(no subject)
Name: A Break From Reality
Author: Katie (nob0dysangel)
Rating: PG-13 for brief language
Summery: Old friends run into each other on the streets.
Disclaimer: I own me! How about that? BOOYA! But alas, I don't own anyone else. Pleh.
Notes: I hope this is okay. This is how I understood it so hope it works!
It was always so peaceful for me to come to the East Village for some reason. It just seemed so accepting of who I was. No one would look at me with disgust for my clothing nor would they turn their head because of my numerous ear piercings. Everyone would just go about their day, not being bothered by my choices.
I came here often; it was a nice break from the midtown crowd I had become accustomed to. Plus my inner artist that was yearning to break free always enjoyed the inspiration it was given, something it can’t get while waiting tables for the overly wealthy and the tourists.
I turned down St. Marks Place, easily my favorite place in the city. Granted it was infested with drugs and teaming with cops who eagerly waited to get their hands on one of the many dealers, it still seemed to be one of the more peaceful places I can go. As I walked, my eye was caught by a striking man. He was tall and had spiky blond hair. He was clad in a black leather jacket, red plaid pants and combat boots. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his head hung low. But there was still something about him that looked too familiar. I crossed the street and upon getting closer to him, I realized exactly who it was.
“Roger?” I asked while I walked up to him.
His head snapped up as he looked at me before a small smile came across his face, one I had missed so much.
“Katie, hey,” he said as he walked toward me.
I had known him from middle school and into the few months he actually attended high school. He was one of my best friends, but once he dropped out of high school, my parents wouldn’t let me have anything to do with him. I rebelled a little for a while but eventually it got too tiring, and Roger ended up disappearing anyway.
“What are you doing around here?” he asked me.
“Oh, just escaping from the midtown traffic,” I answered. “How have you been?”
“Hanging in there,” Roger replied simply. “I’m in a band, the Well Hungarians.”
I laughed. “No shit. My friend goes to all your gigs. She’s insane for you. She always talks about you. I should introduce you two. Her name’s April. You’d probably dig her.”
“I’ve probably already done her,” Roger said with a laugh.
I laughed also before rolling my eyes. “Good to see some things never change.”
He gave me his usual mischievous smile. “What can I say? Chicks dig me.”
“Forever and always,” I said with a smirk.
“I was thinking about you the other day. My Mom called and told me how she saw you or something.”
“Oh yeah, she came into my work,” I said. “I was asking her what happened to you; after you dropped off the face of the earth. What was with that anyway?”
“So you think you can just do whatever you want, huh? You’re going to be a little rebel? This is what’s going to happen then Roger,” my mother screamed at me.
I suppose I should’ve realized that she’d find out about me dropping out of school sooner or later. It wasn’t like I was legal or anything so the school called her and told her I hadn’t been attending school since last marking period. I guess my fake doctor’s note just didn’t cut it.
We were in the car now. She had thrown all of my clothes into a black duffle bag and chucked it in the back before dragging me out here. I had no idea where we were going, and I had a feeling I didn’t really want to know.
“Ever since you hit high school, you think you can just talk back to me and think nothing’s going to happen? I don’t think so Roger. I’ve had enough of this. Just because I’m not your father and I’m not here to teach you everything you should be knowing doesn’t mean you can get away with whatever you want. You can’t always get your way.”
We pulled up outside a run-down apartment building in the Bronx. I looked at it with a frown before looking at my mother questioningly. She handed me a key, pulled my bag out of the back seat, threw it at me and then didn’t say another word. I took the hint and got out of the car. It pulled away with a screech as soon as I slammed the door closed. I looked around. This place looked extremely unwelcoming. People passed me, giving me dirty looks in the process. I pulled open the door to the apartment building and headed on inside. I took a look at the number on the key. 535. I slowly climbed up the stairs until I got to the fifth floor. I walked down the hall, looking at the numbers painted on the doors. I finally reached 535 and I stuck my key in the keyhole. After a struggle, the door finally unlocked and I pushed it open.
“Hello?” I asked cautiously. I quietly closed the door behind me before setting my bag down on the floor. “Anyone here?”
I began to walk further into the apartment before I saw a soft glow coming from one of the rooms. I headed toward it to find a dark room with the only light coming from the TV. A dilapidated chair sat in the middle of the room with a broken down TV tray next to it, holding a six-pack of beer with a few more stacked on the floor.
