[just] Ten ways to start over.
[Andy = called_thumper and is used with permission from the mun. Everything else from Serena's past is mine. Set about five years back, save for the final way.]
I. The road gets rougher
"Could you grab the last box?" Carter asked. Serena crossed her arms, looked down, and then did as she was asked. Three flights of stairs later and the two roommates had brought everything up. "Wouldja look at that," she said, surveying their apartment.
"Wow. We did it."
Serena was overwhelmed to say the least. It was her idea for the two gorgeous girls to high-tail it to Los Angeles. Iowa hadn't been big enough for either one of them. Ephram had encouraged his sister to do what she wanted. Of course, back then she didn't know that Ephram had been in the exact same place at the time.
"What do you say, we hit the town tonight, by a bottle of red, go dancing? To celebrate the touchdown?"
Carter grinned. Serena's eyes were on the walls, the ceiling, the door. Their place. She turned back to her roommate and grinned. She actually grinned. What followed could only be described as high-pitched squealing coupled with jumping up and down. Carter's blonde locks bounced above her shoulders and Serena's pony-tail did the same.
Everything bounced.
Even Serena's heart.
II. It's lonelier and tougher.
"Now, you're sure about this?" Carter asked, her head tilted to the side. Serena sat in their new living room chair which was situated on top of a few towels. Her hair was down for a change, flowing freely behind her. Carter held the scissors in her hands.
"What's a new start without a new haircut?" Serena asked.
Carter looked up at herself in the mirror. Her own hair was newly layered with pink highlights throughout. She grinned at herself and then eyed her roommate. This would be fun.
"Besides, you need practice, don't you?"
Of all the girls back at Iowa U, Carter had been the best at cutting and coloring hair. Serena hadn't paid for a haircut in four years and she wasn't about to start now. Not when she had her very own hairstylist roommate.
"What did we say?" she asked, as Carter stepped away into the kitchen, rinsing the pair of scissors. "We said that we'd go to California and we'd make it big. I'd become a famous singer, you a famous stylist. Big, girl."
Nodding, Carter shut off the faucet and returned to Serena's chair.
"So what are we going here, for?" she asked, pointing with her scissors.
"We're going for a new start," she said.
III. With hope you burn up
When she finally located Carter, the blond was at the back of the club, 'necking' against the wall. Serena, eyes wide, stalked over to her roommate and pulled the guy away from her.
"What are you doing?"
"Rena!" she squealed, falling forward into an air-sapping hug. The guy Serena removed brushed himself off and ran a hand through his hair. And then smelled his hand. She looked from the guy to Carter and then back again. "Hi, darlin'!"
"Hi..." Serena reluctantly smiled. "And you are?"
"T-Bone," the man answered. It was almost laughable is what it was.
"T...OK. T-Bone, would you mind if I spoke to my roommate for a second?" she asked, crinkling her nose. The man shrugged and disappeared, most likely to take a leak or shove his tongue down someone else's throat.
"Where'd he go?" Carter asked, lifting her head up. Her hair was a mess. Serena tried to help her but Carter swatted her hand away.
"What were you doing?"
"Starting over," she said.
"By shoving your --"
"By starting over. This is a new start, doll," Carter said, shockingly sober. She was hyper, not drunk. "What, you thought I was drinking again?" she asked. "I'm the one who convinced you to go out dancing," she said, gyrating into Serena's hips. "It's 'cause I can handle it. It's also 'cause, girl - you need some fun. You need to..." she said, spinning Serena around by the shoulders. She pointed the woman in the direction of a very attractive man in a leather jacket. "Start over," she said, giving her a small nudge and then a wink.
IV. Tomorrow he may turn up
It didn't mean anything. They weren't drunk. Well, he was probably drunk. But she wasn't. She was sober. She was just excited. She was starting over. Her mouth was just starting over before the rest of her body. Up against the wall of the stairwell.
"I don't even know you're name..." the guy said. She silenced him with a harder kiss before bringing her finger to his lips. He got the picture as they maneuvered their way up the steps.
"What's your name?" he finally asked her once she had reached her apartment door.
"No," she said. "No names. No names because names are complicated. Names lead to hurt. Names aren't about starting over, they're about starting up. I'm not starting up. I'm starting over."
