Runaway

She stepped off early that morning, before the sun started its ascent into the cloudless sky, wearing her white, yellow and blue high top sneakers. She regretted her inability to bring all her precious sneakers along with her that day and took her time in deciding which sneakers would be tossed into the rolling suitcase that she was borrowing from her father without his permission.

He probably wont even notice, she thought.

She was correct. The next day her father would wake up and go through the redundant motions that come along with running a successful business. He would wake at the crack of dawn, shower, brush his teeth, flex in front of the mirror, pluck the few straggly hairs that occupied the middle of his chest and get dressed in a t-shirt, sweatpants and a zipper-down, hooded sweatshirt. He would, then, concoct a milkshake that consisted of fresh fruit, usually strawberries and bananas, protein powder and L-Glutamine powder. He would line up his anti-oxidants, multi-vitamins, creatine tablets, zinc magnesium asparate, amino acids, L-Carnitine L-Arginine and L-Ornithine and pop them each in his mouth individually, using his shake to wash them down. He would sit on the toilet for exactly thirteen minutes and then make his way to his prospering gymnasium that was recently featured in the High School newspapers article on the three most promising businesses in the village.

He would not notice that his daughter was not sleeping in her room that night, that the keys to the Mercedes were not on the key ring, or even that the 60,000-dollar vehicle was no longer residing in the four-car garage. Mr. Vannino would continue his day in complete oblivion to the treachery that had transpired within the walls of his castle. The suitcases disappearance would not be noticed until months later when a chance meeting with a Yugoslavian Body Builder would lure him to engage in a strong-man competition on a remote island off the coast of Kiribati, where he would take home a silver medal due to a lack of participants. The Yugoslavian would take the gold and Mr. Vannino would weep on the plane ride home with the medal clenched tightly in the palm of his right hand and a small gym bag in his left. If only he had his lucky suitcase.

Though the borrowed suitcase was especially roomy, it only housed approximately fifty pairs of sneakers and seven pairs of shoes. Sacrifices had to be made and though she loved many of her shoes just as much as her sneakers, she realized that shoes were not entirely practical with all the walking she would soon be doing. Along with the rolling suitcase, she had also managed to nab two pieces of her mothers leopard-print luggage. In the larger of the two she put as many items of clothing as she could squeeze into the exploding zippers that cried for air. She made sure to grab the large purse that was included with the set because of the extensive make-up collection that was contained within, not so much because she desired the makeup. In fact she hardly ever wore makeup at all. She knew what the makeup meant to her mother.

Her mother always kept make-up stowed away in her luggage. As a prospering Karrie Mae Sales Associate, she felt it was in her best interest to practice what she preached to her clients by using all of their products. In each of the elaborately decorated bathrooms one would find nothing but Karrie Mae makeup products adorning the cabinets. Each morning Ms. Vannino would empty a small amount of all of the makeup and apply it to her face as if she were really relying on the product to maintain her beautiful façade. Only when the halls of the household rang in complete silence would she, then , tiptoe to the basement to apply her real mask. The comparable, yet more efficient and entirely more affordable products, located in her leopard purse would be the highlight of her day, displaying all of the attributes that Mrs. Vannino desired in a make-up product.

Mrs. Vannino would slowly apply each product and imagine, paying close attention to the smells and textures of each product. Those layers of unwanted chunks of old makeup would slide off with is as she gently stroked the pads lightly across her face. And look at how much of this makeup could be absorbed into each pad. No more fussing around with several pads and leaving a mess only to be unsatisfied with the results. The makeup remover would slice through layer after layer of unwanted makeup no matter days after being applied. And look at how smooth and easily the eyeliner glides across, creating a perfect line, every time, no chunks, pokes or slips. The eyeliner is soft enough to be applied to the eye lid without any fuss, yet stable enough to not fall apart in your eye. And the rubber grip ensures that no slips of the hand. Each product detail repeated in her mind throughout the morning as each product was applied and their attributes admired. And when it came time for her to visit each house and give her presentation to the customers that flooded living rooms and dining halls and retirement homes, it was not the Karrie Mae products that were being described, it was her secret morning bag. The day her daughter left would be the last day that she would be able to work for the company with any confidence. The biggest presentation in her career would occur that and she would not be able to describe any of the products with any conviction. She would try but found herself giving up halfway through her sentences and mumbling nonsense under her breath. She would never be the same again. That next month, though the lost makeup was immediately replaced, the company's tangerine scooter would be taken back and awarded to her neighbor and fierce nemesis. Her mega makeup reign would end and she would soon find herself reflecting on her hay-day when she used to be someone important in the community. If only she had her bag of makeup that morning.

