[So... YEAH. I don't really know. Hahahahahaaaaaaaaa.]
Snores from the master bedroom: my cue to exit.
I crept down the stairs, flinching at each crick and creek, though not stopping to bring back the silence. I was already “grounded for life” for doing this once, but to be honest, I wasn’t all that concerned about getting caught again.
I never thought about the consequences; after all, they’re my parents – what more could they do than “ground me for life?”
It was all about the rush. The risk.
“Made it,” I whispered to myself as my feet left the final step, as I headed toward the front door.
I twisted the knob and pulled it open slightly – just enough to squeeze myself through – before shutting it behind me with a sigh of relief and a breath of pride and thrill. Success.
I pulled off the long, brown trench coat hiding my body (I had it on just in case) to double-check my outfit for the night: not too bad, I’d say. I took one of my long, boring, plain black dresses and cut off the sleeves, as well as most of the bottom hemming – a snip here and there, and a respectable dress that used to be worn everywhere can now no longer be worn to any social function.
That is, except this one.
After pulling a few things out from the pockets of the coat, I threw it to the side, waiting for my ride on the edge of the road – a smoke in one hand, a “water” bottle in the other.
Headlights on the road. I took a swig of the vodka and stood up as the car pulled up next to me. “It’s about time you got here. I don’t have very long, you know,” I said, my patience running thin.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just in the car,” the soon-not-to-be-married man in the driver’s seat pushed open the door and gestured for me to get in, biting his bottom lip. His leg was jumping up and down. It seemed he was impatient too.
He looked at me, desperately, “I want to do it.”
But I didn’t feel like getting in the back seat. At least, not yet.
So, I climbed into the front, saying only, “Pfft. Already? You gotta be kidding,” and nothing else.
He seemed disappointed at first, but soon he turned on the engine and we were on our way. This was how the agenda went normally anyway, so I don’t see why he thought tonight would be any different: meet up, go to a bar, get drunk, dance, get into the back seat.
Who told him he could jump the gun today?
--
“Hey… Are we getting outta here or what?” Annoying. He’d been asking me since we got into the joint to leave every half hour.
I was only on my fourth drink. “We haven’t even started dancing yet,” I rolled my eyes.
“You’ve had enough,” he attempted to take the fourth away, “Let’s go.”
I swiped it out of his reach, “Uh-uh. You’re still so impatient… You won’t even let me have my fun tonight, huh?” He didn’t respond. Just looked away, biting his lip again.
I grinned, spinning the glass of who-knows-what in my hands, “Hey, you think your daughter is out doing these kind of things with a guy like you?” My free hand brushed against the inside of his thigh, causing his leg to jolt up.
I pressed my chest into his left arm as my lips made their way up to his ear to whisper, “I bet she is.”
I slunk back into my chair and laughed, “After all, you told me that she and I go to the same school. If I’m out here with you, who’s to say she’s not out with some other guy ruining some other marriage?”
He turned away from me with his teeth gritted, but I quickly tugged him forward by his little businessman tie, “What? Does it make you angry to think about that…? Disgusted?”
“And yet here you are, practically begging for it from someone else’s daughter,” I let him go, causing him to stumble backward into the counter of the drink bar and spill someone else’s cocktail. I took a sip of my drink as he nervously bought another drink for the angry flapper next to us.
After a moment of silence, apparently to build up the courage he lacked, spoke: “You girls these days… Where’s your sense of respect? Your sense of fear?”
I arched a brow and said, very bluntly, “If we had any, you wouldn’t be getting any.”
After that, he said nothing else through the whole night.
We had a few more drinks, we danced.
And even though I was irritated with him.
… Even though I wanted to stay in the bar to mess around.
… Even though I could’ve downed a few more drinks.
We left.
And we got into the back seat.
--
He dropped me off later than usual that night, but the lights in the house weren’t on anyway.
I stepped out of the car, putting a smoke in my mouth. I leaned into his car through the window, “Thanks for the ride.”
He pushed forward, unbuckling his seatbelt as he puckered his lips for a kiss.
I pretended not to see it and spun around, tossed the cigarette onto the floor, and crushed it with the tip of my high-heels. “See you next time.” I didn’t turn around to watch him leave. Just opened the door to the house and went in. Like always.
I flung my heels off and tossed them into the closet by the entryway as I made my way back upstairs; this time, not caring about whether or not I could be heard from the master bedroom down the hall on the second floor. The deed was done, so why take the effort to hide it anymore?
I flopped onto my bed, and took a glance at the clock: 5:43AM.
17 minutes before my parents would get up to get ready to open the bakery.
I grinned. A new record.
Until next week.
3 comments:
*stares at title*
Mmhmm.
I really like the narrator! Despite knowing so little about her, we see so much of her character. Even though we don't know her motivations for doing what she does.
It actually took me a while to get what the event was, but when i saw 'flapper', i realized it haha. Anyway, good job ! :)
Blogspot is beign a nincompoop and says I'm not logged in WHEN I AM. BUT OKAY STUPID BLOGSPOT.
- The Rageful Sandy.
“If we had any, you wouldn’t be getting any.” <-- Favorite line. Def. Probably because it's something that I would say and I am largely an egotistic person |D...
I feel like this is your strongest character yet! Your characterization of her was very well done, and it's totes different from what you've done in the past (well, kind of anyway. Haha.)
My one nitpick would be to drop the "quotation marks." They're unnecessary.
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