This seemed to shut him up as she unlocked her door.
V. There's just no letup the live-long night and day
He wasn't what she was used to. He was scruffy - and he was built. He clearly was not a corn-fed Iowa boy and that is what appealed to her. She was by no means a virgin but to her this was like that. Like losing her virginity.
Her Los Angeles virginity.
"Your Los Angeles virginity?" Carter asked the next morning before bursting into a bout of laughter so loud, the neighbors would have most certainly woken up. Serena laughed too but she shushed her roommate as well who was now on the edge of her chair.
"And where were you?" Serena asked, challenging her roommate.
"Not losing my Los Angeles virginity, that's for sure." She laughed again before standing up and moving to the cabinet, pulling out an Advil bottle. Serena noticed and sucked in a breath.
"Advil?...What, do you - do you have a hangover?"
"What?" Carter asked. She popped the bottle open and poured two pills into her hands. "No. I have a headache. Serena. I have a headache." Serena backed off, exhaling. "So, Los Angeles virginity? Way to start over."
Serena laughed and looked down.
VI. Ever since this world began
"Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no," Serena said heading past the man from the night before and attempting to unlock her apartment door. Flustered and hurried did not make a good combination as she dropped her keys. "No. You can't be here," she said. "You were my start over. You weren't --" Serena stopped what she was doing and huffed in frustration before turning to her friend from the night before. "Why are you here?"
"You're a little full of yourself, aren't you?" the man asked.
"...What?"
"You think I came back because of the mind-blowing couch sex we had." And of course, it was at this point Mrs. Mulberry was tottering her way outside of her apartment into the hallway.
The door opened and Carter stood there, looking from the guy and then to Serena and then to the keys on the ground. She let out a laugh before retreating to the couch.
"I'm here because you mentioned you sang and I got you a slot tonight." Serena was ready to write him off. Of this she was sure. And perhaps she hadn't heard him correctly because no sooner had he said that, Serena bent down and retrieved her keys.
"No, I'm not inter - what?" she asked, eyes up at him again. Huh. They sparkled in the light. But she wasn't noticing his sparkle. He was here for her voice and not her ... sex.
"I got you a slot."
Serena stood there unable to say anything at all. Her mouth opened but pesky words did not emerge. She tried to say them in a different language. Think them first and then say them. But nothing.
"She says, 'Thank you, what time?" Carter interjected from the couch. The man laughed.
"Ten," he said, simply.
"...Th-thank you," Serena said with a smile. She leaned her head against the doorframe, sighing. "Do you think we could start over?" she asked. "I mean, names and all?"
"Christopher," he said. "CT," if you'd like.
"Oh, she'd like," Carter said from behind her. Serena shot her a look and then turned back.
"Serena," she said, shaking his hand.
VII. There is nothing sadder than
"I can't sing," Serena said. Her and Carter were at one of the front tables. Serena sat in her sequined top and sipped her tonic water, watching the woman onstage. In her opinion, this woman was bigger and better and let's face it, blacker and voice-wise, that mattered.
"What do you mean, you can't sing?"
"I mean, I'm not an Ella. Or a Whitney. Or even a Janet. Or a Garland for that matter."
"Oh, sweetie. You could do Garland. But, cupcale, you're a Serena."
"That's right," Serena shot back. "And I am not big, black, and fabulous - or Garlandy." A woman from the other table eyed her. She sent an apologetic look back. "Sorry," she said. "My point is-"
"Your point is null and void, Cherie," she said.
"You really have to stick to a nickname," Serena interjected.
"No. You don't get to sidetrack this conversation. Now, this woman is about to finish her nice Ella Fitzgerald song and you're going to get up there and you're going to hit it out of the park. And you're going to sing. Because cute CT guy is standing right over there," Carter said.
Serena glanced behind her and sure enough, he was. She took in a breath and nodded. She could do this.
VIII. A one-man woman
"What are you doing?" Serena asked, closing the door behind her. Carter brought the glass down from her mouth and brought her finger to her lips. A drop couldn't escape. That would be bad.
"Serena," she said. "I'm - Christopher was just here waiting for you."
"With wine," Serena asked.
