or, in this case, girls.

Suzie
Where do babies come from?

Maisie
I think it’s the stork, but I only saw him with pickles.

Suzie
Storks have pickles?

Maisie
Yeah, on the TV.

Suzie
What’s a stork?

Maisie
It’s a birdy with white feathers and a loooooong nose. And, and a blue hat.

Suzie
Ooooooh! A stork! Yeah, it does have pickles.

Maisie
Told ya.

Suzie
Babies come from pickles?

Maisie
I guess so. My mommies say that I came from a stork and the storks I saws had pickles.

Suzie
I ate so many babies…

Maisie
Why are you eating babies?

Suzie
I didn’t mean to. I get them for snacks. I like snacks. Does that mean I’m gonna have babies?

Maisie
Why would eating pickles give you babies?

Suzie
Because maybe if I eat enough of them, they’ll make a baby. I eat lotsa pickles.

Maisie
Yeah, your breath smells like dookie.

Suzie
Pickles don’t smell like dookie!

Maisie
Then it smells like… pickle dookie.

Suzie
You’re a pickle dookie!

Maisie
Nuh-uh!

Suzie
Yes-huh!

Maisie
Nuh-uh!

Suzie
Yes-huh!

Maisie
Nuh-uh times infinity times infinity!

Suzie
Plus one.

Maisie
Times infinity!

Suzie
Plus one!

Maisie
Why do you always gotta be the best?

Suzie
It’s not my fault I can count past infinity.

Maisie
How did you do that?

Suzie
One time, I was at the beach and I counted every sand and I got past infinity.

Maisie
Wow… I played in the water.

Suzie
And that’s why you can’t count to infinity. You can’t never never never count water.

Maisie
Yes-huh!

Suzie
Nuh-uh!

Maisie
Stop being such a pessy-mist. You can do whatever you want. My mommies say so.

Suzie
Your mommies never tried counting water.

Maisie
But they’re right. When you told me that I snored, I knew you were a liar-liar. So I stayed up all night to see if I did. Guess what? I didn’t, Miss Pants-On-Fire.

Suzie
I still think you snore. But we gotta talk about my pickles now. And my babies!

Maisie
You’re really gonna have a baby?

Suzie
I gotta prepare, just in case.

Maisie
What are you gonna call it?

Suzie
Gotham.

Maisie
That sounds like a boy’s name. What if it’s a girl?

Suzie
Gotham.

Maisie
Why are you gonna call it that?

Suzie
Because when it’s crying, I can say that Gotham needs me.

Maisie
Ooo. I want a Gotham, too.

Suzie
Get your own. Eat pickles the stork gives out.

Maisie
But I hate pickles.

Suzie
Then you’re never never never getting a baby or a Gotham.

Maisie
I gotsa kitty, so I don’t need a baby. So there.

Suzie
You can’t change Darth Meowmers’ name to Gotham.

Maisie
I can call him whatever I want, he’s my kitty.

Suzie
You can’t name him Gotham! I took the name already!

Maisie
Where’s your baby?

Suzie
It’s… coming.

Maisie
Darth Meowmers is here now, so I can change his name to Gotham, so there.

Suzie
You’re a meanie.

Maisie
And you gots pickle dookie breath. But you’re still my friend.

Suzie
I don’t wanna be your friend anymore.

Maisie
Why?

Suzie
You stole my baby’s name and gave it to your kitty who already had a good name and I earned Gotham because I ate so many pickles And you say I have pickle dookie breath and–

Maisie
Ok, ok, you can have Gotham back, ok?

Suzie
Yay! You can be its auntie.

Maisie
I can?

Suzie
Yes-huh.

Maisie
Yay! What do aunties do?

Suzie
Mommy stuff when Mommy’s busy with friends or at the boat.

Maisie
Change diapers, too?

Suzie
Changing diapers is mommy stuff.

Maisie
But I don’t wanna clean up Gotham…

Suzie
No one LIKES cleaning boom-boom, but it’s gotta be done.

