The Bittersweet Life of Amy Clark(EDITING)

Chapter Five

     Now what I do not get even today is how Jessie can say he is the most honest person I will ever meet. He says he speaks the truth at whatever cost and though I do believe that is true to a certain extent I also know it is a lie. I lay back on my mattress and thought about it. I didn’t know how or when in his life he decided to become such a bastard but I supposed it mattered very little. He was a part of my life now, plain and simple. There was nothing I could do about it really.

     Downstairs I heard the metal crinkle of beer cans and a loud belch that followed. Occasionally the electric music from the dartboard would drift up between the cracks in the floor boards. His hobo friends and he always loved playing a game of darts. Even my mom thought it was the best damn game on earth. I was forced to play sometimes and if I missed the target I was aiming for I was always called out for it and made to look like a dumbass. I tried to explain it was just a game but to Jessie it was always about something else. Tonight I suspected them playing for something else then just good old fun. Tonight either beer or weed was on the line and both were important to Jessie.

     I have nothing for or against beer or weed. I cannot have either one because my body is a bitch and cannot handle the chemicals or whatever they use in it. I never tried weed to be honest. I figured my body is messed up the way it is. I don’t need something else to make it worse. Now beer is another story. Just about half a can makes me sick as a dog. I never figured out why exactly. It didn’t make sense but I never dwelled on it. I just chalked it up to nature being a cunt.

     Oh, and by the way, in case the term hobo is not common or some people scratch their heads and wonder who or what is a hobo, it means a person who moves from job to job, state to state, living off the streets and sometimes other people in order to survive. Jessie claimed to be one as a matter of fact, but I might as well shit gold bricks if that was true because a true hobo usually never holds up in one place for too long. My understanding of it is they are always on the move. Jessie couldn’t get his fat white ass down the street for anything let alone out of the city.

     Okay, honestly, my definition of the word is a bit shaky. I admit that, but that doesn’t excuse the fact I know how dangerous of them are or could be. A lot of the ones Jessie befriended have a lot of sexually transmitted diseases and are rumored to be fugitives. For example…I should not use his real name here so let me think. His hobo name was Mad Dog Donny. He was featured on America’s Most Wanted even. He stood accused of multiple murders in various states and counties. I don’t know if he really committed the crimes or not. He never really confessed or denied it.

     Mad Dog Donny’s voice was gruff and broke my thoughts. I rolled onto my side. I wanted to think about Alice, but the reminder of assholes downstairs kept my attention adverting back to them. It didn’t matter it was a school night. It didn’t matter I was trying to sleep or that it was almost three o’clock in the morning. It didn’t matter one bit! Although it was better than Jessie throwing firecrackers at me while I tried to sleep or him chasing me with his electric stun gun. Just one hit of that thing and you are out like a light depending on how high he set the voltage at. I never personally got shocked with it, but I have seen him shock someone else. The body convulses slightly and the eyes roll up in the back of your head. Then you fall like a sack of potatoes. It is really a sad and sorry sight to see.

      I wish I had the answer. I just didn’t know how people like him walk the earth. Again I tried to think about Alice. I wondered what she might be doing and where she was. At this time she most likely was at home and in bed sleeping. I imagined the spot next to her was warm and that maybe it might be filled with my body someday. 

     The next morning when I crept downstairs to do my morning rituals of bathing, pissing and sneaking a bite of food, I looked over at Jessie’s bed to see he was gone. I prayed to the god I don’t believe in that he might be dead or maybe at least in the hospital. That would be sweet. However just as I was heading out to start the day I saw his old Thunderbird pull into the alleyway. My heart immediately sunk. I quickened my pace and hurried along the sidewalk, keeping a glance over my shoulder.