#5.5K | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stuckonvenus · 1 year

Text

Strangers

I tried to be good, am I no good? Am I no good? Am I no good? With my memory restricted to a Polaroid in evidence I just wanted to be yours, can I be yours? Can I be yours? Just tell me I'm yours If I'm turning in your stomach and I'm making you feel sick.

REINA WAS, IF ANYTHING, A PERSISTENT CREATURE, vying for the validation of an inattentive father figure and relentlessly combing through every strand of long, black hair she found on the bathroom floor in a fruitless search for her mother, who had long since disappeared. Still, as if she left a part of her inside that house yearning for a connection, Reina would move along with the rhythm of a planchette across a Ouija board, trying to spell out the words that would summon her back into their lives. She was a peculiar case; her father made her aware of that at an early age, less out of spite and more out of a callousness that even his wife couldn’t smooth out with her soft, nimble fingers that Reina could remember intricately braiding her hair in the evenings and stroking her cheek so she’d fall asleep knowing she wasn’t alone. Her mother never made her feel like she was a stranger in their home, unlike her father, who made a sport out of humiliating her in front of those that came to visit. Ah, Rainbow. Not a thought behind those eyes of hers — all she does is wander around, asking me the same questions day in and day out, probably to write in that book she keeps. Oh, I have considered boarding school. I think letting her go to the local high school will toughen her up, though. If she can ever get out of her own head.

Her favorite place in their house was the attic. She’d asked ad nauseam if she could move there, alas she was repeatedly shut down by her father, who assumed it only would’ve allowed her idle daydreaming to worsen. He called it woolgathering, though, which perplexed her at first before he explained that it meant she had an addled-brain. Tiresome of his semantics, she conferred with a dictionary she owned at the request of her school, and then found that it was just a more pretentious word for stupid. By the end of the week she was sleeping in a sack above her father’s master bedroom and refused to climb back downstairs for the entire weekend, which served as both a hunger strike and a reconstitution of life for the young girl: from then on out, she was the only person she would rely on.

When she was old enough to attend Sweetwater High School, she signed all the papers herself and forged her father’s signature — a skill she acquired spending so much time with her nose buried in her notebook; a queer thing brimming with diary entries and drawings of things she saw in Eden County, like upside-down crosses and what she hadn’t recognized was the chemical compound for Bliss that had been painted on the sides of businesses on main street. On her first day, she wore her mother’s clothes that sagged in places she hadn’t grown into yet and combat boots that were a size larger than she needed, found in a box in a corner of the attic. She Dutch-braided her own hair, but before the bell could ring she heard a small clique of kids snickering at her appearance and she undid them in the bathroom. She glanced up in the mirror where her unpainted face stared back at her, tears developing on her waterline that she hastily blinked away. She hugged her jacket tighter around the sundress that hung off her developing figure and breathed in the faint scent of lemongrass that stuck to the fabric after all that time.

Even when no one was with her, she never felt alone. Or maybe she did, but it wasn’t an unbearable loneliness, because she made good company for herself. She and all the ghosts that haunted her.

School was uneventful. Eventually, the staring dissipated, the attention span of an average high schooler whittled significantly by the world around them falling apart. This was the norm, however, something that even Reina was aware of. It was made even more apparent by the presence of the Chosen. She would see them sometimes on the walk home, standing on street corners in their plainclothes and untrimmed beards and unruly hair, singing a song that told the end of the world as they knew it. They were often brushed past, disregarded, but Reina could see in their eyes the shimmering of hope that she only ever recognized before in portraits of her mother. She wondered if her mother would ever believe such a thing. Then she wondered if she would ever believe it. The thought unsettled her, so she didn’t think about it again for a while.

One morning, she made an early appearance on campus so she could sign up for band as an extracurricular. She didn’t have any idea how to articulate with any instruments, but she was searching for something to keep her out of the house for longer. It had become increasingly obvious that her father was counting down the days until she moved out and he didn’t have to lord over his ex-wife’s shadow everyday, so Reina decided to pay him only kindness and mind her own way before she could legally leave. Upon approaching the board to sign her name as one of the few students interested in the class, a boy with bleach blond hair and blue eyes scooted up beside her, a sideways grin plastered on his lips.