Maisie
If I gotsta change diapers, I want more than being an auntie.

Suzie
Like what?

Maisie
You know what I want.

Suzie
But… It’s my only one.

Maisie
It’s for Gotham. You’d do anything for Gotham, right?

Suzie
Yeah…

Maisie
Then give it to me.

Daily Dialogue: Suffer the Foolish

Posted in Dialogue, Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 2, 2015 by Rathan Krueger

Two imaginary women rant through my fingertips for 40 minutes a day. I might up it to 60 someday, but that’s in the distant future.

Karen
I think I’m ready.

Oswin
Did I miss part of our conversation? Ready for what?

Karen
To leave.

Oswin
We’re going somewhere?

Karen
I am. To the top.

Oswin
Top of what?

Karen
Dunno. Whenever someone says they’re going straight to the top? That top.

Oswin
Oh yeah. Why are you ready for that top?

Karen
Feelings I have changed.

Oswin
You’re ready for the fury of fans who’ll watch your every move as a dancer? You know normal women get a lot of shit for gaining a little weight. I can’t imagine what kind of manure volleys you’ll be taking when your unitard’s a little tight.

Karen
I’m ready for that.

Oswin
You’re a fat ass.

Karen
What?

Oswin
You’re a fat ass and you can’t keep to a rhythm to save your life.

Karen
Why are you–

Oswin
That hurt? Could you take it?

Karen
Yeah.

Oswin
Why don’t you go dance where bitches like you belong? I’ve got a few bucks waiting for your g-string.

Karen
Stop being–

Oswin
That hurt? Could you take it?

Karen
Yeah, but I don’t understand what you’re trying to–

Oswin
I’m trying to toughen you up, doof. If you can’t take it from a friend, how do you think you can take it from strangers?

Karen
You’re right. But could you not be as mean?

Oswin
I’m holding back. People with no connection to you won’t. People who hide behind anonymity are worse. Then there are some who spew bile just because they can. You wanna be at the top, you gotta be prepared for chaotic good and evil.

Karen
Chaotic good?

Oswin
I’ve seen every performance of yours and I’m your biggest fan. Your. Biggest. Fan. I know we don’t know each other, but I could tell that you’ve always been dancing for me. So let’s get married!

Karen
Those kind of men exist?

Oswin
Those kind of PEOPLE exist.

Karen
It can’t be that bad.

Oswin
There’s a woman who’s married to the Eiffel Tower. They even consummated it. Oh, and in case you were wondering, the Tower’s female, so it’s a Sapphic relationship.

Karen
What the fuck?

Oswin
Do you know about Real Dolls?

Karen
No…

Oswin
They’re sex dolls made out of silicone that look and feel pretty much like a real woman.

Karen
How long have they been around?

Oswin
Oh, for years and years! I haven’t looked into it but you could probably get one to look like a specific woman.

Karen
Why are you telling me about them?

Oswin
Because, there’s a good chance that someone’s gonna make one of you and explore all your silicone cavities.

Karen
That’s so wrong.

Oswin
And part of being on top.

Karen
But I won’t ask for any of that!

Oswin
No one up top does. Only the ones who want the drama don’t make it. Have you heard what happened to Björk a few years ago?

Karen
No…

Oswin
A fan broke into her house and killed themself.

Karen
What? Why?

Oswin
Can’t remember. Probably out of love. Or, “love.”

Karen
Why are people so fucked-up? I just wanna be the best dancer in the world. I don’t wanna deal with psychotics!

Oswin
But that’s part of the gig.

Karen
Why?

Oswin
Why what?

Karen
Why is it ok that I’d have to put up with crazy people fucking dolls that look like me or killing themselves because they love me so I can be the best?

Oswin
It’s the way it’s always been. And you’re gonna have to deal with liars. A lot of liars.

Karen
What would people lie about?

