Work in Progress - Vanessa Journal Entry June 3 About George Coming Over for Dinner
"George is back. He's coming over for dinner," Marianne says.
I hear Beast ask me why I wasn't at prom. The Mean Girls and I have a conversation about why I should be studying for history or reading The Bluest Eye for Professor's class instead of worrying about how Fanta tries to win Aphrodite back.
"Fantasy stories offer silly answers to questions about life," Beast says. "Why didn't you go to the dance?"
I don't understand what he's talking about when he dumped me on prom night, and the Mean Girls shout above all the noise. Don't you hear anything besides us? Where was Marianne last night?You have a ghost boyfriend, but you don't remember how that happened?Drop date June 10. George is back, but you don't know why, Where was Marianne last night? You have a ghost boyfriend, but you don't remember how that happened? Drop date June 10. George is back, but you don't know why, Where was Marianne last night? You have a ghost boyfriend, but you don't remember how that happened? George is back, but you don't know why, Where was
"Shut up!"
Marianne looks up, I give her a blank look as if I never said anything. The Mean Girls know.
You should be studying history.
Marianne turns on classical guitar. And she waters her new plants on the porch, big bushy ferns. The girls live in these healthy plants; their hair is green, thick and they say, Marianne just asked you about George. Don't you listen?
"George isn't coming back."
"What was that?" Marianne asks. "When is your next appointment with Patti?"
She sounds concerned. "A couple of weeks." The beach is still here, and strangely I feel better about that. It's cloudy and looks as if it's going to rain. People sun on the sand under heavy, dark clouds and picnic and lay out platters of food and drink beer as if they plan to stay out for the whole day. Beast lathers on sunscreen and disappears into one of the parties on the shore. I glance at Marianne and shrug about the meds and open my reader. Sometimes I wish she could see this place - the ocean in our tiny backyard on any day, the volleyball boys and girls in the middle of a game. And I tell her, "Stop moping about men for a while."
I hear Beast ask me why I wasn't at prom. The Mean Girls and I have a conversation about why I should be studying for history or reading The Bluest Eye for Professor's class instead of worrying about how Fanta tries to win Aphrodite back.
"Fantasy stories offer silly answers to questions about life," Beast says. "Why didn't you go to the dance?"
I don't understand what he's talking about when he dumped me on prom night, and the Mean Girls shout above all the noise. Don't you hear anything besides us? Where was Marianne last night?You have a ghost boyfriend, but you don't remember how that happened?Drop date June 10. George is back, but you don't know why, Where was Marianne last night? You have a ghost boyfriend, but you don't remember how that happened? Drop date June 10. George is back, but you don't know why, Where was Marianne last night? You have a ghost boyfriend, but you don't remember how that happened? George is back, but you don't know why, Where was
"Shut up!"
Marianne looks up, I give her a blank look as if I never said anything. The Mean Girls know.
You should be studying history.
Marianne turns on classical guitar. And she waters her new plants on the porch, big bushy ferns. The girls live in these healthy plants; their hair is green, thick and they say, Marianne just asked you about George. Don't you listen?
"George isn't coming back."
"What was that?" Marianne asks. "When is your next appointment with Patti?"
She sounds concerned. "A couple of weeks." The beach is still here, and strangely I feel better about that. It's cloudy and looks as if it's going to rain. People sun on the sand under heavy, dark clouds and picnic and lay out platters of food and drink beer as if they plan to stay out for the whole day. Beast lathers on sunscreen and disappears into one of the parties on the shore. I glance at Marianne and shrug about the meds and open my reader. Sometimes I wish she could see this place - the ocean in our tiny backyard on any day, the volleyball boys and girls in the middle of a game. And I tell her, "Stop moping about men for a while."
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