Chapter 8: I Almost Had You

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September 9th, 1995
Saturday 8AM

Waking up on Saturday mornings, Lauren expected to hear Bolero on a loud radio coming from downstairs that indicated her mother was in between cleaning and cooking breakfast; she expected the bathroom to be held up by either her father or sister for way longer than humanly acceptable; she expected her little brother Chris to be hogging the television remote, giving nobody the chance to watch something they might like for a change. These were routine expectations and she was fine with that—life continued unfolding the way she expected it to up until she met Karla. Now? Lauren had no idea what to expect and this morning possessed a disruptance to it.

Her first thought upon her eyes flying open was what the time must be, as she panicked Karla was already outside and she had slept late again. What would she wear to impress her? Should she even have breakfast when feeling this anxious? Lauren did have the tendency of losing her lunch on a full stomach ridden with knots, butterflies plus a palpitating heart but screw it. She flew out of bed and wandered rampantly around her dark room, rummaging through her junk and flipping over already worn clothes, searching through pockets for a lighter and a clip from the weed she smoked last night. One quick glance at her alarm clock and she was washed over with relief that she still had time to hit the joint, find a decent outfit and have a quick breakfast.

Yawning and rubbing her eyes, unlit join between her lips, Lauren sifted through her crates of vinyls and lifted Nirvana's "Incesticide", put it on the record player then went to smoke out the window as Dive played at a volume high enough to meet her mother's tolerance level.

'Pick me, pick me, yeah
Live alone lone single.
At least, at least, yeah
Everyone is hollow.
Pick me, pick me, yeah
Everyone is waitin....'

"Paiiiin, dive! Dive! Dive! Dive with mee," she sung in gritty whispers in between pulls. Lauren rocked her head to the beat as she watched a flock of birds soar across a bright blue clear sky. Her neighbours were out either mowing the lawn, setting up to wash their car in the driveway or enjoying a sorry breeze and humid air on their front porch. She smirked when Mrs. Bernstein's nose crinkled at the stench of skunk, located the source and scowled; the middle aged woman loathed Lauren and marijuana. The teenager revelled in her misery and waved, smirking. "Good morning, Mrs. Bernstein! Wake and bake with me, I'm in the mood for some pie!"

"You're a crying shame, young lady! You know I can call the cops, right?" the woman planted her wrinkled hands on her hips and sat in her hip like the typical 'white lady getting off on potential snitching' does. "That is illegal!"

"So was coke in the seventies but that didn't stop you, did it? I know at least one of those sugar bowls is still loaded with the stuff!" Lauren blew out more smoke and chuckled at how quickly Mrs. Bernstein got offended enough to drop her agenda. "Enjoy your day, Mrs. Bernstein!"

"Kiss this, kiss that, yeah!" Marilyn's singing startled Lauren as she waltzed right in then closed the door behind her. The smell of weed summoned her, as did Kurt Cobain. Marilyn bobbed her head and danced her way to the window. "Live alone lone single! At least at least yeah, you can be my hero!"

"Your voice is horrible," Lauren rolled her eyes when Marilyn reached her and stole the joint away.

"Then it's a good thing I don't want a career in music," she retorted and took a long drag. "Move over, I wanna sit."

Lauren scooted to one end of the window sill. "You do have a career in music, remember?"

"No?"

"Your job is to follow the bands and make sure they get laid, duh."

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