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I like that song 'hey, soul sister' from train. it struck a cord with this chapter.

Title: Untitled

Author: Denise Gray

Date Started: Wednesday, May 19, 2010 at 3:44:13 PM

Date Ended:

Rating: M for Mature

Disclaimer: Everything is mine. It’s sexy; it’s wild; it’s got zombies! What more do you need? I created it, I created the world and the fucked up circumstances. So, enjoy!

 

x8x

 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Dedicated to the one guy that I allowed to plunder my insides, the one I allowed to travel the deepest recesses of my soul and, eventually, the one who broke my heart.

 

F**k you.

 

x8x

 

FOREWORD

Dear Whoever You Are:

 

So, you stumbled onto this s**t-bit, huh? Well then, let’s be clear on a few things first. This is a work of fiction, or an autobiographical account in some parts that is purely fictional in others. I’m writing this partly as an exercise to get the mojo going, but to also remember what it was like to write something and want to write something just for the sake of writing it. I’m also writing this to get some crap off my chest that I’ve had stuck, lodged somewhere deep down in an unhealthy place and it keeps on coming back to pick at the scabs of old wounds that should’ve healed up by now, but haven’t.

 

If someone reads this, and they’re someone I know, you may recognize some of the faces presented here. I’ve tried to keep them true to form, but I’ve also thrown in me, or the me as clearly and concisely that I can get while writing about characters that I may loathe or love with all my heart. I do not apologize for their characterizations, and if those same faces recognize themselves in this counterpart world of fiction/non-fiction and take offense then it is their own fault. I have a perception of the world that must be cleansed. Writing is my only option of doing so.

 

 I’m dredging up feelings that should’ve been buried a long time ago and memories that I wanted to avoid, but apparently can’t. I’m going back to my roots and writing something that I wish could’ve happened, but didn’t and it is probably for the better. So, if you do read this, take it with a grain of salt…or maybe more than just that because there are hidden messages in everything, and even in the grains of sand there are truths to be found.

 

Love,

 

Erica Dee

 

x8x

 

i.

hey, soul sister, part one

 

“May you live in interesting times…”

-Unknown

x8x

 

“You’ve been cooped up here for weeks.”

“So?”

“You’re starting to stink.”

“And? Stinking is my prerogative. It’s a free country, and I have the right to stink. Stinky, stinky, stinky me.”

“Oh, don’t be so juvenile.”

“I’m not being juvenile. I’m being stinky.”

There weren’t many things in the world that could shake Rebecca James’ cool. Matter of fact, she prided herself on being a cool, calm, collected young lady no matter what the circumstance that arose. However, her patience was sorely being tested. She stood, glaring pointedly at the large mound of blankets that rose haphazardly from the bed that rested in front of her and, somewhere underneath all that cotton and polyester, her best friend, Mileeka Hill, who had been cooped up in that mound for an inordinate amount of time. Or, at least, inordinate according to Rebecca.

“Will you at least look at me?” Rebecca demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and pursing her lips. There was a muffled curse and the mound moved, a hand shooting out, fumbling around the nightstand that sat beside the bed, knocking over an alarm clock and an empty drinking glass, before happening on a pair of glasses. An ‘ah-ha’ issued forth from the bed sheets, the glasses were grabbed and dragged under the blankets before the entire mound was shoved aside and Mileeka emerged, disheveled and looking the worse for wear.

“Oh, Millie.” Rebecca’s face immediately softened at the sight of her best friend. Normally so well put together, Mileeka was a shadow of her former self: where her hair was normally combed into a tamable and manageable ‘fro, it stuck out at all odd angles in every direction of the compass. Where she was normally dressed in cute, lacy sleep ware, a large frumpy sports’ jersey adorned her slender form and a pair of gray, faded oversized sweatpants. Very familiar gray, faded sweatpants. Rebecca’s gaze narrowed as she saw a familiar insignia emblazoned across the right pant leg; she frowned, searching her memory as to where she had seen"

“Please do not tell me those are his sweatpants,” she chided, and knew the answer before the other woman hiccupped and buried herself once again under the covers of her bed.

