SIENNA
June 29th, 2014
I sat in my living room flipping through Netflix’s available shows. After thirty minutes of searching for something new, I decided Netflix never had anything new and chose to watch another episode of Orange is the New Black.
For some reason, the thought of being tossed into a women’s prison was a constant fear of mine, and watching the show was a good reminder of how much I did not want to be in prison. For me, and I was sure for many women, the show had proven to be the best deterrent of crime that was ever invented. As much as I hated the thought of prison, I couldn’t stop watching the show.
Three episodes later, I was bored, even more afraid of being fucked by a woman who looked like a dude, and as always, lonely. It really didn’t seem to matter who I had chosen for a boyfriend in the past, every one of them seemed to want the same thing in the end, access to my late father’s wealth. I wasn’t a rich woman by any stretch of the imagination, but I could easily live the rest of my life without working, as long as I was careful about what I spent my money on.
My father sued after his wrongful conviction, and after many years and two attorneys, won the case, leaving him, and upon his death, me, with the proceeds. Nothing, however, would even be enough to pay for what they took from him.
I lived in his home, had only utilities to pay, and had no car payment. Most would consider me wealthy. I, on the other hand, considered myself fatherless, and no amount of wealth would ever replace the void his death left inside of me or in my life.
My father’s absence in my life left me constantly searching for a male figure to step in and provide the comfort he supplied me for a lifetime. The problem was that I seemed to have some type of attraction to douchebags. Old ones, young ones, skinny ones, gym rats, I had dated them all. The common thread between them all was that they were douchebags. Either unwilling to commit or incapable of doing so – and always a liar – they seemed to flock to me like bees to fucking honey.
I suppose it was quite possible I was attracted to them, and somehow in a subconscious frenzy of idiocy I chose them, knowing they would eventually pull some douche move and be tossed aside like the others, but I didn’t quite believe I was the one at fault. I liked to blame them, because in the end, they were the douchebags.
I sat and blankly stared at the little squares of Netflix choices frozen in time on the screen of my television, angry that I hadn’t received my Advance Review Copy of a new Erotic Romance novel I was supposed to review. After a few moments, I began to think of Vince, how out of nowhere he appeared in my life, and how much it ended up we had in common.
My father described fate as the unexpected result of the natural development of life. I guessed Vince’s appearance was nothing short of that, and as I continued to sit and stare at the television, it angered me that he didn’t have a phone. He explained how he decided he didn’t want a phone after his divorce, and that he had lived for the last year without a television, and relied solely on music for at-home entertainment. At first I didn’t want to believe him, but after talking for a while about it, I realized he was being truthful, and more than likely imposing some weird type of punishment on himself for something he didn’t even do, or deserve to be punished for.
Sitting on the couch gripping the remote control like I was trying to squeeze the last unavailable ounce of toothpaste from an empty tube, I became mad at his ex-wife for treating him the way she did. No one deserved to be heartbroken, and even bad-ass bikers were included.
I seriously doubted I could ever be in an actual relationship with someone like Vince, and I further doubted that I would ever see him again, but the thought of it was pretty satisfying for the time being.
I relaxed onto the couch and daydreamed about riding on the back of his motorcycle in cut-off jean shorts, sneakers, and a ripped up tee shirt. With one hand wrapped around his waist and the other resting in between his thighs, we’d ride across the country without a worry, fucking at every place we stopped.
His ex-wife would call him back, and after a few angst-filled weeks of separation, we’d end up back together and his ex would get run over by a train. Together, we’d go to the funeral, only to meet the newest ex-husband, who would be with a girl twelve years his junior.
A true romance novel in the flesh.
The sound of a motorcycle woke me from my not-so-deep sleep. I sat up on the couch, confused as to whether the sound was something from my dream or reality. The silence provided all of the proof I needed that the motorcycle was in my dream. Frustrated and in need of a drink of some sort, I tossed my legs over the edge of the couch and wiped my eyes.
A thud against my front door startled me, and the sound of the doorbell that followed did more of the same. Slightly confused and maybe a little overanxious, I ran to the window and pulled the blinds.
Vince’s bike sat in the driveway.
I ran to the door and yanked it open.
Vince was leaning against the frame of the door, and his shoulder pressing against the wooden frame seemed to be the only thing holding him up. His head hanging down, and his face out of view, I suspected he was drunk and was attempting to make a bootie call.
A mild version of flattery filled me, and I reached for his arm to guide him in. As my hand touched his wrist, he glanced upward.
“Holy shit!” I gasped.
Someone had beaten him into an unrecognizable mess. Both eyes were swollen, and his face was covered in blood. As he fell into my arms, I noticed both of his lips were mangled. Far too much for me to hold up on my own, and with his entire weight pressing against me, he eventually fell from my arms and onto the floor.
As he tried to stand, he turned his mangled face toward me and did his best to smile. His once white teeth were covered in blood.
“You should…”
“Shhh, let me call an ambulance,” I said.
“No!” he grunted as he tried to push himself up from the floor. “No ambulance, no cops.”
I nodded my head in acknowledgement as he raised himself onto his elbows.
“You look half-dead,” I said as I reached for his arm.
“You should…see…the other guy,” he murmured.
And he collapsed onto the floor.