"Well..." But Carter didn't have an answer.
"She's in AA," Serena said, unable to move from her spot. Christopher, eyes wide, knew he had fucked up. And Serena could see it in his eyes. But, that didn't matter. "Please leave," she said, stepping aside and opening the door for him.
"I didn't--"
"Leave," she repeated. Once he was gone, Serena stood there. The glass of wine was now on the table and Carter sat there, hunched over, a scolded child. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"It was one glass," she said, standing up and grabbing that glass. She poured the contents out into the sink and set the glass down.
"You know you're not supposed to drink."
"Yeah, well, it was one. He offered. It's impolite."
"What excuse is that?" she asked.
"I'm a big girl, Rena. I can take care of myself. If I say I can handle one drink then I can handle one drink!"
"It's a disease!" Serena made her way over to the coffee table and picked up the bottle. As far as she could tell Christopher hadn't had a drop and the bottle was more than half empty. "Carter, did he bring this over?" Carter didn't answer. "I'm asking you, point blank. Did-"
"No," she answered. "He didn't." With that, Carter stormed past her roommate to the front door and fled the scene.
"So much for starting over."
IX. Looking for
"I didn't know," Christopher said, following Serena up to her building. Serena and keys didn't mix as they fell once again.
"I know," she said, bending down to pick them up.
"You believe me?" he asked.
"I do," she replied, finally getting the door to open. He followed her down the hall and into the stairwell.
"Because, I would never endanger your roommate - I would ever have let her...she had poured herself a glass of wine..."
"And did she tell you not to tell me?" Serena asked, stopping on the top step.
"She told me you had been saving it for a special occasion, that she would buy another..." Serena whirled around and headed back down her own hallway, Christopher soon behind. "The last time she had a drink--" This stopped Serena in her tracks.
"...How long has she been drinking?"
"Are you really going to stop seeing me because of this?"
"Yes," she replied, reaching her door.
"Why?"
Serena opened the door wide enough for him to look inside. Carter's bedroom door was open and her things had been cleaned out. The television had been taken as well as a picture they had both gotten at the same time, to hang in their new Los Angeles apartment. He leaned back.
"She's gone. It's not your fault. But, she's gone. It may not translate to you but I can't...see you." She sighed. "I wish I could. But I can't. Goodbye, Carter..."
"You don't even know what I do. Or why they call me CT. We've known each other for two months and you're just using Carter as an excuse for running away!"
"Goodbye, Carter."
Silence would work. Cut him out of her life.
A new start...No roommate...No boyfriend. A new start.
X. The man that got away
"I'm not doing this for Marion," Serena said. She was focused on the mirror before her with Andy right behind. "You've never stood there and watched me put make-up on before..."
"You're going out," Andy said. Serena nodded. "This is the first time you've gone out since -- what happened."
"It was time," she answered simply. "It was time."
Andy took that as an actual answer and retreated into the living room to wait. The four of them left soon after, Marion finally emerging from her room. This was Tuesday and Tuesday night Marion was dressed to kill. Serena had let her know she looked fierce. But this wasn't about Marion. This was about Serena. Getting out.
"I'm going to sing," Serena said, once everyone ordered their drinks. Ephram, who was texting Garret to join them looked up and then at Andy. "You can all go back to your...whatever you were doing. This isn't a newsflash. I sing."
"Hon," Andy tried.
"You haven't sang since..." Ephram tried, before realizing that she hadn't - since he had been there.
"Since you quit," Andy said.
"I'm starting over," Serena said. "I've done it before. It works. I'm starting over because I'm tired of feeling like I'm not in control of my life. People leave. People don't know better. People knock on your door and make you afraid to step outside. Those people can't win."
"Here, here," Andy said, raising his beer.
"I'm determined."
"Well, you can determine yourself up there because your name was just called," Marion said, before taking a swig of her own beer.
Serena's stomach felt funny. Nerves. Butterflies. A feeling she hadn't remembered in - she couldn't count the years.
"Wish me luck," she said, standing up.
She wasn't in sweats. She was in a tasteful dress and heels. Her hair had been done. Her nails. This was her moment.
" The Man That Got Away, please," she said with a small smile to the man at the console. A part of her tensed up but she breathed through it, licked her lips, and brought the microphone up.
