An Epiphany, Finally

After being in my room all day writing, I decide to visit Alfonso before nightfall. It was a strange habit now, with my house empty again, that I’d visit Alfonso just so I’d have company. When I walk in, there are people everywhere looking for puppies to buy. They sell fast and when the crowd disperses I take a deep breath so I can shout.

“Fonso, where are you!?”
“I’m back here!”
I walk to the back of the store, in the infamous closet where a belligerent drunk had once had a tantrum, but she was forever gone, so I shook the memory.
“How’s that book coming along, Yonnie?”
“Oh, it’s... still in progress.”
“Great, I...” rrrrrring. He shuffles to the phone. “Mhmm.. oh... a murder? What in the...?” For a moment, Alfonso seems to be breaking a sweat, but he leaves the closet for a second and comes back with a tiny screen tv. He angles its antennas just right and sets in on the shelf in front of me. Then, he turns on the news.

“A young woman by the name Sile N’Bhron was murdered late this afternoon. Police are saying the culprit may have been tall and middle-aged. He is considered armed and dangerous. If you have any information on the whereabouts of Sile N’Bhron before the incident, authorities encourage you to call in. Reporting live, I’m...” The resolution in the screen weakens and the tv cuts itself off.

“I don’t want you on the streets alone tonight, Yonnie. You’re staying here.”
“Oh... well ok. I mean... Who would...? A murder? Here? That could’ve been...”
“Anybody, Yonnie. It could’ve been anybody.”
“But don’t you feel it, Alfonso? Don’t you feel close to death when someone near you dies? I mean, I didn’t know her, but she lived in the apartments too... Don’t you feel close?”
“Very.” His face looks occupied with worry.
“I’ll lock up.” He smiles weakly as I take the keys from his shirt pocket and do just that. Then, I walk to the back room where a couch, made up like a bed, is waiting for me. I tuck myself in and shout goodnight to Alfonso who is probably doing inventory at the moment.

And that’s when I realize what my story is missing. I’ve got to tell the whole truth. No, it won’t be a tell-all autobiography, just a memoir maybe. Someone out there went through similar things. I always tried to cope for the mistakes that other people made and didn’t acknowledge when they did something right. I never gave my mother credit for protecting me. She did what she could. Though putting your daughter in an escort service at a young age isn’t acceptable, she made sure I knew how I could feed myself. And I feed myself well.

“I think I’ll stop drinking...”

...

So that’s how my book ends. I quit alcohol. Eventually I get my mom to do the same and we live much healthier lives. Nothing wrong with drinking, it’s just the self-depleting effects it has. Afterall, the plan is to drink until the pain is over, but what’s worse: the pain or the hangover?

Some Sentimental Smirking

“Living juuuust enough! Juuuuust enough, for the cit-aaaaaaaaay” Alfonso is blasting some Stevie Wonder and singing at the top of his lungs to all the newborn puppies in the shop. They’re tussling playfully and yipping when they’re on the bottom of the dog pile. You can’t deny the cuteness, you just can’t. Without much else to do and with my mother still drunk on my living room couch, I had decided to pay Alfonso a visit and was now regretting my decision, however not because of cute puppies or Alfonso’s baritone voice attempting a falsetto. The environment was much too positive for me to start complaining about life. So here I was, laughing reluctantly at the scene before me and wishing I could uproot my feet and leave, but I could not.

