Is anyone still here? I sincerely doubt it and if you are here…oh, man. I feel really bad about not updating even though the last thing I wrote was that this would become top priority. To people still reading I am so very, very sorry for taking so long and I can't really give any excuse other than life happened. Which sucks because I would love to get a story or book published one day and I dunno if that'll happen if I don't keep writing.
I want to finish this story so bad but I've let other things get in the way and I hate that. I wish I could promise more updates in the future, but that wouldn't feel right so all I will say is that I shall try my very, very best.
Hope you guys like this:)
Wednesday, December 19, 2012, 5:30pm
Alba is 11
Alba: "Wasn't that just the coolest thing ever?" I slung my backpack over my shoulder as I stood from my seat. Uncle Gomez turned around and grinned at me "Still the coolest? Even after 400 times?" he chuckled.
"It's only my 4th time." I shrugged as we joined the crowd exiting the theater. Everyone was chattering excitedly, the after effect of a good movie. "I could watch The Hobbit forever."
"I do not doubt it."
I loved the days when Uncle Gomez took me out to the movies after picking me up from school. At first it was hard watching the moving images in front of me, maybe the screen was too big or something, but I had always felt the sudden tingle meaning time travel was imminent. But then after a while I started to get the hang of anchoring myself and soaking up the experience.
We spent the walk to the grocery talking about the movie and then school came up afterwards. I wonder why adults are always so interested in school. As we turn the corner I see him.
"Dad?...DAD!" I run as fast as I can, I can hear Uncle Gomez scream after me as I dash across the street.
It's Dad! His arms are stretched out, waiting for me as I jump into them. "ImissyouImissyouImissyou…." I find myself saying into his neck. He lifts me from the ground and swings me around "I miss you too, kid."
He turns to Uncle Gomez as he puts me down. They smile at each other in acknowledgement, and give each other the one armed man hug. After some friendly chatter Gomez pats dad on the shoulder and says "I'll leave you with Alb. I'll be right over there." He gestures to the nearby bench.
Once he's gone dad takes my hand and leads me to the alley beside two buildings and smiles "How've you been?"
"Great! I've been great! The Hobbit just came out and it's-AMAZING!"
He laughs a little "Yeah, yeah. I saw the posters. I can't believe it, actually. Reading that book feels like…woah…ages ago."
We're both silent, staring at each other. I start to tell him all about it, knowing he probably won't be able to see it, the actors, their costumes, and the way everything was shot. It was beautiful. "I've seen it four times." He then starts to ask me about the tapes he left me, have I practiced my lock picking and such? Yes, dad, I have. Good.
"How's mom?" His eyes suddenly become sad. I take his hand as I say "She's been working a lot. She's got an exhibit next month. Maybe you can make it."
His smile is thin, the doubt in his eyes makes it seem like the heaviest smile in the world "Yeah, maybe." He then pulled me into his arms and gave me a small kiss "I love you, Alba."
"I love you too, Dad." I held him tight. And then I was just clutching his clothes.
Friday, March 3, 2017, 11:30pm
Pete is 21
Pete: Shit. It was starting up again. I could feel it in my head weighing me down. I hadn't eaten in around 3 days. Well, I hadn't felt like eating. "I'm so hungry." I mutter to no one but myself. Moving is getting too difficult. Just lying in bed is making me tired. I know exactly what's happening to me. It happened to my mom.
I think about mom more now. Way more than ever, actually. Maybe it's because my English professor brings her son to class. He's a little kid, maybe three or four years old with black hair and huge brown eyes. He doesn't do much but sit at her desk and doodle on paper. Sometimes I wonder if I miss my mom or miss the idea of a mom. I try to push it out of my head. It sucks thinking about too hard about things you can't change.
Just as I began to drift to sleep there's a sudden knock at my door. I groan as I roll off my bed and stumble around in the dark as I say "I'm not in the mood-" my sentence gets cut off as I fling open the door.
What the hell? There's a kid in front of me. He looks about 15 or 16 with black hair and blue eyes. The clothes he's wearing consist of jeans, a red hoodie and a blue jean jacket. All of them a size or two too big for him. "Hey." He says grinning.
"Hey…" I mutter "Sorry, who're you?"
