Members of her family are trying to remain positive, but they are also realistic. Another one of them will be dead soon. In the ways that it is possible, they are preparing.
Her stepfather is in love(more) with her.
It has been a strange day.
She steps outside to smoke, sits on the rough concrete of the step, and looks down at all the ants.
Imagine if there were a species of people, she thinks, that were just like normal humans but the size of insects. Would we kill them just as easily? Turn on the light in the bathroom to find a 3/4 inch tall naked man skittering across the tile. She would shiver and shriek, and she knows in her heart that she would grab her tennis shoe from the hallway and smoosh the tiny flesh, organs, and skeleton flat. After the initial crunch she would grind down until the crackling stopped, until that slight, tiny resistance was gone. She would lift up the shoe to be sure and look at the chunky red streak with satisfaction and horror.
Back inside, her phone rings and she answers it without saying anything.
Hello, Ms. W_____?
She breathes in, holds it for two seconds, and then exhales.
I am very pleased to announce that you have been chosen as the Northwest Prestigious Trout Fishery's 2014 Rainbow King Grand Prize Recipient! Congratulations!
She looks up at the ceiling. There is a crack shaped like an arrow; it points to the refrigerator. She stands underneath, and plaster dust rains lightly down into her open eyeballs. She doesn't blink or look away.
You've won! Did you hear me? Hello?
The soft dust collects. If it keeps going on like this, she won't be able to close her eyes even if she wants to.
I wish things could be different. I really do. But then again, no I don't. If I really wanted things to be different, they would be. "You're a guy," she says. "When you really want something, you'll move heaven and earth to get it…come hell or high-water!" She's righ(more)t. And I have moved heaven and earth to get everything I have…except her. I didn't have to. She was always there. Effortlessly. Sometimes I loved it. Sometimes I hated it. Very rarely, if ever, did she know when I loved it. I never made it a secret when I hated it. She would turn herself completely inside out to just make me smile. Every day she'd step in to the abyss of faith, desperately clinging to relentless blind hope that this time…this moment…this action…this gesture…this dress…this meal…this kiss would be the "one." The one that would make me return and reciprocate. Whether it was, or wasn't, she never knew. I'd selfishly watch her leap off that ledge, crash into a thousand pieces, pull herself back together, climb back up, and do it all over again…and again…until today. Today, she put herself back together…and walked away. I wish things could be different...(less)
Blind hope allows me to get up every morning no matter what
even after a long horrible day
where I could not make even one person happy
because they had tech problems beyond my abilities to fix or they started too late on their research
and somehow that was(more) all my fault.
Blind hope tells me that today will be better.
I will still be employed next year
and the economy will improve.
Blind hope says things will work out
in the love and romance department
even on the days when I'm so annoyed
I want to scream
like when his mother calls just when dinner's ready
and they have to talk and talk
and dinner gets cold and I eat by myself.
He will make up for that
by taking me out to dinner tomorrow
and we will drink expensive wine.