Oswin
Knowing you, dating you, fucking you, training you, raising you, making you, breaking you. Anything to get a bit of your spotlight.

Karen
Why is celebrity so important to these people?

Oswin
Something clicked, or snapped, and they figured that celebrity, no matter how much or how long, is worth everything.

Karen
The word feels like glass powder to me now.

Oswin
Look at YouTube. How many of those billions of videos do you think are worthwhile, and how many do you think are people looking for attention. Know about ipecac?

Karen
No…

Oswin
It’s a drug you take to induce vomiting. There are so many videos of people drinking that, and pranking people with that.

Karen
Why?

Oswin
Easy fame. People love a good trainwreck. I was at a party once and there was a stain on the carpet in the basement. Later that night, I found out that the host and his friends have a playlist them doing nothing but making themselves throw up.

Karen
But that’ll tear up their insides.

Oswin
And get them a few hits.

Karen
I… I…

Oswin
This is the world you’re entering by going to the top. Is it worth it? Is the pain and stupidity worth it? Is the joy and success still worth it?

Daily Dialogue: A Sickly, Sexy Thing

Posted in Dialogue, Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , on March 1, 2015 by Rathan Krueger

For 40 minutes a day, as I slip back into the old routine, I get two imaginary women to gab with wild abandon.

Adelaide
Welcome back.

Lydia
Thanks.

Adelaide
Where’d you go, anyway?

Lydia
To find myself.

Adelaide
Did you?

Lydia
I caught a cold. And I’d rather not think of the existential implications of that, so please don’t ask about it.

Adelaide
Fair enough.

Lydia
And do you know the worst part?

Adelaide
I thought I couldn’t ask any questions.

Lydia
You’re not, I am.

Adelaide.
Right. No.

Lydia
ACHOO! I sneeze instead of cough whenever I have a cold.

Adelaide
You’re a weirdo.

Lydia
Don’t you think I know that? And my nose runs so slowly. Like, it takes hours for it to get out of my nose.

Adelaide
Ew.

Lydia
And blowing it takes longer. Well, at least the goo isn’t pee-green.

Adelaide
You’ve had green pee?

Lydia
What? Never.

Adelaide
Then why’d you say that?

Lydia
People say pee-green all the time.

Adelaide
News to me. Mine was never green.

Lydia
Mine either.

Adelaide
So stop spreading the propaganda.

Lydia
Fine. And another thing I hate about colds is that my nose always burns.

Adelaide
From blowing it so much? Me too.

Lydia
No, not that. You know that burn you get sometimes before you sneeze?

Adelaide
Oh, I hate that.

Lydia
Try putting up with that AND being sick.

Adelaide
I’m so sorry. Do you want me to put you out of your misery?

Lydia
Maybe a few days ago. Now it’s not so bad.

Adelaide
Oh, that’s good. My offer still stands, though. I refuse to let a friend live with that level of torment.

Lydia
What more could I ask for?

Adelaide
A new nose.

Lydia
Yeah…

Adelaide
Where’d you catch your cold at?

Lydia
Making the wrong turn at Albuquerque.

Adelaide
Huh?

Lydia
Nothing. I dunno where it happened.

Adelaide
How’d you go about finding yourself? And why did you need to?

Lydia
Trying to find myself. And I did things I thought I liked because I’ve felt lost lately.

Adelaide
How lately?

Lydia
Since New Year’s.

Adelaide
Maybe because you threw up so much that you left a chunk of your brain floating.

Lydia
That’s gross.

Adelaide
You told me to–

Lydia
ACHOO!

Adelaide
–shoehorn that incident into any convo I could to remind you never to do it again.

Lydia
Oh. Right.

Adelaide
Did it work?

Lydia
Yeah, I still never wanna drink again.

Adelaide
Great.

Lydia
But no, it’s not because of my… accident.

Adelaide
Then why?

Lydia
Part of finding myself was to find out why I was finding myself.

Adelaide
And instead, you caught a cold.

Lydia
Yeah… What did you do while I was gone?