"Mike. I'm Floyd's cousin."
"Floyd's not here. He won't be here for the weekend."
"I know. He's at a family reunion. I'm on the way there from boarding school and my bus stopped here and my next one is in the morning and he said that I could crash here for the night."
I try and run through the week. Floyd never said anything about this. I tell the kid to sit tight and close the door on him. Maybe I should check my phone to see if I was texted or something. I stand motionless mulling it over. It'll be too much effort to throw around the furniture looking for it. My eyes begin to itch so I rub them and flip on the room light.
When I open the door the kid is still there.
"Okay. But know that if you're some fucked up psycho killer or something I have two lightsabers within arm's reach of my bed. Got it?"
He face becomes serious "Got it."
Pete: I don't remember who suggested watching a movie. I think it was Mike, whatever. We went through Floyd's burned DVDs found a movie and popped it into the flat screen TV slash DVD player we shared.
"This is like…the weirdest movie…" I muttered. It was called Gentlemen Broncos, it was Big Fat Liar on crack…or yeast rather, the story is that this big shot guy steals a story from a kid and then eventually the kid finds out and stuff. But it's mostly about the life of the kid and scenes of the story that the kid wrote which was this sci-fi story about a yeast factory and gonads.
"It's great though, right?" Mike laughs.
"Mmm. In a kind of…."
"…Napoleon Dynamite way?" He asks reaching for his backpack.
"Yeah. Yeah, exactly." I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest.
I turn to him with a comment and watch him pull a joint and lighter from his bag. "Do your parents know you do that?" I ask as I watch him.
The joint is hanging from his lips as he grins "Yeah." He begins to light it "My dad's seen me do it." After he's had a good puff he passes it over to me. I don't usually smoke but right now…right now I could sure use some Mary Jane. I take it from him and take a deep drag. All I can think is…shit, that's amazing…I hold it in me and close my eyes. I let the chemicals take their effect before letting it out in a slow breath. I realize that Mike had just said something, "Sorry, what?"
"I said don't finish it." He repeats reaching for it. I take another drag before handing it back to him. We don't say anything until the end of the movie when Mike suddenly asks me "Do you really have two lightsabers?"
At this point my brain is pretty free flying high so I pull them out from under my mattress and show them to him. "Blue and green. They light up and everything." I turn them on and Mike lets out a gasp and takes the green one.
"Shit, this is awesome." What's left of the joint is now put aside in Floyd's ash tray as Mike begins swinging it around.
"Careful! It's not a toy." I snap.
"Sorry, man." He begins to hand it back to me as I jump up and my blue saber at his face. He moves fast and gets up on his feet. The next thing I know I'm standing on Floyd's bed in a deadlock. The only sounds in the room are our excited shouts, the wump-wump-PSSSSH of the sabers and the credits of Gentlemen Broncos. And then I hear a crack. And then I'm on the floor. And my nose feels like it's on fire.
"Shit. Sorrysorrysorry." Mike drops beside me "You're bleeding man."
The front of my face feels wet. I touch it with the back of my hand which is soon covered in blood. "You don't fucking say…"
"I'm so sorry." He presses a cloth against my nose. It better not be Floyd's masturbation sock.
"It's cool. Shit happens." I manage to say. My head is resting on Floyd's bed. I take the cloth from Mike's hand. God, this hurts.
"I just got really into it." He sits beside me on the floor.
"Maybe you should go to the clinic?"
"And say what? I broke my nose playing with a lightsaber in my dorm?"
He shrugs "Shit, man. It's a college clinic I'm sure they get this stuff all the time."
I laugh "It'll be fine. You just gotta-" before I can finish my sentence Mike leans forward and snaps my nose. "SON OF A BITCH FUCK SHIT! OW!"
"At least it's done with." We're silent for several minutes. When the bleeding has finally stopped I go and wash my face in the bathroom down the hall. By the time I get back the TV's off and Mike's in Floyd's bed, his legs pulled up to his chest.
"You don't look too bad." He comments.
"Thanks." I flop onto my bed and turn off my light. The room is suddenly flooded with darkness. We're both quiet. I can't help but gently press the bridge of my nose to see if there'll be any permanent damage.