“You’re Rainbow,” he said. She didn’t know how to respond at first. How did he know her? “I’m not a creep, I swear. We have the same homeroom. I’m Tripp.” He extended a hand for her to shake, which she lowered the pen to do.

She offered him a demure smile and shrunk a little into her jacket whenever he pulled his hand away. “It’s nice to meet you. Are you... Signing up too?” she wondered, glancing back to the blank space where she had yet to sign her name.

“Oh, no way. I can’t even use chopsticks, let alone a tuba. Plus I’m a senior, I’d look pretty dorky around a bunch of underclassmen,” His laughter echoed in the hallway, which was meant to be silent as it was study hall, but she thought it was a nice sound. Charming. She hadn’t ever met a boy that awoke the butterflies that were long at rest in her stomach, and now it felt as if they’d all come alive at once. “Not you, though. You seem cool.”

Reina was taken aback by this analysis. Someone thought she was cool? “... Thank you,” she said, a blush painting her cheeks.

“Did you wanna get lunch?” he asked suddenly. She stood, stunned, unsure what to say before her head began nodding and they were walking hand-in-hand out to the parking lot.

They ate at a shitty burger joint on the outskirts of town, but she didn’t seem to mind. They had good conversation, something that couldn’t be said for what she had at home. She told him that she was only a freshman, but that one day she’d be traveling across the country in a van of her own with her notebook and a camera and find everything wonderful there was to see. He thought that was brilliant, that she was brilliant, because life was too short to idle in small towns forever and mull over everything you could’ve done rather than doing something when you still had the time. Most people don’t know when they’re in the good times, then they spend the rest of their lives trying to recreate it. You’re ahead of the curve, Bowie, he said. Bowie. She’d never had a nickname before. She could feel her stomach quicken and she cleared her throat, returning to her lunch with a growing smile on her lips.

Tripp asked her to prom two weeks later. She hadn’t attended a school dance, mostly because she could never urge her father to lend her enough money for a suitable outfit, but this time she’d dug through his dresser drawer for spare dollars and found enough for a dress she spotted at the thrift store. It was ankle-length and a deep amaranthine, a piece that glimmered underneath soft lighting and was attached by thin straps over her shoulders. She’d settled for a pair of old, wrung out ballet flats that tied around her calves, and for two hours she sat in front of her bathroom mirror perfecting the makeup that had long since expired, not anticipating the breakout that would inevitably desecrate her skin. Whenever she walked downstairs, she beckoned the attention of her father, whose nose was buried in a book that looked to be about finances. She thought quietly how similar they were whenever he wasn’t thinking, then pushed the idea as far back as she could.

“Daddy?” she spoke up, shuffling in place as his grey eyes drifted upwards. He scrutinized her under his gaze for a couple seconds before returning to his reading materials.

“Curfew is ten o’clock.” Was all he said in return.

Words gripped her throat, combatant words that wished she would open her mouth so they could slip from between her teeth. Still constrained by childish insecurity, she pressed her shimmering lips together and walked out of the living room so she could meet Tripp outside.

The dance was a relatively boring affair for the seniors, but for the underclassmen that were invited it seemed like a whole other realm was opened up to them. The gymnasium had a perfume of chewing gum shot through with alcohol, which Tripp had brought for the both of them in a flask that had his initials carved on it. She wondered where he could get such a thing, and he said it was a Christmas gift from his father. She didn’t know fathers gave such grand gifts to their children. She couldn’t even remember the last time they properly celebrated a holiday together. For her birthdays, she was always slid an envelope containing a fifty dollar bill, every year without fail. She’d been using it to buy more film for her mother’s Polaroid since she first discovered it in her attic, and that night she snapped a picture of herself and Tripp before they left for the dance and gave the photo to him — he put it in his visor, so he could see it every time he drove his car.

Tripp took a swig out of his flask, offering it to her once he’d swallowed. Slowly, she reached out and unfurled her fingers so she could clasp onto the metal and sink back a sip. The taste was sharp on her tongue, citrus and peppery notes burning the back of her throat. He laughed as she scrunched her nose up and coughed into her elbow. Despite the initial reaction, she was emboldened to keep drinking, and so they would trade the flask every few sips until she felt her vision double and standing up had become a sport. He gave her his arm to hold onto, and as a slow song played and echoed within the confines of the gym she rested her head on his shoulder and swayed pleasantly to the beat.