Adelaide
Got laid a few times and tried my hand at the stock game.

Lydia
Wow, those are really random.

Adelaide
I figured that since I’ve seen “Wolf of Wall Street,” I couldn’t get suckered into any tricks.

Lydia
Did you?

Adelaide
Nope! But I suck at picking stocks.

Lydia
That’s ACHOO! Terrible. Ah, fuck! My back!

Adelaide
You sneezed so hard that you hurt your back? Wow.

Lydia
I hate colds. So, you suck at stocks.

Adelaide
Equally as much as cock, but only one pays off in my favor. Eventually.

Lydia
You know, I could never get used to having one in my mouth.

Adelaide
You’d probably chomp one off with your back-aching sneezes over there.

Lydia
Great, another complex to have.

Adelaide
You can’t have a complex over something you don’t do.

Lydia
I… can?

Adelaide
No, you can’t.

Lydia
Oh. It’s a shame, though.

Adelaide
What, not liking giving head? Why? You like to fuck, right?

Lydia
I love it as much as I hate colds.

Adelaide
What’s the problem?

Lydia
Dunno… Just seems quicker to do, I guess. Sometimes I don’t wanna go through the process of getting wet, fitting him in, then wearing a pad.

Adelaide
Uh… Why would you wear a pad?

Lydia
Sometimes he finished inside ACHOO! Me. I’m on the pill, so I’m not worried. But his leavins don’t get hoovered by my womb. Most of it runs. Like my nose.

Adelaide
Ok, I’m never getting a cold again. Vitamin C overdose, here I come.

Lydia
What? You can’t tell me you’ve never have that running problem.

Adelaide
I have, but I just don’t talk about it.

Lydia
Why not? It’s embarrassing, sure, but that’s why I use the pad.

Adelaide
I’d rather not.

Lydia
You’d rather have sticky inner thighs all night?

Adelaide
I’d rather not talk about it.

Lydia
But you brought up head.

Adelaide
Yeah, to…

Lydia
To what?

Adelaide
To maybe mock your inability to do it.

Lydia
Oh, I get it. It’s ok to be the dirty one as long as it’s not disturbing you.

Adelaide
THANK you!

Lydia
It’s a great quick fix, though.

Adelaide
Speaking of quick, your only reason to wanna like head is because it’s quicker than sex? What about a hand job?

Lydia
I can do those.

Adelaide
Why do you need head, then? It’s essentially the same thing, just swap the dangers of nails with teeth.

Lydia
ACHOO! Or not.

Adelaide
Or not. Be glad with what you can do and not sad with what you can’t. I mean, you have two arms, right?

Lydia
Yeah…?

Adelaide
And two legs, right?

Lydia
That don’t get sticky because of leavins, yes.

Adelaide
Listen–

Lydia
ACHOO!

Daily Dialogue: My Nightingale, Last Part

Posted in Dialogue, Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 28, 2015 by Rathan Krueger

And now, fulfilling a promise I made to myself at the start of this. Thanks for joining the ride.

Alessandra
It’s ok. It’s all ok. I’m here for you now.

Imogen
What do you mean?

Alessandra
Isn’t it obvious? How you opened up to me, how I opened up to you, how you decided to stay, how you entered my life? We’re meant to be together.

Imogen
You have the wrong idea.

Alessandra
I have the only right idea I’ve ever had in my life. Look at you. You’re perfect. And you opened up to me.

Imogen
Yeah, because…

Alessandra
Why?

Imogen
If I tell you, you’ll just take it the wrong way.

Alessandra
Take what the wrong way, my love?

Imogen
I thought we had a bonding thing going on. And I’m not your love.

Alessandra
How could I take that the wrong way?

Imogen
I can see it in your eyes. You think I meant as lovers. I meant as friends.

Alessandra
The best kind of love starts out as friendship.

Imogen
And the worst kind. There are some friends who try to cross the line and end up burning the bridge. I don’t wanna do that to us.

