Keeping pace with Thugs.

Finally, another day done. Five more hours to add to the five hours I clocked in yesterday. Time to head home and prepare myself to do it all again tomorrow. I feel the weight of it, the pressure of knowing my days are wrapped around a corporations schedule, press against me as I unlock my bike and begin to make my way home. Everything I do for five days out of the week is based on the hours I work. And a good portion of the time I do have free is spent getting myself ready to do it all again. another cog in the machine.
  These thoughts brew around me as I weave my way past pedestrians on my bike. My uniform sticks to the small of my back, the air is still hot and humid from the day. I turn a corner and have to slam on my breaks. The rusty gears groan, just barely stopping me in time. My obstacle is a couple of guys in their early twenties making an obvious drug deal on the corner.  Their bikes lull at their feet, blocking my way home. My eyes narrow as I sit waiting for them to part and let me pass. No such luck. They act like I'm not even there as they mumble between each other, shoulders hunched under the weight of their gold chains. I sigh dramatically, but it could just as easily be the breeze of a passing car to them. Traffic is brisk and sharp at this hour, not safe for me to ride in. Especially since the city has yet to add a bike lane to this busy downtown street. I'm banished to the tiny side walk, which I have to also share with pedestrians and apparently street thugs.
  Eventually they part, going in opposite directions of each other on their bikes. I roll my eyes as I remount my own bike. It seems as if I spend every waking hour waiting for other people to tell me when I can come and go. My mood is even darker as I gain momentum again, still a mile away from my bed. Suddenly out of the dusk the back of the thug comes into view. I have caught up with him on his bike way too small for him. His knees touch his chin with each pedal and he's moving along at a leisurely pace. One hand hangs limp at his side as if he's steering a Cadillac instead of a Huffy. Who is this guy kidding?
I stop pedaling, preparing to coast past him, but break when he jerks out in front of me. My eyes snap over, what the fuck? I almost ran into him! Traffic zips past on my right, a row of bustling art galleries line my left. Tourist and locals alike drift in and out of the bubbling shops. Once again I attempt to coast past, on his left this time. I am forced to break hard when he jerks out in front of me, his back tire buzzing against my front. "You can't catch me!" he yells, and begins to pedal faster.
Shocked into disbelief, I stare at the back of his black T-shirt. Is this guy crazy? His Diamond stud earrings flash in the fading light. Suddenly it hits me, why not? I speed up and glide right in next to him before he can cut me off. We're neck in neck when I shout, "come on! You can't keep up with this!"
 I stay in pace with him for another block, giggling as we race each other, both of us half trying to gain the lead. His grill shines gold and platinum from his laughing mouth. His laugh is cut short, suddenly he's pointing to the crowd of people trickling out of the art gallery a block in front of us. "We bout to hit them!" he yells over to me over the roar of traffic.
My head tilts back, laughter exploding out of me. Now it's his turn to wonder if I'm crazy. I glance behind me and pick up speed, leaving him in my wake. Moments before I reach the group of art-walkers I veer off of the side walk and into a gap in traffic. Behind me I can hear the nameless thug whooping, cheering me on. The smile on my face is genuine, I feel as if I could fly! I know I'm radiating pure joy the last few blocks before I am home, a happiness that wasn't planned or scheduled.

One big dirty joke, 5th installment. Age 19.

He sets me up on the counter right next to his half chopped avocados and ground beef. I haven't been picked up like that since I was a little girl, so effortlessly. I like it. I wrap my legs around his waist as he begins to walk his fingers under my shirt, along my spine. He smells amazing, I bury my nose in his neck and inhale, not really caring how he'll react to that.

I just act in the moment, kind of how I acted when he asked me to come home with him. At that moment in time, the answer was yes. If you would have told me earlier in the night, before coffee and our tour of downtown, that we would end up spending the whole weekend together in bed I would have informed you I was not a slut.

But here we are, in his little incense filled apartment, making love while we make dinner. Well, not yet. If he keeps nuzzling into my breasts and kissing my neck like that though, it wont be long.

Later on, after the dishes have been washed and put away, we're laying naked in bed. My leg hitched up on his bare thigh. With one long finger he traces the curvy line of my thigh. "Very nice," he whispers.

I smile and run my fingers through his feathery red hair. I like the way he devours me with his eyes and doesn't seem to get full. It's nice knowing that I'm not too much for somebody. Not too big. I return the favor, admiring his long, toned thighs and the long line of his back. I take in his loose skin, and wonder how much he use to weigh. I don't ask, I know when he's ready he'll tell me himself. I lean forward and try to kiss every single freckle on his shoulder. "Stand up, I want to see you!" he instructs me with a kind of authority I love to hear.

Giggling I scoot out of bed and stand before him, in all my 5'3, 210 lb glory. I twirl like a ballerina, with my arms above my head, showing off every single last hair on my unshaven body. When I stop and place my hands on my hips he twirls his finger, telling me to do it again. "slower this time," he laughs.

Slowly I rotate, feeling my nipples harden under his gaze. When I've gone all the way around and am facing him again I ask, "So what do you think?"

His eyes slowly take me in before he answers, "You're beautiful."

He sits up and throws his legs over the side of the bed, motioning me towards him with his hands. I step into his touch as effortlessly as he picked me up earlier. His warm palms cup my hips and glide over my belly, squeezing softly. "I like this," he whispers into my skin.

My flesh puckers and ripples as he dances across me, "And I like your thighs too," he adds, as if making a list.

Gently he turns me, I jump a little when he slaps my ass. We both laugh at my surprised reaction. "And this ass!" he practically bellows.

I explode in a giggling fit and frolic away from him, tempting him to chase me, to play with me.

In bed again, tired and sweaty, we talk. He tells me about getting rid of the weight, and deciding not to be that way any more. "Do you ever feel self conscious about your weight?" he asks gently.

I think about it for a moment, I think about how just 3 years ago I hated my body so much I'd hit myself over and over again. All that pain has vanished since than though.. at least most of it has. "Sometimes I do.. but for the most part no, not any more," I tilt my head back so I can look into his face. Looking down on me he smiles. The smile stretches after a moment, becoming mischievous.

"So tell me about your fetishes," he pokes.

I laugh and bury my face in his chest. He really doesn't want to know. Not about all the men, all the married men old enough to be my father. I watched his secret unfold just moments ago, as soft as a flower opening, but this wasn't the same. My secrets weren't flowers at all, but bee hives. They rumble and work inside me, promising something sweet but only delivering stings. "I don't really have a fetish, my fetish is learning about other peoples fetish's." I only half lie.

I wonder if he can sense enough truth in that statement not to question it. It is partially true after all, I have a whole collection of fetish's I've experienced through other people. I learned about Vore, erotic weight gain, age play and much, much more from being romantically involved with "Kinksters". Nothing excites me more than finding out someone has a sexual fetish.

 His breath tickles my scalp as he nuzzles into my hair, "You can tell me," he pushes.

I laugh nervously. No.. I can't. I don't want to have to explain myself to you, I think, and then have you label me as a home wrecker. Despite all my breakthroughs, I still have bits and pieces of myself I feel the need to hide. No body is allowed to really know me.

