04 | Cheesy Gordita Crunch

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It took several attempts for my eyelids to unstick from each other and I was able to look around my room. My eyes were dry and my body felt weak.

I saw a pile of clothes sitting on my desk chair and I remembered rampaging through the closet the night before to find my red shirt.

Me from the past did not care about the me from the future who would have to clean that mess up.

I tried to sit up straight, but the massive throbbing in my head winded me. I sunk back down with a groan, reaching my hand up to find the source of the pain.

I suck in a breath when my hand came in contact with my temple and the massive knot that was there.

"Crap." I complained. I completely forgot about falling.

I finally managed to stand up. I slid on my unicorn head slippers and dragged my feet out of the room and into the bathroom.

In the mirror a monster stared back at me. Wasn't I supposed to say, Bloody Mary three times in the dark before she appeared?

My hair was ratty and tangled, my face had mascara stains and my dark lipstick was smudged around my mouth. I looked like the Halloween costume for an undead rock star from the eighties.

I looked at the huge black and blue bruise forming on my temple and down my cheek bone and vaguely remembered the kid grabbing my shoulders and pushing me over. It was all a blur after that.

I heard the floorboards creak before Darcy was also entering the bathroom.

Her eyes were hooded and her blonde hair looked like a bird had decided to use it to nest. Her red lipstick was smeared straight down her chin and it looked like she just finished spitting up fresh blood.

I laughed at her crazy look and immediately winced at the pain it brought me, "Ah, it hurts." I cupped my head gingerly, not trying to press on the bruise.

Darcy looked in the mirror and chuckled along, "Hah, we both look absolutely horrible." She laughed louder then and immediately hung her head over the sink. "I feel sick."

I laughed again and my eyes teared up at the pain, "Maybe getting wasted wasn't a good plan. I feel worse than I did before the party." I said and sat down on the floor by the toilet. I wasn't sure if I would throw up or not, but I wanted to be ready for the worst.

"What happened?" Darcy asked.

I lifted my head from the toilet bowl to look at her, "I don't know."

"You two are the messiest girls I know." Joey magically appeared at the bathroom door. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the spectacle that was two completely trashed girls on the verge of up-chucking nothing but alcohol and stomach acid.

"I think I had the weirdest dream," I said, trying to piece together the foggy memories from the night before.

Joey scoffed, "If you mean the dream where the police busted your party and a cop drove you home, you weren't dreaming."

"What?" Said Darcy.

"Oh no," I looked at Joey, wanting him to tell me he was joking, but the moment he said it, my mind flashed back to crying in front of two policemen and being driven in the back of a cop car. "Did I get a ticket?" I asked, already praying that he was going to say no.

Joey pursed his lips together in remorse, "I think so." He said, uncomfortable with being the bearer of bad news.

I hung my head back in the toilet, groaning like a wounded animal, "Please, grab one of my makeup brushes and stab me in the side of the neck."

"The party got busted?" Darcy asked, much louder than she should've had the energy for.

"Yeah, and then you called me from a tree to come pick you up," Joey recounted, "I don't even know how you got in that tree! Dar, you know you're twenty-one, right?"

"I don't remember any of that."

"Well, I had to fish you out of said tree while you kept hitting me, saying I needed to find Cal. We circled the block like five times until you passed out and I was able to take you home."

Darcy laughed at that, "Sounds about right."

"Thanks for caring about me." I told her.

"Hey, I cared too! Once we were home, I tried calling you, but your phone was off. Then out of nowhere the doorbell rang and there you were, barely standing as that cop held you up."

Darcy looked at me. I still had one of my arms cradling the toilet, but managed to sit upright enough to look at the both of them. It appeared the alcohol from the night before wouldn't make a reappearance, but just leave me with an entirely terrible day of recovery.

"It was hot-cop." I told Darcy and her eyes went wide. "Yeah he literally has it out for me."

"I'm sorry, who?" Joey interjected.