“Grab a uniform since you’re staying!” Alfonso tosses the shirt to me and I put it on smiling. For the first time in a long time, I’m having a good day and it’s all because of simple things. I haven’t stretched all day, but I don’t need to. It’s like my compulsive need to do so is slowing turning into a suggestion that I’ve refused to listen to. I’m free and I’m loving it when all of a sudden my mother comes rushing in screaming my name. I tense up and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Whaaaat?”
“Oh, Yonnie, I’ve got to leave you now. I wish I could’ve stayed longer or convinced you to come with me. It’s... business. There’s no money in this town and I’ve got bills to pay.” Just outside, I can see a few duffle bags and the half-empty bottle of Chardonnay peeks out between them.
“Mom, you don’t have to explain. This was... fun?”
“It was! I really did miss you... You’ve grown up since...
“Don’t... Here, I’ll help with your bags.”
“I’m alright. Just do me one favor?”
“What’s that?”
“I said, just do me one...”
“No, I heard you, I just want to know the favor.”
“Take care of yourself Yonnie.” She smiles like she means it and I can see that the wine has started to take effect, but she fights it to remain serious. “I love you, dammit, and if you don’t I’ll...”
“Mom, I’ll take care of myself, I’m fine.”
“Okay, just stop interrupting me, will you?”
“That’s one favor too many.” I smirk at her like I used to when I was young and mischievous. I used to climb the kitchen countertop and try to sneak a cookie from the undisguised porcelain jar just out of my reach. But one afternoon, when my limbs had grown long enough and my appetite only had eyes for chocolate chip cookies, I reached up and took what had always belonged to me, what had always been right in front of me. So I reached out and hugged my mom and when I watched her go, I didn’t cry, I just kept that stupid smirk on my face.

...

“In 1973, the Supreme Courts decided in Roe v. Wade, based on the right to privacy, that women, like Norma L McCorvey, had the right to have an abortion, without having been raped.That same year, a baby was born to an old couple who didn’t think they could conceive. She was a miracle, and treated as such. However, at sixteen, she was forced from her home, pregnant and ashamed. She later found work as a hired escort, but often left her baby at home to accommodate her sporadic work schedule. She took care of her baby when she could, but she knew she couldn’t do much. Time passed and her daughter became old enough to join her in the escort service. So she did.”

I looked over the beginnings of the book I would go on to write and I knew I would be alright. When I looked over it again, I said out loud to no one, "Meh, it could still use some editing."

A Hangover, A Bubble Bath, and a Bit of Remorse...

When I wake from my tequila-induced stupor, there are hershey wrappers all over me and half-finished cookie dough on the coffee table. My eyes feel dry and dusty as if sand has been thrown at me and I feel like I've been hit by a semi-truck then left to die in my apartment which carries the stench of a drunken hobo. My mom is snoring on the couch, so I look at her for a moment, then stand up in search of my laptop. I think I need a vacation...

The laptop buzzes alive and the bright lights make me squint as my headache worsens. First I check my email which is clogged with notifications from places I used to shop when I could afford it. Then, I google: how to plan a vacation. A wiki page comes up with a list of things and I scan the page for anything relevant to me.

Research, research, research.
Fill up the suitcases.
Be prepared for certain situations.
Decide what form of transportation you're taking.
Estimate the total cost of your vacation.

Without a clear direction or idea, I decide to give up for now and opt for a relaxing bubble bath. Just as the foamy bubbles are caressing my neck and the warm water is soothing my hangover, I hear my mother call for me. I duck my head beneath the water as she swings open the bathroom door complaining about the window I’d left open on my laptop. I held my breath for as long as I could, in one of those moments where you desperately pray that if you don’t acknowledge the person, they’ll go away. Of course, this never works with mothers, who often find a way, like no one else can, to get under the skin of their children.

“Yonnie, get up from the water! Are you listening to me? I do NOT want you going off on a trip at a time like this! I just got here and we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Yonnie!”

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” I hop up from my comforting bubble bath and snatch a towel from the shower curtain rod. “I just want to relax and do nothing! Can’t you understand that? I just want to stretch and exhale and stretch and exhale and... and...” I look at my mother’s face and it reads a story of hurt and disappointment. She tightens her lip like she’s thinking of what to say next, but she mumbles, “It’s your life, Yonnie” and leaves me shivering in my soggy, cotton towel.