The $60,000 vehicle accelerated like a dream, hugging close to the ground and jolting forward with anticipation of the road that lay ahead. She hadnt quite thought everything through. She was in her fathers car with the open road ahead of her, her bags packed, her mind clear and still no destination. She pulled off to the side of the road and thought about her options. She liked the idea of just driving but felt uneasy as she considered which direction she would head. Being in Colorado granted her a wealth of options. Would she head west and become one of those tragic Midwesterners who arrive in hope of instant stardom or would she head east and crumble under the weight of an insomniac city with a murderous soul. Or maybe either border offered her the salvation that would free her soul to swell and soar like a balloon in the clouds. There was so much out there to be seen and she wanted to experience them all. She wanted to fry an egg on the cement in Arizona, gamble a fortune away at a casino in Vegas, run with the bulls in Spain or even dance with the natives in Central America if she could. She wanted her fifteen minutes of fame, embracing the lights that would shine in her face and the crowds of fans that would attempt to trample her in attempts of an autograph. But she also wanted to disappear to some small southern town where she could acquire a fake ID with and a sharp name like Ravenous Alpha or Desiree Bandit, where she would recede into obscurity so far that the IRS would think she did not exist any longer. She wanted to meet some local boy with dreams as big as hers and become a Bonnie as she traveled her way through every town in America, robbing banks, until one day when the law is on their tail they deceive them and leave the country only to continue their escapades in other lands. The world was her big playpen, as she saw it, and she wanted to engage in every aspect with a heart on fire.

She drifted into the fast lane and stepped on the pedal weaving in and out of traffic to always find her way back to the fast lane. The other drivers on the road never seemed to keep up with her speeds. Even the people in the fast lane seemed to be headed slowly towards a goal that they had forgotten about as they suffocated on their local air and thought about their small town lives that they would continue once reaching their destination. But she was on the verge of something epic. She could feel it in her bones as she felt the air glide between the strands of hair that whispered the future to her.

Im never coming back, she thought as she shifted gears and accelerated back into the fast lane.

She didnt see the car coming fast along her left side and approaching her rear bumper. The man in the other car assessed the situation and avoided impacting her car by swerving into the left median. The girl saw the unfortunate twist of fate in her rear view mirror and sped to the right shoulder. She felt the air from the passing cars rattle her own as she formulated her words before exiting.

A rush of adrenaline surged through her veins as she picked her way through the traffic that was beginning to form as she neared the car. She could see the boy who was driving the car that scraped along the median and twisted his back end into traffic standing outside of his vehicle grasping his head in a crouch as he assessed the damages. The car was an early model Hyundai hatchback that looked like it was on its last legs. Smoke was seeping out from under the hood. The boy stood straight up and dropped his arms to his sides in concession of defeat and peered back to lines of cars that were beginning to take a slower pace. He against the median and looked in her direction with a look of despair with his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. When an opening appeared for the girl to breach the fast lane, she took her opportunity and did a bit of a skip in the accidents direction. The boy stared at her as she approached the car and finally blurted out an apology.

I'm sooo sorry. I didn't see you put your blinker on to the last second and by then it was too late.

The girl didn't say a word until she reached the boy.

That was totally my fault.

No, no. I should have been ready for it. I was going a little too fast there.

well what are you apologizing for? You didnt even mess my car up at all.

