a change of season

Her body sticky with sweat, Amy angrily kicks off her covers and jabs her fists into her bed.

Why couldn't Jackson have dumped me in, like, November or January

This way, Amy can sulk in bed without beads of sweat rolling off her body. This way, she could aimlessly stare out of her window into the gray sky, an accurate reflection, as if she were looking into her own eyes.

But life is far from ideal. Here she lies heartbroken and sweaty.

Her promise of a whirlwind summer romance melted in her hands like an ice cream cone and no one to help her clean up the sweet, tragic mess. She goes down a mental list of activities she and Jackson had planned for the summer.

He was supposed to take me to the aquarium next week

There's something pathetic about sulking on a sunny day, as if one was wasting a good day, wasting a good life.

Then we were going to go wine tasting the weekend after that... and kayaking... he said he would go kayaking with me. 

Groaning, she remembered that a few days ago she planned a picnic with Jackson by the lake, later on, today. Amy lay on her side, staring out the window at the clear blue sky. The summer heat wasn't enough to permeate through her skin, her frigid heart felt icy with each beat. She imagines what it would be like if he were there with her at the lake today, feeling the breeze dance around them as they happily ate. She wonders if he thinks about her this way, too, wondering if he remembers the promises and plans he put in her head.

"What a waste of a beautiful day, to be spent here sweating over a boy," Amy sneered. "I think it's time to cool off."

Amy took a deep breath and closed her eyes and she sat at the edge of the bed, opening her eyes again to look out the window. It was not November or January and her skies were not gray, but looking out the window she can see July. As if her soul pleaded her to seek happiness, sunlight spilled through the window, bathing Amy in a warmth that filled the chambers of her aching heart. Giving in to the season around her, Amy stood up and made her way to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

"There's no shame in doing all these things alone," Amy says optimistically as she stretches in the sunlight once again.

Swearing to not sulk over Jackson again, Amy grabs her picnic blanket, a novel, and dances her way out the door.

andrew's prompt

*Warning: the following story contains scenes of abuse*

Vanessa lowered herself onto the linoleum floor, clutching her sides, tired from vomiting all morning.

Morning sickness.

Vanessa rolled over onto her back, staring at the fluorescent bathroom light on the ceiling. She shut her eyes, trying to shut out her reality but all she can see were flashes from the night before. It was the first time he laid his hands on her, but she should have left at the first red flag. Michael punched holes in the walls before. Screamed at her as he drunkenly threw dishes on the floor and screamed at her some more for not cleaning up his mess. No one was perfect, she tried to rationalize. Every relationship has its flaw, she thought, but the real flaw was excusing his behavior.

He never hit her until last night, after his birthday party at the club. He was jealous that someone bought her a drink at the bar. She was jealous that he was taking body shots off the dancers there, but he slapped her before she could say anything.

"You're such a whore. Anyone should look at you and know that you're mine," Michael said in between slaps. "You were probably fuckin flirting with him behind my back."

"No, babe, I swear I didn't do anything!" Vanessa shrieked and brought her hands up to her face to guard herself, but Michael continued to curse her and beat her.

"Maybe guys wouldn't like you if they saw how fucking ugly you are," Michael grabbed Vanessa by her hair and smothered her face into the pillow. "Yeah, they don't know what you look like without your fucking cake face"


Shaking herself from the flashback, Vanessa shot up, gasping for air. She got up and looked at her swollen face in the bathroom mirror, observing her bruises from her eyes to her neck. She barely recognized herself.

"I have to get out of here."

She didn't have a plan, nowhere to stay, but she figured the first place she should go to was a Planned Parenthood. She needed to sever all ties at all costs. She couldn't have been more than four weeks along.

Vanessa opened the bedroom door and listened for any signs of Michael being home. Usually, Michael would be at work by now, perfect timing for her escape. However, she could hear him moving around in the kitchen. In the air, she could smell bacon and eggs being cooked. She can't wait any longer. She'll have to try and leave anyway, but she'll have to be stealthy about it. Vanessa quietly packed her bags with haste, cautiously listening for Michael to return to the room. When she finished packing, she crept down the hall to the front door. As she opened the door, she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Where do you think you're going?" Michael turned her around, looking at her bags.

Vanessa tries to make a break for it, screaming for help as she ran across the lawn.

But Michael was faster and stronger than her.

