~Ours~

Music of Fools: Chapter 3

I went home and my father's whore was there, sitting on his lap. Duh! She looked like an old iguana. I didn't care to greet them, it might disturb their movie watching: Mission Impossible II. Before I could stepped the stairs dad spilled some lines.

“Good thing you went home early, Jen,” he said holding a can of Budweiser.

“Bad thing dad, it will destroy your moment with her tonight 'cause I'll be banging the walls and play my Poison and Thorns.”

Ha. I left him speechless.

“Hey,” the whore said, “respect your father young girl.”

“Respect yourself old woman, and please find some decent jod. And oh, you look stupid wearing red dress and boots,” I spat and rolled my eyes, proceed to my room and slumped in my bed.

I missed my mom.

Dear mom, please do come back. ASAP. Dad is bringing whore that looked like horse. File a divorce to your new guy or take me there in Austin. I'll be a good girl. Love, Jennifer.

I closed the door and recall what I did today.

Dear, Diary

I'm loving Achilles Adams.

Don't tell anyone.

X.O.X.O

Secretly yours,

Jen

It was 9 in the evening, and I admit, I can't stand the noise. Giggling and ugh! I need to go out. Fresh air, that's all I needed and nothing else.

I went downstairs and unlocked our main door, passed through the front porch and started my wandering beneath the moon. I saw a drunk man, thinking do alcoholic drinks can vanish the pain of breaking up to someone?

Dad became a heavy cross since mom left us to marry another man richer and more handsome than dad. He started to get drunk and now he brought whores every night. I mean M-W-F, not T-Th. No Saturdays because it's his rest day of working: manager of our stupid house. And, Sunday for it is God's day. Ha-ha. What he did doesn't follow. It is still a sin. He used old horses for fun. I know he can afford such woman but it is still not right.

Monday: Mrs. Wing, a librarian.

Wednesday: Mrs. Lewis, public school teacher.

Friday: Mrs. Michaels, a secretary.

Kelly?

From far away I could see him playing his guitar. Hmm, overtime? Well, he must do it. I wasted his time on me. He's still wearing the same coat. I could hear his voice, like inviting me to listen him, like he brought a news from his song. I took out a money from my pocket, five dollars, that will do.

I stood in front of him, and did not noticed me yet.

Am I invisible? Or just unnoticeable?

I threw the money with a smile. Well, he earned a lot at night. Probably 60 dollars with quarters. He smiled at me and continue to sing. I just stared him, studying his face and the opening of his mouth.

I wonder how it feels like to kiss him.

I smiled.

He sang a song that I'm not familiar with. Maybe 80's or 90's. I just swayed my body following the rhythm.

Then, with a late notice, I started to forget the problems at home, those whores, the longing for my mom, even the happiness of passing De Sales. His voice covered me, I'm soaked in its purity and honesty. (And I didn't realized that I'm getting soft and mild.) Ugh.

Angel, I can compare him to that. Then, the music ends. He chuckled.

“Can't sleep?” he said, brushing back his hair.

“Naw, just finding good vibes on the street. By the way that was great.”

“Thanks, any request?”

A song? Oh!

“Let me think. How about Bryan Adams?”

“Heaven.”

I nodded, then he closed the guitar case. We sat on the nearby bench, seeing people passed us by. Finally, he started to play his guitar pressing the chords that I-do-not-dare-to-know.

Oh - thinkin' about all our younger years

There was only you and me

We were young and wild and free

Now nothin' can take you away from me

We bin down that road before

But that's over now

You keep me comin' back for more

Baby you're all that I want

When you're lyin' here in my arms

I'm findin' it hard to believe

We're in heaven

And love is all that I need

And I found it there in your heart

It isn't too hard to see

We're in heaven