1989: a story of two misfit kids from mid-west america making it big in the big apple. and in the true sense of the american dream they find themselves in a life of sex, money, drugs, and a little rock n roll too.
warnings: adult content, mature rea...
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April 1993
In a musty, oddly humid boxing gym in New York City, Bill was picking out dumbbells ten pounds over what he usually curled. He had been back for a week now. He had fallen back into his old routine, but his mind had been flooded with thoughts and plans he hadn't quite imagined having. Forming and rearranging them. Making pros and cons lists. Ultimately, he left Seattle with work to do.
He was deep in thought as he worked out, in the pushup position, holding on to the dumbbells and interchangeably lifting them when he rose. He had lost count a long time ago. Sweat was beading on his forehead, running down the length of his nose, and dripping off the angular tip. His mind was far off thinking about Alma. How she broke down when they arrived at the airport to catch his departing flight.
Alma had to face her reality again. She was in a bit of a mood, but she stuffed it down. Bill could still sense it. He didn't mind how clingy she was on the last day he spent at her apartment. However, it felt a little overboard, even for her. It didn't shock him, though. She had been subtly cluing him in about how she didn't want him to leave during this trip. While it was hard to make out her drunken mumbling when he put her to bed after their night at The Rooster, again, she told him not to leave. Nearly begging before she went lights out.
He had pulled into a parking space at the airport and looked in the rearview to see that Echo had fallen asleep on the ride and sighed, knowing she'd be grumpy being woken up. Alma had suddenly sunken into herself and stared out the window with her hand over her mouth. She had gotten a bit of freedom, and now she was dreading him leaving and going back to doing everything on her own. She feared this. That she'd get a small taste of her old life and start questioning the one she was living now. She felt like a terrible mother for those thoughts. Even if the reprieve from everything was much needed.
"Alma?" Bill spoke carefully, finding her behavior concerning.
He saw her other arm holding herself, and a light sob escaped. He bit his lip, unsure of what to do. "Hey... Look at me." He softly pled. "What. What can I do?"
Though she wasn't looking at him, he could see tears glinting down the side of her cheek. He tried to reach out to her, but she just shrugged him off, which slightly irritated him.
"Look at me," he said again, more firmly.
"No," she cried. "Stop talking, and I'll be able to stop." She said it with a shaky voice. She was even surprised at her behavior. She knew everything had been building up inside her, but it hit her at such an inconvenient time. She thought she'd be able to hold it in until he walked past the gate, at least.
"No," he said, shaking his head, unaccepting. "You can't just hold this in. It's making you sick. I-It's kind of scaring me. Can't you just look at me?"
He could see her trembling as she held her breath, but his words caused the tears she tried to hold back to slip from her eyes. He huffed and stepped out of the Jeep. As he strode over to her side of the car, he saw her quickly cover her face with both hands before he opened the passenger door.