When it hit nine-thirty, Tripp lured her away from the crowd and wrapped an arm around her waist so she wouldn’t stumble so much, leading her back out to his car. She was lifted into the passenger seat, smiling deliriously at the Polaroid of them that she saw whenever she turned her head toward the driver’s side, where Tripp quickly made a place for himself. They drove for a while, much longer than the time it took to return to her house, but she seemed to have lost track of time as she closed her eyes and focused on keeping her dinner in her stomach. They came to a stop eventually and she pushed herself upwards in her seat. Ahead of them she could see a cliff’s edge, below them the millions of twinkling lights of Sweetwater’s shopping district, and above them an untouched sky with a full moon casting down a heavenly glow unto her.

“Have you ever done this before?” Tripp asked, the scent of alcohol lacing his words. She didn’t quite know what he meant. Because yes, she had been in a car, but no, she’d never seen Sweetwater quite like this before. She had always been much more invested in nature than residential areas. But when he clambered over the gear shift and lifted her dress up past her knees, she realized what he was asking, and she felt her tongue go numb in her mouth as she shook her head. He seemed prepared for that answer, as he reached into his pocket and placed a plastic wrapper between his teeth to rip open clumsily, reaching between them and fumbling with his belt as he left wet kisses on her jawline and neck. Next, all she could remember feeling was a deep panging in between her legs and his harsh breathing as he rocked against her. At some point her entire body went slack and her head pivoted toward the window, and spent a while counting each star in the sky until he had finished. He pressed a kiss on her forehead, like she’d been an obedient pet, and rolled off of her so he could drive her home.

When she had the wits to sit up again, the soreness in her thighs began spreading to her core, and the first thing her eyes locked on was the time on the dashboard: 10:05.

🍃

Her father banished her to her room for the rest of the semester following the incident. She couldn’t say she was entirely upset about it, although she longed for the notebook she left upstairs in the attic, except she wasn’t sure what she would’ve written exactly. Her memory of prom night was mottled and all she had to remember it by was the feeling that lingered between her legs for a few days after the encounter. Eventually, the faint panging subsided and was instead replaced by extreme fatigue and nausea, keeping her bedbound for an entire weekend as she tried sweating out a fever that didn’t exist. Her father’s new girlfriend had commanded even more of his attention away from her than normal, which left her alone to suffer in silence. It wasn’t until she nearly hurled on the floor of third period French that one of the girls who she’d exchanged pleasantries with before followed her into the bathroom that she discovered the culprit for her sickness.

“You know, you should take a test.” The girl said, blonde hair dyed half-pink being flipped over one shoulder nonchalantly as she leaned against the wall beside the sink where Reina was attempting to gather herself. She could recognize her as the band teacher’s daughter — she didn’t garner much attention before she transitioned the year earlier. “One of my friends got knocked up at homecoming, I biked her to the clinic downtown. They're super discreet about it. And they give out free condoms, too.”

Reina’s dark brows furrowed at the other. “A test?” she asked bemusedly.

“A pregnancy test. God, I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with any of that,” she blurted, then caught herself and gave a bashful smile. “But hey, you’re not alone. Half the girls here treat getting pregnant like it’s an achievement. It’s Sweetwater, y’know? Nothing better to do.” she said as she patted Reina’s shoulder in passing, moving to leave the restroom.

A lump formed in her throat and she stared at herself in the mirror. She could feel the ghost of her mother hugging her then, in the form of that jacket she always wore, rain or shine, and for once she wanted to be rid of the extra weight. She emptied her stomach again before returning to class, her palms perspiring under her desk as she rubbed them together as she contemplated venturing into town to find the clinic that was mentioned before. She couldn’t focus for the remainder of the day, preoccupied by the worries that festered in her mind, and as the last bell rang she mounted her bicycle and moved in the opposite direction of her house, toward the heart of Sweetwater.

The clinic was an easy find, as it had a sign at the front depicting the symbol for female and the words ‘Hope Clinic’ pasted on the glass door, which had been spray-painted with an upside-down cross that she so often saw around town yet didn’t quite know the meaning of. She parked her bike outside the building and wrang her fingers together for a few seconds before she made up her mind to enter, glancing around at the other women who populated the waiting room; they all looked fairly normal, besides the uncomfortably pregnant women that were likely there for one of their final check-ups. She tried to envision herself in that position, carrying something so heavy for so long, and the thought made her shiver.