"You should probably take that to the clinic later." Mike says.
"Can I tell you something?"
There's a pause. I really dragged out pause and then he says "You're really cool."
"Yeah, I know."
Saturday, January 6, 2018, 7:30pm
Alba is 17
Alba: I watch as Jeremy flings another snowball off the roof. We're standing on the roof of his apartment building and it's freezing. "You're insane."
He turns to me "You're just boring."
"Fuck you." I snort.
Jeremy is just like me, a CDP. It was pretty cool since now I knew someone other than dad and I who traveled. But Jeremy was amazing. He could control his traveling to a tee. He liked to call himself his own Tardis. He could go anywhere and at anytime he wanted. How about the moon? I'd ask. I'm working on it. He'd laugh.
"1920." I repeated.
"1920. Paris, France. You coming or not?"
I shake my head. God, he makes me feel like such a failure "No. That's too hard." Dunce.
"What's so hard about it? C'mon. We'll both land on the same street and time and date and it'll be so awesome."
"Yeah, for you. I'll probably wind up halfway and get stuck."
He runs towards me and grabs my shoulders "C'mon, Tink! Use your pixie dust and trust!"
"Not this time, Peter."
Jeremy shakes his head sadly. "Okay then. If you wanna follow it'll June 3rd, 1920 on rue Montagne St. Genevieve."
"Why June 3rd?"
"Why not?" He grins impishly and I watch as he slowly transports. And then he's gone and it's just his clothes.
"Maybe next time."
Alba: I wake up when something thumps beside my bed. My body automatically sits up right as I fumble for the light. It takes my eyes a while to adjust and when they do…
Jeremy's lying by my bed. His pale skin is beginning to fade to grey. And his leg…I started screaming as I fell beside him, my blanket falling with me. It was red, red and sticky and wet; a huge chunk was torn from it. I start pressing my blanket against it all the while I can feel sobs choking me. I hear my door open and mom shouting.
"CALL AN AMBULANCE!"
She's way ahead of me, dashing for the nearest phone.
"Jeremy…Jerry…Hey can you hear me?" I manage to gasp.
His eyelids flutter and he mutters "Fucking dog."
A choked laugh comes from my mouth "You'll be okay."
"Thanks, Tink." He whispers.
The ambulance arrives 5 minutes later. Mom squeezes my hand as we watch him being wheeled away. I know what's going through her mind, what this reminds her off. We both begin to cry.
Wednesday, June 6, 2041, 8:00pm
Pete is 40
Pete: Movie night. I love movie night. It started when Alba and I were dating and she insisted on watching a movie every single Wednesday night. We watched anything and everything. From comedies to heavy dramas to pornos even. I didn't do the pornos anymore.
"Popcorn's coming!" I call out to the den where Franc is setting up the movie. I walk by a picture of Alba on the way out of the kitchen and feel the little hitch in my chest. "One day." I mutter to it.
When I get to the den I place the two bowls of popcorn and huge tumblers of coke on the coffee table. That's when I see the movie we're watching.
"Oh, hey! Gentlemen Broncos! Man, it's been ages since I've seen this."
"Cool beans." Franc mutters as he takes a hand full of popcorn and flops on the couch.
"I have the coolest story about this…" I say turning towards Franc. He looks up at me, his face curious but his eyes…his eyes were saying something else. And then WHAM! Right in the nose!
"You little shit…" I whisper.
"Hmm?" Franc says innocently, popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth. I pick up a pillow and smack him in the face. He's laughing now. "You little…You do pot?"
"Just that one time…and the first time." He's still laughing.
"You think it's funny?"
"What? I told you my dad knew about it."
I can't help the laugh "God…never again, okay?"
"What? Never ever?"
Damn, I couldn't say that. I did pot for crying out loud. I scratch my head "Only three times a year. Deal?"
He considers me for a moment "Deal." We shake on it.
"And not ever in front of me again." I sit down beside him.
"Aw, man. You're really fun to get high with though."
"You broke my nose the last time so…"
Franc starts to laugh. "It turned out okay."
"Shut up and watch the movie."
He smiles and turns back to the TV. I feel betrayed a little and like a bad father even. But I can't help but smile as well.