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."