She slowly approached the front desk, unable to find it within herself to smile. “I’m here — for a test.” she sputtered out eventually.

The clerk glanced up at her with narrowed eyes. “What kind of test?” she asked in a monotone.

“... A pregnancy test.” she said quietly.

Without asking anything more, the clerk grabbed a clipboard and thrust it toward her, to which she accepted it and went to sit beside a mother of two with another on the way. Her brown eyes kept flickering over as she wrangled her children that played at her feet, distractedly filling out the information they needed. When she was finished, the older child reached for the lace of her boot, and Reina gave them a soft smile in response as she gently tugged her foot away and returned the clipboard to the front desk. She was instructed to wait in the same seat she’d taken, advice she heeded as she waited for her turn to be seen. The mother beside her was called in first, and she watched the two children waddle after her.

She glanced down at her hands, picking at the skin around her nails. She could never be a mother. She was abandoned by her mother, hardly stomached by her father, and Tripp only seemed to like her best in low lighting. How could a child love her? And how could she love a child in return? She would’ve liked to think it’d have been as easy as everyone said it was — you’d see them and you’d know. But she was reminded incessantly that she knew nothing, and she would probably remain that way for the rest of her life.

After a handful of others were called back and dismissed, her name was spoken and, as if she were in a classroom, she straightened her posture and stood up, walking with her backpack into the exam room.

“How are you... Rainbow?” A nurse asked as she entered the room, taking a pause as she read the patient’s name and brushing it off as an alias, then closing the door behind her as she began readying a needle.

“... I’m okay. How — how are you?” she asked in return.

The nurse chuckled at the question as she adjusted silicone gloves onto her hands. “I’m doin’ well. Now, I understand this can be a difficult thing, but we’ll be here with you every step of the way. Alright?”

Reina swallowed thickly and nodded. “Alright.”

Her blood was drawn next, which made her lightheaded but wasn’t unbearable. She then waited patiently in the exam room as the results were processed; during which she pictured her mother in this position, fifteen years before, wondering how she felt whenever she discovered she’d be having Reina. She wondered if she ever doubted herself, or felt regret or remorse for choosing the man she did to bring a child into the world with. She wasn’t sure if she could raise a child with Tripp — not after prom night. Although she couldn’t fully comprehend the severity of what’d happened to her, she knew that something shifted between them that couldn’t be easily fixed.

By the time the results were ready, her step-mother must’ve been making comments on how careless she was for staying out later than she was permitted, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care very much. She had pulled her arms out of her sleeves, allowing her jacket to be worn as a blanket around her shoulders as the shivering worsened. The nurse had a neutral expression, though Reina could swear there was a glint of dourness in her eyes as she sat.

“The test did show that you’re pregnant,” the nurse informed her. “Six weeks along. I understand this is a hard thing, Rainbow. But I have some questions to ask you.”

Reina clutched onto her jacket and nodded along, giving the nurse permission to continue.

“Do you have anyone we can call for you?” she asked first, to which Reina quickly shook her head. “Alright. And do you know who the father is?” She was met with an affirmative nod. “Good, you’re doing good. Are you safe? Is he forcing you to this appointment?”

She continued to shake her head, refusing to allow tears to form as she huddled further into her jacket.

“Did you have a plan?” she asked. Another shake of the head. “Well, we offer counseling for this sort of thing, and there are options for you. Do you know your options?”

Reina may have come across as dim-witted to nearly everyone in her life, but she knew what people did with babies they didn’t want. “I — I do.”

The nurse nodded, skirting around her so she could pull a machine up beside her. Reina didn’t recognize it at first, as the screen was turned away from her, but when she spotted the wand that the nurse had equipped she realized what it was designed for and visibly stiffened.

“It’s alright, I just want to make sure there’s nothing wrong,” she was assured. “You don’t have to look if you don’t want to.” A cold gel was applied to her stomach when she was coaxed to lift up her shirt, breathing shallowly as she felt the wand slide against her stomach.