Alessandra
You’re so sweet. Don’t worry, the universe has plans for us. I can tell.

Imogen
Plans as friends. Why don’t you wait for my leg to heal? I can’t fall in love with a bum leg. Plus, I’ve never seen your house.

Alessandra
I can carry you around.

Imogen
And risk hurting me? Do you have stairs? And lots of corners? Think of what’d happen if I hit those corners. Or if you dropped me.

Alessandra
Is that what you think of me? That I’d be so careless, I’d hurt the love of my life?

Imogen
I’m not your love.

Alessandra
How can you say that?

Imogen
How can YOU say that? You don’t know anything about me, and I know even less about you.

Alessandra
I know that you have a champagne-colored birthmark high on your inner thigh.

Imogen
So does anyone who sees me in a bathing suit. And you’re forgetting the most important thing.

Alessandra
What?

Imogen
I don’t like women.

Alessandra
Love is the great transcender.

Imogen
Not for me, it’s not.

Alessandra
It could be.

Imogen
No. I’ve never been attracted to women and I’m not “a little gay,” as people say everyone is.

Alessandra
I’ll keep you here until you love me, then.

Imogen
Why?! What makes me so fucking special?!

Alessandra
You’re here.

Imogen
Look. I thought that I could play it safe if I tried being your friend. It’s clear to me that you’re lonely and your head isn’t completely together, so me kicking and screaming would only make things a lot worse. But you’re being utterly irrational, beyond the point I’m willing to deal with as a human being. So, I’ll have to match you.

Alessandra
We’re a match now? I told you that you’d love me.

Imogen
I don’t think you love me, though.

Alessandra
If you’d look into my heart, you’d see that I’m being truthful.

Imogen
But I can’t, can I? All I have to go by are your words. Words are meaningless, especially sentences.

Alessandra
What do you want me to do, then?

Imogen
See? You don’t love me.

Alessandra
Stop saying that! I do! I do I do! What do I have to do for you?!

Imogen
A true love would know.

Alessandra
I– I… You’re right. A true love would know.

Imogen
Did you see the car crash happen?

Alessandra
No, I only heard it.

Imogen
So you couldn’t know that I meant to crash. Because I wanted to die.

Alessandra
Why could you wanna die? You have everything going for you.

Imogen
Do I?

Alessandra
Wait… No. Your family’s fucked-up. Oh, I’m sorry for using that word.

Imogen
It’s fine. And you’re right.

Alessandra
Then that means… you’re still suicidal. You want me to kill you.

Imogen
Yes.

Alessandra
Ask me anything but that. I can’t have you leave my life after entering it so soon. I could never be so cruel.

Imogen
You could join me.

Alessandra
What do you mean?

Imogen
You can kill yourself with me. Until life do we part.

Alessandra
A… death marriage?

Imogen
No better proof of love than dying for the other, right?

Alessandra
Y-yeah.

Imogen
Is there a problem?

Alessandra
I don’t wanna die.

Imogen
But I do. And you said that you wanted to prove your love to me.

Alessandra
Yeah, but–

Imogen
Can you think of a better way than dedicating your death to me? Me dedicating mine to you?

Alessandra
No…

Imogen
But I’ll have to know you’re serious, so you’ll have to go first. I don’t want you to look at my corpse and choose to mourn me instead.

Alessandra
I’m a nurse, though. My life is corpses.

Imogen
If you don’t love me…

Alessandra
I’ll go first. How do we do it?

Imogen
Blades. You’ll cut your wrists, then I’ll cut mine.

Alessandra
With the same blade?

Imogen
Of course. Oh. One more thing. How’s my car?

Alessandra
The driver side’s caved in, but it still works. It’s sitting in my garage. Why?

Imogen
It just flashed in my mind. Final thoughts, I suppose. Well. Go get the knife.