2432 Words
I. The road gets rougher
"Could you grab the last box?" Carter asked. Serena crossed her arms, looked down, and then did as she was asked. Three flights of stairs later and the two roommates had brought everything up. "Wouldja look at that," she said, surveying their apartment.
"Wow. We did it."
Serena was overwhelmed to say the least. It was her idea for the two gorgeous girls to high-tail it to Los Angeles. Iowa hadn't been big enough for either one of them. Ephram had encouraged his sister to do what she wanted. Of course, back then she didn't know that Ephram had been in the exact same place at the time.
"What do you say, we hit the town tonight, by a bottle of red, go dancing? To celebrate the touchdown?"
Carter grinned. Serena's eyes were on the walls, the ceiling, the door. Their place. She turned back to her roommate and grinned. She actually grinned. What followed could only be described as high-pitched squealing coupled with jumping up and down. Carter's blonde locks bounced above her shoulders and Serena's pony-tail did the same.
Everything bounced.
Even Serena's heart.
II. It's lonelier and tougher.
"Now, you're sure about this?" Carter asked, her head tilted to the side. Serena sat in their new living room chair which was situated on top of a few towels. Her hair was down for a change, flowing freely behind her. Carter held the scissors in her hands.
"What's a new start without a new haircut?" Serena asked.
Carter looked up at herself in the mirror. Her own hair was newly layered with pink highlights throughout. She grinned at herself and then eyed her roommate. This would be fun.
"Besides, you need practice, don't you?"
Of all the girls back at Iowa U, Carter had been the best at cutting and coloring hair. Serena hadn't paid for a haircut in four years and she wasn't about to start now. Not when she had her very own hairstylist roommate.
"What did we say?" she asked, as Carter stepped away into the kitchen, rinsing the pair of scissors. "We said that we'd go to California and we'd make it big. I'd become a famous singer, you a famous stylist. Big, girl."
Nodding, Carter shut off the faucet and returned to Serena's chair.
"So what are we going here, for?" she asked, pointing with her scissors.
"We're going for a new start," she said.
III. With hope you burn up
When she finally located Carter, the blond was at the back of the club, 'necking' against the wall. Serena, eyes wide, stalked over to her roommate and pulled the guy away from her.
"What are you doing?"
"Rena!" she squealed, falling forward into an air-sapping hug. The guy Serena removed brushed himself off and ran a hand through his hair. And then smelled his hand. She looked from the guy to Carter and then back again. "Hi, darlin'!"
"Hi..." Serena reluctantly smiled. "And you are?"
"T-Bone," the man answered. It was almost laughable is what it was.
"T...OK. T-Bone, would you mind if I spoke to my roommate for a second?" she asked, crinkling her nose. The man shrugged and disappeared, most likely to take a leak or shove his tongue down someone else's throat.
"Where'd he go?" Carter asked, lifting her head up. Her hair was a mess. Serena tried to help her but Carter swatted her hand away.
"What were you doing?"
"Starting over," she said.
"By shoving your --"
"By starting over. This is a new start, doll," Carter said, shockingly sober. She was hyper, not drunk. "What, you thought I was drinking again?" she asked. "I'm the one who convinced you to go out dancing," she said, gyrating into Serena's hips. "It's 'cause I can handle it. It's also 'cause, girl - you need some fun. You need to..." she said, spinning Serena around by the shoulders. She pointed the woman in the direction of a very attractive man in a leather jacket. "Start over," she said, giving her a small nudge and then a wink.
IV. Tomorrow he may turn up
It didn't mean anything. They weren't drunk. Well, he was probably drunk. But she wasn't. She was sober. She was just excited. She was starting over. Her mouth was just starting over before the rest of her body. Up against the wall of the stairwell.
"I don't even know you're name..." the guy said. She silenced him with a harder kiss before bringing her finger to his lips. He got the picture as they maneuvered their way up the steps.
"What's your name?" he finally asked her once she had reached her apartment door.
"No," she said. "No names. No names because names are complicated. Names lead to hurt. Names aren't about starting over, they're about starting up. I'm not starting up. I'm starting over."
This seemed to shut him up as she unlocked her door.