Eventually, she turned her head and glanced up at the nurse, whose expression had remained stagnant throughout the visit. “... Can I?” she inquired meekly.

The nurse gradually moved the machine so that Reina could see the screen. A grainy black and white picture was shown, moving back and forth as the wand was adjusted over her stomach. She could feel her heart begin beating in her throat whenever the fetus was pointed out for her, and when she was asked if she’d like the images printed, she said yes before she could think twice.

She left the clinic as the sun was setting, biking home and basking in the steady flow of wind that kept her motion sickness at bay. She didn’t give any excuse as to why she was gone for so long once she’d returned home, just climbing up into the attic and moving to tear off one of the still frames from the strip of pictures so she could paste it in her journal. As she closed the page, she could feel tears slide down her cheeks, and she didn’t bother wiping them away as she laid down to sleep — for once, hoping she wouldn’t dream about anything at all.

Two days later, she caught Tripp during his lunch hour and asked him if he was free to talk. He offered to drive her out for food, but not only had her stomach waged war on anything that wasn’t water, she also didn’t feel comfortable embarking in another car ride with him. Instead they stood outside the band room, underneath a peachleaf willow tree that she could remember scaling as a child, her mother’s guiding hand on the small of her back so if she fell, she could be caught and saved. She wished she felt that safe then.

“What’s wrong, Bowie?” Tripp asked her, having taken note of her mournful expression. “You’ve barely called or texted. I was starting to get worri—”

Rather than speak, she reached into her jacket pocket and unearthed the ultrasound pictures, handing them over to him. “That’s from... A few days ago.”

Tripp’s eyes focused and unfocused on the pictures. “Are you — kidding me?” he asked breathlessly.

“No,” Reina said, trying to gauge his reaction better before he moved forward to hug her.

“It’ll be okay,” Tripp replied as if he was trying to convince himself more than Reina. “We’ll do this together. I’ll be by you every step of the way. When — when’s the appointment?”

She began to frown, pulling herself out of his embrace. “Appointment?”

“... You know,” he said. “The abortion.”

She froze in place and remained silent for a while, which seemed to be all the confirmation that Tripp needed. He switched up so quickly that it startled her, his hand clasping around the picture and crumpling it within his grip. “Bowie. You can’t have this kid. It’s — we’re both in high school — you’re just sixteen—”

“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before prom night.” she blurted.

“Really? You’re gonna fucking use that against me?” Tripp hissed. “We both wanted that. But neither of us want this, trust me. I’ve got college and you’ve got the rest of your time here, I don’t know how you could even think about—”

He rattled on for a while. Eventually, Reina tuned him out, letting him rant as she breathed in and out slowly, trying to regulate her pulse. He took notice of this, however, and reached out to force her to look up at him. She kept a brave face despite her fingers beginning to tremor. Was it the cold, or fear? She couldn’t tell.

“Bowie, we aren’t doing this. We can’t.” he said, and before she could give a proper response he began leading them away from the school and toward his car. She was screaming at herself internally, desperately pushing on the brakes that didn’t seem to function as she was brought closer and closer, escorted into his passenger seat and buckled in whenever it didn’t seem like she would be moving on her own volition. “It’s gonna be okay. It’ll be okay.” he reassured himself in a murmur as he closed the door, walking around the front of the vehicle and bringing a hand through his hair.

She didn’t say anything during the car ride to the clinic. For the longest time she was all she had to keep her safe, and now look where she’d ended up. Maybe her father wasn’t wrong whenever he pinned her as a stupid, lackadaisical girl, coasting recklessly through life searching for a purpose that would never come. Her mother would never come back, no matter how many times she scoured their house for clues of where she might’ve gone, her notebook was a pitiful attempt at stringing her nonsensical thoughts together, and everything she did sequentially ended in failure.

When they arrived at the clinic, the rest of the afternoon felt like a blur. She went in alone and signed herself in. A different nurse greeted her this time, and she was soon asked the same questions she had been before, except one stuck out to her: Is anyone forcing you to do this? She ruminated on the question, considered her options in the moment, then shook her head in response. After signing a few more forms, she was brought further into the clinic and offered an anesthetic that would keep her incapacitated during the procedure, which she opted for rather than remaining awake.

