Those of you who hoped and who are hoping for happy endings and story... well, I'm kind of appeasing you, but don't hold your breath by any means. Even I'm not quite sure how this one's gonna turn out... it's kinda got a mind of it's own in some places. Joey's strong willed in case you haven't noticed, and sometimes he kinda overrides my plans for him. Plus, well, I have things to do... and I need to get my life in order. This story's being somewhat neglected, as are most of my writings. This one's gonna be finished though, so in twenty years from now, if it's not finished, I'll still be working on it, promise. Hope you're enjoying it. Here's the next installment of Rave Boy.
Somehow, my escape didn't last long. I woke in the small hours of the morning, when the first rays of sunlight were pulling their way across the horizon. I instantly wanted to go back to sleep, but knew I wouldn't be able to. The valium had already worn off, and I was back to my shitty old self.
How much more could I take, before I went insane? How much pain, how many lies, how many times can my heart be smashed to pieces before it doesn't put itself back together, before I just stop breathing? Sounds overly dramatic, right? Well, fuck you too then.
Life sucked. I was so tired. Not sleepy, but tired of living. Tired of BEING. I just wanted silence, darkness, non-existance. A chance for rest, a chance for everything to quit hurting so much.
My eyes opened, swiveled around the room, and rested on a piece of paper that lay forgotten on my floor. It was a business card. I forgot where I'd gotten it at. I figured it must've been some random place I'd gone, and picked it up out of curiosity.
In bold letters across it was the word PSYCHIC. Tiny words at the bottom read "Mary Lou Clark 123 Farfield Lane". It had no contact number, just the address. I knew where the road was, and it actually was only a mile or so from me. I decided to walk there and see this woman. Maybe it would be fun. I thought to myself that it was probably just bullshit, she was probably a fake, but hey, what the hell, I had nothing better to do.
I jammed my cash, cigarettes, lighter, and cell into my pockets. A picture of Jonathan caught my eye, and I picked it up, placing it in my pocket, and then left out the front door. About twenty minutes later, I found myself in front of a house. It wasn't anything special. It didn't exactly look like the home of a psychic, that's for sure.
I walked onto the porch, stepping over an orange tomcat that looked up at me lazily. I raised my hand, made a fist, and knocked sharply three times. I tapped a foot, waiting for the door to open. I was about to walk away a minute later when no one had answered when the door finally swung open.
"Hi there, can I help ya?" A woman with a thick southern accent asked. Oh great, I found the world's only redneck psychic. Miss Cleo may have been preferable. She had long gray hair, and a homey look to her. I nodded in answer to her question.
"Well then, c'mon in, young'un, sit yerself down in here." She told me, turning and walking into her tiny living room, and sitting on the end of a couch. She motioned toward the chair that was right across from the couch, and I sat down.
"What's yer last name start with?" She asked me, pulling out a book and leafing through the pages until she found one that was blank. I looked closer as she handed it to me, along with a pen, and found that it was an address book, filled with the names, addresses, and phone numbers of her clients.
"Um, C" I said, taking the book and scribbling in my information before I handed it back.
"Mhm," she said, "I take it you want a readin', right?" She looked at me behind her glasses as she reached to the side, picking up a deck of playing cards.
"Yes ma'am, if you aren't busy at the moment." I said, trying to be polite. She just laughed at me.
"Oh child, does it look like I'm all that busy? I need to get up and clean this place up, but that'll wait till we're done here. Now, take these cards, think about what you wanna know, and shuffle `em till you feel they're shuffled enough."
I raised my eyebrows at that. How was I supposed to feel they were shuffled enough? All the same, I took the cards and thought about Jonathan, about what was going to happen to us, and if our relationship was going to work out.
I handed the cards back after shuffling them for a good minute, and she shook her head, motioning for me to keep them in my hand. She held a piece of cardboard about a foot long, and half a foot wide. The old psychic put it in her lap before talking again.
"Cut that deck into three stacks here." She said. I did as she asked, and she furrowed her eyebrows, and shook her head slightly. Then, she picked up the middle stack, placing it back atop the first. "Now, cut that one with your left hand."
I was a little confused at why she put them back together just to have me cut them again, but I did as she asked. A minute went by as she flipped over the card on top of each one of the three stacks, picked them up, looked at the card on the bottom, and straightened them into three neat stacks again, this time with the top card facing up.
"Well now, hon, I'm gonna tell you some things, and you stop me iffin somethin' don't make sense to ya, or you want me to explain somethin' a bit more." I nodded, and she continued. "This first stack represents ya past, see? The middle is your present, what surrounds you right now, and this third stack is your future, the things that haven't happened or begun to happen yet. We're gonna start with the past, and remember, you stop me if you wanna talk about anything I say in particular."