“So your Mother couldn’t handle you anymore,” my father said, more as a statement than as a question.
“I guess,” I replied with a shrug.
He slowly stood up, a beer belly hanging over his jean shorts, his hair balding. He staggered toward me as he drank the remains of a beer can and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the TV and bounced onto the floor.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing dropping out of school? Don’t you see what’s happened to your mother and me? We’re not doing shit with our lives. You’re supposed to be the one to make all the money and be successful.”
“I am gonna be successful. I’m gonna be in a band and we’re gonna make it big,” I told him.
My father just laughed. “Yeah right kid. You ain’t got any talent anyone would wanna pick up.”
“How the fuck do you know? You’re never around to hear my songs!”
My father slapped me across the face. “I’m never around because I got work to do.”
“What? Drink and make sure the TV can stay on for 10 days straight? You doing some kind of scientific research?” I snapped back.
Another slap, this one harder.
“Your mother’s better off with out me. I knocked her up and didn’t want to have a fucking thing to do with her. It was a one-night stand. I never wanted you or her.”
“No shit. I would’ve never noticed.”
A punch this time.
“Don’t you talk about what you don’t know. You don’t know how hard it is to be in my situation.”
“What situation’s that? Having to decide whether you want to watch the Giants vs. the Jets or the 49ers vs. Browns and whether to drink Miller or Bud while you do?”
I got a furry of punches for that one. Some people just don’t appreciate good sarcasm.
“Get the fuck out. I was gonna try to help you but fuck it.”
“Fine. I don’t fuckin’ need you anyway! I don’t need any of you!”
I stumbled out of my father’s room, grabbed my bag and left. I went back downstairs, wiping the blood from my nose with the back of my hand. I got out onto the street and just stared up and down. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going to go. The only place I could think of was going to Katie’s, but her parents hate me now so that was out of the question. Mark’s mom seemed to be a bit more understanding though.
I walked down the street and fished around in my pocket until I found a couple quarters. I dropped them in the payphone and dialed up the number to the Cohen residence.
“Hey Mark? I need a favor…”
Author: Katie (nob0dysangel)
Rating: PG-13 for brief language
Summery: Old friends run into each other on the streets.
Disclaimer: I own me! How about that? BOOYA! But alas, I don't own anyone else. Pleh.
Notes: I hope this is okay. This is how I understood it so hope it works!
It was always so peaceful for me to come to the East Village for some reason. It just seemed so accepting of who I was. No one would look at me with disgust for my clothing nor would they turn their head because of my numerous ear piercings. Everyone would just go about their day, not being bothered by my choices.
I came here often; it was a nice break from the midtown crowd I had become accustomed to. Plus my inner artist that was yearning to break free always enjoyed the inspiration it was given, something it can’t get while waiting tables for the overly wealthy and the tourists.
I turned down St. Marks Place, easily my favorite place in the city. Granted it was infested with drugs and teaming with cops who eagerly waited to get their hands on one of the many dealers, it still seemed to be one of the more peaceful places I can go. As I walked, my eye was caught by a striking man. He was tall and had spiky blond hair. He was clad in a black leather jacket, red plaid pants and combat boots. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his head hung low. But there was still something about him that looked too familiar. I crossed the street and upon getting closer to him, I realized exactly who it was.
“Roger?” I asked while I walked up to him.
His head snapped up as he looked at me before a small smile came across his face, one I had missed so much.
“Katie, hey,” he said as he walked toward me.
I had known him from middle school and into the few months he actually attended high school. He was one of my best friends, but once he dropped out of high school, my parents wouldn’t let me have anything to do with him. I rebelled a little for a while but eventually it got too tiring, and Roger ended up disappearing anyway.
“What are you doing around here?” he asked me.
“Oh, just escaping from the midtown traffic,” I answered. “How have you been?”
“Hanging in there,” Roger replied simply. “I’m in a band, the Well Hungarians.”
I laughed. “No shit. My friend goes to all your gigs. She’s insane for you. She always talks about you. I should introduce you two. Her name’s April. You’d probably dig her.”
“I’ve probably already done her,” Roger said with a laugh.
I laughed also before rolling my eyes. “Good to see some things never change.”
