Ours is inspired by the different faces of love and life's complexities. Two different lives sharing the same world.The story was folded into eight parts. The eight folds shows different sides of love, its characteristics and its uniqueness in every given situation. Love outshines everything, it conquers all things and knows no death. Love might be temporary, but it carves every heart who tried it.
First fold: Music of Fools
I laid my plans in this summer like a blueprint of some architects. A to-do-list for two months of liberty. Ha. My number one list would be watching the concert of Poison and Thorns, and it would be great. Two weeks from now, my number one list would be crashed out. The number two would be a date with my friends; we’ll have some shopping or window shopping. Ew. It won’t be nice if we just walk and talk and went home with nothing, just a leg cramp or swollen soles from walking a mile with a three-inch-high-heel just like Lady Gaga’s. Number three will be, of course, dating with guys and breaking up with them without any reasons. Let’s be practical. No women are a saint
I looked at our old TV, perceiving weather forecast. Rain in summer? Dear Allentown, why I live in this city? We’ll ask my stupid dad who knew nothing but bringing whores in our house. I wish he’ll get STD. Uhm, nah never mind. (God forbid.) A rain in summer is cool, I admit. A hot morning and cold nights for lovers.
Where were we? Oh one, two, three, four, eight… yes probably I got eight hot lovers in my senior years. Guess what? I busted them after taking what I wanted: money, fame, and lust. (Hmm, criss-cross lust.)
The other lists will just come into place, for now I’ll just prepare to answer my best friend’s call. Her name is Annie; she’s hot, rich, and rich. Never mind about her, if I’ll narrate her life you’ll get jealous and envied like what I experienced, even now.
The telephone rings.
“Jennifer,” dad shouted. I rolled my eyes.
“I know, I know. You don’t need to shout.”
I answered the phone.
“Hello, this is Jen---“
“Hi Jen, guess what?”
I smiled, “shopping?”
“Precisely. Outside the Subway, three sharp. Wear your best dress, and I’ll wear mine too. By the way, Christine and Samantha will join us. I invited them. The more the merrier.”
The more the scarier. Best dress? I got only one best dress. Do I need to buy one? Ugh. One of the reasons why I hate my friends: wasting money just to buy dress from Chanel, or Fendi.
“Okay, copied. Three sharp, Subway. Not inside just outside.”
Dad gave me a look. I know he’s happy. He can bring another whore. Ugh. I hate you. I raised my eyebrow.
“I know dad, you don’t need to give me a look and smile. Just don’t mess up with my room or I’ll kill your whore, slowly. Use your room, not mine. You can use that couch, if your room smelled prehistoric. Ugh! I hate talking to you like this; I’m like gran-gran.”
“Thanks,” he replied.
“You can go home late, it doesn’t matter,” he added.
I hurriedly went upstairs, seeking my only best dress. I’ve got two hours to prepare myself. I turned on the CD player and here comes Dion’s song: If you ask me to. Noticing the paper made me smile. Thank God I’m smart! I passed De Sales University. Dear Zeus, Jupiter, Hera, Aphrodite, Odin, Allah, Who-the-hell-are-you… thanks.
I got into Subway two seconds before three. Yippee! Oldies came and went inside the resto, and I felt like an attendant in McDonalds or Dunkin Donuts. Gah! I don’t like to wait too long.
Well, I’m glad some beggars, I mean a street singer soothing my temper. He got this old guitar, probably from garage sale, wearing black coat matched with his long hair and patches of hairs on his chin and cheeks. Just imagine the movie Moses. (Kidding!)
I stared at his guitar case left open in the ground with a dozen quarters and a dollar on it. Poor guy, he needs to join national lottery to be a millionaire. He glimpse at me, he got this dark brown eyes; tense and tired-looking. He was singing John Denver’s Perhaps love. He kept on singing but no one dares to throw a coin on his case.
Hey guys wake up, he needs money and he got some voice.
Finally, he ended the song with nothing taken, even a fake cents or play money with the face of Bush. I heard him cleared his throat and sing another song.
“Jen,” Christine snapped, as she tapped my shoulder.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t notice. Sorry. Oh well look at you. Stunning!”
She smiled. Ha. A stunning boar.
“Let’s go,” Annie pulled me. Christine and Samantha followed. Guess what? We went inside the Subway and Sam treat us everything we wanted. I just chose simple, nearly a hundred dollars.
As I sat on a comfortable chair, like having a serious tea party with Mad Hatter, I can still see the singing-beggar kept plucking and strumming his old guitar. Nothing’s changed, no one threw a dollar.