After awhile of bantering back and forth about it he gives up and becomes quiet. Our breathing becomes synchronized and he is fast asleep in no time flat. I roll over so his mouth is tucked against the back of my neck and his hands are cradling my breasts. I can't sleep though, my secrets are too busy buzzing around inside of me, causing blisters to form and fester.

I leaf through them, all the men and affairs, like the pages of a picture album.  Some of them stick together at times, but they're all here, tucked away safely in my heart. Every now and then I'll pull one out like an old photo and run my fingers across the glossy surface. Sometimes I close my eyes and pretend I'm married to this one or that one, and it is me holding their children waiting for them to come home. 

Sighing deeply, I stretch my legs out flush against his, trying to settle into sleep. I close my eyes and  breath evenly, coaxing sleep forward so I can leave all these memories behind. I concentrate on his breath pushing against my neck, and realize its like watching a Polaroid develop. Soon this night will be another picture I look back on later. 

Sorrow pinches at my insides. Little No See ums feasting on my skin, causing my eyes to water. Another night slinks into my mind, when No seem ums bit my feet, making me want to get up and run. 

The beach is quite and empty, even though it provides the only fresh breath of air in the whole town. Under the pier close to the waves is the only place the humidity doesn't push you down. I press my feet deep into the sand, loving the way it feels squishing between my toes. Soft yellow light falls down around me from the street lamps, I compare it to the strumming of the homeless mans guitar beside me and find it one in the same.  The Pier yawns out in front of me, stretching into the inky darkness as the waves tumble and turn restlessly. The beams of yellow light look like rows of teeth in a big zipper. I imagine what it would be like to reach up and unzip the ocean and sky. Maybe the world would come pouring out into my lap. Or maybe I could crawl in it like a body bag, encased forever in the constellations. 

The waves are left gurgling on their own when the twangy melody stops, I look over at the homeless man and meet his gaze steadily. I smile, reaching over and petting the big dog curled in the sand at our feet. I can't pull his name to mind, but I know his dogs name is Johnny. I cradle the weimaraners face in my hands, picking a flea off of his long snout. His coat shimmers like moon light, and I can easily see this beast running in a pack, chasing bears and wolves, with a King in the early 19th century.  I enjoy being in the company of this animal and it's master, both are silent and thoughtful. I believe the mans name is Jericho, or maybe Josiah.  Johnny lifts his head from his paws to regard me with his good eye. I lean forward and kiss his damp nose and am rewarded with a wet kiss of my own. "Johnny cakes doesn't take kindly to people easily, you have a good heart for animals Weaver," Jericho informs me as he fiddles with tuning his guitar. 

I'm pretty sure his name is Jericho now, but maybe if I'm lucky I'll hear his name again before he moves on and I never see him again. I smile my reply and peek at him from behind my curtain of tangled hair.  I admire his good ear as he twists the knobs and listens to the plucking of his strings. Not many people can tune a guitar by ear, I know I couldn't.  His back and arms ripple with hard earned muscles. Not the kind you get in a gym, but the flowing power you gain from toiling away in the sun and surviving outside day in and day out. Every few seconds he pushes the grainy sweat stained bandanna up on his forehead, out of his eyes. 

Suddenly he glances up and catches me staring. I quickly shift my gaze to Johnny cakes again, the dog is blissfully basking in my affections, allowing me to pet his tender ears and graceful neck. "How old are you weaver?" he asks, his eyes still on my face. 

I shrug, "Old enough I suppose." 

I shift my position in the sand, scooting back so I can recline against the near by dune. Johnny follows, flopping down beside me and resting his head on my knee. His milky white, blind eye registers nothing, but the warm amber one is alert. I watch as he scopes out the beach, nose twitching and ears perked to any danger. I briefly consider if he can smell my fear, my resistance to being questioned by his beloved master. "Johnny there will be 7 this year, same age as me in human years." he laughs and strums a little jig on his guitar as he talks. His long fingers pick and tickle the instrument until it sings just as he wants it to. 

I smile, he wants me to react to his age, but I don't. I could care less how old he is, I just wish we could sit in silence again. He sets his guitar on what looks to be a hand woven rug beside him and reaches deep into his tattered cargo shorts. Once again my eyes linger over his bare chest and arms too long and he catches me watching. We smile at each other and I cough. Out of his pocket he pulls a glass pipe and his lighter. After a second more of digging, out comes a tiny plastic bag.  "You wanna burn?" he asks as he packs his pipe. 

"Nah, I don't smoke." I shift uncomfortably in the sand. 

He shrugs and lifts the pipe to his sun cracked lips. Before he sets the flame in the bowl he winks at me, I feel my face go hot and I laugh. Once again he has failed to get a rise out of me. I think this impresses him to a degree, my unwillingness to be shocked by things like pot and a 17 year age gap. 

The smoke from the pipe slaps me in the face after a moment, mocking me for being so stupid. Did I honestly think anything I do or say could impress this man who has seen everything? He's not smoking grass, I can tell instantly. It's not the heady aroma of weed, but instead a thick, toxic smell.  I know that smell. 

He tilts his head back, letting the smoke pour out of his nose and mouth like a train. I suddenly feel as if I'm about to throw up. My head feels light and soon I'm having tunnel vision. The black night swoops in on me, tightening around my eyes and threatening to knock me out cold. I shiver violently, despite the warm humid mist draped around my shoulders and bare legs. "Just breath.." I whisper to myself. 

But I can't breath.. My wind pipe constricts, only allowing ragged puffs of air into my chest. Faintly I can hear my mother singing some where deep in my mind, "Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea, and frolicked in the autumn mist of a land called Honah Lee..."

I start to hyperventilate, snatching at the salty air in huffs and gulps. Why is this happening? Why can't I just be normal?! I tuck my head between my knees, trying to gain some control, but mostly trying to block out the singing. "Hey, Weaver, are you okay?" I can barely hear him over the sound of my own labored breathing and my mothers voice in my head. 

He crawls to me on his hands and knees, putting an arm around me. I can smell the burning packaging tape on his breath, it shoots through me like a bolt of white hot lighting. The memories come in spasms. I can't control them. Fear strikes up in my veins, making my blood pulsate in my temples. Johnny cake whimpers at my feet but his soft, ghostly gray coat brushing against me doesn't comfort me at all. 

One second I'm on the beach with Jericho and Johnny, the next I'm in a double wide trailer with my Bubbie, my mother is no where to be found. The smell of burning plastic coats the back of my throat until it feels as if my air ways have been seared shut. I can't breath! Jericho rocks me gently against his chest, stroking my hair. "Weaver, honey.. my sweet dream weaver.. it's okay honey child" I don't want him this close!

I try to draw myself away but my limbs wont unfold. they have been seared shut as well. I'm melted plastic, a ball of sticky substance waiting to be heated up and inhaled. This idea scares me more! I breath faster still, trying to suck me all in before I float away.

Please, don't let me float away! I curl up tighter, trying to make myself as dense as possible. Jericho squeezes my shoulders, rubbing my arms and back. "I'm sorry.." he whispers over and over, I don't hear him though. 