Daily Dialogue: My Nightingale, Part IV

Posted in Dialogue, Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 27, 2015 by Rathan Krueger

The beginning of Imogen’s misery. And the end. And now it’s dark…

Imogen
I was out one day. Shopping at… I can’t remember. I didn’t remember my wallet, either, and that didn’t occur to me until midway in line to the register. I found some really cute pants, too. Black with white cuffs, and zip-up pockets. I don’t know why they bother giving women’s pants pockets when nothing we own can fit in them. I asked the clerk to hold them for me until the end of the day. I lived about an hour away, but I didn’t wanna commit to a specific time. Didn’t matter, because I never made it back. When I got home, I saw my brother’s car in the driveway. In my spot. Always in my fucking spot. Ugh, I shouldn’t have used that word.
I ran inside to my room to get my wallet. On the way there, you have to pass my brother’s room. As I got closer, I could hear what was going on, but they couldn’t hear me. I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I couldn’t help it. They were SO loud. And his door was open. He didn’t expect anyone home so he felt free to let it all out. So did… So did my mother. I didn’t want my stomping to distract him so I tip-toed by, and got a slow reveal of her on top of him. What do you do when you see something like that? There’s nothing in school or normalcy that could prepare ANYONE to process that. The only thing I could do, and I still have no clue why I did it, was laugh. A lot. As loud as my mother moaned. It took them a while to notice me, but I was on the floor in tears by then. My brother got to me first and I looked at him, laughing… almost barking. Then I saw my mother. She looked at me with so much anger. But there was something else in her gaze.
It was hard to figure out with the watery eyes, but I quickly figured it out. When you literally grow up with someone, you develop a DEEP nonverbal vocabulary with them. You can recognize every single one of their gestures and glances, and any combination of them. So I knew what that other look was. And I stopped laughing. And I started crying. Because her gaze told me that she’s done that to me, too. But how? I wouldn’t have blocked something like that out. Then it hit me, and a lot of mysteries in my life suddenly made sense. Once in a while, I’d wake up with sore legs and… crotch. And I’d be wet. I was always too embarrassed to ask anyone what’s wrong with me because women in this country are shamed outta knowing about their bodies. A lot of women are even too embarrassed to know what their vagina looks like. I was. Am. So I didn’t ask. I knew that people sleepwalked and that some women hump pillows, so I thought that I did both of those. Until that moment my mother looked at me. I asked my brother if he knew. He didn’t know what I meant, or pretended to know. I asked him again and again and again and again… my voice was already hoarse from the laughing and crying. Then my mother made things clear for him. Then he nodded.
I asked them if my father knew. My brother’s face went white, so he hoped he didn’t. My mother explained to me, so coldly, she sounded so cold during all of this. And a little outta breath because of… She said that my father was too busy cheating on her with his job to notice anything that went on here. She said that one time she even f– had sex with him with my brother’s stuff still inside her. I asked if she was worried about getting pregnant and she said that I ruined all chance of that happening again. That when I was born, I took some important pieces with her. That, in a way, I helped make it so that she and my brother could be together. I kept trying to rationalize everything while trying not to go into shock, which is probably why me asking why she didn’t find someone in a bar to cheat with made sense to me. That’s when she walked to me, knelt down, and pushed my brother out the way. Then she held my head like she did the way I always remember. My forehead on her chest, a hand atop my head, and fingers on my neck. Even then, it felt good. And she whispered… she whispered…
“My children are so beautiful. How could I not want to be with them?”

Daily Dialogue: My Nightingale, Part III

Posted in Dialogue, Fiction with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 26, 2015 by Rathan Krueger

From whence it began. Looks like the gals are starting to get along. Well, I HAVE to do something about that… And the next step

Imogen
An ulcer? How’d you get one of those?

Alessandra
They tend to come from stress.

Imogen
Not everyone’s a layman. I had an aunt who bled to death from an ulcer one night. Her husband thought she was being a drama queen about stomach aches or period cramps or whatever. Just another reason why marriage is a sham.

