Prozac Nation: My Own Words, chapter 4
I hear a car pulling up in the driveway. I wonder who could it be. The clock says it's 3:42am. I glance out the window and see someone getting out of the car and knocking on the door.
My heart freezes. I have no idea who it can be, or what does he/she want. But I put my socks on and walk down to the door. I open it and see a vaguely familiar face.
"Can I help you?" I ask in a soft voice.
The person comes into the light and I recognize him. It's my cousin Jason, whom I haven't seen in six years. I'm not sure if he recognizes me, but I recognize him.
"Hi, Jason," I say in a cool voice. His eyes dawn with comprehension and he grins. I go inside and he follows.
"I haven't seen you in years," he says, sitting on the couch. "So, how are you? And what're you doing here?"
"Ehh, around," I say, trying to sound indifferent. I remember that he doesn't know that mom's dead.
"So, how's your mom?"
Speak of the devil.
My eyes smart with tears. But I hold them in like I've always done. Jason sees the cloudiness of my eyes and he asks, "Kim, what's wrong?"
I lay down. The tears hurt. "Mom's not around."
"Huh?"
"Mom's... not around."
"But, what d'you mean?"
I take a deep breath. "She's gone, Jason. She died five years ago, two years after dad went."
Jason looks stricken for a moment. I think he's going to cry. But he doesn't.
"Wow... "
I wiped my eyes.
"So," he says. "How are you?"
"Ehh, can't complain."
"Anything new?"
"Besides me smoking crack after mom died, and having to get five prescription pills? Nope, nothing."
Jason's eyes looked slightly shocked, then confused, and then troubled.
"What are you doing, Kimberly?" My aunt walks downstairs. "Didn't I tell you to go to bed two hours ago?"
She glances at me, and then she sees Jason. The next thing I know she's all over him and keeps repeating, "I missed you" like a mantra. Jason looks extremely uncomfortable, but he smiles and he pats my aunt/his mom awkwardly a few times.
The reason Jason was gone for so long was because, well, he was sent away. After my aunt filed for divorce, he was sent to live with my long gone uncle. Now that he's eighteen, he left and came back. How nice.
Jason and my aunt are talking spiritedly. I simply slide down on the couch and fall asleep, wondering how long would it take to get to California on a bus.
"Please, I beg you, Mitch, just go buy it," I say, handing him the money. These days have been so anxious I've started to relapse.
I need drugs.
"No way," Mitch says.
I scowl. "Then I'll go myself."
I stomp out of the house and I cross the street to the alley. I check around for people. I knock on the door once, twice. Someone begins to unlatch the door and it moves to reveal a dark room with a few chairs and a guy with a beanie hat. Another guy appears from behind me, and gives me a bag. I hand him the money and I'm soon out of there. I go to the cemetery, my favorite place to smoke. Most of the pothead kids of the area come here and vandalize the place regularly. I sit in front of the mausoleum and start smoking a joint. And I keep going. And I don't remember falling asleep.
The next thing I know Jason and Mitch are sitting by, staring at me. There are dead leaves in my hair and my face is dirty. I feel tired.
"Let's get her home," Jason tells Mitch. Together they hold me as I walk clumsily at their sides. It's not just the drugs that are making me woozy. It's the sensation of hunger, the wave of sleep that's threatening me, the thirst in my throat.
"Dammit, Kim, what got into you?" Mitch asks, worried and angry.
I'm sorry Mitch, but I can't answer you.
I am lost in my own zone.
When we get home, I flop down on the couch and I close my eyes without knowing neither where I was nor what had happened. My mind had turned blank and my eyes are drooping.
"Kim," Jason says.
I turn my back to him.
"Kim," Mitch says in a harsh tone.
I still don't say anything.
I suddenly fall asleep without knowing and I wake up in my bedroom. Someone had taken my jacket off and it lay on my desk along with my gloves. My Vans were nowhere to be seen. Better ask Mitch if he has them.
I walk slowly downstairs. One step at a time. I find Mitch asleep on the couch and Jason are sprawled in a corner, wrapped up in a huge comforter.
I nudge Mitch softly. His eyes open and he seems glad at seeing me.
"Kim, what got into you?" he asks. "I thought you said you quit."
Can't argue with that.
I slide in next to him. We lay down in silence. I count cracks on the ceiling until I feel dizzy. I feel Mitch stroke my hair softly.
"Mitch?"
He stops stroking my hair. "Yeah?"
I choke back a tear. "I'm sorry."
Mitch sits up straight. I can't hold the tears anymore and I burst out. Mitch wraps his arm around me and I feel his hand stroke my hair one more time. I suddenly start sobbing. I realize that holding it in is harder that I thought. It's better if I let it out.
"Calm down, Kim, calm down."
Jason wakes up. He gives a questioning look at Mitch. Mitch must've said something, or done some kind of expression on his face, because Jason's face suddenly dawns with comprehension and he leaves the room.
Slowly, I stop crying. My tears slowly dry up and my throat clears.
"You okay?" Mitch asks.
I nod.
But I'm not really sure.
You place a box of tissues in front of my chair. I kick it, angry with all of you. You look at me, your eyes filled with worry. But I simply stare at you with hard eyes.
"Kim... "
I stare harder.
A truck passes by. I hear the cars as their horns honk by. I see nothing. Your face disturbs my concentration, stinging my sharp tongue with cruel remarks. I pull my hood up past my eyes and put my feet up on the light yellow couch. I hear you flinch as you see my dirty sneakers connect with the freshly clean pillows.
It dawns on me that I can walk out of here if I want to. I don't have to stay locked up in here with you; all I have to do is walk out the door. I stand and I give you one last look.
