I couldn’t concentrate, and that pisses me the fuck off.
Dani kept looking at me whenever I fucked up a chord or missed a beat in rehearsal. If it weren’t for Tanner, she would’ve definitely ripped my head off. But the truth behind it was that I was fuming. My body was hot like it was on fire. For fuck’s sake, Roe; are you that fucking stupid?
I immediately hung the phone up when I saw Rosie walk out of that asshole’s car on campus. The more I looked at him, the more I wanted to punch his plastic-looking teeth in, and the more I looked at Rosie with him, the more I wanted to yank her away and punch his fucking face. She looked up at him and fucking smiled in his face like everything was peachy-fuckin-keen and like he didn’t hospitalize her a month ago.
She looked at him like she completely forgot about kissing me that night at my place.
“Yo, dude!” Dani calls out. I rolled my eyes at her.
“What?” I said, more annoyed than anything. Dani placed her notebook on the chair next to her.
“What the fuck is wrong with you today?” Dani asked. “Like, you fucking suck today.”
“Well if I suck, then why the fuck did you want me for your rehearsal?” I spat back.
“If I knew you were going to half-ass it today, I wouldn’t have bothered,” Dani quickly snapped back. Tanner, like he always does, comes to stand in between us to cool us off.
“Don’t you both have an off day of not cussing at each other?” Tanner said. Dani doesn’t respond and I don’t either. Tanner sighs, and then looks at me. Why the fuck am I always the one that gets looked at first? “Dude, are you okay?”
“Fuck this shit,” I got up and started to pack my things. This wouldn’t have been the first time I allowed my emotions to get the best of my rehearsal time. The last time something like this happened, it was when–
“I thought you walking out of practice would’ve stopped after Kalia broke up with you,” Dani emphasized. “Guess bitches will always get you in your bag.”
“Fuck you, Dani,” I spat more than actually said. “How about you worry about your goddamn self and your relationship instead of getting in my business.”
“Come on, dude, just–” Tanner began to say, but I was also tired of his shit at this point.
“Shut up, Tanner; just tend to your annoying ass bitch,” I responded and grabbed my bag. Dani ran after me, but all I could hear is Tanner trying to calm her down.
“Fuck you, Micah! You aren’t shit and you aren’t ever gonna be shit!” Dani yelled.
I slammed the door shut and left.
The thing about me is that I learned that no matter what, you’ll be by yourself. You were born alone, and you’re gonna die alone. So, why as a society we allow other people get to us? Why do we let them affect us so fucking much to the point you’re fucked up in the head? Why the fuck would I ever let a girl like Rosie Delgado get to my fucking head?
Rosie has proven herself time and time again why she can’t be trusted. Rosie is the type of person that will tell you one thing, but then will go to another person and say something completely different. She will say one thing that makes you think she’s letting you in, and then she will act like you’re a complete stranger. When you tell her that you care about her and her well-being, she would literally tell you to fuck off. So, once again; why the fuck would I ever let a girl like Rosie Delgado get to me?
I walk down the streets of Brooklyn with my equipment in my backpack and my hands deep in my coat pockets. The cold air turns hot with every breath I let escape my mouth. I looked around as I walked under the train tracks that the D train run on. Grown women with short dresses and high heels walk toward cars that are parked along the sidewalk. They remind me of Rosie. Fuck, wouldn’t be surprised if that was–
Micah, don’t.
I shouldn’t have kissed Rosie the same night she told me about her junkie ex-boyfriend in Philadelphia and how she used to pick up dates to make extra money in the streets. She bluntly told me that she did what she did because she was comfortable doing it. Did that mean she was comfortable with men treating her like shit? Does she think so poorly of people in this society that she would just shrug off the shitty way that people treat her? Has she lost faith in humanity because she’s seen it all being out in these streets? Again, these were the things about Rosie I never understood; one minute she could be a normal girl hanging out and talking about college assignments and art stuff, and the next she can be dressing up like a 26-year-old trying to pick up older men that have steady jobs so that she can get paid more money. Maybe I never knew Rosie. Maybe I shared some personal shit with a complete stranger.
That pisses me the fuck off.
I walked into a corner store and walk towards the back where the fridges were. I grabbed a bottle of beer and confidently walked toward the counter. I guess it was always about how confident you walked with the alcohol in your hands that makes people not check to see if you’re actually old enough. Or maybe people just didn’t give a shit anymore. Maybe I gotta stop giving a shit.
I didn’t go home that night.
…
I took off my shirt while the shower was running. I stood in front of the mirror in my bra, looking at the bruises on my hips. They don’t hurt much these days, but I do wish they would just go away. I wish a lot of things went away.
I told Hudson I was going to do better the night I got discharged from the hospital. I watched him pack my things into bags and get everything together. Sometimes, I just watch Hudson and get so fucking sad; I don’t deserve someone like him caring about me like I was his daughter. I’m not his daughter, and sometimes I think he forgets that; a part of me feels like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time he had with his own daughter that was kidnapped and killed when she was a teenager. I don’t feel worthy being a place-holder for his daughter. His daughter would’ve probably made better decisions than me.
“So, you’re going to call me when you go to and from the campus, okay?” Hudson said as he zipped one of the bags. I nodded my head, too tired to really say words. “Okay, Rosie?” Hudson emphasized.
“Okay, okay; sheesh,” I answered back. Hudson walked toward me and sat in the chair across from where I was sitting.
“Rosie, I have to trust you in order for me to keep an eye on you,” he explained. “You can’t tell me you’re one place when really you’re in trouble.”
“I know, Hudson,” I wanted nothing more than to get this conversation over and done with. Hudson was growing annoyed with me.
“No, Rosie; you don’t,” he stated. “I’m not trying to micromanage your every move, but when I get a call that you’ve been hospitalized for a man putting his hands on you, things are different.”
“Oh, so because a man decided to beat me up, now I’m the one that gets punished and has to check in at every fucking point of my day?” I asked, angry that Hudson feels the need to watch over me even more than he does.
“Who was he, Rosie? Huh?” Hudson asked. He’s asked me the same question ever since he got to New York to be with me during my stay at the hospital. I didn’t want to make this a bigger deal than what it really was, so I told Hudson I didn’t know the guy. I gave him some half-assed story about how I was fighting off the guy that attacked me for my money. Huh, good thing I wasn’t dead; my coroner’s report would’ve shown that I didn’t fight back the attacker at all. But, I know Hudson knows I was lying to him. He knows I know who it was, and even though he’s not pushing me to know the answer, he knows I know who the guy is. Someone who doesn’t know you wouldn’t have known to bruise the already bruises that were on my body.
“I don’t know, Hudson,” I said, defeated. “I just want to go home. Can you please drop me back at the dorms?” He didn’t know I lived off of campus in some shitty abandoned movie theater apartment either, making it even easier to feel like I don’t deserve someone like Hudson caring about me.
He didn’t fight me anymore about who the guy was. He did what I asked him to do without questioning me any further.
Before I could get in the shower, I hear my front door being banged on. I turned to look outside of the bathroom, terrified at who it could be. It’s fucking 11 o’clock at night; who the fuck is banging on my door like that? I put my shirt back on and walked out of the bathroom. I walked towards the closet nearest to me and took out the broom for protection. I held it like a bat in my hand. I slowly walked closer to the door as the door kept being banged on.
“Rosie? Rosie, I know you’re fucking in there,” the voice from outside said. It finally clicks.
Micah?
Letters From Liz. 