The Art of You

Drowning in things I couldn't tell you

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There were times where I missed Carl so much I would spend days in my room and cry. There was so much chemistry between him and I; even at the age of 8. We got along so well and he made it so easy to forget the bad that was happening. He knew nothing of it, he thought he did, but he didn't. At all. 

My real father was never around and my mom wasn't ready to be a mom. She had spent more time in the back of cars rolling up weed with her crackhead friends and drinking cheap booze than she had spent being a mother. I was left to take care of my brothers and sisters, and pay for what she had done. I was 6 years old waking everyone up for school as my mom lay passed out with a random guy in her back bedroom. When my mom first had me she was working at a restaurant. She made friends with a girl named Heidi. Heidi had her mom watched me while my mom and her went out and did whatever they did. Heidi's mom, Robin, then became someone I had trusted and loved and looked to as a mother figure. There was never a time when she wasn't there for me. She couldn't be there for all my brothers and sisters and that hurt leaving them, but every time my mom dropped me off there I felt safe, content. How I felt with Carl. 

I remember Robin had taken me in when my mom was arrested the first time, and I felt so loved while I was there. Like I was meant to be. Her family became my family. But there was something toxic about me, something bad was bound to happen. It felt like every time  I had moved into somewhere other than my house it went good for a few months and it went to hell from there. I hung out with Robin's niece named Emily, I became so close with her I practically lived there on the weekends. Or any chance I could really. Emily was 2 years younger than me, she had short blonde hair, chubby girl figure but the sweetest eyes. When my mom was arrested for the last time, Emily's parents were the ones who had taken me in. It felt so good to be somewhere money wasn't an issue and neither  was providing me with attention. It made forgetting I had lived in the ghetto for as long as I did. It made forgetting I had been neglected as a child so easy. 

Things got harder as I grew older, I was never enough for Emily's dad. They had adopted me so I had became their daughter, yet I felt like such an outsider. She was the golden child; I worked my butt of to get good grades to get the attention Emily had got. Emily's dad, who went by Bubba drank a lot and it only got worse. By the time I was 15 we had moved to a new smaller house to create change, make it easier for him to let go of alcohol. At least that's what my adoptive mother, Ronnie, thought. He became violent towards me and would throw things around or get dangerously close to me. There were times I had wished I had never left my mothers side. By the time I had turned 18 I returned back to Chicago. 

Carl's green eyes haunted my dreams much more than I wanted to admit. His almost preteen voice was imprinted in my head. I had imagined what it sounded like now, what he was doing, if he thought of me. What if I went back? Would he be happy? Those questions raced through my head every night. 

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His lips left mine and my heart was pounding. I tried to play it off, act like it wasn't something I thought about it every second of the day. I grabbed the cheetos and the blanket and walked to the back door. He stood at counter, I could tell that kiss threw him off. Hell, it threw me off. I waited at the door for him and he made his way over to me. 

We laid the blanket down on the grass and laid next to each other. He sparked the rolled up weed and I watched as he did it so easily. I scanned his entire body and realized how much he had grown up. His hair was so long and had a nice wave to it. It was parted down the middle with a slight bit of grease from running his hands through it. It was his flaws that I wanted to taste. His crooked mouth. The way he smelled after being out all day, His knees, so eager to bend to whatever song was playing in his head. His chest, as it rises and falls on the grass stained blanket. His tangled hair. His good morning, every morning. I didn't want to be able to run my fingers though him easily. He was flawed. Crooked. Endlessly interesting. Him.

He turned his head towards me after taking a hit of the blunt. He exhaled and smiled. I smiled back and turned on my stomach holding my chin up with the palms of my hands. "I missed you Car." I looked at him. Trying to see how he would react to that name. He didn't even flinch as he took another hit. "Missed ya too Quinc." he exhaled. I wanted to be closer to him, I wanted to scoot closer and press my lips to his neck, make him feel something. But something was stopping me. And that something was a dark haired girl who had a baseball bat up and ready to swing. "WHAT THE HELL COURTNEY?" Carl yelled and scrambled to get up before she could use the weapon in her hand. I stood up quickly too, pulling down the dress that had hiked up a little too far.

"Who the hell is this slut?" She gestured to me using the bat. "Knock it off." Carl pushed the bat back down to her side and grabbed her waist. She turned towards him and they were annoyingly close. "We were just smoking a blunt, she was my friend when we were younger. Nothing more than smoke sesh, I swear. " He kissed her cheek and she smiled at the ground and my heart dropped. That's all this was to him? "Quincy, you should go home." he nodded towards the road. I stood there shocked. What was happening? How did things change in him that fast? "Are you fucking stupid? He said go." The dark haired girl, apparently named Courtney, spat. My eyes filled with tears as I ran back to my car.