Alessandra
Wives aren’t that sympathetic, either.

Imogen
You’re not helping marriages out, you know.

Alessandra
I didn’t say I wanted to. I’m just saying that wives are as bad as husbands.

Imogen
What, you’re married?

Alessandra
Was.

Imogen
You WERE married? So, wait, you’re gay and have seen me nude? TOUCHED me nude?

Alessandra
I don’t get off on unconscious women.

Imogen
Not even when they’re Sarah Mitchell?

Alessandra
Not even when they’re her.

Imogen
I thought this town was a desert for people.

Alessandra
It is.

Imogen
And women with sapphic tendencies don’t exactly brag about it in small towns.

Alessandra
“Sapphic tendencies?”

Imogen
Gay women are called lesbians because of the myth of Sappho. Essentially, the world’s greatest dyke. I can say dyke, right?

Alessandra
You get two uses before I get offended, and you used them up.

Imogen
Oh. Well, anyway, you’d think that gay women would’ve wanted to name themselves after a goddess. But noooo. They name themselves after the island where Sappho did her deeds.

Alessandra
There’s and island called Lesbian?

Imogen
Lesbos. The island inhabitants are called Lesbians, and they’re not happy about sharing the name with Sappho’s followers.

Alessandra
That place must be amazing.

Imogen
Not really. But what’re you gonna do? At least places like Salem, Massachusetts and Hell, Michigan accept their plight.

Alessandra
There’s a Hell in America?

Imogen
Fox News had to get something right. So, back to your wife. How’d you meet her? Internet?

Alessandra
Not quite.

Imogen
What do you mean?

Alessandra
I found her online and we sent each other letters.

Imogen
With stamps? Why?

Alessandra
Her village didn’t have the best internet.

Imogen
Village? Where was she from?

Alessandra
Somewhere between Romania and Ukraine.

Imogen
Sounds like mail-order bride country.

Alessandra
Yeah…

Imogen
You had a mail-order bride? What was her name?

Alessandra
Lina.

Imogen
How long did you two… write before you got married?

Alessandra
Almost two years.

Imogen
Why so long? I thought you could snatch them up immediately.

Alessandra
I thought that people only got married once, so I wanted to make sure I got it right.

Imogen
When did you see her? After two years?

Alessandra
I never saw her.

Imogen
Why?

Alessandra
She… She… That bitch had the nerve to die on the plane coming here.

Imogen
I don’t think it was her fault that she died.

Alessandra
It was! She said that she was happy to finally be able to see me and was gonna make me happy until the day I die. Me. Not her. And she died before I even got to touch her.

Imogen
How did it happen? Terrorists?

Alessandra
Apparently, some people’s brains have a hard time adjusting to altitudes or whatever. She’s one of them, and she’s dead. Selfish bitch.

Imogen
None of that was her fault, Alessandra. And I’m sure she wouldn’t want to carry her on forever in your mind with so much hate because of a thing she had no control whatsoever over.

Alessandra
The dead can’t want anything, ok?

Imogen
Is that where your ulcer came from?

Alessandra
Ya think? What was your fight about?

Imogen
I think I should get some rest. Yeah, I should sleep.

Alessandra
Don’t pull that with me. I told you something, now you tell me something.

Imogen
I think we should leave it for now.

Alessandra
Do you want me to hit your leg?

Imogen
What?

Alessandra
Tell me why you got into the fight that made you leave or I’ll hit your fucking leg.

Imogen
I think you need some pot

Alessandra
Tell me or I’ll smash your fucking leg!

Imogen
But… You’re a nurse.

Alessandra
That’s right, I am. Which means I know how to heal, and I know how to hurt. I can break a bone so cleanly that although it’ll be AGONY for you, it’ll settle and set nicely. Unless I don’t want it to. Unless I get the idea to… wiggle it. Once in a while. Maybe every hour. Just enough so that all your body’s hard work to make you better is wasted. Do you wanna know how long I can make a broken leg take to heal?