He wraps one arm around her neck and puts his other hand over her mouth as he drags her back into the house.

"I know you're pregnant, babe," He sneered as he threw her onto the living room floor, shutting the front door behind him. "That's why you're getting fatter. How can you try to break apart our little family by leaving?"

His face changes from a sneer to a smile, holding his hand out to help her stand. "I made you breakfast. You should eat since you're carrying our little angel."

Vanessa quietly follows him into the kitchen and she eats her breakfast silence as Michael watches her take each bite.

"I'll wash the dishes, babe," Vanessa says softly. "I'm sorry for upsetting you. I was being so stupid."

Michael smiles and holds her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. Vanessa gets up and kisses his forehead. She stacks the dishes and pans on the counter, diligently scrubbing the dish's entire surface with the soapy sponge. As she rinses dish soap off the skillet, she imagines what it would feel like hitting Michael over the head with it.

cupcake

when you do something enough times, you tend to go into autopilot. for example, the first day as a preschool teacher was overwhelming my first time around. but by the eighth time, not even 15 parental meltdowns could not shake me (which, for some odd reason, actually happened). through fire and brimstone, i’ve been a rock, as tough as a preschool teacher could be. this will be my tenth first day so i have a little cupcake at home with my name on it (written with yellow icing).

this year, the air was warm and i stood in front of the door of my classroom with a smile and balloons in hand. behind the door, a pyramid of kleenex for either the children or the parents. the parents and kids started to trickle in, hand-in-hand. i greeted each one and smiled on as i watched the parents snap a dozen pictures of their kids around the classroom. expected. then the kids will begin to want to play with each other, forgetting that mommy and daddy are there. the parents get misty-eyed every time, but, thankfully, not enough to need any kleenex.

i was taking a picture of a little girl and her mom sitting at the tiny desk holding up her name tag when I felt a pair of little arms wrap around my legs.

“tackle monster!” a little voice cried out.

I was startled at first but I begin to play along with the child and pick him up to ask him what his name was.

“my name!” the little child begins to exclaim loudly, “is Christian Cruz Jr!” and he throws his hands up in emphasis of his Jr.

“well, it’s nice to meet you Christian Cruz Jr!” I put down the boy. I was about to look around the room to find his mom or maybe Christian Cruz Sr, but something about this child caught my eye and gave me a sense of deja vu.

i look at this child’s face, a face that i must have known in a past life. his eyes seemed to have belonged to someone that i have once loved.

then i hear a voice booming through the classroom door. I knew that voice well. a voice that told me their dreams and big ideas over morning coffee and toast. a voice that once sang me to sleep at night for years.

“Christian Cruz Jr!!!”

the sight of him knocked all air from my lungs and the room begins to spin. when we make eye contact, i stumble but there’s nothing nearby to help me regain my balance so i sit on the padded floor. for the first time in years, i’m knocked out of autopilot.

Christian Cruz. A name so common that I didn’t think much of it when I hear it anymore. I certainly didn’t realize Christian Cruz Jr’s father could’ve been the Christian Cruz. But ten years ago, hearing that name would’ve struck pain through my sternum.

Eleven years ago, Christian Cruz was by my side when the doctor told me that I couldn’t be a mother. it was my 29th birthday.

Christian Cruz was supposed to be the father of our four children. we had a little pregnancy scare. we called it a scare because our families would have found it scandalous if we had a child out of wedlock. but Christian and I were excited about our little cupcake (we decided a bun wasn’t sweet enough to describe our little angel). he had big ideas for the kids and dreamt of them becoming great leaders in the future. he would practice making the best pillow forts in the world and sang la vie en rose to me and the baby every night. we were going to get married right away to appease our family, but when i was picking out what dress to wear to our intimate ceremony, i discovered a pool of blood at my feet and woke up crying in a hospital bed.

but i did not beg Christian Cruz to stay with me. i loved him so much i did not want to deny him the blessing of being a father. i begged him to find someone who he will not resent in the future for being unable to bear his children.

as i’m looking at what could have been, i feel a pain that i haven’t felt since i learned that i could never be a mother. i could have given Christian Cruz this beautiful little boy, too. instead, what i brought into this world was death and crippling grief. there’s no happy picture taking for that, just cold nights alone and pitiful looks from friends, family, and my students’ parents.

when you do something enough times, you tend to go into autopilot. i would get up every morning, look in the mirror every day and force myself to find something meaningful in my empty life. at least when i’m in autopilot, i’m numb to the pain. but as i’ve said, i’m out of autopilot. it’s like someone took away the morphine drip and i’m forced to feel this raw pain in all its entirety.