“Mmmrumpfbee,” came the muffled reply. Rebecca’s eyes narrowed further.

“What did you say?” Rebecca asked, annoyed. “Don’t you hide from me, Mileeka Denise Hill!”

There came another muffled curse, the blankets were removed again and Mileeka emerged, eyes downcast and playing with the hem of her large shirt. She looked up, smiled sheepishly and replied, “I said ‘Maybe’?”

 Millie!” Rebecca cried, incredulous. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, glaring at her best friend. “I thought you said you were over him!”

“We only broke up three weeks ago!” Mileeka protested, throwing her hands up in the air. She let them flop to her sides and sat back, glaring at Rebecca. “It’s not humanly possible to be over someone in that short of time.”

“I can,” Rebecca retorted hotly. Mileeka crossed her arms over her chest and stuck out her chin.

“Then you’re a freak of nature,” Mileeka shot back, and poked out her upper lip stubbornly. Rebecca rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Look,” Rebecca started, shaking her head, “I came here to get you out of the house. It’s New Years’ Eve, Millie, and everybody’s celebrating!”

“Who’s everybody?” Millie retorted. “If everyone were celebrating then I’d already be out there.”

“Oh my god,” Rebecca cried, exasperated. She huffed a sigh in frustration and marched over to her friend’s bedside, hands on her hips and standing akimbo. “You’re coming out with me.”

“No.” Millie shook her head, adamantly. “I’m not.”

“Are you serious?” Rebecca huffed another frustrated sigh as Millie looked up, glared at her again and nodded the affirmative. Rebecca rolled her eyes skyward. She couldn’t believe her best friend. This was not the same Mileeka that had, only three weeks earlier, been leaping around to and fro, exclaiming to all the world that she was happy that she and her boyfriend, some Willis-William-Wally-Warren-something-or-other, had finally broken up and ended their year-and-a-half long torture of a relationship. She’d used such colorfuls as “It was a one night stand that lasted eighteen, long torturous months” and “I’m glad the pissant, twat is gone! Now I get on to the fun-fun times!”  Normally so very astute, Rebecca couldn’t understand how she’d missed the sorrow that was clearly hanging around the edges of her friend’s supposed cheer. Even now, as she observed her best friend, she could see the circles lining Millie’s eyes, the puffy redness of shed tears and the down turn her lips took as Rebecca observed her. Rebecca gave an inward sigh, guilty that she’d missed so much of her friend’s hurt, really guilty, blindly accepting Millie’s word instead of investigating further.

And here I am trying to be a lawyer, Rebecca thought sardonically. She gave an inward sigh and squared her mental shoulders. She was definitely going to remedy her past transgression.

“C’mon you,” Rebecca ordered, reaching down and pulling Millie by her arm. The other woman gave a sharp protest as Rebecca tugged harder, upending Millie’s bed sheets and blankets as the slighter was tugged upward into a half-standing, half-seated position.

“Wh-What are you doing?!” Millie protested, trying to tug her arm back. “Rebecca?!”

“I’m getting you out of this stuffy apartment,” Rebecca replied. “You look like crap, you stink like someone crawled in here and died, and I’m not going to stand for it!”

“Will you just"“ Millie pulled. Rebecca pulled back harder.

“Quit it!” Millie shouted, frustrated.

“No!” Rebecca shouted back. “Get. Out. Of. Bed!”

“Okay!” Millie acquiesced, with a jerk of her arm. Rebecca promptly let her friend go with a grin of triumph and Millie completed the rest of the circuit from her half-seated position, standing at her full height, still shorter than Rebecca, but managing to look down her nose at her friend all the same.

“Where are we going?” Millie asked pointedly, as Rebecca turned swiftly on her heel, marching to Millie’s to-die-for walk-in-closet, sidestepping a carton of day-old (or, at least, she hoped it was day-old) Chinese.

