I was just getting ready to leave and run an errand to the post office when the phone rang and it was Kenny and he wanted me to go out with him for ice cream. His place is only like half a block away from the post office so we could meet up conveniently. I agreed to see him, despite my better judgment. He truly was a crazy wild fucker to avoid, but I just…

Hey, I learned. I left him the last time. I went back the next night, but I left him before he could fuck me again. And it was easy to leave. It was so much easier and more emotionally healthy for me to leave than to stay and it is sad to think of how I chose to follow along a path of weak resistance and pain and misery, how I struggled on that path, for no reason of logic.

I shouldn’t have agreed to see him, knowing who he was, but I did. I was still on that path.

At the post office there happened to be a package waiting for me, from my long distance buddy Greg. He’d sent some art he’d made, and a poem of his all about me, and a letter, and two shirts. One pink, from his college, and one orange Bears shirt, cuz he is a football dude. These gifts really made me smile hard. He’s very sweet. And I decided to wear the Bears shirt. Cuz I had on a white tank top and jeans, but no bra. I should have worn a bra. But bras are so useless to me. They only squish my boobs against me. So when I bounce around, they don’t jiggle too extremely. But it’s dumb cuz my boobs are small and they can’t keep my bra in place so I only have to raise my arms wrong and the bra moves up and off of my boobs which is uncomfortable. But if I don’t wear a bra my nipples poke out. A sports bra wouldn’t ride up on me dumbly but it wouldn’t solve my nipple problem. So I’d have to find one with boob pads. And I don’t know if they even make sexy boob pad sports bras. And I don’t even care enough, people can just enjoy my nipple show or whatever. WHATEVER. Except I do care, I hate how naked not wearing a bra makes me feel. So it was good to wear the Bears shirt, to have an extra layer over my sexy bits.

I decided on strawberry ice cream for me, and he wanted a vanilla fudge thing with whipped cream and nuts. We were in Pacific Beach, where the breeze is gentle and clean, and I saw the sun and the seagulls cruising through the clouds and I looked up at the palm trees and out on the water and the sand and the half naked people lounging around underneath oversized umbrellas and it felt good to be there. We played a couple rounds of air hockey in the arcade at Belmont Park too and it was fun. After that we got high in the apartment with his roommates, who cooked us all this yummy noodle dish, with bread and homemade hummus on the side. I laughed a lot, they kept me entertained. But then it got to be around eight o’clock, the perfect time to leave and avoid pressure from Kenny to have sex or blow him. So I got up and grabbed my purse and put on my jacket and I was by the door ready to go but everyone asked me to stick around and relax in good company. I figured maybe staying till nine wouldn’t be so bad. Then nine-thirty rolled around. And I got anxious. I told Kenny I was leaving but I asked him to walk me home and that was my mistake. Cuz he wanted to stop by the liquor store on account of his alcoholism. And I didn’t quite feel like being at home really, with my family. I was more in the mood to just get drunk with him on the bay and chat. So we did.

The old man at the liquor store was nice, he gave me a stick of Nag Champa incense, cuz I was wondering aloud why his store smelt so wonderfully good. He didn’t ask for Kenny’s ID and he didn’t care that I was obviously underage.

We sat by the water with our feet in the sand sipping rum and Coke, and it was peaceful. But the conversation did not go my way. When I told him about how beautiful I found Chris to be, how deeply he moved me, that was okay. Kenny seemed pleased to hear that I was happy. But then I tried to say that Chris was it. I didn’t want to stray, because he had all of my desire. I believed that no one could tempt me. Chris had asked me to be with only him, and I had promised. But he couldn’t make the same promise back. I understood that though. I knew that he would try to stay true, even so. I just felt it in my bones. I felt him falling in love with me. But Kenny argued, he said Chris was probably gonna slut around and that I was a fucking idiot to allow him the freedom. That I was obviously just some little sexy thing for Chris to own and I’d never get any respect and it would never be real. He said it wasn’t a fair deal, that I ought to have the freedom too. I said I didn’t WANT the fucking freedom. I said that Chris knew my worth, and he wanted me deeply, but that it was too early in the relationship to make a serious commitment. And he told me I was a fool.