…

My mom doesn’t speak to me much for the rest of that day so out of guilt i decide to walk to the liquor store to buy a small bottle of Chardonnay as an apology for my outburst in the bubble bath. On my way though, I see a guy leaning against the bowling alley, a place i’ve never been, who catches my attention. He’s chewing on an energy bar and I squint at his name tag which reads “Spartacus”. First, I chuckle, but then when I notice he’s looking back at me, I look away and wipe the smile from my face. When I look at him again, he’s still looking at me, except he’s not. He’s picked a spot in front of him and he’s zoning out. The spot just so happens to be my face. He must be a loner too. I walk on to the liquor store and purchase Chardonnay as a half bribery half apology.

That's Amore!

“Mom! I have to get to work soon, so you can stay here, but I won’t be back until late. I sell animals now and... Mom?” No answer. I step into the small living room and see no one. I worry that I’m going crazy and that I’ve just imagined that my mother was ever here, but I see a Post-it note on the front door saying she’s gone out for groceries, so I relax. Uniform on, I head to Alfonso’s to see if he’s recovered from my drunken outbursts and to claim my paycheck.

Outside, the air is perfectly still and the clouds are undisturbed. I hear the chatter of small birds and paranoid squirrels and think to myself, now this is why I love nature. Without realizing it, I trip over some uneven pavement and scrape my knee. And this is why I hate society. I dust myself off and as I get back up a blonde girl about my age whisks past me dressed as if she works at the clinic. “Put some hydrogen peroxide on it, you’ll be fine,” she shouts at me and continues running on. So she probably does work there. I freeze in mid-thought as my first vision in months intercepts my eyesight.

…

“Get this girl some air people! Move back! Move back!.” There’s a crowd of people huddled over a girl who looks like me, wait no, it is me. The blonde girl I’d just seen is shouting orders and people back away swiftly as she waves them away. On the ground, I am unconscious and she kneels beside me to check my pulse. She yells something that I can’t hear and then turns me on my side. “She’s breathing, just... really slowly. I need a pillow, blankets, water, and an emetic to induce vomiting. Let’s go! Let’s go!” A spanish woman runs off and returns with the necessary materials and I watch my body wretch back and forth. Vomit spews from my now purple lips and my skin pales in comparison to the white tile floor. “It seems she’s had too much to drink...” Alcohol poisoning?

…

When the vision is over, I’m a little hurt by my future foolish decision and wonder when this will all happen. I frown when I think of the bad habits I’ve acquired over time and hypothesize that this will all happen very soon. I shuffle my feet into Alfonso’s and smile at the old guy. “‘Fonso, pay up.” I smile mischievously and hold out my hand.

“Yonnie, my little cannoli! Are you feeling better? I have your paycheck right here. Come, come let’s talk.” I sit down at the small chess table in the employee’s only room and wait for him to hobble over to the chair opposite me. Looking down at the chess board, I make my first move. My first pawn moves forward two places and Alfonso smiles knowingly.

“You want to go again? Okay, I show you how it’s done.” He sits down slowly and moves a pawn as well. “You know I look out for you. You are like family to me don’t you? Back home, I’d call you my Dolcezza.”

“I know, ‘Fonso. We look out for each other.” I move another pawn then tuck my legs underneath the table.

“But you must be careful, Amore. I am not so young and you are wasting away. I can tell you have not been happy. Your face is like wilting flowers. But it is almost spring! You need sun! You need love!” Another pawn moves.

“ ‘Fonso, don’t try to match me up with another one of your nephews.”

“That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it? You have feelings for me, vecchio (old man)?” I smirk knowingly and he chuckles at my joke with the little bit of Italian he taught me.

“Oh, Amore, you are much too good for me.” The creases beside his eyes appear when he smiles to himself, but they quickly unfold again when he returns to a serious disposition. We’ve both moved on to moving our bishops and he quickly captures a few of my pawns. “Yonnie, I worry for you.”

“Well, chess isn’t my best game...”

“You know what I mean. You must let go of your past. I want to see you fly..”

“Is this... an intervention?” He takes another one of my pawns and I swallow hard.

