Sorry if I don’t finish this one; in the event that I don’t complete my thoughts, it’ll be because I kind of have to pee, but I’m sharing this computer with a couple other family members.
Today we bought a house. It’s a half-sized rancher with three bedrooms and one bathroom and a tiny little kitchen, and it’s a quarter of the size of our Richmond home now. It’s exactly next-door to my cousins’ house. And I’ll live in it for a year, until I go off to college.
This mention of college reminds me that I don’t have an all-American reading base. Here’s a quick school reference for those culturally enhanced.
Preschool: Begins at age 4 or 5, normally taken at a church
Kindergarten: Begins once you pass preschool, normally at age 5 or 6
First Grade: Begins after you pass Kindergarten
Elementary School: General term for grades K through 5
Middle School/Junior High: General term for grades 6 through 8; can include 5th grade or exclude 8th grade in weird places
High School: Grades 9 through 12; 9 is Freshman year, 10 is Sophomore Year, 11 is Junior year, 12 is Senior year
College: Interchangeable term with University, generally 4 years, whatever
Alright. So I realize that I may sound really arrogant for clueing everyone in, especially since you likely already know it.
My life in Richmond, I realize, has been a privileged one. We have a fucking huge home located in a new neighbourhood with great water, power generators, CENTAL AIR!, expensive new cars, a nice mall, and, well, pretty people. In Richmond, no one looks twice at me. In Lewisburg, I’m a head-turner and it’s sort of gross. But all the girls here look the same. And all the houses here are one floor and small and old.
This trip was a turning point because my mother now allows me to drive around by myself, or with my sister or cousin or both or my aunt or whoever I want, even late at night. I don’t have the money to do anything, really, but when I move here, hopefully, I’ll get a job at the book store or the organic grocery store or at like…the Weis supermarket down the highway.
On one hand, I’m excited for school. I’m new and apparently hip and well-behaved and my aunt’s a teacher at the school I”ll go to, and my cousin will be a freshman and half his friends will be sophomores or juniors. I have confidence that I’ll do well in these classes, because it’s not Richmond, where everyone is smart and beautiful. But on the other hand, I won’t have any friends the first day of school except for freshmen who will NOT be in my class, and that is my birthday.
And then there’s having no Derek around. There is no replacement. But our phone skills are lacking all around, and instead of lifting my mood, thus far, they make me want to cry, because of the silences and because of everything that can’t be said through words. I constantly find myself in an awful mood once I hang up. And then my stomach hurts. And I just want to drive around for a while, or listen to Jenny Lewis, but I end up playing more Guitar Hero II, which makes me want to throw up sometimes.
And thinking about Erika and Paige, even on this little weekend trip, I feel like they don’t even exist, and that they were always just figments of my imagination. Tianna, too. I’m afraid of college, but not bcause of the social interactions anymore but now because I don’t know if my parents will have enough money to put me through a good school, or any school for that matter. And what will I do for the rest of my life? Certainly nothing I’ve imagined thus far.
Now, instead of being content with a nice boy like Derek, who I already know is patient and doesn’t want me for a week just to take advantage of me then and there, I might end up living as a soccer mom in five or ten years, no job or anything and five ugly babies, weighing fifty pounds more than I want to, married to some vulgar asshole who rides a fucking Harley and smokes and drinks and cheats on me with prostitutes and slaps me around. And eats meat, but not sensitively. Just eats it because he’s a man and men love meat because it’s a masculine thing to do, killing defenseless animals and all. He’ll also have to smoke some dope and check out young teenagers and have a buzz cut, and we’ll get a pet, but he’ll kick it around and shit like that. Animal abuse is prominent here, and I hate that.
And I don’t want to have to deal with a stepfather.
I need to pee.
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