Late nights in a quiet neighborhood

I heard yelling last night through my open windows. I knew it couldn't have been coming from my apartment, for I was standing right in front of Kris and my puppies aren't prone to yelling.

I honed in my selective hearing and listened. It had gone quiet.

Thinking nothing more of it, perhaps it was a heated phone conversation or someone yelling at their roommate to not forget groceries in the car, I headed into my living room to drink the individual container of orange juice we had just purchased at the grocery store. Leaving Kris in the kitchen to finish dinner preparations.

I leaned over a small end table next to the couch to lower the blinds and caught a glimpse of arms flailing about. Instantly, I honed into what was happening across the street from my house.

I watched through the blind slits as two girls stared at each other over a silver and black scooter. Their lips moving, like in a silent film, only their bodies giving any indication of the emotions felt by each women.

The girl to the right, a young girl in her early 20's wearing gym shorts and an over sized t-shirt, her hair in a pony tail and dark blonde under the porch light that washed over them in an orange haze, had her hands raised and pushed them forward every time she spoke. Almost as if she was punctuating the air with each fist. Her feet, were bare.

The girl to the left seemed indifferent in her jeans and blue blouse. A purse slung over her right shoulder, her hair much darker than the women on the right, but not quite black, even in the night.

"You come into my house, take $406 from my wallet, throw keys at me and just leave me?" Screams the barefooted girl.
The indifferent girl crosses her arms and stares at her.
"You are such a slut! I knew I shouldn't have gotten in a relationship with you." Belts out the barefooted girl.
"You hit me! You scratched my arm!" Retaliates the indifferent girl.
Pulling up her shirt to make a show, the barefooted girl points to a spot where the indifferent girl must have punch her back.

Their conversation is muted when not in harsh screams. I've slowly moved onto my front porch, that's enclosed and very easy to hide in. I've crouched down and propped my head up on the windowsill. Quietly, calling on all my skills I've picked up in pilates, balance myself there, watching.

The indifferent girl in jeans opens up the seat of the scooter and removes a white helmet. She puts it in her left hand, as the barefooted girl stays on a constant loop.

"I want you out! I want you gone, how could you fucking do this to me?" She throws in there.

The indifferent girl takes a step backwards while putting on her helmet, as the barefooted girl comes forward and slaps her. Almost as if she is spring to life, the indifferent girl grabs the barefoot girl by the throat and in a muffled raised voice I hear her choke out words, almost as if spitting in the barefooted girls face she says..

"You think you can do that to me and I won't react? Don't you fucking touch me again!" Squeezing at her throat, the indifference lost.

The barefooted girl swings back and has her throat in her own hand. They move backwards like this, stuck in a deadly tango. Neither one letting go. It goes on for what feels like hours, but was merely seconds. Until they both let go and move back to their original corners.

The dialogue doesn't change. I watch on for 10, maybe 15 minutes. The same story on repeat. A few punches thrown, and even more curse words uttered.

I take a deep breathe when I watch the barefooted girl walk away, she gets to the top of 6 steps leading to the side door of the house, finally it's over with and I breathe out. She opens the door and takes a step inside as the girl holds onto the scooter and puts her purse down.

I wait for the scooter to start. It doesn't. The barefooted girl comes tearing back down the stairs just to get one final slap in, one final statement. A statement she's been repeating all night.

"You came into my house while I was sleeping, took $406 out of my wallet, throw my keys at me and leave? Give me the money back and get out of here. I don't want to see you again! I want you moved out!"

The indifferent girl meets her with silence. She pushes the scooter towards the street as the barefooted girl climbs the stairs once more. She slams the door and is finally inside.

In one last act of defiance the indifferent girl yells "Fuck your keys!" as she starts up the scooter and heads down the street.

It's quiet now. I can see the tv show the neighbors are watching across the street. My landlords dog barks below me. I stand and feel an ache in my knees and stretch out, then head back inside.

I run into the kitchen to tell Kris what I've seen. We hear yelling again.

The barefooted girl has put on flip flops and is now yelling on her cell phone walking down the block. I watch her dart across the busy street that starts at the end of ours, and slam her fits onto a car.

She yells - "Pull over! Get the fuck out of the car!" 

I watch her open the passenger door and climb inside. I can't see the driver, there aren't many street lights in this neighborhood.

I watch them drive away, as I shake my head. I wonder if she's going to get her $406 back.

