Molly Weinfurter moved from Milwaukee to Orlando to study creative writing. In her free time she loves to listen to music, walk her dog, and dance. You can follow her on Twitter @mollyw918. THE RED MUSTANGI saw her get in the car after work that night. Into that red Mustang. She told me she wouldn’t get into that car ever again, yet she had appeared to be waiting for him outside. No wonder she had let her brother take her car home. So she could hitch a ride home with that jerk yet again. I couldn’t let her do this anymore. I dropped the broom and raced out just as he sped away. I picked up my phone and immediately dialed her number. Straight to voicemail. That was the last straw. I dashed for my own car and tried my best to keep up with him, but my rusted little Aveo was no match for the speed of the Mustang. But I knew where she lived so I tried my best to follow from a distance.
Until I saw him pull into a parking lot. I knew it. A player like him could never just take a girl straight home. What the hell did she even see in him? I pulled straight into the parking lot without even looking both ways. A few cars honked, but I didn’t have time to stop. I pulled the car up right beside his car, my heart pounding out of my chest. Before I knew it I was banging on the window, causing them to pull apart immediately. Macey’s eyes were wide as dinner plates and she froze almost like a deer in headlights. However, he did not seem the slightest bit alarmed. Almost as if he wanted her best friend to come waltzing into their little makeout session. “Lizzie… what are you doing here?” Macey spoke softly. I didn’t want to be mad at her. We had been best friends since kindergarten. However, that also meant that I knew her all too well. And I knew that no matter how many times I told her to stay away from him, she would never listen. She would just keep getting hurt. I couldn’t force myself to make eye contact with her. “I could ask you the same thing.” She quickly got out of the car, grabbed my arm and pulled me so he was out of earshot. She kept opening her mouth to defend him, but no words would come out. A tear slowly began to trickle down her cheek, “Lizzie, please listen to me. I know you don’t like him. But... I love him.” I knew she did. Of course, she had never admitted it out loud before, in fear of what people would think. But I could tell simply by the dumb googly eyes she got whenever she looked at him or even talked about him. It was revolting. But what was more revolting was the fact that he clearly did not feel the same. He would use her as much as he could, but as soon as he found someone new, he’d remove her from his life entirely. I know because I had seen it happen plenty of times before. She just never seemed to learn. “Don’t worry, Lizzie,” I could hear him shout from his car, “I’ll leave if that’s what you want.” A waterfall of tears poured from Macey’s face as she saw him beginning to pull away. She screamed his name over and over again, begging him to come back for her. He wouldn’t. The Mustang pulled out of the parking lot, leaving me alone with my sobbing friend. It was for the best. I just wished that she could see that. I just-- Crash! Horns blared. People screamed. I flung around to see that dumb Mustang smashed right up against a minivan. I wanted to say he deserved it. For hurting my friend. For driving so recklessly. For overall just being a jerk. But when I looked at Macey I saw nothing but horror on her face as if her whole life had just come crashing down. She looked physically broken. I stood my ground as she sprinted towards the wreck, kneeling beside the driver seat, morphing into a pathetic pile of tears. Part of me wanted to feel relieved. But I couldn’t be happy seeing my best friend so defeated. Was all this my fault? Had I been the one to hurt my best friend this time? ...What had I done?
0 Comments
Rebecca Lee has published in a variety of different mediums. Some publications include: Adbusters, Cleaver Magazine, and The British Medical Journal.Rebecca Lee has published in a variety of different mediums. Some publications include: Adbusters, Cleaver Magazine, and The British Medical Journal. INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT WITH GUMBY ME: Welcome to National Private Reactions. This is your host, Rebecca, filling in for our chief editor. He is on leave until further action is denied. Joining us today is a very special television star from the 1950s: Gumby.
Gumby, it’s great to have you on the show with us this morning, can you tell us a little about your life as a TV star? GUMBY: I’d be happy to, Rebecca. My story is one I’ve wanted to tell for a long time. I was very satisfied when I began acting in the fifties. I always wanted people to know my name. When I saw a chance for success, I ran with it. I was introduced to some larger-than-life people in the business. They molded me and many other characters into household names. They also fed me very well. ME: Food is definitely the spice of life for someone who’s a little on the bland side. I understand you raised questions about your ‘boring’ appearance during the third season? GUMBY: I did, yes. I wanted a more Bohemian look, but the producer wasn’t hip to it. It was a different time back then. Pokey was getting all the attention and I was starting to get depressed, you know? ME: Yes. GUMBY: It’s embarrassing at a certain point in your career to look over at your pony and see the girls going wild. I never had any girls. I’d get home, kick my feet off, and go to bed by 9. ME: That must have been very difficult for you. Pokey had a bit of a reputation, didn’t he? GUMBY: Well, yes. At the time I thought he was just having fun, but now I look back and see that maybe things weren’t all they were cracked up to be. ME: How so? GUMBY: He wasn’t very nice to those women. Sometimes he’d make comments about their body or their size. But then again, he did it to everyone, so who’s to say? ME: Did he do it to you? GUMBY: I guess if I really think about it, my eating disorder started around the time he began teasing me about my body type. ME: Is that why you eventually quit television? GUMBY: No. I ended up getting help for it, but not before I swallowed multiple sets. I couldn’t stop. It got to the point where I’d come into work and start angling for the couch on stage. I was afraid they’d fire me when the cameras started missing. It was hard. ME: Eating disorders aside, why did you quit show business, Gumby? GUMBY: It’s just a dirty business. Too much attention to appearance. Too many hours out of my life. Too many Blockheads. ME: Thank you so much, for taking the time to be with us today, Gumby. We’d love to have you back for our future segment titled: Those That Stick. That’s all the time we have for today and please stay tuned for: Pondering Quietly. |
Categories
All
|