“Chi non va non vede, chi non vede non sa e chi non sa se lo prende sempre in culo... It means if you dont go, you wont see; if you don’t see, you won’t know; if you don’t know, you’ll take it in the ass every time. Pay attention to what the world is trying to show you, Yonnie. Check...” I look at the chessboard and my king is almost surrounded. In an attempt to save him, I move him one space to the right. Alfonso frowns and murmurs something. Then he fiddles with his queen before placing her directly in front of my king. “Checkmate...”

There’s an awkward silence for a while and then I decide to leave, having been defeated twice in one sitting. He hands me my check with a faint tremor in his hands and allows me to have the day off, reluctantly, and after a short debate he resolves to let me walk home alone. “It’s two buildings down ‘Fonso, I’ll be fine.” He pats my head and moves out of my way. His eyes look sad and wise, but I ignore the piercing gaze and return to my apartment in a sullen mood.

When I open the door to my apartment, my mom is on the sofa. She turns around enthusiastically and says, “I got Tequila!” She hands me a shot glass and we begin to drink to our failures. How's that for flying, 'Fonso? Soon I feel the familiar sensation of a spinning room.

El Madre

On my way back to the apartment, I replayed the thirty seconds before I had puked in the bushes. All I could remember was the concrete being splashed with my internal fluids, the thudding of shoes in a box, and the shrieking of the man with perfectly tossed hair. With a matter-of-fact helplessness, I give up as I reach the Castle Apartments, focusing more on that shower and fresh clothes. I check my mail before the short jog to my floor and flip through. Junk mail. Coupons. Bills. Bills. Bills. Junk mail. Bills. Postcard. Bills. Wait, a postcard?

When I take a second glance, the front has the large Welcome to Vegas sign on it and a corny “Wish you were here” message underneath. Some might’ve found it cute, but I found it annoying. The other side had recognizable, swirly handwriting with hearts on every dotted ‘I’ and smiley faces where the periods should be. She always did too much- my mother. It read:

Yonnie come home :) You know I love you :) Have you been doing your stretching :) You know how you get when you don’t :) I’d ask you to join me in Vegas where I’ve been having wonderful fun, but by the time you get this postcard I’ll already be boarding a plane to you :)

Love, Peace, and Happiness,

Mom

At first my face falls and I can’t figure out how to lift my legs up each step. By the time you get this postcard I’ll already be boarding a plane to you :) That last line with the final smiley face mocks me as I climb the last flight of stairs to my door. When the level below me dissipates from view, I can see a figure in the hallway, seemingly near my home-sweet-home, and while I step above the last stair, I get the feeling I should turn around.

"Yonnie, is that you?” Too late. I usher a smile onto my weary face and fumble for my keys, arms stiff with elbows bent.

“Yeah, mom, it’s me,” I say unenthusiastically.

“Oh hun,” she reaches for the right words when she sees me, but fails miserably when she says,” You look horrible. Where have you been? You smell like a.. a... Oh hun.” She hugs me gently, as if a soft touch would prevent the scent from rubbing off on her, but I just stand there, painfully awake. She takes the keys from my hands. “Which key is it?”

“That one.” She unlocks the door and moves me inside, guiding me as if she’s lived here her whole life. I yawn and bundle my hair up on the top of my head. “Take a shower, hun, I’ll fix us something to eat.” She smiles sweetly, but I’m just going through the motions. My mom is here and I fear she’s not leaving, not unless I go with her. I hear her muttering to herself when she looks inside my refridgerator, but I’d rather not hear her disdain for the food I buy so I turn on the shower and slip out of last night’s clothes. I step in and remember the last argument we’d had.

...

“ Yonnie, you can’t keep running off in the middle of dinner with these guys! You upset them and you won’t get paid!”

“You mean YOU won’t get paid. I don’t want any part of this.”

“Hun, we’ve got to eat somehow.”

“That somehow has to be this? Forget it, I’m leaving.” I remember how I ran off like the stubborn eighteen year old I was. From there, my mom and I only communicated through the apologies she left on napkins and slipped under my door. Her desperation scared me so I moved into an old friend’s living room and didn’t hear from her at all. When I’d heard she turned to selling painkillers, I left for a city where no one would know me or the shadow I lived in. I left for me and didn’t think twice about letting anyone know. Somehow, she’d found me.