It's only the tilt of the world

Early morning, I throw on the closest pair of pants to me and a shirt. Or maybe a skirt and a tank top. Or maybe that dress I left laying on the floor the night before. I don't pay attention to my hair, or how my face looks. I rummage around looking for my flip flops, while the girls scramble around me unable to hide their excitement. They know we're going out.

I put their leashes on and 2 doggy bags in my pocket. Hoping that's all I'll need.
I put my sunglasses on, to hide my sleep drenched eyes. Hoping no one will see.

We walk around the block, in our usual path. I look down to adjust the hole that's formed on my jeans. I reminisce about how long I've had these jeans and what ever paint splatter on them means. I get lost at the red streak down my left thigh when I hear a mans voice. I look up jolted to see a face smiling at me from a bike in his driveway.

"Mister", I wanted to say, "Don't you know it's rude to interrupt a lady when she's contemplating where her life has been."

But I just smile instead. Sophia starts whining, wanting to get closer to him.

I pull them onward.

We get around the corner when I realize it feels like Autumn. It doesn't just feel like Autumn, it smells like Autumn. Every inch of my body is screaming "HOLY FUCK IT'S ALMOST AUTUMN!"

I breathe it in. I think of walking down aisles picking out pencils and what backpack I want that year. I still have my hot pink side sling of a bag from High School years passed.

I remember the weight of all my belongings getting packed into my white Mazda, and driving far from Boston with my windows down and the air sneaking into every corner of my car. I remember driving down long highways that seemed to go on for days in North Dakota, and hiding in the cool air nights of Alabama. The Gulf Shore keeping it's sand cold and glowing beneath my feet, like a secret just for me.

I hear a dog bark and remember I'm in Medford. I'm not sitting in a car driving for days, or just meeting the day in a hotel room in a town I don't know.

Autumn makes me feel alive.

I'm sitting on my back porch trying to savor that Autumn feeling. But the sun is shining so directly on me it feels as though I'm sitting on a beach with no water in sight. I've started to sweat and I feel my skin tanning. I say tanning because it's passed the point of burning. When naked, I give off the appearance of wearing a body suit, all white on the bottom, pasty, ivory even. The top? Long brown sleeves with a brown turtle neck. It's a sight, that's for sure.

I've finished my first cup of coffee, and no longer able to read the screen, or hide from the heat, I'm heading inside. To contemplate days ahead and days passed.

I want to pause this one moment. With the sound of the plane in the sky, the birds in the tree ahead of me, and the football couch barking orders in the distance. Pause it all, mix it in my coffee and drink it up.

Some days I can't savor life enough.

I'll wake up, some day

When you turn on the shower in my apartment, even when the knob is turned all the way to steaming hot, it takes a while for the water to warm up. I often step in to my shower stall, with my head hanging I let the freezing cold water hit the back of my head. It forces (what little) hair I have to hang towards the ground. Slowly it starts to warm up, just before my neck gets numb from the cold.

I stand there, shivering, watching the water spill over the tile as goosebumps raise on my skin.

I do a lot of thinking in these brief moments. When I keep the bathroom light off the fan won't turn on like a jet engine taking off, I enjoy the silence. Some days from the moment I wake up I'm bombarded with sounds. I just want to turn them off and sit in silence until my head starts making sense.

Let me be honest here. I have another blog floating around the never ending labyrinth of the internet. I started it almost a year ago thinking it would be a great outlet to begin writing again. Very slowly it became something that neither reflected who I am, nor was the outlet I was looking to create. I shied away from being myself. From talking about things that matter to me, or even just saying "fuck."

But fuck it.

I can't stop grinding my teeth. I clench my jaw, wiggling my back molars together until I feel a sensation travel down my jaw. It's not so much a feeling of pain, but more like pressure. Pressure from two points forcibly meeting. I'm waiting for the moment my teeth snap. My fillings pop out and what teeth I have crumble in to tiny pieces.

At least I'm not having the dreams where my teeth fall out. Yet.

Every day I feel as if I'm in a constant state of waiting. A hiatus. Nothing around me is real and everything is moving with the fluidity of being underwater. I'm waiting for that all defining "Ah-ha!" moment where I look in front of me and realize which direction I want to take. How I'm feeling. What I want to do. Today, tomorrow, or for the rest of this eternity I have in my hand. Who am I?

Maybe a little silence is all I need.