“What’s with you now Jen? Dating or melting?” asked Annie.
“Both,” I answered, “I haven’t found one.”
“How about the guy at the outside? You’re staring at him lately. Lovestrucked?”
Ew.
“Lightning stricken.”
We laugh. I took a sip of cola, and looked at him through the window. I smiled.
“He’s a cutie,” Sam said.
“And I think you can use him,” Christine finished Sam’s line.
“What can I get with him? Nothing. Duh! Poor.” I snapped.
“No one knew, he can offer things you still don’t have dear.”
I rolled my eyes in disgust. Even a candy he can’t offer. Well, maybe he can. Just a maybe. Blech! Blech! Blech!
“Stop and watch me dear,” Annie said and stood, went outside and oh dear, she approached the singer. I looked down, covering my face with my little hand. Ugh. Hate it. Annie was doing her thing. The singing-beggar looked at me, uninterested. I pursed my lips, bit my tongue and grind my teeth. Annie was smiling when she sat back; I did not dare to ask her what the street singer said knowing she’ll tell me everything like a detailed storyteller. I tried to glimpse at the singer, he was looking at us, or me maybe. T.M.T.H.
“He said yes,” Annie said, “now you got a man.”
It left my mouth open.
“I don’t like to date with him okay? I’m not. Period. Period. Period.”
I frowned.
“You can’t get a detour dear. It’s now or never. Make your choice.”
I rolled my eyes again, knowing that’s all I can do. I saw him packing his things. Does it mean? Gulp.
“Now?”
“Of course.”
Sam and Christine smiled. The boar and the gecko.
“I hate you.”
“No, no. You’ll gonna love me. Make that man fell in love with you, and after two weeks do your thing. Break-up-thing. Bust him. This is the thing, if you can’t break him after two weeks you can’t watch Poison and thorns with us. For free, I treat.”
It was a bloody offer. She used my weakness: the hottest band in Penn ever! Annie= a smart German shepherd. I couldn’t refuse such offer. My friends are my financier in every activity I did and planning to do. Ugh. Do I need to date this poor guy? It’s hard to make him feel something to me. I need to travel and ask a love potion from a witch.
“Deal,” I said and they left me alone together with Sam’s credit card. Yes!
“G.L.” Christine said and winked. When they got far, I noticed the ‘singer’ was approaching towards me or the Subway? Me.
Let’s get to work Jennifer Jones; you’re going to be a theater actress so this would be your first summer workshop. He entered without smiling, and sat without a noise.
Silence.
We’re waiting who’s going to speak first. Like we are playing chess or scrabble waiting for someone’s turn to move.
“Hi,” I broke the silence. That will do.
“I…I better go,” he said and stood holding his guitar case.
“Wait, why? What’s wrong?”
Gulp.
“I don’t date.”
Oh really? Are you from uncivilized rural area?
“Wait. Sit down, please.”
He stopped and sat down; tense and anxious. He felt uneasy, and I felt that too. Another silence came and I did not dare to speak. He was looking outside. I could see how he really looks like. Yes, his brown eyes, his dark uncombed hair covering his ears and his cheeks, short hairs on his chin like he left it alone for a couple of weeks. I was right; his coat was old and seemed unwashed. He might be an Asian and a bit of American, half-blooded perhaps. He was different from the men I met before. But just the same, for sure, at the end; they’ll treat us girls like a toy. So I’ll bust him first. We sat without any order, my coffee went cold. He cleared his throat.
“I need to work,” he said brushing his hair backwards, “If I don’t, I will starve for this day. Maybe we can have time tomorrow. Or maybe, never.”
I felt my sweat was forming at my temples.
“No, don’t. I really want to have a time with you. I saw you earlier, and I heard your voice. You got a talent, and I like to talk to talented people like you.”
“Thanks,” he replied and smiled, but still not looking at me.
“Want to talk with me?” I asked, “You look hungry. We can eat first.”
I suggested like I always do with the guys I busted. Same line, same facial expression and tune.
“I don’t have something to buy,” he said, as he tied his hair with a rubber band. Now I could see his face clearly. HE took out his money out of his pocket; less than five dollars more than four dollars, perhaps. (I’m not good in math.)
“I’m sorry, maybe next time I can save my money. Uhm…”
Silence.
“Don’t worry my treat. Be sure next time, you’ll have your turn.” I smiled at him. He smiled back at me. Eyes to eyes, smile to smile.
“Sure, sure. But I won’t promise. May I know your name?”
This is it.
“Jennifer Jones. Call me Jen.”
“Achilles Adams. Kelly.”
