July 26, 1999 - 2:57 am - (30 days til NYC)
You don't really think about the fact that you know what a shotgun looks like until you see it and think, Hey that's a shotgun! It scares the shit out of me. Daddy emits a sort of grunt, sleepy eyes groping the darkness. Instantly sober, I shout, "What the fuck?"
"God bless your soul, is that how you talk?"
"You have a gun! What are you doing with a gun?"
"I'm protectin' my family, thas what I'm doing!" Daddy looks at me like I'm the crazy one. He fails to notice that I'm wide awake, fully clothed, wearing SHOES, and that there is an open bottle of alcohol and two shot glasses sitting on the Connect Four box.
"I was sleeping!" I yell hoping my voice will distract him from the details at the scene of the crime.
"Don't you know a noise when you hear one?" he huffs. Creeping into my bathroom he takes a look around, gun first. Then he goes to the closet and bats at the clothes, gun first. Then homeboy gets on his hands and knees and looks under the bed, GUN FIRST! The entire time Kippy stands at the bedroom door, as if to block anyone who might try to escape. Finally, Daddy approaches the open window. "I dun told you to keep this window shut at night." He slides it firmly closed. The window does not scream in protest.
"Yeah, okay," I answer.
He looks like he wants to say something else, but his need to get back to bed wins. "Love you, baby." He practically stumbles out of the room, gun now at his side and Kip follows.
Heart racing, I get out of bed and close my bedroom door. Then I go to the window, ask God to give me a fucking break and carefully slide it back open. It doesn't make a sound.
Robbie is long gone, and I'm grateful. I sit on the sidewalk a few houses down. Run my fingers across the tops of the grass and silently congratulate the longest blades. I listen to the crickets chatter. I let the stars stare at me. I pull at the bracelets on my wrists.
I wait. . .
But I can't find the moment I fell in love with June. It simply wasn't true and then it was. I knew right then and there that I would spend the rest of my life confused by this fact.
. . . . Well, it's 3 a.m. so I guess I can say it. Happy 19th Birthday to me.
xo, Rosie
* * *
(❁'ω'❁)
To all my fellow lezzies, gays, queers, pans, aces, transqueens, kings & everyone in between. I see you. <3
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Rosie's Diary. Copyright © 2013 Jai//Em
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Rosie's Diary
General Fiction19-year-old Rosie drinks, swears, cries, studies, rehearses, lies, confesses, smokes weed and rants all over New York City. But all she really wants to do is love June.