…

“I don’t want any part of this,” I murmured to no one in particular. Then the shower water ran cold.

Affairs of the Flask Pt. 2

After waking up with a brutal headache, I sit up in a jail cell and frown at the cement wall. “What am I doing here?... Hellooo???” A fat man in uniform sits up and smiles at me.

“Hey there little lady. Sleep well?” He chuckles to himself but after a long silence he realizes I’m not amused and clears his throat.

“What am I doing here?” I ask again.

“Well you’re in detox. You must’ve had yourself a wild night if you cant remember at all. You were at the park skinny-dipping  in the lake... public indecency”, he laughs again. Shoot, it was that Jack Daniels again. I imagine he thinks I’m some crazy kid with no self control. Asshole... “Well now that you’ve slept it off, I can book you and we’ll release you.” He grunts as he stands up and fumbles for his keys. “Ready?” he asks, i assume rhetorically, and unlocks the cell door. I follow him to booking and allow him to stamp my fingers. “Drink responsibly next time you hear?” I cringe when he chuckles one last time as I take my walk of shame out of the precinct.

Outside, the sun is just about to rise, but it’s cool and unnerving. I shiver, in desperate need of a shower and a stretch. I walk blindly for a while behind the precinct when I hear someone scream,” Hey! My shoes!”

I look over and I see a good-looking guy get knocked down; and I know he’s good-looking because his hair lays perfectly even as he’s being knocked over. Then I lose focus with the newly risen sun glaring at me and kneel over,”Shit.” I’m puking in the bushes just in time to hear what sounds like someone running with a box, shoes clumsily thudding inside.  

Affairs of the Flask Pt 1.

"You should let me read your palm," I say again. Then, when I blink, the girl is gone and I’m sitting at the booth alone. I groan. Why do I keep daydreaming? I order a coffee to go and shuffle home. To shelter. To bed. Away from the sweltering embarrassment I feel when I can’t differentiate reality and fantasy. I tuck myself in to sleep; and for a few weeks, the days continue on like this one, with me stumbling between imagination and truth.

…

“Oh, how the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say ‘throw cares away’, Christmas is here, bringing good cheer!...” I sit up with the feeling that I have company and flop out of bed. Coming... I’m opening the door to a few teens singing Christmas carols when it hits me that it’s that time of year again. Gross.

“Noooo, thank you!” My voice comes out raspy and underdeveloped so I close the door quickly and put the chain back on. “What a bitch.” I hear one say. “...but she was kinda hot” another quips. I ignore the rest and stretch for the day...

That’s it Yonnie, breathe deeply. Arms up over your head. Higher..Higher...Higher.. Come on, you can get them higher then that. Beautiful. Now, relax. I smile to myself, muscles fully loosened and knuckles finally cracked. I think I deserve a treat for tonight, a flask of Jack Daniels, or at least a swig because I know I’m a bit of a lightweight.

…

“I’m gonna jump!”

“Yonnie, get down from there!”

“I’m gonna do it ‘Fonso! I’m no chicken. I’m not afraid to die!”

“Yonnie, no one’s calling you chicken. You’ve just had too much to drink. Get down from there or you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me! I’ll quit. I’ll do it ‘Fonso and you’ll have no one. I’m the best canoli at this pet shop.”

“You are! That’s why I need you to get down from there... That’s it, now just climb down. Watch your footing, you’re going to...”

“Gahh! My ankle!”

“Yonnie you’re all tangled in Christmas lights. You’re alright. Just... no more drinking in the storage closet. You’ll try to climb the shelves again.”

“My ankle ‘Fonso. I just want to go home!”

“I know, my little canoli. Give me that flask.”

“I paid for it myself.”

“Yes, but give it here. I will hold it for you.”

“Alright, but don’t drink it.”

“Never.”

“Never ever?”

“Yes, never ever. Now let’s get you home.”