J.J, A.A? Ha-ha.
I smiled as I took his hand.
“Nice meeting you," I said with a wide grin, "Let’s go.”
First fold: Music of Fools
I laid my plans in this summer like a blueprint of some architects. A to-do-list for two months of liberty. Ha. My number one list would be watching the concert of Poison and Thorns, and it would be great. Two weeks from now, my number one list would be crashed out. The number two would be a date with my friends; we’ll have some shopping or window shopping. Ew. It won’t be nice if we just walk and talk and went home with nothing, just a leg cramp or swollen soles from walking a mile with a three-inch-high-heel just like Lady Gaga’s. Number three will be, of course, dating with guys and breaking up with them without any reasons. Let’s be practical. No women are a saint
I looked at our old TV, perceiving weather forecast. Rain in summer? Dear Allentown, why I live in this city? We’ll ask my stupid dad who knew nothing but bringing whores in our house. I wish he’ll get STD. Uhm, nah never mind. (God forbid.) A rain in summer is cool, I admit. A hot morning and cold nights for lovers.
Where were we? Oh one, two, three, four, eight… yes probably I got eight hot lovers in my senior years. Guess what? I busted them after taking what I wanted: money, fame, and lust. (Hmm, criss-cross lust.)
The other lists will just come into place, for now I’ll just prepare to answer my best friend’s call. Her name is Annie; she’s hot, rich, and rich. Never mind about her, if I’ll narrate her life you’ll get jealous and envied like what I experienced, even now.
The telephone rings.
“Jennifer,” dad shouted. I rolled my eyes.
“I know, I know. You don’t need to shout.”
I answered the phone.
“Hello, this is Jen---“
“Hi Jen, guess what?”
I smiled, “shopping?”
“Precisely. Outside the Subway, three sharp. Wear your best dress, and I’ll wear mine too. By the way, Christine and Samantha will join us. I invited them. The more the merrier.”
The more the scarier. Best dress? I got only one best dress. Do I need to buy one? Ugh. One of the reasons why I hate my friends: wasting money just to buy dress from Chanel, or Fendi.
“Okay, copied. Three sharp, Subway. Not inside just outside.”
Dad gave me a look. I know he’s happy. He can bring another whore. Ugh. I hate you. I raised my eyebrow.
“I know dad, you don’t need to give me a look and smile. Just don’t mess up with my room or I’ll kill your whore, slowly. Use your room, not mine. You can use that couch, if your room smelled prehistoric. Ugh! I hate talking to you like this; I’m like gran-gran.”
“Thanks,” he replied.
“You can go home late, it doesn’t matter,” he added.
I hurriedly went upstairs, seeking my only best dress. I’ve got two hours to prepare myself. I turned on the CD player and here comes Dion’s song: If you ask me to. Noticing the paper made me smile. Thank God I’m smart! I passed De Sales University. Dear Zeus, Jupiter, Hera, Aphrodite, Odin, Allah, Who-the-hell-are-you… thanks.
I got into Subway two seconds before three. Yippee! Oldies came and went inside the resto, and I felt like an attendant in McDonalds or Dunkin Donuts. Gah! I don’t like to wait too long.
Well, I’m glad some beggars, I mean a street singer soothing my temper. He got this old guitar, probably from garage sale, wearing black coat matched with his long hair and patches of hairs on his chin and cheeks. Just imagine the movie Moses. (Kidding!)
I stared at his guitar case left open in the ground with a dozen quarters and a dollar on it. Poor guy, he needs to join national lottery to be a millionaire. He glimpse at me, he got this dark brown eyes; tense and tired-looking. He was singing John Denver’s Perhaps love. He kept on singing but no one dares to throw a coin on his case.
Hey guys wake up, he needs money and he got some voice.
Finally, he ended the song with nothing taken, even a fake cents or play money with the face of Bush. I heard him cleared his throat and sing another song.
“Jen,” Christine snapped, as she tapped my shoulder.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t notice. Sorry. Oh well look at you. Stunning!”
She smiled. Ha. A stunning boar.
“Let’s go,” Annie pulled me. Christine and Samantha followed. Guess what? We went inside the Subway and Sam treat us everything we wanted. I just chose simple, nearly a hundred dollars.
As I sat on a comfortable chair, like having a serious tea party with Mad Hatter, I can still see the singing-beggar kept plucking and strumming his old guitar. Nothing’s changed, no one threw a dollar.
“What’s with you now Jen? Dating or melting?” asked Annie.
“Both,” I answered, “I haven’t found one.”
