Fall to Pieces

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Eddy drives in silence, and I hug myself to keep warm, even though its humid outside. In my heart, I'm cold. My soul is frozen. I need a distraction, I need to clear my mind .

Clearing my throat, I ask in Spanish, "No music?"

Eddy looks at me. "You speak Spanish?"

Is he trying to insult me? Again, in Spanish, I answer, "Yes. Its my second language. Not only was my mom from Nicaragua, but I was born on an airplane halfway to Nicaragua. So yes, I speak Spanish."

He looks impressed. "Oh."

Smirking I say, "Never judge a book by its cover. How much did my father tell you about me?"

"I didn't speak to your father. My mom did. The only thing I know is that you're dealing with depression and alcohol." He sighs, and continues, "No todo lo que brilla es ora."
All that glitters is not gold. Gasping, I turn to him. "My dad said I had depression? Depressed? Me? What the hell? Geez. I'm not depressed. I just have a small addiction to alcohol. No hay rosa sin espinas," I fumed.

Smirking at me, he says, "Every rose has its thorn, huh? Yours just happens to be drinking, eh?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"Of course not. It seems as though you're struggling with your sass, too? Wouldn't that be two thorns?"

My mouth drops open, and I take my sunglasses off my face. "I do not sass. Understood? I'm a decent person. Besides, you started it!"

"Why are you yelling?!"

"I'm NOT!" I calm my breathing, and lean back into the seat. It smells like Irish Springs. I miss Isaac already. "Listen, you are a bit infuriating. I lied. Your a whole new level of infuriating."

He gives me a sly grin. "Well Miss. Rose-has-its-thorns, we have arrived at the orphanage."

Yup, he's definitely mocking me.