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|Kylie's Tattos (standard:other, 2714 words)|
|Author: Penny Matthews||Added: Jun 04 2008||Views/Reads: 1627/1114||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Reflections of the meanings behind a young woman's tattoos.|
Anywhere but here, Kylie thought as she slammed the door behind her. How soon we forget. * Blue was halfway down the street, looking back at her with large brown eyes. He'd been waiting for this day with a saint's patience. Blue had spent most of his life on the streets, digging through rusted metal trash cans for dinner, nosing nodding junkies to find out if they needed help, dodging blue and red lights, cuddling with lonely underage hookers under the bridge. Then he met Kylie and everything changed. The first day they spent together was beautiful and carefree. They hitchhiked out to a disc golf course. Blue could tell she was nervous when they climbed into that trucker's bed, but he knew she was comforted by his presence, although she'd never admit it. And even though he'd just met her, he already felt a fierce desire to protect her. At dusk they walked down Wealthy Street. She had told him they were going to her girlfriend Gigi's apartment, and that Blue shouldn't worry because Gigi would love him. So for the first time in a long time, he didn't worry. They walked up the stairs. Kylie called out for her but Gigi wasn't there. She cooked a hamburger and they split it, and then, because Gigi still wasn't home, Kylie let him sleep in the bed with her. He nestled against her, breathing her in, but listening for any sound that seemed foreign so he could warn her at a moment's notice. Her arm lay limply over his chest. In the morning, they woke up and he laid on the bed, watching her shove some clothes into an oversized patchwork purse. “We're getting the hell out of here,” she told him. “I don't think Gigi's coming back, at least not while I'm here. We've been having problems for awhile. But I'll miss her.” She knelt in front of him and pulled up her shirt. He was embarrassed, but couldn't tear his eyes away. A thin black staff with musical notes began somewhere underneath her jeans and ended somewhere underneath her bra, twisting around her torso in between. “She taught me how to dance.” They walked down to The Cottage and drank coffee on the terrace. Blue was excited; he hadn't really wanted to meet Gigi anyway. His mind was racing... where would they go? what would they do? who would they meet? He didn't care as long as they were together; as long as he was by her side, Blue would be okay; he looked over at her and she smiled, placing her finger on his nose playfully. And then a man came and sat down next her. They talked for hours. Blue didn't understand what they were saying. Her voice was different, her eyes changed colors, her mouth shrank. The man put his arm around her and started to lead her to his car. Blue stayed where he was; his heart hurt, so he shut his eyes and tried to pretend Kylie never existed; he thought about going down to the ministry because it was almost ten o' clock and he could get still some breakfast. Just as he was about to open his eyes, he felt her hands on him. “Come on, dummy,” she whispered, “we've got a new home. You're damn lucky you're with me now.” Blue didn't want to live with the man, and the man didn't want him around either. But they both wanted desperately to be with her, so the man let Blue into the large black car. He sat in the middle of the back seat, his face filling the rear view mirror. Blue couldn't help being a little excited. Soon the thrill of newness wore off. He spent the next six months hiding underneath the dining room table, making an appearance only when he needed to eat or drink, avoiding the man at all costs, being a good boy and holding it until she came home. Blue knew long before she did that they didn't belong in that house. But Kylie wanted desperately to fit, and she'd hoped they could just fake it until one day they'd just...blend in. He thought she was deluded, or rather, just so much in Click here to read the rest of this story (209 more lines)
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