... 18 Years Young (part III)

The morning sun always seemed to shine brightest when Lydia was hung over. And it also seemed that her drapes would never completely close on mornings like that; and her mother would always decide to cook the most aromatic of breakfasts, and always tend to scream her name extra loud. "Lydia, it's time for breakfast. Come on and eat chile, you got a doctors appointment today." Just thinking about the florescent lights, sterile smell and bad news made Lydia want to vomit. Well, not just that of course. By-passing the stairwell, she hauled ass to the bathroom where she could only dry-heave over the tall procelin toilet, being as all of her stomachs contents still rested where she left them early that morning. After a few moments she stood, squinting in the mirror. Oddly, she decided that she was going to miss mornings like this when she was dead, I mean she was only being a teen. She brushed her teeth, her hair, washed her face, and gathered her barrings to head downstairs. You would've thought that the breakfast her mother prepared smelled like garbage, because it left Lydia's stomach in more of a knot than ever. "I'm not hungry." She says, plopping down in the cushioned chair at the table adorned with panacakes, eggs, bacon, sausage and orange juice of course." "My Lydia? Not hungry? Good lord my child done been switched with someone elses." Her mother sat next to her and stared at her child. She knew that Lydia was suffering from a horrible hang-over. She heard he come in at 3 that morning and it was only 8. But she couldn't blame her. When given news like the news Lydia was handed a mere week ago, Cynthia didn't know if she would've ever gotten out of bed let alone try to lead a normal life. "Ma, do we have to go to the doctors? I mean, we already know what they have to say. Blah blah blah, your dead in six. What else is new?" "Now you stop!" Cynthia was always a big proponent of optimism, but this news had gotten the best of her lately and she feared that it had rubbed off on her youngest child of two. "The doctor said he knows of a treatment. Now it's experimental, but it's a treatment none the less. I think we should go hear him out." Not to be confrontational or rebellious in anyway, that just wasn't her nature, Lydia gave a half hearted nod and dragged her limp body up the stairs to prepare for their outting. Enthusiasm wasn't a big deal to her anymore, and neither was the optimism she inherited from her always upbeat mother who wasn't really upbeat anymore. That contagious energy wasn't looming threw every room in the house anymore. It was barely in existance in her home, let alone in her mother's eyes. She wanted to be sad, but something inside wouldn't let her be. Being a member of the fatherless-tribe with only one set of grandparents who where now dead, and no aunts or uncles which meant no cousins, Lydia only had her mother and older brother Salias to worry about. He was 20 and in college at Notre Dame, which left only her and her mother to sit home and succumb to the dismal news. It was an understatement to say that when she was younger, Lyida felt out of place. Her mother was half Dominican, half white and from what she understood her father was a of african american, west indian decent. Though she and her brother had different fathers, they were both part african american which meant their complections resembled each others. Yet ultimately, they always felt left being the only kids of "mixed-breed" in their classes growing up. She had grown used to feeling a bit uncomfortable. And even though she could be considered popular in high school, her brother never felt that comfortable assimilating, so he went to Notre Dame, which really wasn't known for it's minority population. Here, she fit in. But she wondered what it would be like in Heaven, if she were even going there. "Well, not much has changed since you were here last Lydia. Your condition has worsened a bit, but that's not a surprise to us of course. Over the next six months, it will worsen incredibly until..." "We know, ok... We know." Lydia couldn't understand why the doctors, her mother, anyone who new basically felt the need to constantly remind her of her early demise. She knew, and she didn't need to hear it on a daily basis. She had heard enough, she got dressed and her mother began to gather their things to meet the doctor in his office. Once the settled in their seats, he looked at them with his hands folded on his desk and a stern look on his face. "There is an experimental treatment."

...18 Years Young (part II)