V. There's just no letup the live-long night and day
He wasn't what she was used to. He was scruffy - and he was built. He clearly was not a corn-fed Iowa boy and that is what appealed to her. She was by no means a virgin but to her this was like that. Like losing her virginity.
Her Los Angeles virginity.
"Your Los Angeles virginity?" Carter asked the next morning before bursting into a bout of laughter so loud, the neighbors would have most certainly woken up. Serena laughed too but she shushed her roommate as well who was now on the edge of her chair.
"And where were you?" Serena asked, challenging her roommate.
"Not losing my Los Angeles virginity, that's for sure." She laughed again before standing up and moving to the cabinet, pulling out an Advil bottle. Serena noticed and sucked in a breath.
"Advil?...What, do you - do you have a hangover?"
"What?" Carter asked. She popped the bottle open and poured two pills into her hands. "No. I have a headache. Serena. I have a headache." Serena backed off, exhaling. "So, Los Angeles virginity? Way to start over."
Serena laughed and looked down.
VI. Ever since this world began
"Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no," Serena said heading past the man from the night before and attempting to unlock her apartment door. Flustered and hurried did not make a good combination as she dropped her keys. "No. You can't be here," she said. "You were my start over. You weren't --" Serena stopped what she was doing and huffed in frustration before turning to her friend from the night before. "Why are you here?"
"You're a little full of yourself, aren't you?" the man asked.
"...What?"
"You think I came back because of the mind-blowing couch sex we had." And of course, it was at this point Mrs. Mulberry was tottering her way outside of her apartment into the hallway.
The door opened and Carter stood there, looking from the guy and then to Serena and then to the keys on the ground. She let out a laugh before retreating to the couch.
"I'm here because you mentioned you sang and I got you a slot tonight." Serena was ready to write him off. Of this she was sure. And perhaps she hadn't heard him correctly because no sooner had he said that, Serena bent down and retrieved her keys.
"No, I'm not inter - what?" she asked, eyes up at him again. Huh. They sparkled in the light. But she wasn't noticing his sparkle. He was here for her voice and not her ... sex.
"I got you a slot."
Serena stood there unable to say anything at all. Her mouth opened but pesky words did not emerge. She tried to say them in a different language. Think them first and then say them. But nothing.
"She says, 'Thank you, what time?" Carter interjected from the couch. The man laughed.
"Ten," he said, simply.
"...Th-thank you," Serena said with a smile. She leaned her head against the doorframe, sighing. "Do you think we could start over?" she asked. "I mean, names and all?"
"Christopher," he said. "CT," if you'd like.
"Oh, she'd like," Carter said from behind her. Serena shot her a look and then turned back.
"Serena," she said, shaking his hand.
VII. There is nothing sadder than
"I can't sing," Serena said. Her and Carter were at one of the front tables. Serena sat in her sequined top and sipped her tonic water, watching the woman onstage. In her opinion, this woman was bigger and better and let's face it, blacker and voice-wise, that mattered.
"What do you mean, you can't sing?"
"I mean, I'm not an Ella. Or a Whitney. Or even a Janet. Or a Garland for that matter."
"Oh, sweetie. You could do Garland. But, cupcale, you're a Serena."
"That's right," Serena shot back. "And I am not big, black, and fabulous - or Garlandy." A woman from the other table eyed her. She sent an apologetic look back. "Sorry," she said. "My point is-"
"Your point is null and void, Cherie," she said.
"You really have to stick to a nickname," Serena interjected.
"No. You don't get to sidetrack this conversation. Now, this woman is about to finish her nice Ella Fitzgerald song and you're going to get up there and you're going to hit it out of the park. And you're going to sing. Because cute CT guy is standing right over there," Carter said.
Serena glanced behind her and sure enough, he was. She took in a breath and nodded. She could do this.
VIII. A one-man woman
"What are you doing?" Serena asked, closing the door behind her. Carter brought the glass down from her mouth and brought her finger to her lips. A drop couldn't escape. That would be bad.
"Serena," she said. "I'm - Christopher was just here waiting for you."
"With wine," Serena asked.
"Well..." But Carter didn't have an answer.