I'm still in the double wide trailer, still in the fetal position in bed, still praying somebody notices me soon so I don't just float away. The smell, the toxic aroma of singed hair, is still sizzling like battery acid in my nostrils. I can't take it any more! I want my mother! "His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain, Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane. Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave..."

Her voice is so real, humming the tune lovingly.. I have to be brave! This thought helps me to block out everything else. I push Jericho away and jump to my feet with the last bit of energy I have. I snatch my bag from the folds of the beach and wobble towards the parking lot. "Don't follow me!" I warn, "Just stay here!"

He doesn't even blink as he watches me scramble over the dunes and out of sight. The beach sucks at my ankles like a nursing kitten. I feel as if this place is asking for more than I can give. Johnny cake barks once, his voice ringing loudly in the night. I bid him farewell in my head, not knowing if I'll ever see him again. 

I stick my arm down into the chasm that is my cloth bag and fumble with tubes of make up and wads of dollar bills. Finally the tips of my fingers find my cell phone, I yank it out and hold down the power button until it comes alive in my hands. I still feel out of breath, like I've just ran a marathon instead of just running from my past. I flop down on the curb before making my call. I don't want to sound stressed. A cloud of No see ums swarm around me, nipping at my sweaty feet and calves. I swat at the aimlessly, counting backwards in my head from one hundred until my heart is beating normally again. 

I dial his number and wait for him to pick up, "Please, please, please" I whisper into the phone as it rings.

I can only hope he's driving today and not home with his wife and children. After the fifth ring his sweet voice fills me up, pushing past all the scar tissue. "Hey My-Randa, what's up?" 

His Randa.. I let the phrase warm me. "Nothing much, wanna pick me up from the beach?" 

He pauses for a moment, checking his memos to see if he's free. "Sure, see you in 15"

The phone goes blank against my ear and I smile. The double wide trailer is slowly folding up into the back of my mind like one of those pop up picture books. All I have to do is turn the page and the old pictures collapse and something new pops up to take front and center. I marvel at the simple pleasure of it. Now if I could only rip the other pages out all together.. 

The No see ums are thick tonight, their guts and legs are smeared across the taxi's windshield. A stream of chemicals shoots out and the wipers scrape back and forth but it doesn't help much. "Where are we taking you?" he asks as we pull out of the parking lot and onto the empty street. The little clock on the dash board says it's only ten at night, but there isn't a soul to be seen. 

"Any where but here," I laugh, letting my head roll back against the seat. 

He smiles and glances over at me, trying to read me. "tough night?" he asks. 

I don't bother answering him, instead I poke him with my elbow. He Pokes me back, and soon we're going back and forth, banging into each other with our arms. His laugh rolls around me like a thick Persian rug. I want to wallow in it forever. 

Soon we are on the mainland again, and the island with its beaches is just a sparkling dot on the other side of the Lions bridge. I breath deeply, enjoying the feeling of oxygen in my lungs again. His sweet cologne rinses away the nasty taste in my mouth. I yawn, stretching my toes out until they pop. Are arms are laying side by side, his warmth seeping over and filling me up. I hold very still, hoping he wont take his arm away once he realizes how easily and intimately we're touching.   

As if reading my mind he lifts his arm away and opens up the glove apartment in front of me. He points to a CD case, "Pop that in for me, I think you'll like it."

I do as I'm told, sulking a little at how quickly our moment passed. I open the CD case and feed it into the player. He reaches over and turns up the volume a tad. Soon a narrators voice fills the car, as we pull to  a stop in front of the slave market. "Have you ever heard the old Indian Legend of how the world was made?" He asks. 
I nod my head, "I read the story in school. About the girl who falls into the ocean and makes Earth on the turtles back." I had liked the story a lot, and even read it from the text book a second time at home. 
He smiles and leans his head back against the seat, his eyes closing slowly as the story begins. I like the narrators voice, it's thick and deep like syrup. I close my eyes as well, but instead of the words I focus on the sound of his breathing next to me. In and out, In and out. His arm brushes against mine again, I hold my breath. A shiver shoots up my spine and I sigh. This time his arm doesn't move, it stays pressed against mine for several minutes as the old Legend unfolds for us. Tipsy couples on vacation swoosh past the car, but no body stops for a ride. It's just the two of us. I feel a sense of peace wash over me. For once, I am content.

"So.. what happened tonight at the beach?" He probes. 

I sigh in frustration, why? Why can't I just be left alone? "Nothing, I was just hanging out with some friends and then I got bored, so I called you.." I glance over at him to see if he's buying it. 

Not a chance. His gaze is hard and I can tell from the look on his face he knows I'm not being honest with him. "Really?" He demands. 

I roll my eyes, "What are you, my dad?" 

This pisses him off and I instantly regret saying it. I don't want this to turn into a fight, I just want to be here with him. I grope for something to change the conversation, "Did you know the hippies downtown gave me a nick name?" 

He raises an eye brow at me but doesn't comment. "Yep" I push forward, determined to make this right again. "They call me Weaver."

I smile at him and wait a few seconds for him to respond. Finally he pokes his front two teeth out to resemble my own and makes a sucking noise. I glare at him. "You mean they call you beaver?" He laughs.

"No, ass!" I growl. 

I slap his arm and then turn in my seat so I don't have to look at him mocking me and my teeth. For as long as I can remember I've had an over bite, a pretty bad over bite, and it has always caused me grief. I can feel tears itching at the back of my eyes. He laughs some more but stops when he sees I'm genuinely hurt. "they call me Weaver because I crochet and sell my hats downtown.." I tell him, wanting badly for my voice not to shake like this in front of him.
Fucking ass hole, I think as I swipe a hand over my cheeks. I'm about to just get out of the car and go when he leans towards me and presses his lips to my cheek. His breath is as soft as butterfly wings. My whole body buzzes as his thick beard tickles against my skin. He doesn't voice his apology, but lets his tender touch do all the talking. 

I turn to meet his kiss but his lips are already gone. He's back on his side of the car again, turning the key and bringing the Taxi to life. 

3rd Installment, Part 2. Age 18

I jerk my head up off of the bare mattress, a line of drool slipping down my chin. Next to me my phone is going off like a swarm of angry hornets. "BUZZ, Buzz, Buzz!!!"

I look around but no one is here, they must be out flying signs. Light filters in from the bare window and I guess it's any where from noon to 3 o'clock.

 I snatch up the phone and stare at it for a second, letting my eyes focus on the small text before I answer it. Oh, it's James! I flip the phone open, "Hey, what's up?"

James has been gone lately, off doing some kind of personal growth crap. I personally think it's a waste of money, but at the same time I can see the change in him and that makes me happy. He's not nearly as angry any more. "Hey.. were you sleeping?" I can hear the disappointment in his voice.

"No," I lie, "just allergies." 

I don't like telling lies to him, but I don't like him judging my lifestyle even more. Yeah, I party a lot and stay up late, but my bills are paid, aren't they? 

"Well, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a little bit, if you aren't busy."

