Not Even Once

BEGINNING

I was born on January 1st, 1999. The first day of the last year of the millennium. Coincidence? You may think so...but you'd be wrong and I'll die trying to prove it to you. My mom says I have OCD but that's just her way of saying she neglected me as a child. She wanted me to play basketball and I wanted to play tennis. She bought my older brother a car when he turned 16 but they kicked me out on the street. Are you seeing the picture yet? Nothing ever goes right in my life...not even once.

Today is Valentine's day and I'm alone with no one but my Twitter friends to keep me company as I devour a pint of Ben & Jerry's while sobbing about my pen pal in Ukraine. "I loved her so much," I mutter while sniffling, before breaking down again and holding a pillow over my mouth to cover my whimpers. "God. Why must you let so many die? You're the worst."

After a moment of silence, a powerful voice responds, "Yes...yes, I am."

"Stop talking," I whisper, "for the love of God."

"You don't deserve my love."

"I DO!" I shout as I throw the pillow across the room. I pull my covers over me while trembling slightly and looking around dodgily in the dark, seemingly empty room.

"What the hell was that?" asks the voice of a woman through the drywall.

My lips open slightly but I hesitate to think of a fit response. I begin mumbling almost silently. My lips seal as I hear my roommate speak.

"She's not exactly all there," she responds.

I mutter, "What the hell, Rosemary?"

"What does that mean?" asks the unknown woman.

"Sometimes she sees things that aren't really there," replies Rosemary. "Well, hears things—I'm not totally sure how it works."

"You mean, like, schizophrenia?" she asks in a hushed way.

"Why do they always make it sound so bad?" I mutter while tears bead on my eyelids.

"She's still cool though," adds Rosemary.

"Should we go check on her?"

"Nah, just think of it like talking in your sleep. Except she can't wake up."

I grimace and my stomach clenches. "This is my life. It's okay. Just fall asleep and do it again..." I force myself to yawn, and I'm pretty sure if you believe in something hard enough, it'll happen. When I was a kid, I believed in Santa Claus, and sure enough the presents came every year. I don't even care if dad was Ol' Saint Nick. He still kept the magic alive. Now, I just have to keep the magic going in my life. I have to believe in magic. Here. In Seattle. I think it's in the black coffee. That's what they keep telling me anyways...who are they? The locals. I feel religiously devoted to them. Ever since I got here 6 months ago, (let's not talk about that) I've been trying to appease them. Compared to LA, this place is a mystery. No one wants you to focus on them. Everyone just wants to be left alone and they only want to hang out if you do too. At least, that's what it feels like...I had a therapist. Well, more accurately, I had a therapy session. It was informative, but I couldn't afford the cost, so I made an educated decision to stop attending them. I'm broke, that's what I'm saying. I'm splitting quarters to make nickels. Does that make sense?

The people around me don't get it. They're all talking about this "peace" thing and apparently I don't know a thing about it. Is metal at 8 AM too much? Only people here would think that...I shake my head before opening my eyes. I roll over on one side and squint at my alarm clock. "What the hell?" I mutter. "It's only been 30 minutes?" I lift up my bony legs off the sheets and let them rest on the floor while I brace myself to stand up. I wince and begin to rise, before falling back onto the bed. "Dammit," I whisper. I shake my head again and go for it. I catch myself with my hands as my shaking calves support my weight. "That gets harder every day..." I stumble toward the door while only having to catch myself on the wall three more times. I step out into the brightly lit kitchen/dining/living room and meet eyes with my roommate and the woman, who looks much more glamorous than I'd imagined. "Sup." I glance back at my room and furrow my brow.

"What's wrong?" asks Rosemary.

I make a surprised face and tilt my head, then take a deep breath and nod at the side of the microwave. "What time is it?"

She glances at it as her companion giggles. "12:31"

I smirk and shrug before walking over to the water dispenser.

"Hey, what's your name?" asks the unknown woman.

"Uh, Linda." I glance back and try to smile at her, but lose focus on the cup and shoot water onto my hands. The cup drops from my hand as I shake them out. "Dammit."

"Sorry!" She grits her teeth for a moment and tilts her head, before hopping off her stool and yanking a swath of paper towels. "Here you go."

"Thanks...what's your name?"

"Angela." She smiles and reaches out to shake my hand.