Chapter 2- Poison Gas
-on both accounts.
Now, I know it's weird to put beginnings with ends, but truly, that's all we ever know. Right? So why wait for the end itself when you can save yourself the trouble off all that suffering that comes with suspense. The need to cheat pages and find out what happened. So I'll just tell you, my guess, as of now, is about as good as yours, my only advantage, it will ultimately be my choice. So I guess I already know the answer. Well, that is if I really know myself.
Endings are odd sort of beginnings really, a new way to think, another thing over and done with. So what about the absence of an ending? I suppose we could go on forever, waiting for the end, or like so many others we could just hang up on our chance for a new beginning.
***
She tried several times to add self obsession to the story, here and later. It never did work out though.
Maybe it was her mindset, that if somebody really reached a point of notation-worthy self-obsession wouldn't they already know? The answer, Jamie concluded, was yes. After all, where do you think first person narration comes from? Think about it though, seeing as we've already established that characters have souls, and thus feelings, imagine how self-inclined that person must be to spend up to six hundred pages just talking about themselves.
Despite this fact, Jamie's story didn't change. In meaning or in narration. She figured that she preferred self-obsession to limited truth.
So was the excuse.
Now, all self-obsession well and truly forgotten, Jamie put down her pen, changed and went back downstairs. She wrote a short note to her mother, grabbed her purse and left.
The spot was basically a nickname to placate the fact that they hung out in a wash. Surprisingly enough they had beaten the stoners.
Jamie parked and honked her horn once, waited for the reply honk, and then climbed down into the tunnel where the car was parked.
It was a simple procedure, if Nat and Chris were down there, you warned that you were coming, waiting for the safety reply before heading down. Unless of coarse you were some sort of demented pervert looking for an eyeful. Of which Jamie was not.
“Abstinence,” had never been part of Natalie's vocabulary, and Chris, upon meeting her, quickly forgot it as well.
Natalie, Chris, and Amber were all sitting on the hood of the car.
“Beat ya here,” Amber said laughing.
“Spoiled all my fun, Bitch,” Natalie said, combing her hair with her fingers.
Despite her words she was smiling. Chris chuckled that manly laugh that meant it had been a good time. He brought a cigarette held between his first and middle finger up to his lips.
“So how about it Kid,” he began, smoke trailing out of his mouth as he spoke, “gonna try it this time?” He asked Jamie holding the half-burned cigarette out to her.
“But that would be less poisonous gas for you, we wouldn't want that,” she replied coolly.
“No, we really wouldn't,” with a sly smile he drew another lungful, exhaling it appreciatively.
Jamie shook her head.
“So, how are you all, anything new going on?” Natalie asked, finally done combing her hair, now having moved on to fixing makeup that had been mixed around during all the fun. Chris had some eyeliner on his neck, Jamie didn't say anything.
“Not really,” Amber said, taking a cigarette out of her purse and lighting it. After breathing it in deeply she continued, “The twins are being bitches though, If I didn't get paid so fucking much I swear I would love nothing more than to show them the cool side of the pillow.”
They all laughed.
“How bout you Kid? Anything new and exciting in your black hole?” Chris asked, referring to Jamie's room of perpetual night. Lit only with a small lamp when she was writing at her desk.
“Eh, my dad got married today,” she answered, shrugging.
“So, what would this be? Wife number five?” Natalie joked.
“Four, actually,” Jamie said.
“And is he still going to live with you guys?” Amber asked, with actual concern apparent in her voice.
“Yeah, Tammy's moving in too, they come back from their honeymoon in, get this, Paris, in two weeks.”
“I don't know how you guys cope with that,” Natalie said, taking some of Chris's lung poison. Jamie imagined it slowly making its way through their bodies, until finally it decided that enough was enough. “It must be really stressful.”
***
It's interesting how nobody knows just how hard it is to watch your father come home with a new wife all the time. The same home. No escape for us, we just get to sit and watch and bet on how long they'll last this time.
Even better is that as bad as it is, we all just deal. Ignoring the horrendous fact that the person who could hold an infant so dearly, claim undying love, and commit till death do them part-at least four times- could be such a cold jackass.
I almost feel bad for Him. But not enough to love him.
That's still not as bad as having to watch the person who held you up when you scraped you knee, pushed you down when you stood yourself up on a weak pedestal, and loved you unconditionally, have to cope with the stress of planning wedding after wedding for the love of her life, hoping-in vain- that some day he'll re-kindle the fire that went out so very long ago.
That's what kills, knowing first hand how messed up some people are, taking advantage of the ones that love them most. By not loving them at all.
It almost temps me to take all the poisonous gas in the world, take it all at once and watch as it makes it's way through me, until finally, I give up. Just like he did.
Oh, the love of a father hath no bounds. And if it does, please, point me their way.
If there is, though, you know the drill.
Although, the narration being in italics is starting to bother me in the slightest. Usually italics aren't part of the main story, but the narration is the main story. I feel it should be the other way around, her words in italics, and the narrations regular. But, that is my opinion.
