My Broken Bowl

Good Bye, Harley

A/N: Try not to judge Dean too much. He is narrow minded. Sorry!

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My brothers threw a going away party for me. We were moving farther south into Kansas. I had a job and a place to stay with a roommate. A fat and unattractive guy and that was perfect. I didn't know him well but he wasn't a bitchy woman and that was fine.

Here I was at this party, drunk. Whiskey was like water and the beer...mmmm. I loved beer. I drank my weight in beer and I was piss drunk.

Here he was again. "How's the bike?"

He remembered me. "Harley?" I was slurring. "It's great!" Truth was that I traded it in for a van. It was easier when we moved. It's tough to have a kid on the back of a bike. I didn't have my mom's car anymore and I needed one. I missed that bike.

"Hey! Long time! I didn't think I'd see you again." Harley sat. "So, you're moving?"

"Yep!" I sat with him and our legs touched. I didn't have very good control over my body right then. I was drunk, like drunk.
I don't remember the conversation but we talked for a long time. Like it was morning when I realized that most everyone left or passed out. I felt sober with Harley. I cooked pancakes as he helped as we chatted.

He began to ask weird questions like if I was into guys. "I'm not gay!" I kind of yelled at him but he just smirked at me. "I'm not a fag!"

Harley glared. "That's offensive!"

"Only to fags!" I glared at him more.

Harley did something awful. He leaned in and kissed me. My lips connected to his and holy shit. This was how kissing was supposed to be. It was fantastic. I felt something and then heard someone waking up on the couch. I had to cover myself.

I pulled away, yelled at him and punched him. It took him a second to get up but I saw tears and felt like shit. I was sorry but I couldn't do that! No way. He stormed out and I almost cried. I had been through a divorce and a couple of break ups and felt nothing but this made me want to cry.

I straightened up and took a breath.

"Hey, where'd Harley go?" Phil asked. Phil was a drinking buddy.

I shrugged. "Don't know. Pussy hurts, I bet." I sounded so mean but I couldn't think about that. I hated that I hit Harley. I never wanted to hurt him. He was a decent guy.

Phil just nodded and made inappropriate jokes that made me want to cringe but I refused. I just piled on. I was supposed to. We were all raised to hate homos so I did. I always would.