"Yes ma'am." I said, watching her pick up the first stack of cards and fan them in her hands, looking at each with curiosity. A couple of minutes passed with her looking at the cards carefully, only now and then looking up to meet my eyes.
"I see here, somebody close to you died of cancer, and somebody else got it, but that person got better." She said. Immediately, I was surprised. I didn't expect her to really say anything true, but that was right on the money both times. My grandfather died of lymphoma and my grandmother had undergone treatment for breast cancer. A little unnerved, I nodded and let out a "Yes ma'am".
She nodded solemnly and continued. "You been in trouble. I see the law involved in it. You did something that wasn't too bright, huh? You need to be careful, child. Learn from it, don't do those kinda things no more." Again, I was on the edge of freaking out. I was still on probation for a little scrape that involved a DUI and driving without a license.
"One more thing. I see an accident of some kind, somethin' to do with a car, but weren't nobody hurt bad in it. You was lucky, and ya need to be more careful. I see lots of tears, lots of sadness in ya past." A moment passed in silence as she looked at my eyes, then continued on.
"Well now, we're gonna take a gander at yer present now. You're really confused, I see lots and lots of confusion around you. You don't know what to do, and things seem really complicated to you. You need to get your life straightened out, quick fast and in a hurry." She told me with a stern look. That unnerved me just a little bit. I squirmed in my seat for a moment before locking eyes with her again.
"You're torn up about your love life, that's what I see here. You had a fight, but you don't know how to fix things. You make sure you take care of that boy. He's really good for you, and to use his words, he loves you more than you'll ever know. Just so you know, when he tells you that, he's not fibbin'." She said. I had a hard time trying to keep my face straight after that comment. How did she know that? What the fuck was going on here? This woman was strange, but in a good way. I started to kind of like her after that.
"Yes ma'am..." I trailed off, not knowing what to say.
"Sometimes you feel things, don't you? You get a little feelin' that you should or shouldn't do somethin'. You'll do good to listen to that feelin'. You're psychic yourself, boy. You just don't see it. You gotta listen, quit ignoring those little feelings you get, go with `em, and your life'll be easier." I listened as she continued on, nodding when appropriate. In my head, though, thoughts were running a mile a minute.
"Don't fret yourself, child, I can tell you're thinkin' way too much right now. Just you listen at what I have to say. I'll tell you what you'll be needin' to know. Then you gotta take it and run with it. In your future, there's an accident. I don't know what kind, but there's gonna be one. There's also gonna be a light-headed girl that tries to be your friend, but she's no good for you. You watch yourself. Don't be taken in by none of that sweet talkin' lies she's gonna tell ya. Says here you're gonna be takin' a trip somewhere, a long trip, by the looks of it." I sat listening to her latest spiel, wondering how there came to be a psychic with a southern accent comparable to the colonel's from those old KFC commercials.
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking `This is stupid, this guy's just shittin' me, blah blah blah'. Well, I don't really give a fuck, okay? Think what you want, I just tell the story.
The woman cleared the cards from her lap, shuffling them once before placing them back on the table. I tried to keep them still, but my hands couldn't help but shake just a little as I reached in my pocket for my pack of cigarettes and a lighter. There was an ashtray right beside me, so I assumed she wouldn't mind me smoking in her house. I lit one as she put away the piece of cardboard she used as a makeshift table, and then stood slowly.
"Well, that's about all I can tell you. I hope you found out somethin' you wanted to know." She said. I smiled and nodded.
"Yes ma'am, thanks. You have a great day, it was nice meeting you."
"Sure, you come back anytime you wanna, take care of yourself, I don't wanna be worryin' `bout you when ya leave here." I nodded again and let myself out the front door the way I'd come.
I drew a shaky drag from the cigarette, then flicked the ash as I looked around nervously. That old woman certainly was a strange one. I figured she was either full of shit, or she really did know exactly what she was doing. Either way, I didn't want to rely too much on what she said. On the other hand, I did want to take some of her advice.
She was right about me and Jonathan. I needed to fix things quickly. My relationship with Jonathan was something I wasn't prepared to lose anytime soon. I sighed, trying to think of a way to fix everything. Silly mental images of me in coveralls holding a bucket of plaster and a scraper ran through my head.
I went to bed that night still uneasy, so it's no surprise I didn't fall right asleep. What was surprising, though, were the tiny little taps against the glass of my window. The taps persisted until I moved aside the curtain and pulled up the blinds. Jonathan had apparently decided to pay me another midnight visit.
I wanted to cry with relief as I slid the window open and helped him into it, both of us sitting cross-legged on my bed.
"I'm sorry!" Both of us said those two words at the same time, blurting them out as if keeping them in any longer would cause us harm. We looked at each other, eyes wide for a moment before we burst into giggles.