"She's in AA," Serena said, unable to move from her spot. Christopher, eyes wide, knew he had fucked up. And Serena could see it in his eyes. But, that didn't matter. "Please leave," she said, stepping aside and opening the door for him.
"I didn't--"
"Leave," she repeated. Once he was gone, Serena stood there. The glass of wine was now on the table and Carter sat there, hunched over, a scolded child. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"It was one glass," she said, standing up and grabbing that glass. She poured the contents out into the sink and set the glass down.
"You know you're not supposed to drink."
"Yeah, well, it was one. He offered. It's impolite."
"What excuse is that?" she asked.
"I'm a big girl, Rena. I can take care of myself. If I say I can handle one drink then I can handle one drink!"
"It's a disease!" Serena made her way over to the coffee table and picked up the bottle. As far as she could tell Christopher hadn't had a drop and the bottle was more than half empty. "Carter, did he bring this over?" Carter didn't answer. "I'm asking you, point blank. Did-"
"No," she answered. "He didn't." With that, Carter stormed past her roommate to the front door and fled the scene.
"So much for starting over."
IX. Looking for
"I didn't know," Christopher said, following Serena up to her building. Serena and keys didn't mix as they fell once again.
"I know," she said, bending down to pick them up.
"You believe me?" he asked.
"I do," she replied, finally getting the door to open. He followed her down the hall and into the stairwell.
"Because, I would never endanger your roommate - I would ever have let her...she had poured herself a glass of wine..."
"And did she tell you not to tell me?" Serena asked, stopping on the top step.
"She told me you had been saving it for a special occasion, that she would buy another..." Serena whirled around and headed back down her own hallway, Christopher soon behind. "The last time she had a drink--" This stopped Serena in her tracks.
"...How long has she been drinking?"
"Are you really going to stop seeing me because of this?"
"Yes," she replied, reaching her door.
"Why?"
Serena opened the door wide enough for him to look inside. Carter's bedroom door was open and her things had been cleaned out. The television had been taken as well as a picture they had both gotten at the same time, to hang in their new Los Angeles apartment. He leaned back.
"She's gone. It's not your fault. But, she's gone. It may not translate to you but I can't...see you." She sighed. "I wish I could. But I can't. Goodbye, Carter..."
"You don't even know what I do. Or why they call me CT. We've known each other for two months and you're just using Carter as an excuse for running away!"
"Goodbye, Carter."
Silence would work. Cut him out of her life.
A new start...No roommate...No boyfriend. A new start.
X. The man that got away
"I'm not doing this for Marion," Serena said. She was focused on the mirror before her with Andy right behind. "You've never stood there and watched me put make-up on before..."
"You're going out," Andy said. Serena nodded. "This is the first time you've gone out since -- what happened."
"It was time," she answered simply. "It was time."
Andy took that as an actual answer and retreated into the living room to wait. The four of them left soon after, Marion finally emerging from her room. This was Tuesday and Tuesday night Marion was dressed to kill. Serena had let her know she looked fierce. But this wasn't about Marion. This was about Serena. Getting out.
"I'm going to sing," Serena said, once everyone ordered their drinks. Ephram, who was texting Garret to join them looked up and then at Andy. "You can all go back to your...whatever you were doing. This isn't a newsflash. I sing."
"Hon," Andy tried.
"You haven't sang since..." Ephram tried, before realizing that she hadn't - since he had been there.
"Since you quit," Andy said.
"I'm starting over," Serena said. "I've done it before. It works. I'm starting over because I'm tired of feeling like I'm not in control of my life. People leave. People don't know better. People knock on your door and make you afraid to step outside. Those people can't win."
"Here, here," Andy said, raising his beer.
"I'm determined."
"Well, you can determine yourself up there because your name was just called," Marion said, before taking a swig of her own beer.
Serena's stomach felt funny. Nerves. Butterflies. A feeling she hadn't remembered in - she couldn't count the years.
"Wish me luck," she said, standing up.
She wasn't in sweats. She was in a tasteful dress and heels. Her hair had been done. Her nails. This was her moment.
" The Man That Got Away, please," she said with a small smile to the man at the console. A part of her tensed up but she breathed through it, licked her lips, and brought the microphone up.
2432 Words