I know but you got out of your car and everything. I just felt like I should say Im sorry.

Well thats awfully nice of you, but I should be the one apologizing.

well

The girl laughed and replied, Sorry.

Anytime.

Really? Can I do the same thing tomorrow.

Well

Listen, how about this: Ill give you a ride wherever it is that you need to go and take care of all the damages.

No really, you don't have to

Just follow me.

The boy followed her to her car as she weaved through the traffic on foot through the cars as though she had a special control over all of the vehicles that approached. He noticed that the male passerbys were glancing in the girls direction as though she was the most beautiful girl that had ever seen, twisting their necks around to get an extra couple seconds of eyeage at the beauty. The beauty that had induced traffic stoppages and he agreed with each of their sentiments. Though his car would probably never run again, he felt a bit lucky to have had his destination thwarted by this unfortunate series of events.

Where are we going?, the boy asked but the girl did not reply. She smirked and kept driving and the boy didn't ask any other questions as Rolling Stones blasted.

Here we are.

The boy looked around and saw a train station.

You brought me to a train station?

No. I brought Me to a train station.

How will I get home?

Well, Im going to leave the keys in the ignition. You have to choose door A. Or you have to choose door B. I cant make these decisions for you. You have to make these decisions on your own. Youre a big lad now. Take a chance and ride with me, or take the car and go back home and be comfortable. But dont keep the car too long. I borrowed it from my father.

Borrowed?

Borrowed, stole, whats the difference?

Theres a huge fucking difference there, are you kidding?

I dunno, maybe.

The boy thought long as he watched the girl unload her luggage and make her way inside the station. Things were not ideal at home. His mother had recently separated from her father because she caught him with another woman. The two were fighting over possession of him and he did not know which household to choose. On the one hand his mother had always been very loving and supportive of all of his pursuits but there were always a long list of rules that accompanied this support. On the other hand his father was a bit distant but was much more flexible when it came to setting down rules for the household. He was stuck between choosing freedom over love or love over freedom and he wanted both. The girl disappeared into the building and the boy examined the car more closely. The leather seats were very attractive and he had noticed when the girl was driving, that the car handled and accelerated exceptionally well. He started to think about the reaction of his peers if he showed up to their door with a luxury sports vehicle instead of the hatchback that was destined to die within a couple of months before the accident ever occurred. He could get any girl that he wanted with this car, or so he thought. He imagined pulling up to Christy Dannons house in the car and her reaction as she saw him at through her living room window. He imagined her excitement utter adoration towards him. He pictured her in the passenger seat glaring at hi with adoring eyes and then skipped to the end of the night when he would walk her up to her door. But then something happened. Or didn't happen is a better description. He couldn't get her to kiss him. He couldn't get her to kiss him in the real world without the car and now that he had the car, he still couldn't get her to kiss him. And this was just a dream. But what would he do? He didn't even know where this girl was going let alone her name for that matter. She was just some mysterious being that had cut him off in the fast lane and now here he was thinking about traveling to who knows where for whatever reason.

Thats insane, he thought to himself and peeled off. The power of the car was surprising given its compact size and he found himself giving it as much gas as he could in the short spaces that were provided in the small parking lot. He slowed and made a quick left and ventured towards the exit but found himself not taking it. In stead he made another left and then another before coming to a screeching halt jumping out of the car and venturing inside. The automatic doors did not open fast enough for accelerated walk. The girl was walking away from the ticket counter when he appeared. She glanced back with a slight smile and pointed to the ticket counter.

Destination please.

Wherever she is going, he said and pointed to the girl.

Another one huh? Okay.

The boy grabbed the ticket and inserted it into his cargo pocket before heading over to where he saw the girl sitting, without looking at it. He sat next to her and glanced around.

So where are we going?

I have no idea.

You have no idea?

Nope.

Youre kidding, right?

Nope.

Well how are we going to know where we are going?

She says it leaves at midnight.

Okay, so it leaves at midnight. That means we've got 8 hours.