I sit up in bed and stretch my legs out in front of me, "Nah, I'm not busy. What's up?" I can feel Gratitude training coming. 

He's gonna suggest I go, I know it. But I can't go, I have to work. Not to mention it's a 5 hour drive from here and I know nobody in West Palm Beach, where the center is located. I sigh to myself, I really don't want to talk about it at all, I'm just going to let him down. 

"Well I was wondering if you'd tell me about what you want to do... I mean, I know you want to work with kids, but that's really all I know." he asks.

I'm kinda put off by this. Not by the question itself, but by James asking me something. Normally James does all the talking in conversations. Which really isn't so bad, I enjoy listening to him talk because he always has something interesting to say, and I really learn from him. 

In the 3 years I've lived with my Sister Kerri, and her boyfriend James, I've learned a lot just from sitting and listening to James talk. 

"Well.." I falter for a second, what do I want?

I know what I want, but it's so outlandish, so unobtainable, that I kinda feel silly even bringing it up. "One day I want to own my a daycare," I say in a small voice. 

There, it's out. Now he's going to pick it apart and tell me all the reasons why I'm not on the right track to reach my goal. I close my eyes and wait. 

"What does that look like?" he asks.

What the fuck? "I don't know..." What does he mean by that anyway? 

"Close your eyes," he instructs, "and tell me what it looks like."

My eyes are already closed.. but I try to do as he says and imagine the day care. I see colorful walls, covered in butterflies that the kids cut out themselves and glued glitter on. I see origami birds we folded hanging from the ceiling and 5 little people sitting in a circle with me in the center, reading a book. I smell pine sol and their little bodies, powdered and innocent. 

I smile at the scene, it's so vivid in front of me, but I can't bring myself to tell James. I can't ever have that, so there's no point in day dreaming about it. "I don't know.." I repeat. 

He sighs on the other end, but remains patient with me. "Well I see building blocks, and lots of kids running around playing," he says, "It's your day care, what colors are the walls? How old are the kids?" 

I close my eyes even tighter, "James, I don't know.." I say again, starting to get frustrated. 

I don't want to do this! I don't want to talk about things I can't have, no bodies going to let me, trailer park trash, take care of kids. I'm getting my hopes up for nothing!

He senses me getting aggravated but keeps it up anyway, "There are no limitations Miranda, nothing to stop you, so just imagine it. What would it sound like? How would you set it up?"

Tears start spilling down my face as I try to hold back my sobs. No limitations? Ha! The picture in my head is bright and bubbly, with children playing duck, duck, goose and Mozart tinkling softly in the background. Life is filled with limitations! Me being fat is a limitation, and the most obvious one. Add on the fact I was raised in the projects, put in foster care and poor. James wasn't fooling anyone, I was limited from the start. 

I collect myself long enough to reply, "James, I really don't know.." the tears make my voice come out thick. 

"Miranda.. You do know." 

I sob a little into the phone, why can't he just let it go? It's stupid anyway. 

"I want you to do GT," he says after a second, "Just consider it, okay?"

I knew it! I knew he would bring it up! I wipe away my tears with an angry fist. "I don't know." I repeat my go to phrase when I'm upset. 

"I have a scholar ship for the first part for you, you can go to part one for free, and Kerri is going with you. Will you at least consider it?" He isn't pleading with me,instead his voice sounds as if he's offering a gift. Something I should be honored to receive. 

I'm quite for a second, not really thinking, just trying to collect myself. "Okay," I whisper, "Let me see if I can get the days off for it first."

I jot down the dates he gives me and hang up the phone. Sarah walks in just as I flop back on the bed, I can tell by the look on her face she's been listening for a while. 

"Is he trying to make you go to that cult again?" She asks, only half sarcastic. 

I shrug my shoulders and stare up at the ceiling. The bed sighs and slumps a little as she sits down next to me. She picks up the lists of dates and scans them."This is about the time we'll be leaving," she reminds me, as if I don't know.

"Yeah," I say softly to the brown spot crawling across the ceiling. 

"Are you going to do this instead of going with us?" she demands. 

For the last few weeks Sarah, Annie and I have been talking about leaving St.Aug and hitch hiking. We were thinking North Carolina, or maybe just joining up with the rainbow, a group of traveling hippies that bartered and traded for everything. Really any where would do. We just needed to go. I felt trapped by my job, by my obligations, my responsibilities. Why bother with it, when I can just stick out my thumb and be gone?

I roll my head to the side and stare at her. She isn't looking at me, but at the slip of paper in her hands. Her dreads have fallen around her face, so I can't make out her profile. "I don't know" I groan. 

That phrase, I say it so much it's like a chant. "I don't know!" I repeat, more to myself this time.

"Well if you ditch me, that would be lame." she snaps, as she pulls herself off of the bed and makes her way to the bathroom. The water has been off for a while, but some dumb ass took a shit in the toilet anyway. She slams the door shut, trying to block out the smell from her room. It's pretty pointless, since right next to the bed a giant pile of dog shit sits, sneering at me. I don't bother to clean it up though, another pile will just replace it later. "It's free, the first part. so maybe I can just do it for James and Kerri and then leave with you," I try to reason. 

I want to make everyone happy, it's like it doesn't even matter what I want. The picture of the daycare swirls in my mind again. What do I want?

Suadela.