I went back to the apartment with him because there was art on the walls and his bed was comfy and his roommates were friendly and my own home is an emotional dump. Also, before the liquor, I had half-heartedly reassured myself that everything would be fine cuz I could just leave if he got forceful. I could just walk the mile alone and drunk and that would suck but I’d survive. Except after the liquor I lost my focus and my strength. And Kenny took me that night, he ruled over me. You know what I mean. First he tried to give me a big long kiss though. But I couldn’t bear to go along with that. I pulled away and away and away. So he made a mark on my neck. I think he meant to taint me so that Chris would not want me anymore. I think he meant to ruin things. I remember him saying, “You were mine FIRST.” And I remember how that scared me.

He fell asleep after, but I was wide awake with misery. The bed was comfy, yeah. My pillow was full of feathers and it held my head in a lovely way. But I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t even lie there. I had to sit up and hold myself. And maybe I cried.

I remember hearing a woman’s voice outside through the open window at like two in the morning and she sounded edgy and panicked. I live in a nice residential area but Kenny’s place is down about a mile, right on the street. Shit happens on the street. I was desperate for a distraction from my fucking mess of a life. And I couldn’t ignore the sound of a lady in distress. So I threw on my pants and my tank top and the Bears shirt but no jacket. No shoes either. And I went out there to scope the scene.

There was a man with the woman. He was pacing around like a freak, and she was on his heels trying to make him stop and be normal. I decided to help. I ran down the stairs and I attempted to assist her, I paced around with them. She kept scolding him but he couldn’t listen with the insanity in his head keeping him so lost. And I didn’t know what to say, what to add. So I just took his hands and I held them firmly and I wouldn’t let go and I looked him right in the face and he saw me as a person almost, he almost relaxed. He was bleeding a lot from a cut on his chin which seemed to have a fragment of glass in it. I was very confused, and very numb from misery and liquor. He wasn’t saying anything, he just kept grunting and trying to thrash around, but I held his hands and fought him, I wanted him to be still. The woman wasn’t explaining anything. The ground was cold on my naked feet and I was beginning to feel strange about being in that situation. The guy didn’t seem like he was gonna get violent on me but I just didn’t feel like he was gonna relax any time soon. I had no idea what to do. And then I saw cops coming. I figured they could take care of things. So I just let go of the guy and headed for the stairs. But then all of a sudden I had this police dog at my neck barking like I was some kind of criminal. And one of the cops tackled me onto the ground and he cuffed me. And he was grinding my hips into the filthy freezing ground. I felt so violated and terrified that I pissed my pants, and it was warm and wet and humiliating. And then they sat me up against the wall and they asked me who I was and why I was there and what I knew about the guy with blood on his face. No one taunted me for pissing myself, but it was still awful to be stuck in those wet jeans. I gave them my name and my social and my address and my age and I admitted to being drunk and I let them think Kenny was my boyfriend, that I’d been up in my apartment with my boyfriend and we’d gotten drunk and I’d only been trying to help these two people but they were strangers. They had me up against the wall for so long. The woman, she wasn’t cuffed, just me. She hadn’t tried to leave and made herself look guilty. She had been calm and faced the cops and told them she knew nothing about the man. I know that was a lie, but she is mysterious and I never found out the truth. But she sat next to me and she comforted me because I was crying uncontrollably. She said everything was going to be fine, that I was young and they’d let me slide, that soon it would all only be a memory and I could write about it. Before they took me away in the car, I asked for her name, in case I felt alone later.

Tamara. That was her name.

Before they took me away in the car, she went and got my shoes and my jacket for me. I didn’t want her to get my purse, I don’t have a cell phone or money. I only carry my own little things that I value when I wear a purse. So then randomly I can open it up and look at my charming stuff. I had several small glass hearts in there. A black beaded necklace with a wooden cross looped onto it. A little fake red flower. A tiny red drawstring bag with white polka dots holding a mound of spare change inside of it. My treasures.