“Somewhere nice,” Rebecca answered absently, flipping on the light and took a second to admire the large, spacious wardrobe. It was neat and orderly, like Millie usually was, with stacks of clothes sorted by color and season; it was a smorgasbord of colors and fabrics that left Rebecca salivating, and wishing"for once"that she had taken an easier major to study so that she could’ve gotten the Paralegal job the Millie scored straight out of undergrad. There were shoes of varying heights and materials and fabrics and colors, hats and jewelry box overflowing with sparkling pieces, and even if most of the gems were probably fakes and knock-offs, it didn’t stop Rebecca from admiring them either way. Millie always made the things she bought, no matter how cheap, look like they cost a million bucks. Well"and Rebecca glanced back at her best friend, who stood glaring at her with a ‘well-hurry-up’ look"usually anyway. Rebecca sighed before delving into the closet, going through the stacks of clothes and shoes and accessories, trying to pick a New Years’ outfit that would at least pep Millie up some.

She emerged with an ‘ah-ha’, holding up a pair of knee-high boots, a lacy off-white tunic, a jean jacket and a newsboy cap. Her lips broke out into a grin as Millie stepped forward with a solemnity that even Catholic nuns would envy, inspecting the clothes with a critical eye. She touched the lacy tunic, eyes glossed over the knee-high boots and narrowed at the newsboy cap. She pursed her lips before meeting Rebecca’s gaze, blinked slowly and then grinned.

“Fine,” she said simply and grabbed the items, going off to shower. She called over her shoulder, “All of this hullabaloo better be worth it, Rebecca.”

“Barring any horrible, catastrophic disasters,” Rebecca called back, “it will be!”

The bathroom door shut without any further retorts from Millie, and Rebecca took that as Millie’s silent agreement of Rebecca’s ultimate rightness. She sat gingerly on her best friend’s bed, waiting for Millie to get ready, and looked around. The apartment really was a little worse for wear, and Rebecca felt another pang of guilt rising as she took in the haphazard state of affairs that Millie’s life had clearly taken. The bedroom usually had a light, airy feel to it, with open windows and whatever seasonal breeze wafting in. But the windows were shuttered closed, and the curtains tightly drawn. Along the walls, Rebecca could see the faded imprints of where pictures used to sit, square marks where the paint was much lighter than that around it. Warren’s pictures, Rebecca surmised, or maybe pictures of Warren and Mileeka, pictures that were probably too painful for the other woman to endure.

Some drawers were open, but empty of clothes or any personal effects and beside the dressers that held them, were bags, black plastic bags that Rebecca was sure, if she just took a peek, she’d find guys’ clothes, probably Warren’s too. She put her hands in her lap and shook her head, angry with herself and with Millie’s ex.

Even though Rebecca hadn’t known the guy, it had been obvious that Millie had been crazy about him. She talk about him or have this dreamy look on her face whenever Rebecca saw her that Rebecca coined as Millie’s ‘Warren McDreamy Face’, the other woman hadn’t been amused by the moniker, but it fit. Millie’s eyes would be a lit with this kind of inner fire and a small smile would play across her face, and just like a school girl, she’d giggle if she received a text message from the man. And maybe that was why Rebecca should’ve been more watchful when her friend had announced to her that she and Warren had broken up and how calm Millie seemed to act about the whole thing. She should’ve known it was all an act, but she had been so busy with mid-terms that if it didn’t have anything to do with law or ethics or the criminal practice, she had been blind to it.

“Ready?” came Millie’s voice and Rebecca immediately snapped to attention, smiling at the sight of her friend. She almost looked like the old Millie, make-up and hair put together, outfit looking as if she’d bought it from some high-end department store.

“You look good,” Rebecca told her, and Millie shrugged non-committingly.

“Let’s just get this over with,” she replied, and Rebecca nodded, leading the way out of the apartment.

“You’ll enjoy yourself.”

“Sure.”

Author's Note

Hey, just don't sit there and read. CRITIQUE! It's not like I can't see that this thing has gotten SOME views!

Reviews

[Donna M. Burr]

I loved this story. I can entirely understand the characters and how they are feeling and they seem like real people! (Though from your forward they might be, but I am not sure all the same.) This is wonderfully written and it actually sounds like I am sitting here reading an actual book, not being able to wait for the next chapter and excitement bubbling within me to find out what happens next with Millie and Rebecca. This was a very good read and I can't wait to read more! :3