Darcy, having also realized that she wouldn't be sick, straightened up and slid her butt onto the granite, vanity top. "Hot-cop. He's a new cop in town that is both exceptionally cute and exceptionally dick-ish. He's not only already written Cal a ticket for speeding, but showed up the next day at Gran's shop to harass her."

I nodded my head as Joey looked at me for confirmation.

"And now another ticket." I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn't know how much it was for, but there was no way I would be able to afford it after the tail light and speeding ticket.

We all got quiet after that. No doubt due to Joey and Dar, who both knew my general financial struggles, feeling sorry for me.

"How about we go get some Taco Bell?" Joey offered breaking the silence, "My treat?" He gave me a reassuring smile.

"I'm down!" Darcy answered and easily hopped off the vanity.

"I wasn't offering to treat you."

"No take-backsies." Darcy wagged a finger in his face before slipping out of the bathroom.

"I can't make you pay," I said and he walked over, offering his hand to help me up from the floor.

"It's not like I pay any bills." He shrugged. I looked at him tentatively, "Taco Bell," He sang, knowing I was weak to offers for my favorite fast-food joint.

I laughed, grabbing onto his hands and allowing him to pull me up, "Fine. But I owe you one."

"You got that right," He wrapped a lanky arm over my shoulder and led me out of the bathroom.

✖✖✖

One Excedrin Migraine and two Cheesy Gordita Crunches later and I was feeling back to my normal, sober self. Although the light of day still hurt and the bruise on my temple had a heartbeat, I was on the path to better days.

"Okay, so I'm going to call my parents, see if they can lend me just a bit of cash and then I'll call the courthouse to see if I can pay both of my grievances on the same day."

"Yeah, and while you're at it, tell the judge that his cop is power tripping." Darcy chimed in.

"Maybe you should lay low for awhile. So that you don't get yourself into more trouble." Joey was stabbing a fork into his Cheesy Fiesta Potatoes, trying to get a good ratio of potato to cheese to sour cream.

"No way," Came my stubborn declaration. "Law enforcement is always picking when to enforce certain laws and when to ignore it. They can lie and make up laws and a judge will always be there to back them up." I ranted.

I had a very crucial issue with law enforcement and would tell it to anyone who listened. The issue was that it was a corrupt system that didn't have a proper sense of justice. That felt like a major problem when these people were literally allowed to wave around guns!

As it always did, my knee bounced with the agitation of it all.

"I hope I never run into that cop again. If I do, I won't be so nice."

"Yes, stick it to the man! I'm tired of these privileged white boys thinking they can throw around their power and be ignorant to the rest of the world. Sickening," Darcy added and I nodded.

Darcy was a Women's Studies major hoping to overthrow the patriarchy. Her passion sometimes got to her head, like when she got into a three hour debate with a group of boys who were against equal pay, but she was fighting the good fight. It helped that she had the facts and figures to prove her points. She didn't get along well with people who relied on passed down opinions, rather than searching for the facts themselves.

She'd say, "They can believe what they want, but I'm going to give them the facts." However, when the facts alone didn't pull them to her side, she'd raise her voice and the arguments would ensue.

I looked at Joey, who was long since used to his sister's outbursts and he just continued picking at his potatoes, looking lost in thought.

He had the same thin blond hair as his sister, except his was cropped real short and pushed up with some product to make it stand up straight. He was far above six feet tall and was an anomaly in his family, being that he was taller than both of his parents and grandparents from either side.

He was also thin, but toned thanks to years of swimming. His parents paid for him to have private lessons and thanks to that and his own dedication, he was on his way to being an olympian.

But to us, he would always be little Joey.

"Well, when you're done yelling at him for doing his job, make sure you thank him for the ride home." Joey gave me a pointed look.

I rolled my eyes, breaking the eye contact and diverting my attention to the hot sauce packet I was holding. Like a bad fortune from a fortune cookie, it read, "It only gets hotter from here."

✖✖✖

By the next day I had a court date set for the following week and my parents lent me a whopping $200. It wasn't enough for all my bills, but it was a whole lot better than my previous situation.