Yup.

So you said, hey give me the midnight train?

No. I said give me a train going anywhere.

Going anywhere?

Yup.

So were taking a midnight train going anywhere?

That's right.

Okay then Can I look and see where we are going?

No. That'll ruin it.

Ruin what?

Everything what was your name?

Dustin.

That would ruin everything Dustin.

It would?

Yes, it would.

Well I guess I wont look at it then, I wouldn't want to ruin everything.

Good.

The boy sat back and thought for a second. A minute ago, he was on his way to work, at a job that his father had set up for him, working construction for a friend of his making good money and now he was about to get onto a train with a stranger going anywhere at fucking midnight. Was he insane? He doesn't even know her damn name.

I don't even know your name.

Well you never asked.

The girl didn't say anything else.

Well whats your name?

There, was that so hard?

No not really.

Rhiannon. My name is Rhiannon.

Sabrina the Prepubescent Rope Climber

When I was 4 years old I had a girlfriend. She stood at an adorable 41 inches with naturally blond hair, blue eyes and a spunky attitude. She was very polite in front of parents and always attracted their attention with her quirky remarks. She loved to eat her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches without the peanut butter or the edges, and always cut into small squares. She was the girl of every boys dreams. She played sports. Loved to be outside, swimming, climbing, jumping. She was very open and forward and the best thing of all: she loved to kiss. I hated her.

I didn't even want to go out with her. She made me. I don't remember exactly how the conversation went but it was something like this:

You're my boyfriend, you got a problem with that shrimp?

I would have put up an argument but she made sure to mention:

I'm an entire ½ foot taller than you, and a whole ½ year older, so you have to do what I say.

What do you say to that? She WAS half a year older than me. And maybe she wasn't a ½ a foot taller but, shit, we never really measured. She had at least a head on me. It didn't really matter how much taller than me she was because the fact was that she WAS taller than me. So I did have to do what she said. It wasn't just the height and the age though it was everything. She ran faster than me. She caught better than me. She threw a better baseball than me. She was smarter than me, more outgoing and likable. She outdid me in everything that there was to outdo a four-year-old boy in. So what did I do? I went to her house every day and I kissed her got beat by everything in the world by her and left her house each day feeling like a prisoner. I was Sabrina's own little love prisoner, forced to kiss and fulfill her every desire, which usually consisted of constant trips inside to bring her out a plate of Oreo cookies and a glass of milk. Every once in a while Merry when I went inside, Merry would ask me why Sabrina did not go inside to get the cookies herself I was instructed to reply with, I love her. I never did though, would tell Merry the truth and then Merry would walk outside and yell at Sabrina.  Sabrina would spend the rest of the playtime not talking to me. This made me happy.

One day, and I only know this because my mother told me about it years later,  after playing at Sabrina's house for the day I con fronted my mother with the situation. I sulked the whole car ride home and would not tell my mother what Sabrina and I had done the whole day. When we finally arrived back to our second floor apartment on Napier Avenue in the Bronx, I came out with my secret, I don't want to kiss Sabrina anymore. My mother asked me why, making sure to state what a pretty young girl she thought Sabrina was (which now, I think, was more of her way of making sure I came out straight- They probably started to worry about me when my favorite show became reading rainbow). I don't know what my reply at the time was but if I was me now in my four year old body I would probably say, "Shes a fuckin' bitch. She makes me do all this shit I hate and I'm a little afraid of her because shes like a damn foot taller than me." Whatever it was that I said, her reply to it was "You don't have to do anything that you don't want to Johnny. If you don't want to kiss her anymore, just tell her."

The story goes, that the next time we saw each other, Sabrina and I were playing upstairs when our parents heard her scream and throw something and stomp down the stairs into her fathers arms. She had tried kissing me while we were upstairs and I told her the deal, "I don't like you! Stop trying to kiss me!" Okay, it probably didn't go exactly like that, knowing me  it probably went something like, "My mom says-" scream- throw- stomp- hug. After a couple of seconds of hugging, her father asked her what it was that she was crying about. Through disjointed words and sniffles, Sabrina told her father that I told her that I told her my mom said that I can't kiss her anymore, to which his reply was "Awww honey, you can kiss Johnny all you want", like I wasn't even part of the equation.

