Fiction Friday: [Elsewhere]

February 21, 2014 by Niko Bommer in Fiction Friday

“Why is this my life?” Dawn sighed as she hung the last sheet up on the line. “Other people have dryers in their homes. Some even have maids and don’t do laundry at all. They just sit around eating bon bons and drinking martinis.”

Tina rolled her eyes at her little sister who pretended like she hadn’t noticed.

“Look, Dawn, we live in Maine, worse yet, Bremen and neither of us have any discernable talent worth getting us out of this place.”

It was Dawn’s turn to roll her eyes, but she felt guilty about it. She knew that Tina was bitter, angry even, and felt guilty because she had recently found out why. Of everyone in their family, heck, of everyone they knew, Tina was the one that should’ve made it out of this town.

At just five years old Tina started studying under Judith Balmer who had been a principle dancer with the New York City Ballet before retiring to Maine. According to the stories not only was Tina naturally gifted, she truly loved ballet. Her talent was so strong that her future was certain.

Then, when she was fourteen she met That Damn Russ and a year later she was pregnant. Not only did she never dance again, she gave up. Resigned herself to being stuck in Bremen, forever attached to That Damn Russ. Forever dreaming of what could have been.

At sixteen, despite being a very pretty girl, Dawn never had a boyfriend. She wasn’t going to be twenty years old with sadness in her eyes like her sister. She wasn’t going to get stuck with her own That Damn Russ.

When Dawn was eight she started getting an allowance and even at that young age she knew she had to save every penny. Every penny represented another step out of town. Babysitting, yard work, she took any job to reach her goal.

Every time she added her latest earnings to her Muppets lunchbox she fantasized about leaving in the middle of the night. Moving to New York without saying a word. She imagined sending her family postcards from Italy and Spain and Australia.

And she dared to hope that with each postcard sent Tina would find the strength to dance again.

Moxie Monday: Find the Courage

February 17, 2014 by Niko Bommer in Moxie Monday

Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!

Fiction Friday: [Higher Ground]

February 14, 2014 by Niko Bommer in Fiction Friday

They say that New York City isn’t a very friendly place. I’ll tell you what, if I weren’t me I would have to disagree. I see the way they treat each other and man, what I wouldn’t give for just a fraction of that kindness.

Unfortunately, that’s not my lot in life.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t bothered by the way they look at me. Like I’m a piece of trash or as if my very existence inconveniences them somehow. Even worse are the ones that talk about me like I’m not even there.

Gross.

Dirty.

Vile.

They say.

I’ve lost count of the number of times a child’s been yanked away before they got too close. How many times I’ve been shooed away like I’m not even worthy of human companionship.

And as if on cue, a loud talking, burly man holding a cart dog almost steps on me.

Perfect.

“Get away from me you flying rat! Man, you’re so disgusting!”

His boot has me locked in its cross hairs and my instincts kick in. Spreading my wings I rise before he can connect. I safely perch myself on one of the fancy light posts dotted along Central Park South and look down at the man who is now shoving his middle finger my way. I can’t return the gesture, obviously, so I’m just left feeling frustrated and highly offended.

Satisfied that he’s debased me enough, his attention returns to his friends. Look, I know by now that his lashing out is more about impressing them and less about me, but it doesn’t make it sting any less.

I look out over Central Park, hoping its beauty will bring me comfort. I remind myself that I am better than the insensitive lunk below. I remind myself that I am doing the best with the life I’ve been given. I remind myself that I took the high ground, morally and literally.

But, the more I hear his voice I am reminded of how much he hurt my feelings. A black cloud mixed with anger and sadness wells up in me and before I realize it I have flitted along the post and am directly above him. Then, without hesitation, I release my breakfast.

Enraged, he starts hurling expletives at me, but they fade in the wind as I fly away hoping to lose myself in the park, wishing I felt a little more satisfied.

Moxie Monday: Because You Can

February 10, 2014 by Niko Bommer in Moxie Monday

Kick start your week with a lil' Moxie!

Fiction Friday: [A Glimmer in the Gloom]

February 07, 2014 by Niko Bommer in Fiction Friday

The key is in the lock and now he's home. I feel him in the room and my body screams.

Get up. Go to him.

But I don’t. I can’t. I hate myself for it.

Just add it to the list.

For the past week, this has been the ritual. Every single day. I wish it hadn’t been, but what can I do?

He comes home and I don’t acknowledge him. I don’t even look at him and as much as my heart is already broken I can feel it crack a little more each time.

I hear him take off his coat. Then his shoes. I close my eyes when I hear him walk over to me. I squeeze them tighter as he bends down to give me a kiss on the forehead.

I need him.

I want to tell him. Every molecule in my body screams for me to tell him, but I don’t. I can’t.

I can't look at him. I know that's all it will take to rip the stitches that are barely holding me together. The stitches that once removed will release more pain than I can handle. My mouth, my eyes, my heart—I have to keep them closed. It’s the only reason I haven’t been torn in two.

He whispers in my ear, tells me he loves me and I want to scream. I want to beg him not to say those words to me. To remind him that I don’t deserve them. How can he love me now? How can he be so kind and patient when I know he’s hurting, too?

These thoughts push on the stitches. I clutch at my belly to hold in the pain, but it only weakens me as I look down at my hands. They are folded, one on top of the other, over the spot that had been the source of overwhelming joy.

Just last week it was filled with life and hope. Our future.

Now its emptiness threatens to drag me into the darkness.

I feel the stitches slip. Eyes, mouth, heart—I shut them even tighter to fight against the ocean rising within. I know this is a losing fight. I know the time has come.

It starts as a whimper. Then I start to cry. And then I start to wail. I scream out against a pain greater than I have ever felt before. A pain that is mine. A pain that I deserve.

I don’t think I’ll ever stop. The tears fall in waves. Giant heart crushing waves. There’s no way I’ll ever stop.

Then, he’s here. He’s rocking me gently and telling me that it wasn’t my fault. Telling me that it will be okay. Telling me that he loves me.

He says it again. And again. And again.

He loves me.

He’s here.