couple of times she came close but shut it down.
It has been seventeen years since we met and I still don’t know the details.
Maybe that is why the two of us get along so well. Her father was a deadbeat, my father was a deadbeat, but her mother was golden. She took me in and let me stay over with them on many a night when Joe would go off on one of his gambling or drunken benders, not coming home for days. No warning, no call—nothing.
Holly and I are kindred spirits. We are meant to be there for each other. We can relate to each other on so many levels. We formed a bond that no one can ever take away from us. We live the same reality and we understand each other.
F or her generosity, I go to the supermarket on numerous occasions to fill up the fridge and cabinets with food. I also make sure that there is an endless supply of wine in the house at all times.
I am ready to get back to work again. Not only is what little I did have saved starting to dwindle, but I can’t take being cooped up in the house any longer. It is time to become a productive member of society once again.
Every day I am getting stronger physically and mentally. My nose and eyes are back to normal, but I have a small scar on my cheek that I can live with. It’s the other scars I’m left with that are harder to heal.
It makes it easier having Holly around. I love living here with her. Our apartment is cute and spacious. It was remodeled about three years ago with all new stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops in the kitchen as well as in the bathrooms. It has hardwood flooring throughout the entire apartment. The kitchen, dining room, living room combo is spacious. The only distinction between the living spaces is the sunken living room. You have to walk down one step into it. The kitchen has a U-shaped bar that separates it from the dining room.
Holly has a badass TV and surround sound speakers. Not because she is a sports fa n— she is a huge movie buff. Her DVD collection alone is impressive. She has everything from Star Wars to the Gone With the Wind. She likes the sensation like she is in a movie theater when watching her movies.
Well, considering it is a sixty-inch TV, it takes over most of the living room.
There is a green sectional sofa that has two recliners and a pullout couch, a coffee table, and two end tables. On the coffee table, there are eight remote controls. Yes, eight. I still haven’t figured out what remote belongs to what piece of technology.
Down the hall off the living room is where our bedrooms are located along with a guest bathroom.
It is Friday night and we are having a movie night. Holly insisted on a chick flick and some wine.
It is October and I am dressed in a white tank top, my favorite flannel pajama bottoms, and pink fuzzy slippers. I tie my hair up in a messy ponytail and flop down on the couch. Fall weather in the mountains is unpredictable. Some days I can get away with a tank and others I am bundled up in sweaters and scarves. This is a tank kind of night.
Holly brings me a glass of wine filled to the rim.
We never skimp on wine.
“So what’s on the agenda tonight, chica?” I ask.
She lift s up the DVD case and wiggles her eyebrows. “Magic Mike always lifts the spirits.”
I smile and take a gulp of my wine. “Half-naked hotties dancing around on a stage will definitely do that.”
“Al l right, let’s start the movie.”
When Holly goes to put the movie into the DVD player, there is a knock at the door.
We shrug at one another.
She puts the DVD on the coffee table, places her finger to her lips saying, “shhhh,” and tiptoes in the wackiest, most animated way before putting her palms flat to the door, peering through the peephole. Her body grows tense.
Holly pushes back from the door and unlocks the deadbolt, opening it. When I peer around her, my mouth drops to the floor.
It's
It has been seventeen years since we met and I still don’t know the details.
Maybe that is why the two of us get along so well. Her father was a deadbeat, my father was a deadbeat, but her mother was golden. She took me in and let me stay over with them on many a night when Joe would go off on one of his gambling or drunken benders, not coming home for days. No warning, no call—nothing.
Holly and I are kindred spirits. We are meant to be there for each other. We can relate to each other on so many levels. We formed a bond that no one can ever take away from us. We live the same reality and we understand each other.
F or her generosity, I go to the supermarket on numerous occasions to fill up the fridge and cabinets with food. I also make sure that there is an endless supply of wine in the house at all times.
I am ready to get back to work again. Not only is what little I did have saved starting to dwindle, but I can’t take being cooped up in the house any longer. It is time to become a productive member of society once again.
Every day I am getting stronger physically and mentally. My nose and eyes are back to normal, but I have a small scar on my cheek that I can live with. It’s the other scars I’m left with that are harder to heal.
It makes it easier having Holly around. I love living here with her. Our apartment is cute and spacious. It was remodeled about three years ago with all new stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops in the kitchen as well as in the bathrooms. It has hardwood flooring throughout the entire apartment. The kitchen, dining room, living room combo is spacious. The only distinction between the living spaces is the sunken living room. You have to walk down one step into it. The kitchen has a U-shaped bar that separates it from the dining room.
Holly has a badass TV and surround sound speakers. Not because she is a sports fa n— she is a huge movie buff. Her DVD collection alone is impressive. She has everything from Star Wars to the Gone With the Wind. She likes the sensation like she is in a movie theater when watching her movies.
Well, considering it is a sixty-inch TV, it takes over most of the living room.
There is a green sectional sofa that has two recliners and a pullout couch, a coffee table, and two end tables. On the coffee table, there are eight remote controls. Yes, eight. I still haven’t figured out what remote belongs to what piece of technology.
Down the hall off the living room is where our bedrooms are located along with a guest bathroom.
It is Friday night and we are having a movie night. Holly insisted on a chick flick and some wine.
It is October and I am dressed in a white tank top, my favorite flannel pajama bottoms, and pink fuzzy slippers. I tie my hair up in a messy ponytail and flop down on the couch. Fall weather in the mountains is unpredictable. Some days I can get away with a tank and others I am bundled up in sweaters and scarves. This is a tank kind of night.
Holly brings me a glass of wine filled to the rim.
We never skimp on wine.
“So what’s on the agenda tonight, chica?” I ask.
She lift s up the DVD case and wiggles her eyebrows. “Magic Mike always lifts the spirits.”
I smile and take a gulp of my wine. “Half-naked hotties dancing around on a stage will definitely do that.”
“Al l right, let’s start the movie.”
When Holly goes to put the movie into the DVD player, there is a knock at the door.
We shrug at one another.
She puts the DVD on the coffee table, places her finger to her lips saying, “shhhh,” and tiptoes in the wackiest, most animated way before putting her palms flat to the door, peering through the peephole. Her body grows tense.
Holly pushes back from the door and unlocks the deadbolt, opening it. When I peer around her, my mouth drops to the floor.
It's
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