And I walk away. Out the door, through the glass windowed entrance and out the gates.
And when I look back I see you staring at me through the window.
My heart freezes. I have no idea who it can be, or what does he/she want. But I put my socks on and walk down to the door. I open it and see a vaguely familiar face.
"Can I help you?" I ask in a soft voice.
The person comes into the light and I recognize him. It's my cousin Jason, whom I haven't seen in six years. I'm not sure if he recognizes me, but I recognize him.
"Hi, Jason," I say in a cool voice. His eyes dawn with comprehension and he grins. I go inside and he follows.
"I haven't seen you in years," he says, sitting on the couch. "So, how are you? And what're you doing here?"
"Ehh, around," I say, trying to sound indifferent. I remember that he doesn't know that mom's dead.
"So, how's your mom?"
Speak of the devil.
My eyes smart with tears. But I hold them in like I've always done. Jason sees the cloudiness of my eyes and he asks, "Kim, what's wrong?"
I lay down. The tears hurt. "Mom's not around."
"Huh?"
"Mom's... not around."
"But, what d'you mean?"
I take a deep breath. "She's gone, Jason. She died five years ago, two years after dad went."
Jason looks stricken for a moment. I think he's going to cry. But he doesn't.
"Wow... "
I wiped my eyes.
"So," he says. "How are you?"
"Ehh, can't complain."
"Anything new?"
"Besides me smoking crack after mom died, and having to get five prescription pills? Nope, nothing."
Jason's eyes looked slightly shocked, then confused, and then troubled.
"What are you doing, Kimberly?" My aunt walks downstairs. "Didn't I tell you to go to bed two hours ago?"
She glances at me, and then she sees Jason. The next thing I know she's all over him and keeps repeating, "I missed you" like a mantra. Jason looks extremely uncomfortable, but he smiles and he pats my aunt/his mom awkwardly a few times.
The reason Jason was gone for so long was because, well, he was sent away. After my aunt filed for divorce, he was sent to live with my long gone uncle. Now that he's eighteen, he left and came back. How nice.
Jason and my aunt are talking spiritedly. I simply slide down on the couch and fall asleep, wondering how long would it take to get to California on a bus.
"Please, I beg you, Mitch, just go buy it," I say, handing him the money. These days have been so anxious I've started to relapse.
I need drugs.
"No way," Mitch says.
I scowl. "Then I'll go myself."
I stomp out of the house and I cross the street to the alley. I check around for people. I knock on the door once, twice. Someone begins to unlatch the door and it moves to reveal a dark room with a few chairs and a guy with a beanie hat. Another guy appears from behind me, and gives me a bag. I hand him the money and I'm soon out of there. I go to the cemetery, my favorite place to smoke. Most of the pothead kids of the area come here and vandalize the place regularly. I sit in front of the mausoleum and start smoking a joint. And I keep going. And I don't remember falling asleep.
The next thing I know Jason and Mitch are sitting by, staring at me. There are dead leaves in my hair and my face is dirty. I feel tired.
"Let's get her home," Jason tells Mitch. Together they hold me as I walk clumsily at their sides. It's not just the drugs that are making me woozy. It's the sensation of hunger, the wave of sleep that's threatening me, the thirst in my throat.
"Dammit, Kim, what got into you?" Mitch asks, worried and angry.
I'm sorry Mitch, but I can't answer you.
I am lost in my own zone.
When we get home, I flop down on the couch and I close my eyes without knowing neither where I was nor what had happened. My mind had turned blank and my eyes are drooping.
"Kim," Jason says.
I turn my back to him.
"Kim," Mitch says in a harsh tone.
I still don't say anything.
I suddenly fall asleep without knowing and I wake up in my bedroom. Someone had taken my jacket off and it lay on my desk along with my gloves. My Vans were nowhere to be seen. Better ask Mitch if he has them.
I walk slowly downstairs. One step at a time. I find Mitch asleep on the couch and Jason are sprawled in a corner, wrapped up in a huge comforter.
I nudge Mitch softly. His eyes open and he seems glad at seeing me.
"Kim, what got into you?" he asks. "I thought you said you quit."
Can't argue with that.
I slide in next to him. We lay down in silence. I count cracks on the ceiling until I feel dizzy. I feel Mitch stroke my hair softly.
"Mitch?"
He stops stroking my hair. "Yeah?"
I choke back a tear. "I'm sorry."
Mitch sits up straight. I can't hold the tears anymore and I burst out. Mitch wraps his arm around me and I feel his hand stroke my hair one more time. I suddenly start sobbing. I realize that holding it in is harder that I thought. It's better if I let it out.
"Calm down, Kim, calm down."
Jason wakes up. He gives a questioning look at Mitch. Mitch must've said something, or done some kind of expression on his face, because Jason's face suddenly dawns with comprehension and he leaves the room.
Slowly, I stop crying. My tears slowly dry up and my throat clears.
"You okay?" Mitch asks.
I nod.
But I'm not really sure.
You place a box of tissues in front of my chair. I kick it, angry with all of you. You look at me, your eyes filled with worry. But I simply stare at you with hard eyes.
"Kim... "
I stare harder.
A truck passes by. I hear the cars as their horns honk by. I see nothing. Your face disturbs my concentration, stinging my sharp tongue with cruel remarks. I pull my hood up past my eyes and put my feet up on the light yellow couch. I hear you flinch as you see my dirty sneakers connect with the freshly clean pillows.
It dawns on me that I can walk out of here if I want to. I don't have to stay locked up in here with you; all I have to do is walk out the door. I stand and I give you one last look.
And I walk away. Out the door, through the glass windowed entrance and out the gates.
And when I look back I see you staring at me through the window.