I keep checking the time on the cash register, flashing a look at it every thirty seconds as I swipe the customers orders. Only half an hour until I am free! My face aches from holding a fake smile all day, I can't wait to be done for the night so I can head home. Well, the ride home with Joey is what I'm really looking forward to.
Yeah, I know he's at least thirty and I just turned 18,and he's my cab driver.. but he's cute and charming! we've been actively flirting with each other for the last couple months, so maybe tonight I will do a little more than flirt. The smile on my face is genuine for once as I bag up the last of the groceries and hand them over to the elderly lady in front of me. "Have a nice night, thank you for shopping with us," I beam at her as she collects her things and heads for the door.
 Joey  isn't just the driver of the small cab company I always use, but the owner. I spot the cab sitting next to the store and start to head over. Instead of getting in the back I scoot into the front seat and smile at him. He raises and eye brow and smiles back. "Hey Rae, how was work?" he asks while starting up the car.
"Twas fine, thanks. How is your night going?" I ask in my sweetest tone.
I let my eyes roam over his profile as he pulls out of the stores parking lot. His soft brown curls touch the collar of his shirt and his beard is thick and untrimmed. A small sigh escapes my lips, he is so sexy. "Not too bad, business is looking good. Maybe in a month or two I'll be able to afford another car," He looks over and winks at me.
"So where are we taking you tonight? The party house, or to your humble abode?" he asks.
I laugh, "Why don't you pick for me. Take me any where.." I venture.
Was that too blunt? I wonder to myself. I watch his face to see his reaction. A devilish grin spreads across his lips, making his eyes twinkle. "hm, I don't know about that. Maybe you should just pick for yourself."
I feel a slight prick in my stomach, ouch. "You too busy for joy rides tonight?" I giggle, trying to cover up the hurt I feel.
For the last couple months we've been playing cat and mouse with each other on our trips back and forth to my work. He swipes at me, I scurry just out of his reach. I'm excited to see how he'll react when I swipe back.
"Oh no, it's dead tonight. But I don't think my wife would like me driving around aimlessly with a pretty thing like you," He lets out a jolly laugh that makes my insides hum.
I quickly scope out his left hand again, I was sure I didn't spot a ring before. "Your wife?" I ask, genuinely surprised.
"Yep, been married 6 years now, have 4 girls at home and another bun in the oven," he informs me, with a slight twang of regret.
I raise an eye brow at him. He's never mentioned a wife or kids before tonight. "Ah, so I guess she wouldn't want us heading to the beach for a late swim, huh?" I tempt.
Why am I still flirting with him, he just said he was taken? I gaze out the window to avoid his eyes. Maybe if I act like I don't care either way we can just drop this now. He bursts out laughing instead, "God Rae, I can practically smell your hormones over here!"
I gasp and slap his arm, "No you can not!"
He shakes his head at me and stops the car in front of my house, "Your name should be Suadela, Goddess of temptation," he says in a more serious tone.
 We're here already. Way too soon for me. "That's me, the temptress.." I say, watching him from the corner of my eye.
I begin opening my wallet slowly to pay him, I can feel him watching my every move. I pull out the biggest bill I have so he'll have to count me out change. In an attempt to be sexy I peek at him from under my eye lashes as my fingers brush his hand. It works, he pulls away from my touch as if I were on fire and clears his throat. "Rae..." he starts but doesn't finish.
I don't give him a chance to, I pinch the end of his beard with my fingertips and slowly lead his lips to mine. I run the tip of my tongue over his top lip lightly, just barely. I can smell his cologne and shampoo, it sends a shiver up my spine. I look into his eyes and he hesitates for only a second longer. Soon his hands are ensnared in my long hair and his beard is rubbing like a Brillo pad against my skin, making it red and sensitive. A shiver deliciously creeps over my whole body, making me moan against his mouth. He stops then, untangling my locks from his fingers. "Rae.. You know I want to.. I just can't. I'm a christian man, I have a family that needs me."
He looks away as I sit gasping for air in the passenger seat. My eyebrows knit together as I stare at him. "Go ahead and go inside babe, go to bed," he whispers to the steering wheel as he cranks up the car.
I snatch my change up and slam the door behind me. My insides feel like they have melted and are sloshing around inside me. I lean over and peer into the open window, "Can I text you?" I ask in a small voice.
He sighs deeply and stares ahead. For a second I think he's going to pull away with out responding but then he looks at me and I see the longing in his eyes. Fuel for the fire burning between us. "Yeah babe, you can text me." He whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear over the engine.
Hours later I am laying in bed, staring at my phone. What should I say? What can I possibly say that will be enticing enough to have him come back to me instead of his wife tonight? Slowly I pick up the phone and begin the text, "Do you ever think about me when you're home with your wife?"
I stop and reread the message a hundred times before finally hitting the little green send button. I hold my breath and wait... Maybe that was too much, too far. Even so, even if it was too much, it's too late now. I lay there in the dark with my phone propped up beside me, waiting for it to light up with his response. Waiting to be told to back off, or to keep going. Finally it buzzes, "Matthew 5:27-28" is all the text says.
My breath catches in my throat as I read it again and again. I'm about to throw my phone at the wall when suddenly it comes alive in my hand with another text, "Go to sleep my Suadela, you know I love you."

Crust Kids

"Why the fuck is everything damp?" Nova's voice pierced my sleep and brought me back to consciousness.
The crust holding my eyes shut gives way and finally I can peer up at her from the pile of limbs and clothes on the floor. "It's the humidity," I croak.
Her crystal blue eyes regard me for a moment, as if trying to decide if I'm lying, or know what I'm talking about at all. In her hands a big plastic bag stuffed with smelly, unwashed clothes makes a squishy sound. "We'll just have to lay them in the sun a little later so they can dry out." I explain while hiking myself up into a sitting position.
I grad my dog from under a towel and pull his soft yellow body into my lap so I can pet him and watch her work. She sorts her stuff out from everyone else's, making small comments under her breath as she works.  I kept all my stuff together last night and slept on it so I know exactly where all my belongings are. The other three traveling kids were too intoxicated last night to think that clearly though, and their "crust-as-fuck" uniforms are splayed across the tiny room, coating everything in the dank smell of body odor. 
My throat is raw and it feels like I haven't eaten in days. Nova's stomach growls loudly to tell me she feels the same way. "Do you wanna go bum downtown for some food in a bit?" I ask her.
"Lets wait for the others," she tosses over her shoulder as she makes her way to the bathroom.
I'm sick of the others, but I don't argue. Instead I grab Dude up and take him outside to piss. Dude has been my dog for the last 5 years and he follows me every where. I don't bother to put a leash or collar on him, I know he wont go more than 5 feet away from me at any given point.
I sit on the steps and listen to the birds waking up in the live oaks trees crisscrossing their limbs above of me. As proper as the southern bells who drink tea in their shade.
        I watch Dude as he waddles from one spot to another, sniffing and lifting his leg occasionally. I'm worried about taking a 7 year old Pomeranian traveling with me, but I can't imagine not taking him with me either. I know that people give hand outs more to kids hitch hiking with dogs, but what about when we're stuck in Arizona or New Mexico and he has to walk miles on end with no water? I cup his small head in my hand and look deep into his brown-black eyes. "I love you Dude, you know I'll take care of you no matter what," I whisper to him.
I talk to him like he's a human on a regular basis.
Suddenly I hear Joe rumbling down the stairs behind me and Nova's clunking boots close behind. Nova has a road dog as well, a German Shepard mix that's barely 6 months old but already weighs 50lbs at least. Joe rockets past me and flings himself into chasing a squirrel. Nova plops down beside me and laughs as Dude attempts to match Joe's long strides.
I look over at her smiling face and beam. Her black hair falls in oily waves around the collar of her jacket. It's been a mild winter here in Florida, but this morning is a bit nippy. "Do you think we should wait a bit longer, it's gonna be colder than this in other states," I wonder out loud.
She doesn't look at me, "We're leaving in about a week," she says before sticking a cigarette in her mouth.
I see her inhale nicotine more than eat most days. My stomach flutters a little at this. I'm excited to go, but nervous at the same time. Will we make it okay? Nova has only been traveling once before, up the east coast. But she always returns home. While I have never left Florida. I assume it will be just the way it is now, only with train hopping and hitch hiking. We'll still street vend and spange. I'm use to not bathing, squatting and asking for food at churches. But it wont be the same. I wont be here, in the oldest city in America. I don't know where we'll be.
I catch her starring at me and raise an eye brow, "what?"
"Nothing, you look like you're questioning it is all. Don't go if you aren't ready." She says in a matter of fact way.
She says it as if I'm deciding if I want to go to the store or not, instead of thinking about leaving the city I was born in to hitch hike across the states with a pack of lice infested roadies. "No," I tell her with confidence I don't feel, "I want to go, I'm just hungry."
She nods her head and lets her cig dangle off of her lower lip, "Go ahead and start walking downtown, I'll meet you down there in a sec. I gotta piss."
I stand up and shake out my long, tattered skirt. "Okay, I'll try to find something for us by st.George. Meet you there." I don't wait for her to respond but start walking towards the cities heart.
In a minute Dude falls into pace behind me. I look behind me to see Nova holding Joe by the scruff of the neck and leading him inside. I wave my hand and smile, she salutes me back and beams her thousand watt smile. I bask for a second in her warmth and continue on my way to find us food.
That's the last time I see her clearly. Hours later she is nothing more than a bleary dot on top of a roaring train. I run fast, Dude tucked under my arm, trying to catch up but it's pointless. She's gone, like a star blinking out in the sky.