The bruise had become bright purple and krept up into my hairline and all the way down to my jaw. Whoever pushed me, really tried to kill me.

"Pendejo," I said, looking at my busted face in the mirror.

I wanted to spend the day feeling sorry for myself. I deserved to feel bad. I had done two harmless things, but because I got caught, had to be in a financial lockdown.

On top of that, the side of my face looked like the beginning stages of a zombie infection.

All I wanted to do was buy two tubs of ice cream—one rocky road, the other mint chocolate chip—and rent sappy rom-coms from my local RedBox to hide myself away in my room to laugh and cry.

It was the weird tradition I always used to feel better, living vicariously in fictitious people's lives that fell in love in the most fantastical way possible. Unfortunately, that plan wouldn't see the light of day because I couldn't even afford a three dollar tub of ice cream.

That was a reality I couldn't come to terms with. I couldn't be doing that bad.

So, instead, I gingerly pat on foundation that was too translucent to fully cover the bruise and combed out my hair.

Thankfully, I knew a pair of people who were even better than my rom-coms at cheering me up.

I knocked on the green door before turning to look at the four wicker chairs sitting on the porch. They were slightly battered, but very well off considering how long Mrs. Jackson owned them. She always took good care of her things. Beyond the chairs, there were a few plants hanging in baskets (how they managed to stay green in this cold, I would never know), wooden chimes covered in ice and a large circular table that took up a good portion of the space.

I remembered all the nights Devin and I would sit outside talking nonsense and playing dominoes until my mom was calling my phone, saying I was out far too late. He'd laugh his contagious, goofy laugh and then walk me home.

How many times did I get in trouble for sitting out with Devin until the early hours of the morning?

"Oh, my baby! Good morning!" Mrs. Jackson opened the door, pulling me into a bone crushing hug. She was a tall, big-boned woman who always smelled like summer peaches.

"Good morning," I laughed, holding onto her for as long as I could. It didn't matter when I'd visit, once she pulled me into a hug, the corners of my eyes would well up with tears as if her hugs had the power to extract my innermost woes.

She released the hug and I swiped a finger under my eyes to wipe up the wetness.

Her brows furrowed together after she saw that I teared up, "Oh, sweetie. It's alright, come on in."

"It's been a little while, huh?" I asked, feeling a comfort I hadn't known I was missing.

The house was bright, being lit entirely by the sun shining through the blinds. The walls were painted a pale yellow color and the floors were a brilliant golden oak. The couches were green, which I always thought was strange, but it was Mrs. Jackson's favorite color and it worked well with the wide variety of plants she had.

Most of the plants were from Africa, which were her favorite because it reminded her of her grandmother's house. It always felt like it was easier to breathe in her home, which was probably thanks to the plants outpouring oxygen and the house resembled an enchanted garden with vines creeping over doorways, and tree-like branches from plants sticking up from behind couches.

She was a crazy plant lady and proud of it.

"It has been. School's got you busy?" She asked as we walked into her kitchen.

"Yeah, life always seems to get in the way."

"Mm," She hummed, grabbing a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge, "Don't let it catch you up. We both know life is too short for that." She looked at me for a second before grabbing two tall glasses.

I watched her pour the drinks, contemplating her words.

She handed me a glass and took a long swig of her drink.

"Thank you," I smiled. It was years ago that she stopped asking if I wanted something to eat or drink. I'd always say no, she'd always insist and I'd end up having whatever it was she was offering anyways.

"What's on your mind?" She asked, reading my thoughts as she did.

"Maybe I'm just coming by to say hello." I offered.

She sat the glass on the table and placed a hand on her hip. "You think a momma don't know when her baby ain't well?"

She was too good. I didn't know if every woman who wore a night dress without a bra all day had the wisdom of a thousand owls, but I could definitely believe it.

"I'm just struggling with being an adult and doing adult things well." I explained. I couldn't tell her my struggle was with money and getting into trouble with the law. She'd make me take her money and then offer to drive me to the courthouse and there was no way I'd have her do any of that.