He gave me his usual mischievous smile. “What can I say? Chicks dig me.”
“Forever and always,” I said with a smirk.
“I was thinking about you the other day. My Mom called and told me how she saw you or something.”
“Oh yeah, she came into my work,” I said. “I was asking her what happened to you; after you dropped off the face of the earth. What was with that anyway?”
“So you think you can just do whatever you want, huh? You’re going to be a little rebel? This is what’s going to happen then Roger,” my mother screamed at me.
I suppose I should’ve realized that she’d find out about me dropping out of school sooner or later. It wasn’t like I was legal or anything so the school called her and told her I hadn’t been attending school since last marking period. I guess my fake doctor’s note just didn’t cut it.
We were in the car now. She had thrown all of my clothes into a black duffle bag and chucked it in the back before dragging me out here. I had no idea where we were going, and I had a feeling I didn’t really want to know.
“Ever since you hit high school, you think you can just talk back to me and think nothing’s going to happen? I don’t think so Roger. I’ve had enough of this. Just because I’m not your father and I’m not here to teach you everything you should be knowing doesn’t mean you can get away with whatever you want. You can’t always get your way.”
We pulled up outside a run-down apartment building in the Bronx. I looked at it with a frown before looking at my mother questioningly. She handed me a key, pulled my bag out of the back seat, threw it at me and then didn’t say another word. I took the hint and got out of the car. It pulled away with a screech as soon as I slammed the door closed. I looked around. This place looked extremely unwelcoming. People passed me, giving me dirty looks in the process. I pulled open the door to the apartment building and headed on inside. I took a look at the number on the key. 535. I slowly climbed up the stairs until I got to the fifth floor. I walked down the hall, looking at the numbers painted on the doors. I finally reached 535 and I stuck my key in the keyhole. After a struggle, the door finally unlocked and I pushed it open.
“Hello?” I asked cautiously. I quietly closed the door behind me before setting my bag down on the floor. “Anyone here?”
I began to walk further into the apartment before I saw a soft glow coming from one of the rooms. I headed toward it to find a dark room with the only light coming from the TV. A dilapidated chair sat in the middle of the room with a broken down TV tray next to it, holding a six-pack of beer with a few more stacked on the floor.
“So your Mother couldn’t handle you anymore,” my father said, more as a statement than as a question.
“I guess,” I replied with a shrug.
He slowly stood up, a beer belly hanging over his jean shorts, his hair balding. He staggered toward me as he drank the remains of a beer can and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the TV and bounced onto the floor.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing dropping out of school? Don’t you see what’s happened to your mother and me? We’re not doing shit with our lives. You’re supposed to be the one to make all the money and be successful.”
“I am gonna be successful. I’m gonna be in a band and we’re gonna make it big,” I told him.
My father just laughed. “Yeah right kid. You ain’t got any talent anyone would wanna pick up.”
“How the fuck do you know? You’re never around to hear my songs!”
My father slapped me across the face. “I’m never around because I got work to do.”
“What? Drink and make sure the TV can stay on for 10 days straight? You doing some kind of scientific research?” I snapped back.
Another slap, this one harder.
“Your mother’s better off with out me. I knocked her up and didn’t want to have a fucking thing to do with her. It was a one-night stand. I never wanted you or her.”
“No shit. I would’ve never noticed.”
A punch this time.
“Don’t you talk about what you don’t know. You don’t know how hard it is to be in my situation.”
“What situation’s that? Having to decide whether you want to watch the Giants vs. the Jets or the 49ers vs. Browns and whether to drink Miller or Bud while you do?”
I got a furry of punches for that one. Some people just don’t appreciate good sarcasm.
“Get the fuck out. I was gonna try to help you but fuck it.”
“Fine. I don’t fuckin’ need you anyway! I don’t need any of you!”
I stumbled out of my father’s room, grabbed my bag and left. I went back downstairs, wiping the blood from my nose with the back of my hand. I got out onto the street and just stared up and down. I didn’t know where I was or where I was going to go. The only place I could think of was going to Katie’s, but her parents hate me now so that was out of the question. Mark’s mom seemed to be a bit more understanding though.
I walked down the street and fished around in my pocket until I found a couple quarters. I dropped them in the payphone and dialed up the number to the Cohen residence.
“Hey Mark? I need a favor…”