One big dirty joke, 4th Installment. Age 14-15.

 I can feel my mother staring down at me, she will not be ignored. "Miranda, get out of bed! It's 3 in the after noon and you haven't gotten up once today." She bellows in my face while pulling at my cocoon of blankets.  

"Leave me alone woman!" I yell back with out opening my eyes. I sling my arm over my eyes and yawn. My whole body feels as if it's asleep. I can't feel my toes or finger tips but I don't care. She keeps tugging at my blankets, unrolling me like a grape leaf. Soon I'm just going to fall apart, and then she'll be sorry. "Please go away, just leave me alone!" I whimper. beg.

Her meaty fist comes down on my already black and blue ribs, "Wake up!" 

I grunt once, roll up into the fetal position and fall back into my death like slumber.

After a while she gives up. She knows I've been stealing her meds again, and that I will be zonked out for hours. So she plops herself down in front of the computer and taps away why I drift in my endless black pool. We sit like this all day, until I come out of my medicated stupor and take her place in front of the humming monitor. It's 12 pm, 9 hours later, when I am finally able to open my eyes and stretch. My mom is right where I left her, tap tap tapping away at the keys of our desk top. I kick off my blankets and teeter my way to the bath room, wearing the same t shirt I've had on for the last 3 weeks.

I examine my face in the mirror. Dark circles puff out from under my blood shot eyes. I peel the shirt off of my flesh to count my ribs. They're all there, poking out slightly from under my snow white skin. I step naked onto the scale and frown at what I see. "How can I still be at one forty seven?" I mumble out loud. Once again I turn to the mirror and look over my body. I cup my small breasts in my hands and suck in my stomach. My ribs stick out even further, the bruises on my flesh stretch to cover them up. I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. "Fatty, fatty, fatty!" I whisper to the broad shouldered girl in the mirror. I ball up my fist and punch myself in the ribs as hard as I can. Hot tears spring from my eyes but I don't stop. I bring my knuckles down across my ribs until fresh bruises bloom and my knuckles are as red as roses. Maybe if I punch hard enough I can mold my form to resemble the petite, pretty girls at school. I'm willing to try. 

        When I can't bring myself to fire off another round against my ribs I move to my thighs. All the while biting down on the inside of my mouth to keep myself from screaming the words that are booming in my head, "Fatty! Cow! Dyke! Thunder thighs! No bodies gonna love you if you're a fat ass!" 

Big sloppy tears roll down my face and splash against the moldy tile floor. When no one is looking I allow myself to cry. My thighs turn red and jiggle under my attack. Finally I'm so exhausted all I can do is slump against the counter and stare at myself in the mirror while my body burns and twitches.

Urgent knocking at the door calls me away from my tormented reflection. "Miranda," my brother whines, "I need to take a dump, can you stop shaving your mu stash?"

I quickly yank my t shirt back on and rip open the door. "Fuck you!" I sneer, and push him out of my way. 

He slips into the bath room and locks the door before I can get any more violent with him. the bath room is our sanctuary. It's the only room in the house with a lock on it. Sometimes when I can't escape into sleep I go in there and just lay in the empty tub with my blanket. I've never had my own room before, so that tiny, rusted tub is the closest thing I have to privacy. Unfortunately I have to share it and the rest of my grandmothers 2 bed room trailer with five other people.

I slip into the kitchen and open the fridge. Dinner has long been made and devoured. I know it's against the rules to eat outside of family meals but nothing was saved for me except the pile of dirty dishes in the sink. My grandmother holds no sympathy for slackers. "You get to the table when dinner is served or you don't eat," she warns me every night. 

I grab an apple from some where deep inside our fridge and scurry back to bed with it like a roach. Peeking over my mothers shoulder, I quickly scan the messages she's sending to some foreign man in India while I bite into my first meal of the day. She's so desperate for adult conversation that she doesn't mind if said adult is living over seas and types in broken English about his religion and erect penis. I eat my apple in silence, waiting for her to relinquish the computer for the night. 

Finally she turns to face me, the computer screen sitting idle behind her. "You need to stop taking my Trazodone," she says in a matter of fact way.

At this point I don't even care if she knows or not. I know she isn't stupid, and her meds are the only thing she does pay attention to in real life. I shrug my shoulders at her, "I don't know what you're talking about."

I can feel her eyes glaring into me. "Miranda, I need those. That's why the doctors gave them to me. So please, stop taking them." 

"Well what about all the medication you needed but the doctors wouldn't give you?" I asked, going right for her jugular. 

"What about all the times you sent me in to see the shrink with stories of how depressed I was, when really you just needed a fix?" My voice shook a little at the end despite the acid I felt in my throat.

"Huh mommy? Well now I need some too, so you can shut the fuck up." there, now the acid was out, spit all across her face.

Her dimpled hands are white against the arms of her chair. I meet her with just as much hate and resentment. I feel as if I could spit on her, but instead I go for the kill. "Maybe if you have a few less to take you can get a fucking job and get us out of your mothers house! Huh mommy? did that thought ever occur to you? That maybe we're sick of living here, cramped up in the tin can?! We're waiting for you to take care of us and you're just sitting there!" 

I've swallowed every tear and now I am boiling with anger. I dare her to disagree, to lash back at me, to raise her hand and hit me. Fight! Wake up! 

She doesn't. "You stupid, fat, bitch" she spits at me, "Move so I can go to bed."

I step aside and allow her to fall into the bed I just got out of. I sit in her spot in front of the screen and prop my cold feet up on the tower. It's humming warmth comforts me a little. I look over my shoulder at her big form laying in bed, curled up in the fetal position I know so well. I look back at the screen and open a new page. everything is blurry for a moment until I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. Even if she's not looking, I refuse to cry in front of my mother. I refuse to cry in front of any one. Crying is for infants, and obviously I could not afford to be anything but an adult right now.

3rd installment of "One big dirty joke." Age 18.

This is another installment of my Autobiography, "One big dirty joke." I've been flip flopping around from different parts in my life, with the intention of going back later and putting it all together. So right now I am 18 years old, and it's about two weeks before I have even heard about Gratitude training. 

My head feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton balls. The windows are open wide but no breeze is coming in and the smell of dog piss and body odor clings to everything. We shoved two single mattresses together in the living room and now the five of us are huddled together. On the porch and in the kitchen more traveling kids are hiding in the shadows. Every now and then you can hear them cough on the smoke from the pipe being passed around the house. Of course no one enters the back room, not even to use the bathroom tacked onto it. Sarah has locked herself in there with her record player and loneliness.