“Christian!” I got up, forcing a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“Viv!” Christian, shocked, of course, embraces me. “Oh my God! How have you been?”

“I’ve been good!” I nod at Christian Cruz Jr., now playing with blocks with other children. I notice the wedding band on Christian Cruz’s finger and I try not to wince. “So who’s the lucky mom?”

“Oh, about that,” Christian blushes and begins to stammer seeming to have a hard time finding words, something uncommon for the Christian Cruz. “well, you see, the mom’s a surrogate”

shocked once again! i gave up being with him because i thought it would be better for him to start a family with a fertile woman. did his new wife have fertility issues, too? you mean to tell me i could have stayed with the man of my dreams if we just thought of surrogacy!? I suddenly feel betrayed, anger welling up inside me.

i open my mouth to say something. i don’t know what to say in this situation but i had to say something.

“Vivian wait,” Christian always knew how to talk me down which was annoying but the reason for our happy and healthy relationship. “there’s something you should know.”

all of a sudden a man comes up next to Christian and says, “sorry, babe, i got lost looking for the bathroom and i had to go back to the car to get the good camera.”

babe?

i look at Christian Cruz, a man that was once my world, heart, and soul. i blink in confusion then realize what it was that Christian had to tell me.

“honey,” Christian gestures to me, “this is an old friend of mine, Vivian, it turns out she’s junior’s teacher!”

his partner gasps, looking as though he’s figured out a puzzle. “Oh! you’re the Vivian Moreno!? what a small world! well, i’m junior’s other daddy, Paulo Cruz.”

“I suppose I am that Vivian Moreno,” I begin to blush. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

i made a mental note to pick up a bottle of wine to go with the cupcake on my way home.  

i thought i left you behind
raised my hands to cast you out
dismissing you from my life
but sadness you’ve returned to keep me company
cradling my heart in your ice cold hands
i know you well
for you have kept me warm
with your frigid embrace
every time my heart broke

and you hold me now
because love
won’t

at last

I sit in the back of the coffeeshop, procrastinating as always.

I rest my chin in my hands and go off in a daze.

That’s when you walk in and knock me out. You seem to catch my eyes and they cannot be set free. Suddenly Etta James comes on over the speakers. At last. You have come along. My lonely days are over. It’s stupid, they tell me. Love at first sight. But I know it’s real. I mean it’s standing right at the counter, talking to the barista. I smile at the thought of you and all that you mean from this moment on. I guess I caught your eye too because you sit at the table next to me, smile, and politely say hello. I definitely lose my focus now, adding to the procrastination. The beating of my heart quickens and I try my hardest not to break a sweat because how cute would that be? But the harder I try the more beads form across my forehead. I hold my breath every time I sneak a peek at you from the corner of my eye. 

“Play it cool!” I say to myself- in my head of course because how crazy would I sound talking to myself? How do I approach you? Or did you already approach me by sitting her? Is it my turn to make a move? What do I even begin to say? What if this is the universe telling me to take matters into my own hands? I have to say something.

“Hi, please forgive me for being so forward,” Oh my god! I’m actually speaking! “But I couldn’t help but notice you. Would you like to go out sometime?” 

You smile. I think that’s a good sign. Anticipation takes a hold of me and a world of possibility is dawning as you open your mouth to speak. 

Crash

The sound of glass shattering.

Reflex brings me back to reality and I come out of my daze. 

I was just day dreaming. As always. 

All eyes are on the barista as she cleans up the shattered mug, making sure they don’t step on any pieces. Across the room, you look up from the commotion and make eye contact with me. 

Looking into your eyes shatters my world and gives me butterflies. 

You smile politely and walk on out the door. 

on the menu

Why do I go on these dates? 

Well, it’s not like you have anything better to do since your life is “together”

Okay, can you not, it’s not “together”

I always call Kristine after every single date so this one is no different. 

It’s really no different. 

I wish it was. 