I got dropped off at this detox place, where they undid my cuffs. They showed me a mat on the floor and they gave me a thick white sheet but they called it a blanket and they had me lie down for awhile and I said her name to myself then, while I was on that mat. I said it very quietly, and then I fell asleep.

When I woke up I drank water from a fountain in the corner but it tasted funny. I washed my hands in the bathroom with hot hot water and it helped me get warm. But I had this cut on my index finger still from a scissor mistake I’d made a couple days before, and it stung. So when I went up to the big desk and asked what was gonna happen the lady let me use her disinfectant. She offered me a couple candy mints too, it was kind. She told me I had been detained and released. That I was lucky not to have gotten in big trouble. That I should call someone to come take me home, or ride the trolley away towards home. Ha, right. Like I had any phone numbers. Or a buspass. My life is a trick like that. I was stranded. She told me to ride the trolley illegally. She took a little manila tag and wrote some official stuff on it.

She said if any trolley officers got on my case, I could hand them that and explain how I was in a pinch and they’d understand and let me ride. So I walked over to the station, it was like six in the morning. I waited for the trolley but I was on the wrong side and got on the wrong one, the one going to Tijuana. But I didn’t even want to get off and wait in the cold again, so I just sat there. I watched as the trolley passed by a lake and the sun was like a thousand jewels on the water. The sun was hitting everything and making everything sparkle and I was alive. But I was alive and miserable. I hated my pissy wet jeans and I hated how every man on the trolley made me afraid and I wanted to shower and to eat and to fall asleep in a warm clean soft bed and I wanted to be held and comforted by someone sweet. The ride lasted forever and at the end of the line I had to get off and wait in the cold anyhow, I thought the trolley would just loop back around but no. So I was in Tijuana. And when I finally reached Old Town my bus was right there waiting. I got on and I leaned over the driver’s shoulder and I told him very softly that I had no phone or purse or money but I needed a ride home and he nodded his head and told me to sit down.

I got off by Kenny’s place. I knocked on his door and his roommate answered and he asked if I had enjoyed my little adventure and I told him it was okay and he went back to sleep while I showered and it was a splendid shower.

I could have stayed there and rested, but I hated that bed and what I had done with him in it and I hated that whole room. I left to walk home but I was hungry and there was this Mexican shop and I knew that even though I could not pay they would feed me there. I knew that if I went home, there would be nothing for me to eat. I walked into the shop and I spoke to the cook, he was an older man. I said that my parents would not feed me but I was hungry. And this is true. This is true a lot of the time. I said I had no money, but that I only wanted something small. He could probably sense my despair. He looked at me with sad eyes, and I don’t know what he thought, but he offered me a burrito. And I sat down and cried quietly at a table while an employee swept the floor and ignored my sorrow. I felt very poor and loserly but oh well. When my burrito was ready I couldn’t stay because I felt too pathetic in that shop. But I didn’t want to just run off ungratefully. So I took out that black beaded necklace with the wooden cross looped onto it. And the little fake red flower. And the tiny red drawstring bag with white polka dots holding a mound of spare change inside of it. I kept my glass hearts. But I left these other things on the counter for him. I set them down loudly and then he looked up at me and saw but I bolted out before he could react. I gave him what I had. I miss those treasures but he appreciates them now. He does.

And on the walk home I was thirsty. It was amazing. I was thirsty and on the walk home I encountered a truck full of water bottles. Most of them were wrapped up in this big plastic thing but there were quite a few just sitting there in the corner of the bed and as I passed by I reached my hand in and took one. I know stealing is wrong but that water came from heaven. The brand was Déjà Blue. The bottle was blue. I was blue. I had that old familiar feeling of sadness. It all made sense.

Credit: desiree @ Obviously Underwater

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