*bree walked up to the plain white door of her house, turned the key and carefully pushed the door open. She sat outside for a few minutes before going inside. Once She walked inside she headed straight for the kitchen. She opend the blue cupboard and grabbed a white styrophoam cup most of the way full with dried cup of noodles, filled it up with tap from the polished steel sink and put it in the microwave for 3 minutes.*
She had done this a million times before. It was almost serimonial. It helped her calm down, and ground herself. But she was now trying to figure out what to do about the sober house. she knows she work there forever and she knows that its holding too much of her back. She loves those kids, but she also doesn’t want to live in Westlake forever.
BREE (THINKING TO HERSELF):
“ how did I get myself trapped like this?
*Her grandmother walks into the kitchen. In a white cotton night gown and frizzy lightly dyed brown hair with her big rimmed glasses shining off of the dull lights in the kitchen.*
*slightly wavering and somewhat slurring her words in her southern drawl. Bree sounds tired.*
GRANDMA: “ what are you doing up this late? Go to bed!”
BREE: “ I’m just getting myself something to eat then I’m going to bed.”
GRANDMA: “ stupid girl, you’re fat enough already. Do you want to look more like a walrus? You have no self control at all. Cant you stick to 3 meals a day?”
*bree sounds irritated*
BREE: “ Grandma, normally I only get 2 if I’m lucky. I’m not fat, I’m perfectly fine the way I am.”
GRANDMA: “ do you want to be a fat slut forever? Your thighs are too thick, your arms are too muscular, and your beer gut is forming. You need to shape up. No guy is even going to look at someone like you let alone like you. Your so selfish all you think about is yourself.”
BREE: “ are you still drunk grandma?”
*grandma, starts to sound angry but still slurring her words a bit.*
GRANDMA: “ I don’t get drunk. I don’t even really drink. Only one glass a night.”
BREE: “ then why are there 3 bottles of rum in the trash every week? You only drink out of one glass, but as far as you drinking, you never let the glass get under ½ way full.”
GRANDMA: “ maybe that’s cause you drink!! Just like your sister used to! Except she learned and cleaned up her act!”
*bree’s becoming very calm, she is past angry.*
BREE: “ I don’t drink. Nor do I have any temptation to. I am not fat, I am not selfish, nor am I a slut. You have an hour and a ½ before you have to start getting ready for work. You should get some sleep. I’m no longer going to discus this with you.”
*as bree turns around and starts walking out of the kitchen grandma gets very angry and walks up to bree and grabs her shirt*
GRANDMA: “ you are what ever I say you are do you understand me?!
BREE: “ back off.”
Bree grabs her grandmothers hand and rips her grip off of her shirt
GRANDMA: “ when you listen I will!”
BREE: “ when you aren’t drunk I’ll listen. Good night.”
*bree turns to the side and opends the microwave, grabs her cup of noodles and starts heading out of the kitchen. Her grandma starts after her but slips and bree turns around just in time to catch her with her free hand. Grandma as soon as she is steady slaps bree across the face. Grandma speaks in almost a hiss.*
GRANDMA: “ you stupid girl I don’t need your help, let go of me.”
*bree releases her hand and continues to walk away.*
GRANDMA (CONTINUED): “ don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you. You should have gone to that boarding school too. Maybe you would have ½ the brains by now to be graduating and be at least ½ as far as your sister is in life.”
*bree heads up the stairs, goes straight to her room, closes her door behind her, turns on The Killers and sits on her bed.*
She doesn’t have to be awake till 8am. But every insult her grandma threw out is still in her head, slowly she breathes through it and one by one the insults go away. She turns up her music and starts snacking at her cup of noodles. Just letting the warmth from it seep into her bones. When she finishes it she puts it in her trash bag filled with 5 other cup of noodle containers. She looks at the time on her phone and see’s its 4:45am.
BREE (THINKING TO HERSELF):
“ well that took all of what 10 minutes, I got home about 4:20, and had about 15 minutes to myself before she came out. I don’t get it. She has been a drunk for over 15 years. Wouldn’t she get it by now that we all know and call her on it. She may start with one glass but all she does is just keep topping it off so she never really finishes one glass and moves on to another. How do I look like a slut. I never even wear tight pants! Yes I wear short shirts but from the front other than my mid drift showing its quite modest. And I’m not fat either! I’m like 120 if that! And that’s for someone who is 5’2! Seriously?? No I’m not a twig, but I’m not a bubble either. I don’t even like alcohol let alone the feeling I get from it. Shit. And she was slurring her words the whole time. I swear I may need to find a Drunk to English dictionary or translator or somethin’ just to understand the bull shit that comes from her mouth.”
She goes and reaches under her bed and grabs a pack of clove cigars. She wouldn’t smoke cigarettes but 2-3 times a month she would smoke one of these. It was cause these were literally the same size as a cigarette but non of that extra chemical stuff and it had clove oil. It always made her tired so she would do it as a little ritual for herself. She would make sure she wasn’t overwhelmingly stressed out and she would try to think of who she wanted to become, and what she wants to do with her life. But most of the time she thought about the philosophy of Flow and the feelings behind it. That’s where she let her mind wander off to tonight. She let herself think of all of the time where she would dance with her poi dancing all around her bady as she dances. The poi becoming an extention of her mind as she spins and flows to the beat of her own rhythm. For a moment her mind gets lost in that feeling of flow where everything feels right. After she does this she puts out her clove and flicks it away into the depths under her bed.
BREE (THINKING TO HERSELF):
“ no more of this, this makes me no better than them.”
*bree throws the pack of cloves away with the rest of the cup of noodles. She starts going through her little routine of putting herself to bed. She grabber her blankets and pillows and created a little cuby hole for what she called a cuddle pile and she slid her way into it. Cucooning herself until she was warm. And slowly she slipped her way to sleep*
Created: Sep 29, 2010Document Media