8.5.2013 Journal Prompt

Photo from nydailynews.com
Photo from nydailynews.com

August 5, 2013: I still remember those guys.

6 Replies to “8.5.2013 Journal Prompt”

  1. Full of shit they was. Sayin what they was gonna do, which was rock the whole world, and be somethin, and nothin to stop ‘em. And back then we believed ‘em, everybody did. They had such confidence, you know. The way they said things and the way they walked into a space, like they owned it. Gutty especially.

    They was the first in high school to own a car. They got their Da’s beat up 55 chevvy. It farted smoke and inside it smelled of old dog, but it was a car and nobody else had one and so it was also a sign, a sign that they was goin places like they said. ‘Gonna storm the world and no prisoners.’

    Gutty and me, well we was an item back then. He was the pretty one. Hair all gold and wavy like a girl’s and his body all ribbed and toned and he warn’t afraid to show it. I got a picture of Gutty and Bret and me in the street. I’m leanin up against the car and fuck knows what I’m wearin but I got legs right up to my backside and my own hair is glossy and full and long. I remember that day. It was special.

    That day we drove out of the city, me and Gutty, out to where there was birds and grass and sky. I knowed what was on Gutty’s mind; it was on mine, too. But then he pulled a big loop surprise, and I’m talkin big. He done asked me to be his. He had an old brass washer that he’d polished up so it looked like gold and it looked like a ring and he put it on my engagement finger and he said as how that made it official. I took my panties off and we did it in the back of his Da’s old chevvy. We did it better in the months after that first time, but it’s the first time I remember best.

    I got that picture pinned to my fridge and it’s special. I’m still new in the picture and Gutty is still pretty and the chevvy is the only thing that’s used and beat up. They never did amount to nothin in the end, those boys. Bret lives with a girl and three kids that aint got fathers; they live above an all-night Laundromat out on the edge of noplace and he looks tired and old.

    Me, I got someone special. A real nice guy called Richie, works in an office filin paper, and he’s always clean and smells clean, too. And my Mam don’t know what he’d doin with me exactly, but we got plans together, ne and Richie, and they is real plans. And there’s a real ring on my finger now and real gold and it means somethin.

    And Gutty? Shit for brains these days. Thin as a rake and he does odd jobs for pennies and he spends all he gets on weed smokes, and he talks slow, like words is hard things, and he shuffles where once he swaggered. I see him some days and he don’t really remember me. I say, ‘Hi Gutty. It’s me, Rosie.’ But he still don’t recall. I tell him about the brass ring on my finger and what we did in the back of his Da’s beat up 55 chevvy and I think maybe there’s a spark in his eye, just for a moment. Then it’s gone.

    Yep, I remember them guys, Gutty and Bret, and the car and me with long legs, and the whole world waitin and ready to be stormed… only it never was.

    1. Thanks, Judith. Yes, the piece very much owes itself to the picture… which I wasn’t taken with at first and didn’t intend responding to… but then Roise started talking, and she wouldn’t shut up, and she told the whole thing just as it is.

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