My only solace from Mark is my cute waiter, Dominick. How sick is that? I’m on a date with this computer engineer (goodbye student loans, right? kidding) but here I am making eyes with a waiter. I don’t mean to sound elitist but do you see what I’m getting at? Why pick a Toyota over a Benz? 

Yes, Dominick, I would love more water. Thank you.

Yes, Mark, I would love to hear more about your frat. Thank you.

Yes, Dominick, I would love more napkins. Thank you.

Yes, Mark, I would

love

to be spared the stories of you taking body shots off Brazilian models two spring breaks ago.

Thank you.

“Is there anything else I can get you tonight?” Dominick said when he approached our table. His hair was well coiffed, but I just wanted to run my fingers through his thick brown hair. His lips. Maybe we’ll talk about those later. His eyes have that hunger that can’t be filled from refilling soda cups and breadbaskets. There’s something more that he longs for in this life. There’s something more that I long for tonight.

Yeah, your number

“Yeah, your number” 

oh my god. 

I said that out loud.

Mark chokes on his food a little bit. I don’t blame him. But can you blame me? Dominick has been charming me all night, how can I not? I want to find out what he aches for, maybe even be the thing he yearns for. 

At least I could shake up this boring ass date. 

Dominick looks a little awkward at first, his mouth hanging agape. 

“I said what I said,” I said with a wink. 

Dominick’s lips-those cute lips that we’ll have to talk about later- curl into a grin and pulls out a notepad, scribbling his number.  

I’m definitely going to give him a call after I get off the phone with Kristine tonight. 

girl, guess what

Jane was walking along Main Street when she saw him. 

She recognizes Michael’s back because she’s so used to third wheeling with him and Maria that she knows his back better than her own. With that being said, Jane also knows Maria’s back just as well, so who is this little bimbo holding Michael’s hand? 

Oh hell no. 

Jane whips out her phone to dial up Maria and begins to follow Michael and the bimbo. 

“Girl, guess what?” Jane whispers so she doesn’t attract attention

“Bitch what?” Jane can tell Maria’s at home because she can hear Grey’s Anatomy and the rustling of a bag of chips (probably Takis) in the background. Maria is gonna have to get her ass over on Main Street real quick so she better slow down on the Takis. 

“I’m on Main Street and I see Michael” Jane tries to keep her distance but is still trying to identify miss bimbo. 

“Okay so? I trust my man. He can have a life,” Maria replied, brushing off Jane. 

“Okay so he won’t have a life after what I’m about to tell you” 

“What do you mean?” Maria asked, suddenly serious. 

“Michael is holding some girl’s hand” Jane cranes her neck so she can tell Maria who it is. The infidels turn the corner from Main Street onto Third and Jane gets a clear view of the bimbo’s face. 

Her stomach drops. 

How could Jane not recognize her own sister’s back instantly? 

“Um never mind April Fools I made a mistake it’s not actually Michael! Ha-ha! okay bye!” Jane nervously rushes off the phone and as she hangs up she can hear Maria talk hysterically. Sisters of best friends are technically best friend in laws. Jane would beat any bitches ass for Maria, but Alex ass? Sure Alice was a bitch but Jane can’t go against blood. But Alex is literally biblically wrong! Jane can’t go against the Ten Commandments! 

Jane runs up behind Alex. She’s not afraid of her little sister, she can say whatever she wants. 

“Um, Alex, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Jane grabs Alex’s arm and turns her around. She looks up and points a finger in Michael’s face. “And you. You little piece of shit!” 

“Jane, I can explain! I’ve been meaning to break up with Maria for a while now. Your sister is-”

“You’ve been meaning to WHAT?” Michael, Jane, and Alex turn around to a fuming Maria, her face twisted with anger. That’s when Maria begins to shove Michael and Alex. Alex and Maria shouting at each other. Maria slapping and grabbing Michael by the hair. Normally Jane would jump in, but again, to against blood? As the situation escalates, Jane is overwhelmed with nausea.

“Aren’t you going to help me?” Alex shouts at Jane. 

“Help you? You stole MY boyfriend!” Maria lunges for Alex but Alex fights back. 

“It’s not stealing if he doesn’t wanna be with you!” 

Yo, fuck this shit. Amid the shouting, slapping, and betrayal of loyalty, there’s only one thing Jane could do. The world begins to spin, the street and buildings go blurry, and her knees give out. All Jane could do was faint.