about things, for worrying couldn’t possibly benefit anyone now. I could possibly lose the baby again. Nothing to worry about really.
As I left the motel to walk to the nearby doctor’s office, my confidence built itself back up brick by brick. Everything will be okay, I told myself. Either way, I’d have to deal with the consequences, good or bad. There was no other choice.
As I sat in the waiting room, I continued to attempt to convince myself that the sky wasn’t falling.
But it was, and I could feel the pieces smacking into my head from above.
Denial at its best.
Chapter Three
Liz
The rain slapped turbulently against the windows where I sat on the edge of my bed, strumming my guitar. My melancholy mood plagued me into a somber space I couldn’t shake off. I’d been here before, in this melancholy place I often sought out when my mind was a jumbled mess and my heart was in splinters. Things were out of control, and I never saw it coming.
Feeling the twang of strings under my fingers as I played my heart out, I let the hollow of the guitar vibrate the last chord until I couldn’t hear it anymore. The notes drowned into some oblivion I wished to slip into, and I wanted to follow it more than anything right now.
“Fuck!” I yelled out into the emptiness of my hotel room. Well, it was more of a tiny studio apartment the record company was paying for while I stayed in the city for a couple weeks. Audrey and Saul had their own place down the hall, close enough to bother if need be, far enough away to garner some peace in my turbulent mind.
I slid to the ground and rested the guitar on the shag carpet that must’ve been vacuumed a thousand times, for its ends were all twisted like tiny little dreadlocks. Running my fingers through it, I wanted to rip out the threads and toss them away. But I didn’t. I could barely sit perfectly still, unable to breathe in too deeply for fear it might wake up my senses and force me to face the hot mess of my life.
I was pregnant. Positive about it. A woman didn’t need a doctor to tell her these things, though I’d picked up a test at the corner shop to verify it for myself. The two lines were undeniable, and I promptly tossed the plastic stick carelessly into the tiny waste receptacle in the hotel bathroom.
What now? What was I going to do now?
I groaned and ran my hands violently through my long, wild locks. I needed a trim; they were unruly and riddled with split ends. Even my black nail polish sat chipped and ragged on my short nails. I was makeup free, but there was nowhere to go anyway, so I didn’t bother putting any on. We were on break for a solid two weeks. No recording, no shows. Just as well. We needed it.
Crawling toward the window sill which spanned the length of the wall along one side of the apartment, I leaned against the cool glass, watching the sheeting rain pour down onto the fire escape and the streets below. It was the worst time to visit this vibrant city; the weather was skewed, and frankly, I was surprised they even let us hole down here at all. The expense for two miniscule studios was still a small fortune in this city. New York City in late winter was a miserable hell in the weather department, but it should’ve been more exciting to be here, regardless.
Tomorrow, I’d go outside. Maybe then the rain would take a break so I could wander the streets, listen to the street performers, buy some new threads, or maybe see a show. I always wanted to visit here, and it beckoned to me. Heck, it was still early enough, if the rain let up later in the afternoon, I was going to check out a bar down the street. It looked like a hip joint from the way it was always busy when we drove past it.
I needed to shake these blues away, get some excitement going, since the lack of adrenaline from doing our performances was starting to leave me aching for a hit of something. I wasn’t one to sit still in one place for too long. I needed
As I left the motel to walk to the nearby doctor’s office, my confidence built itself back up brick by brick. Everything will be okay, I told myself. Either way, I’d have to deal with the consequences, good or bad. There was no other choice.
As I sat in the waiting room, I continued to attempt to convince myself that the sky wasn’t falling.
But it was, and I could feel the pieces smacking into my head from above.
Denial at its best.
Chapter Three
Liz
The rain slapped turbulently against the windows where I sat on the edge of my bed, strumming my guitar. My melancholy mood plagued me into a somber space I couldn’t shake off. I’d been here before, in this melancholy place I often sought out when my mind was a jumbled mess and my heart was in splinters. Things were out of control, and I never saw it coming.
Feeling the twang of strings under my fingers as I played my heart out, I let the hollow of the guitar vibrate the last chord until I couldn’t hear it anymore. The notes drowned into some oblivion I wished to slip into, and I wanted to follow it more than anything right now.
“Fuck!” I yelled out into the emptiness of my hotel room. Well, it was more of a tiny studio apartment the record company was paying for while I stayed in the city for a couple weeks. Audrey and Saul had their own place down the hall, close enough to bother if need be, far enough away to garner some peace in my turbulent mind.
I slid to the ground and rested the guitar on the shag carpet that must’ve been vacuumed a thousand times, for its ends were all twisted like tiny little dreadlocks. Running my fingers through it, I wanted to rip out the threads and toss them away. But I didn’t. I could barely sit perfectly still, unable to breathe in too deeply for fear it might wake up my senses and force me to face the hot mess of my life.
I was pregnant. Positive about it. A woman didn’t need a doctor to tell her these things, though I’d picked up a test at the corner shop to verify it for myself. The two lines were undeniable, and I promptly tossed the plastic stick carelessly into the tiny waste receptacle in the hotel bathroom.
What now? What was I going to do now?
I groaned and ran my hands violently through my long, wild locks. I needed a trim; they were unruly and riddled with split ends. Even my black nail polish sat chipped and ragged on my short nails. I was makeup free, but there was nowhere to go anyway, so I didn’t bother putting any on. We were on break for a solid two weeks. No recording, no shows. Just as well. We needed it.
Crawling toward the window sill which spanned the length of the wall along one side of the apartment, I leaned against the cool glass, watching the sheeting rain pour down onto the fire escape and the streets below. It was the worst time to visit this vibrant city; the weather was skewed, and frankly, I was surprised they even let us hole down here at all. The expense for two miniscule studios was still a small fortune in this city. New York City in late winter was a miserable hell in the weather department, but it should’ve been more exciting to be here, regardless.
Tomorrow, I’d go outside. Maybe then the rain would take a break so I could wander the streets, listen to the street performers, buy some new threads, or maybe see a show. I always wanted to visit here, and it beckoned to me. Heck, it was still early enough, if the rain let up later in the afternoon, I was going to check out a bar down the street. It looked like a hip joint from the way it was always busy when we drove past it.
I needed to shake these blues away, get some excitement going, since the lack of adrenaline from doing our performances was starting to leave me aching for a hit of something. I wasn’t one to sit still in one place for too long. I needed
Similar Books
Outlaw
Ted Dekker
Mice
Gordon Reece
Flawless
Lara Chapman
The Loner
Genell Dellin
Hired for the Boss's Bedroom
Cathy Williams
Nova Scotia
Lesley Choyce
Death's Rival
Faith Hunter
Midnight
Dean Koontz
This Broken Wondrous World
Jon Skovron
Love Comes Calling
Siri Mitchell