         For the last hour though I’ve been aware of nothing but the guy lying next to me. I’m not aware of the three sets of eyes staring or the headlights from the passing cars washing over me, bleaching me white. His hands explore my breasts, thighs and stomach and I match him touch for touch.

I compare his rough, cracked skin to Matthews, even though it hurts to think about Matty while I’m in bed with someone else. It’s been two months since Matty left and I still wake up in the wee hours of the morning reaching out for him. When I don’t find him beside me the knot in my stomach tightens more and my heart aches so much that I cry out.

This barefoot traveling boy is nothing like Matty, and it makes me feel a little better. His legs and calves ripple with muscle from walking, while Matty was nothing but soft flesh. His skin is the color of black coffee, while Matty was pure cream, sprinkled with brown sugar.

I run my tongue across his thick lips and taste salt. His hands are cupping my ass now and I bite down on his tender bottom lip until I taste blood. Something I would not have dared to do to Matty.

Annie rolls over so she isn’t facing us any more, but the other people are still looking on, transfixed. They watch as my tongue flicks his nipples and makes them bloom like morning glories. I’m not put off by his offensive odor, which is so strong it coats the back of my throat like smoke. Instead I embrace it. It is yet another thing that is nothing like my Matty, who always smelled of freshly picked figs.

He kisses me all over but I’m no longer there to notice. My body responds while my mind wonders off, taking me back to Matty’s warm embrace.

I am no longer being rubbed by the rough, steel wool beard of a man who hasn’t bathed in months and am instead being cradled against Matty, my fingers are wrapped up in his auburn locks and he’s smiling. We’re lying in the field at Treaty Park again, it’s spring and the sun is cascading down through freshly opened leaves.

I’m telling him about how much I love the children I take care of at the daycare I’m volunteering at. “Every day I help make lunch and the kids call me Andy instead of Miranda,” I tell him with pride and warmth.

 He snuggles the top of my head and whispers, “One day you’re going to have a whole house full of children, who are going to love you so much. Like I love you.”

I look up at him smiling, but his eyes are closed, envisioning our house full of children. Gently I uncurl his long hair from one of my hands and run the tip of my finger from his eyebrows, down his nose and across his lips. I pause for half a second and his lips part and kiss the supple pad of my index finger. I travel on, trailing his kisses down his chin and across his collarbones like a ribbon. I memorize the way his skin feels under my touch, and the way his bleach blonde eye lashes lay flush against his cheeks. I memorized it so well, it’s like it happened yesterday instead of more than a year ago.

It doesn’t feel like years or months ago though. I have grown so accustomed to being loved by him that the absence of it is unreal. Sometimes when I am laying in the unconscious state between being awake and asleep I can still feel his breath against my scalp, tickling my hair with kisses. I can feel his presence the same way amputees can still feel the tingling of their amputated limbs.

I’m brought back to the present moment by a sharp pain. The traveling boy is on top of me and has made his way inside. I cry out in shock, not realizing it had gone this far. He takes the sound as encouragement and thrusts faster. My right leg is slung over his shoulder and he plants warm, sloppy kisses all over it. Like a drunk driver his mouth swerves across my flesh. I look up at him with wide eyes, and then turn my head to see three sets of eyes looking at me, even Annie is watching again. The pipe glows red in her hand as she tokes on it and passes it to the next person. She coughs and pot smoke billows out of her small mouth and floats over to me. I can feel her glazed eyes judging me. 

I turn my head away and stare at the tiny Buddha statue sitting in the corner of the room until the boy above me is through grunting. He rolls off of me and smacks a kiss on my dry lips.

I feel as if I’m about to vomit, but there is nothing in my stomach to come up so I just dry heave. I sit up and start hacking harder until my throat is raw. The traveling boy pats my back but I wave him away. I don’t want him touching me any more. Annie doesn’t move from her spot slumped against the wall to help me. She just sits and stares with bleary, red eyes. I don’t want her help anyway. I want Sarah. 

I pull myself up from the muddle of bodies and sheets and make my way to the back of the house. Someone whistles at my bare ass but I ignore them. I can hear snickers behind me but I don’t bother to look and see who it is. My whole body is shaking; I can barely feel my legs and arms. I knock on Sarah’s bed room door loudly, “Sarah, it’s me, let me in.”

There is a rotting old couch in the kitchen instead of a table and someone is laying on it strumming a guitar. I don’t feel the need to cover my naked body; I just stand there rubbing my throbbing head. After a couple minutes I hear the chorus of locks being turned and the door creaks open. Sarah’s dread locked head peeks out and stares at me. “What’s up? I’m sleeping,” she croaks.

“Can I sleep with you?” I ask in a tiny voice.

She turns and disappears into the dark room that’s filled with her smell and Jimmie Hendrix’s voice.  I follow and snap all the locks back into place. She flops down on her bare mattress and I curl up next to her. Our backs are pressed together and soon our breathing becomes synchronized. I can feel her heart beating fast in her birdcage like chest. We lay like that for a long time and I think she’s asleep until she asks, “What’s the matter?”

She knows how much I miss Matty, she knows how I dream of him so vividly that in the morning I cry when I find that it was all indeed a dream. She was there for the whole two and a half years we were together, and now she’s the only one left to pick up the pieces now that it is all over. She is also the only one who knows how much I miss my mother. I tell her, and her alone about how I can still smell her sometimes and how it makes me want to bring my knees up to my chest and sob forever. Sarah knows how much I hate my job at Wal mart and how much I long to work with children instead. And how I keep telling myself I can’t, because who is going to let trailer park trash take care of babies?

She knows it all, and when I talk to her it’s like applying a soothing balm to my wounds. “I had sex with him… It was the first time since Matty,” I whisper into the darkness in front of me.

I know if I look into her eyes right now they will be sober, and only unfocused from sleep. Her clear blue eyes never hold judgment either. We both know that drugs will never dull our pain, so there is no point in trying.

I gulp up a mouth full of air, trying to settle my stomach. The A/C unit in the window hums a rumbling lullaby, while gushing out ice-cold air over my naked body.

She doesn’t respond for a while and once again I assume she’s asleep. “I miss him so much Sarah.” I whimper.

She rolls over and faces me and I turn so we’re lying face-to-face and embracing. Her face is damp and I realize mine is as well, I’ve been crying the whole time. Her dread locks fall across my shoulders, and the feeling of her surrounding me makes me feel better. As if her ropes of hair alone can keep me safe from the poison that is eating me alive from the inside.

She pets my damp hair, pushing it back off of my face. Soon my face is slack and for once my mind isn’t racing. The knot in my stomach loosens a little, letting my heartbeat normally, with out aching. It begins to turn gray outside, and Sarah has finally fallen back to sleep. Slowly I rise and pick my way back into the front of the house. I leave Sarah curled up on the bare mattress to dream. The bottoms of her feet are black and her bare legs are covered in bug bites, much like my own.