“How about the guy at the outside? You’re staring at him lately. Lovestrucked?”
Ew.
“Lightning stricken.”
We laugh. I took a sip of cola, and looked at him through the window. I smiled.
“He’s a cutie,” Sam said.
“And I think you can use him,” Christine finished Sam’s line.
“What can I get with him? Nothing. Duh! Poor.” I snapped.
“No one knew, he can offer things you still don’t have dear.”
I rolled my eyes in disgust. Even a candy he can’t offer. Well, maybe he can. Just a maybe. Blech! Blech! Blech!
“Stop and watch me dear,” Annie said and stood, went outside and oh dear, she approached the singer. I looked down, covering my face with my little hand. Ugh. Hate it. Annie was doing her thing. The singing-beggar looked at me, uninterested. I pursed my lips, bit my tongue and grind my teeth. Annie was smiling when she sat back; I did not dare to ask her what the street singer said knowing she’ll tell me everything like a detailed storyteller. I tried to glimpse at the singer, he was looking at us, or me maybe. T.M.T.H.
“He said yes,” Annie said, “now you got a man.”
It left my mouth open.
“I don’t like to date with him okay? I’m not. Period. Period. Period.”
I frowned.
“You can’t get a detour dear. It’s now or never. Make your choice.”
I rolled my eyes again, knowing that’s all I can do. I saw him packing his things. Does it mean? Gulp.
“Now?”
“Of course.”
Sam and Christine smiled. The boar and the gecko.
“I hate you.”
“No, no. You’ll gonna love me. Make that man fell in love with you, and after two weeks do your thing. Break-up-thing. Bust him. This is the thing, if you can’t break him after two weeks you can’t watch Poison and thorns with us. For free, I treat.”
It was a bloody offer. She used my weakness: the hottest band in Penn ever! Annie= a smart German shepherd. I couldn’t refuse such offer. My friends are my financier in every activity I did and planning to do. Ugh. Do I need to date this poor guy? It’s hard to make him feel something to me. I need to travel and ask a love potion from a witch.
“Deal,” I said and they left me alone together with Sam’s credit card. Yes!
“G.L.” Christine said and winked. When they got far, I noticed the ‘singer’ was approaching towards me or the Subway? Me.
Let’s get to work Jennifer Jones; you’re going to be a theater actress so this would be your first summer workshop. He entered without smiling, and sat without a noise.
Silence.
We’re waiting who’s going to speak first. Like we are playing chess or scrabble waiting for someone’s turn to move.
“Hi,” I broke the silence. That will do.
“I…I better go,” he said and stood holding his guitar case.
“Wait, why? What’s wrong?”
Gulp.
“I don’t date.”
Oh really? Are you from uncivilized rural area?
“Wait. Sit down, please.”
He stopped and sat down; tense and anxious. He felt uneasy, and I felt that too. Another silence came and I did not dare to speak. He was looking outside. I could see how he really looks like. Yes, his brown eyes, his dark uncombed hair covering his ears and his cheeks, short hairs on his chin like he left it alone for a couple of weeks. I was right; his coat was old and seemed unwashed. He might be an Asian and a bit of American, half-blooded perhaps. He was different from the men I met before. But just the same, for sure, at the end; they’ll treat us girls like a toy. So I’ll bust him first. We sat without any order, my coffee went cold. He cleared his throat.
“I need to work,” he said brushing his hair backwards, “If I don’t, I will starve for this day. Maybe we can have time tomorrow. Or maybe, never.”
I felt my sweat was forming at my temples.
“No, don’t. I really want to have a time with you. I saw you earlier, and I heard your voice. You got a talent, and I like to talk to talented people like you.”
“Thanks,” he replied and smiled, but still not looking at me.
“Want to talk with me?” I asked, “You look hungry. We can eat first.”
I suggested like I always do with the guys I busted. Same line, same facial expression and tune.
“I don’t have something to buy,” he said, as he tied his hair with a rubber band. Now I could see his face clearly. HE took out his money out of his pocket; less than five dollars more than four dollars, perhaps. (I’m not good in math.)
“I’m sorry, maybe next time I can save my money. Uhm…”
Silence.
“Don’t worry my treat. Be sure next time, you’ll have your turn.” I smiled at him. He smiled back at me. Eyes to eyes, smile to smile.
“Sure, sure. But I won’t promise. May I know your name?”
This is it.
“Jennifer Jones. Call me Jen.”
“Achilles Adams. Kelly.”
J.J, A.A? Ha-ha.
I smiled as I took his hand.
“Nice meeting you," I said with a wide grin, "Let’s go.”
