How (Not) To Save A Life: A Series of Expensive Mistakes// Book 2 (Ongoing)

2. The Trap of the American Dream

    I stared at my cushion cut engagement ring, as it glistened in the dim light of the Holland tunnel. We were on our way home and had been stuck in there for over an hour. I couldn't believe I was going to be someone's wife. I couldn't believe someone wanted to risk me being their wife. I still felt like a rugrat. Sometimes I wondered if Kiwi and I were allowed to live alone, go near the stove, or pick up sharp objects. The truth of the nature is, I don't know how I'm still I'm alive.
T: "How many carats is this? Is it more than Patti's? You know my greatest wish in life is to have a bigger ring than my mothers."
Kiwi looked at me, rolling his eyes; half irritated with the traffic and half amused by my pettiness.
K: "Hers is seven, yours is eight. She wasn't happy about it. If that's your greatest wish, you need to get out in the world more. Don't forget to pack a lunch and a compass."
T: "Damn, no wonder it Benihana'd my mouth up so bad. That was a honey bunches of clusterfuck."
K: "Don't even get me started. I told them to put the ring on the unicorn's horn, so you'd see it when the cake came out, and I'd get into position to propose. Apparently some retard misunderstood and baked it into the cake, as you saw. I got a chunky monkey of a refund for all the trouble, though. Next time I propose, we're having a piñata soirée in the backyard."

     I guess I should catch you up on the goings-ons of the last few years. Come pop a squat on Uncle Taylor's lap and I'll tell you what you need to know.

     After Kiwi did a pitiful half-stint at community college, he decided to go work for my Step-dad. He knew that was his best chance for survival or he'd be living in his own little third world. He helped negotiate and oversee building plans and property management for residential homes, apartment buildings, shopping centers and private airport plane hangars. He made more than most people who actually finished college and gave a shit, so pardon my French, but I told you guys college was a pile of fish dicks.

   I only went to college because my mom made me, but I made sure to really give them a piece of my mind. I'd done the community college thing for a year, then went to Harvard to study Psychology. Before you freak out, I probably didn't deserve to go there, I'm probably not that smart and Daddy Dan got me in because he was owed a favor. I swear, one of these days I will earn something. I actually had to go to counseling for self-esteem issues from people handing me shit my whole life and feeling like I was worthless. So, it's really not as positive as it sounds, in the long run.
It really wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to do the work, because I found it so interesting. I found the material memorization and paper writing not as taxing as they make prestigious schools sound on the televizzle. As well as I did, they would've never given me a chance because my SATs weren't outstanding; so fuck you guys. You're welcome I chose to attend your death trap. I'd gotten a job as psychologist but had recently started taking online courses for screenwriting and dabbling in starting my own cosmic line, so I was the busiest bee in the hive.

Our house

K: "Are you fucking kidding me!?"
I jolted upward, almost choking myself with the seatbelt. My eyes adjusted to my surroundings and I realized I'd fallen asleep and we were now parked at the beginning of our driveway. We'd just purchased our first home and had only finished unpacking the week prior. We were the residential fresh meat and still considered suspicious by the neighbors, which I took full advantage of; always dramatically dragging out the trash and screaming to Kiwi to "make sure he got the wallet." I also realized Kiwi was standing in the middle of the street with a bag of sandwich bread.
T: "Should I ask?"
K: "I caught Mrs. Lockmore looking through the gate again, last week, and said if she wants to be so nosey, she could at least bake us a pie to welcome us to the neighborhood. She left a half-eaten loaf of bread in the mailbox."

    He flung the bread over her gate and got back in the car; proceeding up the driveway. I'd just laid back down when Kiwi gasped bloody murder.
K: "Did you order a cadaver?"
T: "I'm not even answering that."
K: "There's a body in the yard! What did you do!?"
T: "A body!? I don't remember hurting anyone!"
K: "Do we need a lawyer!?"
He threw the car in park and jumped out.
I was hoping it was someone's lawn decoration that had blown in the yard, as I scrambled to get my seatbelt off; only tangling myself in it.

    I freed myself and bolted out of the car; running after Kiwi and finally catching a glimpse of the human form laying under one the trees that lined the driveway. My head swirled with thoughts of what could've happened to this person and how I was going to convince the cops I didn't do it.
Kiwi dropped to the ground and began shaking the body and yelling inaudible things at the top of his lungs. He still had no idea how to save someone.

  
   The person abruptly sat up and I was suddenly looking into a pair of piercing blue eyes; filled with complete and utter shock.
T: "...Nicky!?"

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