She dreamed of her mother while she was under. She saw her round, happy face and the soft brown eyes that she’d inherited, and she could feel her hands cup her chubby cheeks and stroke them soothingly, then moved her fingers so she could brush her curly black hair behind her ears. Are you still looking for me, my little Rainbow? Don’t worry. I’m right here. You aren’t alone anymore. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt such peace. And when she woke up, she began doubting she ever would again, as after she waited the allotted time following the procedure and walked outside, Tripp’s car was nowhere to be seen.

Collapsing on the curb, she held her head in her hands and began to hyperventilate. She was far too sore to make it back home on foot, and she had no close friends that could give her a ride. As the tremoring in her fingers worsened, she reached for her phone and slowly dialed her father’s number. He answered on the last ring.

“Daddy,” she let a sob rip out of her chest. “I — I need your help.”

Within ten minutes, her father’s car was parked in front of the clinic, and he rushed out of the car and picked her up himself so he could situate her in the backseat, not wanting to burden her with any seatbelts. On the drive home, Reina was asked more questions, none of which she wanted to answer, and for the first time it seemed like her father could accept that. The strangest thing of all was that he seemed genuinely concerned. She couldn’t remember another time when she witnessed him truly shaken. Tears prickled the sensitive skin around her eyes and she shed a few tears as they made a careful drive home, where her father would exit the car and move to carry her inside the house. His wife began wondering what had happened, but he promptly ignored her and instead made a B-line for the attic access, where he brought his daughter up the stairs and carefully guided her to her mattress.

She shuffled as he was tucking her in, and he hissed for a moment before catching himself and swallowing his gut reaction instead.

“Goodnight, Rainbow.” he said softly.

🍃

As time went on, things returned to their natural state of being. Tripp graduated. He didn’t say goodbye to Reina, and all she knew was that he was heading further west for college. She finished her her sophomore year, then her junior, and eventually it was the summer before her senior year and she had a lot of decisions to make. While she and her father had established peace in the passing years, the damage inflicted upon her still festered and it had become increasingly obvious they’d never achieve a typical relationship — so they kept their distance from one another. So much so that one day, he would end up losing her entirely without even noticing.

It was partially her fault, she would admit, as she was biking close to sundown in search of her favorite thrift store. She’d made plans with the band teacher’s daughter, Adrienna, to attend her first ever concert and was thrilled to find a suitable and affordable outfit before she passed by the clinic on the way there. She’d gone by it plenty of times since that fateful day, feeling next to nothing as she hadn’t allowed herself to, but this time was different. At the front of the building, two people were spray painting a message: on the door, another upside-down cross that she had once obsessively scribbled in her journal, and on the brick wall the words: THE COLLAPSE IS COMING.

She had begun to push on her bike pedals before one of the chains made a squeak and alerted the attention of the two vandals. She gulped noisily and tried to get her bike back into motion, but she couldn’t make it to the curb as one of them stepped ahead of her.

“You look like someone that could use a pick me up,” they said. “What’s been going on, friend?”

Reina’s brows fixed inward and she shook her head. “Nothing. I don’t need anything.”

“I think you do,” they started approaching her, and in response she took a few cautionary steps back. “Hey, it’s alright. We aren’t going to hurt you. I know a true believer when I see one, you know. The Father says it’s one of my better qualities. That and painting.” they chuckled.

“The Father?” Reina echoed.

They nodded at her. “He’s here to guide us. People like you and me. People that understand there’s no escaping what’s coming next without him. People that need people.” they enthused, the timbre of their voice drawing the young girl in. “You just seem lonely, is all. You don’t have to be.”

Reina steadied herself on her bicycle, giving them a once over. They smelled odd — like grass and chemicals. “I’m used to it.” she decided to answer. Except that didn’t seem to be enough, as they beckoned their companion over and the two had officially outnumbered her. “I should be going.” she said, kicking her bike into motion again without thinking twice.

Before she could ride past them, however, one of them brandished what seemed to be a dish rag and held it over her mouth and nose, muffling her protests as she was dragged off her bike and onto the sidewalk. She flailed around helplessly, her jacket that she’d finally grown into hugging and squeezing her tightly as she fought as hard as she could against the fumes that were beginning to permeate in her lungs.

“Don’t worry,” the first of the two said. “You won’t be lonely anymore.”

#self-para #5.5k

0 notes