 We have not showered in I don’t know how long because the water in the house has been turned off. If I want to wash I’ll have to walk downtown later and lock myself in the handicap stall while I rinse off in the sink. Before I go do another 9-hour shift at Wal mart I’ll run across the lawn and wash my hair with the neighbors garden house and a bottle of dish soap. Wal mart is the last thing on my mind now though.

I step over puddles of dog piss, broken dishes and vomit until I find my traveling boy amongst the pile of other bodies. I stand in the doorway staring at him until his eyes open. He smiles and lifts the filthy sheet that is covering him, beckoning me to him. The palms of his hands are as white as clouds and they put me at ease, they are like white flags waving in a battlefield, telling me the battle is over for now. I’ve made it through another night.

 I step over Annie’s slim body and slip into bed next to him, laying my head on his chest. “I missed you last night,” he whispers into my matted hair.

I don’t respond though, I’m already asleep. 

I jerk my head up off of the bare mattress, a line of drool slipping down my chin. Next to me my phone is going off like a swarm of angry hornets. "BUZZ, Buzz, Buzz!!!"

I look around but no one is here, they must be out flying signs. Light filters in from the bare window and I guess it's any where from noon to 3 o'clock.

 I snatch up the phone and stare at it for a second, letting my eyes focus on the small text before I answer it. Oh, it's James! I flip the phone open, "Hey, what's up?"

James has been gone lately, off doing some kind of personal growth crap. I personally think it's a waste of money, but at the same time I can see the change in him and that makes me happy. He's not nearly as angry any more. "Hey.. were you sleeping?" I can hear the disappointment in his voice.

"No," I lie, "just allergies." 

I don't like telling lies to him, but I don't like him judging my lifestyle even more. Yeah, I party a lot and stay up late, but my bills are paid, aren't they? 

"Well, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a little bit, if you aren't busy."

I sit up in bed and stretch my legs out in front of me, "Nah, I'm not busy. What's up?" I can feel Gratitude training coming. 

He's gonna suggest I go, I know it. But I can't go, I have to work. Not to mention it's a 5 hour drive from here and I know nobody in West Palm Beach, where the center is located. I sigh to myself, I really don't want to talk about it at all, I'm just going to let him down. 

"Well I was wondering if you'd tell me about what you want to do... I mean, I know you want to work with kids, but that's really all I know." he asks.

I'm kinda put off by this. Not by the question itself, but by James asking me something. Normally James does all the talking in conversations. Which really isn't so bad, I enjoy listening to him talk because he always has something interesting to say, and I really learn from him. 

In the 3 years I've lived with my Sister Kerri, and her boyfriend James, I've learned a lot just from sitting and listening to James talk. 

"Well.." I falter for a second, what do I want?

I know what I want, but it's so outlandish, so unobtainable, that I kinda feel silly even bringing it up. "One day I want to own my a daycare," I say in a small voice. 

There, it's out. Now he's going to pick it apart and tell me all the reasons why I'm not on the right track to reach my goal. I close my eyes and wait. 

"What does that look like?" he asks.

What the fuck? "I don't know..." What does he mean by that anyway? 

"Close your eyes," he instructs, "and tell me what it looks like."

My eyes are already closed.. but I try to do as he says and imagine the day care. I see colorful walls, covered in butterflies that the kids cut out themselves and glued glitter on. I see origami birds we folded hanging from the ceiling and 5 little people sitting in a circle with me in the center, reading a book. I smell pine sol and their little bodies, powdered and innocent. 

I smile at the scene, it's so vivid in front of me, but I can't bring myself to tell James. I can't ever have that, so there's no point in day dreaming about it. "I don't know.." I repeat. 

He sighs on the other end, but remains patient with me. "Well I see building blocks, and lots of kids running around playing," he says, "It's your day care, what colors are the walls? How old are the kids?" 

I close my eyes even tighter, "James, I don't know.." I say again, starting to get frustrated. 

I don't want to do this! I don't want to talk about things I can't have, no bodies going to let me, trailer park trash, take care of kids. I'm getting my hopes up for nothing!

He senses me getting aggravated but keeps it up anyway, "There are no limitations Miranda, nothing to stop you, so just imagine it. What would it sound like? How would you set it up?"

Tears start spilling down my face as I try to hold back my sobs. No limitations? Ha! The picture in my head is bright and bubbly, with children playing duck, duck, goose and Mozart tinkling softly in the background. Life is filled with limitations! Me being fat is a limitation, and the most obvious one. Add on the fact I was raised in the projects, put in foster care and poor. James wasn't fooling anyone, I was limited from the start. 

I collect myself long enough to reply, "James, I really don't know.." the tears make my voice come out thick. 

"Miranda.. You do know." 

I sob a little into the phone, why can't he just let it go? It's stupid anyway. 

"I want you to do GT," he says after a second, "Just consider it, okay?"

I knew it! I knew he would bring it up! I wipe away my tears with an angry fist. "I don't know." I repeat my go to phrase when I'm upset. 

"I have a scholar ship for the first part for you, you can go to part one for free, and Kerri is going with you. Will you at least consider it?" He isn't pleading with me,instead his voice sounds as if he's offering a gift. Something I should be honored to receive. 

I'm quite for a second, not really thinking, just trying to collect myself. "Okay," I whisper, "Let me see if I can get the days off for it first."

I jot down the dates he gives me and hang up the phone. Sarah walks in just as I flop back on the bed, I can tell by the look on her face she's been listening for a while. 

"Is he trying to make you go to that cult again?" She asks, only half sarcastic. 

I shrug my shoulders and stare up at the ceiling. The bed sighs and slumps a little as she sits down next to me. She picks up the lists of dates and scans them."This is about the time we'll be leaving," she reminds me, as if I don't know.

"Yeah," I say softly to the brown spot crawling across the ceiling. 

"Are you going to do this instead of going with us?" she demands. 

For the last few weeks Sarah, Annie and I have been talking about leaving St.Aug and hitch hiking. We were thinking North Carolina, or maybe just joining up with the rainbow, a group of traveling hippies that bartered and traded for everything. Really any where would do. We just needed to go. I felt trapped by my job, by my obligations, my responsibilities. Why bother with it, when I can just stick out my thumb and be gone?

I roll my head to the side and stare at her. She isn't looking at me, but at the slip of paper in her hands. Her dreads have fallen around her face, so I can't make out her profile. "I don't know" I groan. 

That phrase, I say it so much it's like a chant. "I don't know!" I repeat, more to myself this time.

"Well if you ditch me, that would be lame." she snaps, as she pulls herself off of the bed and makes her way to the bathroom. The water has been off for a while, but some dumb ass took a shit in the toilet anyway. She slams the door shut, trying to block out the smell from her room. It's pretty pointless, since right next to the bed a giant pile of dog shit sits, sneering at me. I don't bother to clean it up though, another pile will just replace it later. "It's free, the first part. so maybe I can just do it for James and Kerri and then leave with you," I try to reason. 

I want to make everyone happy, it's like it doesn't even matter what I want. The picture of the daycare swirls in my mind again. What do I want?