The kissing didn't end. And neither did the tormenting. I found little ways of getting Sabrina to not want to kiss without me having to be a snitch. Instead of hanging out alone with her, I would make sure that her parents were always in the immediate vicinity.

Lets go upstairs.

No. No I wanted to make cookies with your mom so that I can eat the dough before it goes in the oven.

Merry's gingerbread house. It was that big.

But, as hard as I would try, pretending to be interested in her mother or father's little projects which they scattered throughout the house but never finished, or listened to her sister read stories to us, or even pretended once to want to knit or sew, whichever it was (they were both the same to me at the time). Every once in awhile we ended up alone. When this occurred I would resort to the last place in the world that I would rather be, besides in her room: outside.

I hated being outside with Sabrina for numerous reasons. Really, the only advantage of being outside was that it was a avoidance from those little lips that made me want my mother to wash my mouth out with bleach. Of all the things I hated about being outside with Sabrina, the one thing that I hated more than anything else was the tree rope that her father had hung the year before, I think, as a special torture that he devised just for me. I could see him in his basement with a white lab coat, his goggles over his eyes and bubbling beakers strewn about the various contraptions he had scattered across the numerous tables.

Moo ah ha ho, a rope. This will teach him. Hee hee hee hee hee.

I'm not joking, he really laughed like that. And I think he must have been laughing in that manner every time he watched me fail in my attempts to reach the top of the rope while his daughter would climb to the top of the rope and jump off from its peak like she was some kind of superhero, bounding from the top of a building. The usual taunts were always awaiting me at the bottom of that rope, I'm half foot taller than you, I'm a half year older, you're a girl, yada yada yada.


But there was seriously no taunt worse than this. I swear, if I heard this taunt today I would cringe up into a ball of rage and spit in your face. Yes spit, because only a person who wanted to be spit in the face with a enormous green loogie would ever sing this song to someone. Maybe you guys remember it:

John John Leprechaun,
Went to school with nothing on,
Teacher teacher, that's not fair,
Give me back my underwear

Urrrrrrragggggghhhhhhhh. First of all! I'm no leprechaun. Even then I wasn't. Ive never been a leprechaun. Never in my whole life was I ever a leprechaun. I''m not even an Irish. Second of all that whole story is made up. There is not one occasion that I went to school and my teacher took my underwear from me. And if she did I wouldn't cry like that. Well okay maybe, but it never happened. I never ever had a teacher take my underwear. Besides, if I went to school without anything on, how is it that the teacher has my underwear. Huh? Answer that smarty pants!

Ill tell you what really happened though. But this was way later and there is no possible way that Sabrina knew that it would happen. In third grade, I dressed up in my Tae Kwon Do gee for something. I don't think it was for Halloween. I think it was the day after I watched the Karate Kid. I was so friggin' psyched to kick blond-haired skeleton butt that I decided to wear my Tae Kwon Do gee to school the next day, jock strap and all. By the end of the day, that thing really really started to bug me. So I went into the bathroom and took it off. Well some fourth graders saw this and decided to take the cup from the counter I had set it on, while I was washing my hands. When I turned around, it was gone. I chased them out of the bathroom and was horrified to find that my jock strap had been thrown into the girls bathroom. Now this is not a high point in my life and I'm almost ashamed to admit this but I didn't know what else to do. So I cried. I sat and sobbed and told the boys about how my father was going to kill me for losing his jock strap. I had worn his instead of my own because I didn't want people to think that my cup size was small. The boys went into the girls bathroom to retrieve my fathers cup for me and that was when I first realized the devastating effect that Sabrina had on me. Even though I could throw an awesome wheel kick, one like you've never seen before in your entire life, I had become, because of Sabrina, a big fat juicy WIMP.