"I don't think you shoulda drank as much as you did shawty. You gotta know when to slow down." Darrells words fell on deaf ears; Lydia's alcohol ridden mind had the world twirling beneath the car so fast, she didn't know which way was up. "You hear me? Hello?" She rolled her head over and nodded. Gazing into his gentle face had Lydia feeling quite emotional, well that and the 3 beers and 2 cups of "punch." "You aint catchin' a word I'm sayin'. I bet tomorrow, you won't even remember this conversation." Once again, she nods. This time with her eyes closed. Darrell laughs. "Girl you are twisted. But it's cool though, I'm not gonna take advantage of you. I'm just not that kind of guy, you know? I don't know where this 'sex god' rep came from, but that aint me. I got alot of layers man, I mean I'm smart, nice, shit I'm taking you home and I barley know you." This time Lydia laughs, then burps, then laughs again. "What you laughin' at now girl?" She stares out the windshield with a goofy smile on her face.
"We been in da same class sin-se fif grade D-Money. But you don' know me. I'f had ah-lease two clazzez wif you sin-se we been in hi-skoo. But you don' know me?" She lifts her drunken body up with her limp arms, she had a point to make. "An' you know why you gots a rep-poo-tashim? Hmm? Because *burp* a-cause you fucked bout haf the girlz in ow grade...No! make that haf the girlz in da-skoo. You haf layers? Pleeeeaaassssseeee. You do jus enuf ta get by. Do you's use yo brain? 'Cause since before I kin rememba, you had tha unda-classmen doin it for you. So saf me the bull." Lydia collapses back into her seat, leaving Darrell dumb-founded. Then he lets out a laugh.
"You are somethin' else, you know that? No girl ever tells me the real, ever. The do what they can to stay in my good graces, but you, you keep it real. I like that." She rolls her eyes and turns her head once more in his direction.
"Ugh, save your praises for someone who gives a fuh-fuh-uh..pull the car over." Darrell comes to a screaching halt on the residential road between two houses. He knew what was comming and couldn't bare having to clean vomit out of his car twice in one week. Lydia bursts from the car as if it were on flames and crouches to the back tire of the car, hurling her breakfast, lunch and dinner out of the pits of her stomach into the gutter.
"Damn girl, see I told you." Darrell stands, hovering over her resting on the hatchback of his truck. Lydia lifts her head between vommiting to speak.
"Enjoying the view?" He backs up as if he were defenseless.
"Hey, chill girl. I was just making sure you was alright." She vomits and wipes her mouth on her sleeve.
"Oh spare me ok D-Money. You don' give a fuck bout me. I'm jus anotha one ov your laughs." He walks closer, being genuinely hurt by her words.
"That's what you think about me?" She doesn't bother to lift her head this time. Sobering with every spell of vomit.
"No, that's what I know. Only person you care about is you, an yo rep. Do you care about me? Does it matter that I'm alive to you? Granted that I only have about six more months, but if I didn't, would we hang-out?" She looks up, "Shit, would you date me D-Money? I've seen you watching me. I'm 5''5, honey complection, hair past my shoulders with hazel eyes and a nice shape. You've looked in my direction. So what's the problem?" Once again, he's dumb-founded. Studdering, all he can seem to muster for the few seconds he's on the hot seat was something along the lines of "buhh...buuhh.." Lydia rather not hear it. "Fuck it. Take me home please. I just want to go home." She wipes a tear, preparing to fall down her cheek and helps her self onto her feet. She climbs into the car and buckles her seatbelt, all-the-while leaving Darrell still leaning on his car to contemplate his words. After a minute or so of thinking, he climbs back in the car, surrounded by uncomfortable silence. Once they reach her house, Darrell grabs her had as she prepares to unbuckle her seatbelt.
"So, Ms. Lydia, would you like to go out with me?"

...18 Years Young (part I)

In a drunken stupor, she lifts her corona bottle to the paint-sponged ceiling that tied all the apartments together. Wobbling as she shifted weight from one leg to another, she stumbles a bit, but catches herself just in time to stop her beer from spilling. For a moment she watches; the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces blurred like spinning colors. No face looks different from another. Dizzy with alcohol, she tries to focus. She has something important to say. "Kinnn ah haf your attemtin pleaz?" The party go'ers don't seem to recognize her drunken phrase, so she tries once more. "Eskuze me! Kin ah pleaz haf your attemtion pleeeaazzz?" This time a few look in her direction, trying also to focus their gaze on the dizzy woman in the black dress swaying in the middle of the room. A man on the couch decides to be a good samaritan, to pause his conversation for the under-dressed overly sexed woman who he planned on escorting to his bedroom that night, and help the 'little lady' get her point across. It helped a bit that it was his house.
"Aye yo! Listen up, yall see ol' girl tryna say something right? So shut the fuck up and listen." He nudges her, only to have to catch her a bit, being as he knocked her off balance.
"Well thaank yoo verwee much DMoney, okey dokey so ass many of you know, my names is Lidia." She takes a sip of her beer. "I go to high school wif mos ov yoo an we graduate tomorrow morning, YAY 07!" The party goers roar in applause at the idea of them being rid of their high school whoas in the day to come. When the hoots and hollers go silent she looks to the ceiling again, and takes another sip. "Well amny way, I just wann-id to say it wuz a blessin' to school with you fine lady and gent-men." She takes another sip, someone from the back yells something along the lines of "hurry up bitch", so she holds up one finger to notion that she has one more bit of information to relay. "Unforchunately, I will not see you guys at the reunions a-cause, frum the date ov my diagsnosis, I will be dead on Novembers 6th, 2007, six months from now." She downs the rest of her beer to a silenced room. She collapeses on the floor in laughter, waving her arms and legs like she was making a snow angel in the alcohol-stained carpet. She stops laughing long enough to choke out a few words..."Enjoy the partys peoples."