"I thought that you would be so mad at me after that. I acted so stupid, and I was so scared I had lost you!" he started. I opened my mouth, but he held up his hand to hush me. "No, it was my fault, and I would deserve it if you did leave me. All I can say is that I'm sorry and I didn't mean the things that I said to you, and I hope you'll forgive me. I love you, Joey, more than you'll ever know." His eyes brimmed with tears then, and his fingers laced into mine, holding my hand tightly in his.
I laughed and slapped him lightly across the face.
"You doofus! You know I forgive you! I love you so much it's crazy. And if you don't wanna talk about that, then I understand, but you should know that I'm here for you, and I always will be, okay?" Jon nodded in response, blinking away the tears that threatened.
"We sound so mushy right now, you know that, right?" He said, laughing.
"Yeah, damn straight we do, but you know, I kinda like it when we're mushy." I told him, snuggling into his chest.
"Me too, Joey. I love you, baby. I'll take better care of you from now on, I swear."
"And I'll mind my own business... well, I'm not promising I will, but I'll try." I told him, smirking. His face turned serious for just a moment, though, until he turned to face me again.
"You trust me, right?" he asked me.
"I'd trust you with my life, Jon." I told him, meaning every word. He nodded, and then leaned forward onto his knees, wrapping his arms around me and kissing me softly, all the while pressing me further and further backward until my pelvis was pinned to the bed by his. His lips, tongue, and teeth caressed and nipped at my neck, then my collarbone as he roughly pulled the collar of my shirt aside to give him better access to one of his favorite spots on my body. I whimpered under his onslaught, and he slowed the attack, kissing me softly, then finally stopped and rested his head on my chest.
"I can hear your heart beating, Joey..." he told me. I simply smiled, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. My hardness pressed against him and his against my leg. Though both of us pulsed with desire, we were content to lie together that way. It was as if the entire world had completely ceased to exist outside my bed. Finally, it was Jon who broke the silence.
"It's my dad, Joey. He hits me. A lot. But please, Joey, don't worry about me. I swear, if you have to worry about me, it'll only make me feel bad. I know that you'll worry about me anyway, but seriously, I can handle myself. I've been dealing with him for years, so I know what I'm doing. I mean, it's not like he's ever seriously hurt me. A few bruises never killed anybody, ya know. And besides... I just... I don't know, Joey. Until I met you, I never felt like anyone loved me. The way you stick with me, though... it makes all the difference in my world." He paused for a bit. Under his breath, though, he began to sing softly, but surprisingly well.
"Oh my love... please don't cry... I'll wash my bloody hands and, we'll start a new life. I don't know much at all, I don't know wrong from right. All I know is that I love you..." and he pushed up until his face was right in front of mine, and whispered "tonight." As he whispered, he brought his lips down to mine, and I felt a tear hit my cheek.
I clutched at his back, drawing him as close as I could to me, wanting to pull him into me, to absorb all of the pain and hurt he had to deal with and make everything better. I couldn't do that, but I kissed him back. His kisses eventually became more insistent, his tongue pressing into my mouth, demanding access. I felt him grind into my crotch, and I gasped into the kiss. Jon took the opportunity to pull off his shirt, toss it on the floor, then begin tugging at mine.
My mind was racing. I wanted him so badly. I could taste the need in each kiss, and feel it in each throb between my legs. I felt a part of my mind snap and give in to the want. I no longer held my reservations about what I should and shouldn't do in our relationship. Sexual boundaries ceased to exist, and all I knew was the overpowering love and lust cocktail intoxicating my thinking.
We made love, slowly, delicately, his body filling me as his eyes stayed locked with mine. Afterwards I fell asleep laying on his chest, his arms wrapped around me.
The next day I woke to the sun streaming in through the curtains over my window. The house was quiet, and I looked over to make sure my door was locked. I hoped Jonathan would be okay with his dad later that day. I didn't know how staying out all night would blow over. Hopefully he'd had a plan, but sometimes that just wasn't his style. I carefully removed his arms from me, and stepped to the carpeted floor.
I stepped outside of the room, noting that the lights were all still out, which meant everyone was safely away from the house. I walked into the living room, still naked, and got a glass of water. I stood eyeing the bottle of hydrocodone in the medicine cabinet. It was my mom's, but she never used the stuff. She just filled the prescription and let it sit there. I popped open the top and shook out two of the pills. Well, I've been under a lot of stress lately... I deserve a little pick me up, right? Four of the blue pills went into my mouth, then got washed down.
I went over to the couch, leaned back, and waited to feel that warm fuzzy feeling kick in and make all the stress and annoyance go away, and leave me with just the good stuff left... no worrying about Jonathan and his dad, no worrying about me, no worrying about anything.