think pink.

26 smoke break

I turned my head away in hesitation and rubbed my palm over my cheeks. Pulling myself up to my feet, I scanned my eyes over just about every surface of his room to avoid him.

"Come smoke," I was able to put together. I reached past him, swiping my pack of cigarettes off of the dull, wooden nightstand.

I heard him sigh as I spun on my heel to head to the sliding door in his bedroom. It led to a lonesome concrete slab on the back of the house, embellished with splintered pots, ashtrays, and a single chalky, white plastic chair. The concrete felt cool as I started to pace across the small slab of rock. My barefoot feet pressed into rigged ground nervously as I smacked my pack of cigs against the top of my revealed thigh.

I stared out into the dark yard as I heard Leo squeak open the rickety door, his boots still on. He came outside with a hard stomp that made my head jerk over my shoulder.

He stretched his arms over his head, flexing and folding his arms. He sat down in the one chair propped near the door. After sliding his hands around in his cluttered pockets, he lit one of his own cigarettes and waved it towards me.

I shook my head and lit my own. His Camel cigarettes were too strong, he tasted like them. Rich, bitter, and lingering, coating your mouth like a rancid cough drop.

"Kat," he started, his voice rasped right above a whisper. I knew that tone like a broken piano key. "Kat," he tried again. I didn't want to admit that he knew how to make my knees feel feeble.

I amplified my exhale, forcing out the puff of smoke. I turned towards his lanky figure in the dark, the only light pouring outside from the glow of the nearest lamp. I shot him a glance, ashing my cigarette out behind me.

"You know I'm sorry," he said. With only a foot between us, he toyed with the hem of my shirt.

"Ain't that a bite. A little late, ya' think?" I stepped back out of his aura. Leo wasn't the average dreamboat, but he had a way over me. It was like stepping into a cloud or putting on rose colored glasses. Intoxicating. I liked to think I knew him, truly knew him when we were going together, but looking at him now, I wasn't so sure I knew him at all.

"Kathryn," he repeated more sharply. What did he want from me?

I stayed quiet as I continued to shift my weight between my legs, fiddling with my fingers.

"I don't know," he began. His breath was shaky. "I don't know how to make things right with you."

"So you come and humiliate me at Rydell! In front of all of them! That will surely get me crawling back to you-"

"Who gives a shit?" He spat, his words almost bouncing off of the concrete. I could tell his frustration. It was a look he wore well. There were no feelings ever hidden on that rugged face of his.

I put my cigarette out and squatted down in front of his seat where his bouncing knees were causing his boots to patter rhythmically off of the ground below.

I knew the only way to get him to see through things were on his level. This man-child in front of me was the source of so much pain, but so much laughter. Nights of complete freedom but also nights of feeling so alone in my mind. This was a man who claimed he had loved me. He loved me but would leave me, and while I couldn't understand his reasoning for messing around with the other women, I knew he valued my opinion. I was on this pedestal of sorts like a mother. I don't think he realized there would ever be a day where I'd find my own.

I propped one hand on the fold of his elbow as he furiously pursed his lips to his cigarette, like a baby to a bottle.

I don't know why my stirred up mind was wanting to coddle this man. I knew for one, it was better to have him calm than raging against the machine until I can make my break. I loved Leo. I love Leo.

His eyes were glazed over as he kept his stare ahead into the murkiness. As I looked at him, searching his eyes for answers, I realized he was not erasable. I was making this harder. His face softened as my thumb mindlessly brushed over his arm ridden with goosebumps.

"How can I help you?" I asked when we finally locked eyes. "I'm so sorry your dad left. I really am." I placed a hand over my heart.

"Stay," he voice cracked. His opposite hand rested upon my knuckles.

"Come inside. You're cold." I told him. He was in no condition to have me yell at him.

I stood and reopened the door waiting for him to follow. He didn't move.

"Let's go." I tugged on his forearm.
Inside, he threw himself back horizontally across the bed. I wondered how long he had been a mess like this. This Cha-Cha chick wasn't looking over him at all.

I felt my eyes burn. I turned my back so he would not see my cry. Weak was not a word used to describe me.

I trudged into the bathroom and splashed some cool water on my face. I stood in that doorway for quite some time staring at his closed eyes. I wished I could pick apart his brain.

His steady snore cascaded over the quiet room.

I removed his boots slowly. He stirred, finding the pillow, realigning himself with the left side of the bed. I thought he was back into his peaceful sleep as I climbed over him to the other side of the bed. It felt foreign, as thoughts drifted to who else had he shared this bed with. The bed that I often made and laundered, a bed that felt like a home at one point. The yucky feeling made me itch.

"Do you remember when we met?" He spoke through a long exhale.

"Uh-" I started with surprise. "Of course I do."

The day you flipped my mind inside out and back again.