"You need money?" She asked anyways.

"No, it's not like that." I lied.

"Is that you, Cal?" Mr. Jackson called from the other room.

"Hi, Mr. Jackson."

Before Mrs. Jackson could interrogate me further, I was saved by the presence of her husband.

"I thought that was you! How are you, girl?" He smiled warmly, wrapping me into a tight hug. As big as his wife was, he was even bigger. A tall, strong man who I had no doubt could knock down any bodybuilder.

"I'm alright, I've just been missing my favorite people. How are you?" I released the hug, grinning widely.

"People?" He questioned, looking at his wife quickly before returning to me, "You can call your friends your people, but we are your family." He corrected me.

They were the absolute greatest. Darcy's grandparents may have been some of the sweetest people ever, but not even they could hold a flame to the Jacksons.

I'd known them since I was about ten years old. That was the year they moved into town. Mr. Jackson was an amazing construction worker and got a promotion that allowed him to buy his wife her dream home. The house with the green door.

Devin entered my fifth grade classroom as this timid, shorter-than-me boy who I instantly fell in love with.

That sounded like a cheesy declaration from a fifth grader, but it was the first thing I was ever fully sure of.

He was the only black student in our grade and that came with difficulties not even I could fully understand. We became friends on that very first day, when I made it a point to walk over and introduce myself. He used to tell me stories about how school was in Philadelphia, with classmates of all colors and a class size so big, you could always find a group of people to fit in with and that began my desire to move to the city.

We became best friends playing hide-and-go-seek, sharing secrets, making promises for the future and using allowance money on Cheesy Gordita Crunches from Taco Bell.

After some years when we entered high school, Devin grew to be much taller than me (which really sucked considering I used to love teasing him for being so short) and entered into almost every sport, excluding lacrosse. I remembered that being a difficult time when some people praised him for his gifts, while others were angry because of it. We spent a lot of nights talking about race back then.

I also remembered going through my own struggles at that time which were mostly hormone induced, but felt like the end of the world to me. I would fight with my family and then run away. I'd only end up as far as Devin's house and I was sure his mom would call my mom, but I felt like I was excelling in stealth. I'd always try to convince him to run away with me, but he was a lot more level-headed.

Also, thanks to hormones, that was the time I really wanted him to be my boyfriend, but was too shy to actually confess. Then I'd get jealous when girls flirted with him and be mad at him for not realizing that it made me jealous.

It was so stupid.

"Cal, look at this picture I found." Mr. Jackson led me over to the living room, grabbing a loose photo that was sitting on the coffee table, "I've been waiting on you to visit to show you."

He handed me the picture and I felt tears prick the back of my eyes again.

It was a picture of a ten year-old Devin and myself, being pushed by his dad on a tire swing. We were laughing, trying to face the camera as his dad's hands remained outstretched from pushing us as hard as he could.

I paid close attention to Devin, remembering his wide smile and the goofy laugh that always came with it. He could be laughing a few rooms over and I would end up laughing just by hearing it. He had that kind of power.

I remembered seeing him cry when his mom was at the hospital after a car accident and seeing him more angry than I thought was possible when he pulled the basketball team to a victory and the opposing team called him the n-word.

I remembered when we were fifteen we both got drunk for the first time and couldn't stop laughing uncontrollably after trying to help each other onto the couch, but were too drunk to see straight.

Mrs. Jackson joined us in the living room and I handed her the picture. She cried instantly, "My baby would've been twenty-one this year. He would've been a man." She said through her sobs.

She handed the picture back to me and Mr. Jackson helped her sit down on the couch.

Before I knew it, I was crying as well. I looked at us there, back in time, laughing like nothing could touch us.

Like we were invincible.

Then there was the hot summer night after we graduated, where we sat on his porch and I was talking his head off about something. He was quiet that entire time, listening to me, smiling. Finally, I let him get a word in and he told me he got accepted into Duke with a basketball scholarship.

After the shock and telling

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