Hard Love by Mis Understood (great books of all time txt) 📖

in her hand. I scoff. I fucking hate holidays.

'Why am I here, again? '

'Because you love your mom, no matter what.'

A door from the house squeaks open, then closes. High heels clacked against the marble. The noise approaches us. She stands at the door way. A long blue dress clings to her body. Expensive jewelry and strong perfume permeates the air. Her pale blond hair is up in a bun, which is very rare. Less makeup on than usual. She looks at my mom with disgust. Mom still looking in the mirror, but now she has a red lipstick is in the other hand. Then, she looks at her father. Her jaw clenches.

“Really dad? On Thanksgiving?” She says, bitterly.

“I’m just celebrating, Lanie,” He smiles too brightly.

“Can we just get this over with?” She says.

She understands me more than anyone on holidays. Our parents make their way to the dining room. We stay behind. She walks over to me and grabs my hand tightly. She lays her head on my chest. I wrap my other hand around the middle of her back.

“Hey Dave,” she sighs.

“Hey Mels,” I kiss her head and hug her tightly. Because she needs it.

“Ready for this fucked-up holiday?”

I nod. We hold hand and make our way to the dining room. Melanie sits down in front of my mom and I sit down in front of Ryan. The food is already served, wine in our glasses. I don’t feel like eating so I played with my food. Our parents are having a blast. In their little world. My mom drinks with her husband. Melanie and I are fuming. The tension between us is strong but only we feel it.

Mom tries to make a conversation with me but I only answer with grunts and one words. By the time we were done with the food, I sat there. I wanted to leave but I didn’t want to leave Melanie alone with her father who was drunk and drugged. The drug probably faded away by now.  

“You can go if you want to,” Melanie whispered.

I wanted to so badly.

“You don’t have to stay,” she said. I was already tempted to go.

“Are you sure?”

She looks at her dad from her peripheral.

“Yeah,” she nods still not looking at me.

I  give her a kiss on her forehead and I leave the house. I check my pockets for my keys. I go back to check if I left it in the house. When I open the door, I hear Ryan yell:

“Stop being a pussy, Lanie! Sniff the fucking line!”

Then, it clicked. She wanted me to leave because she knew this would happen. I knew she didn’t want me to get in between them. And that’s why she wouldn’t look at me. I ran over to the dining room. The plates were gone, a couple white lines were made on the table. My mom was bent over, sniffing one of them. Ryan nose was filled with white powder. My mom looked up, she was the first one to see me.

“Davieee,” She sings.

Melanie looks up, her eyes filled with relief.

“Let’s go Mels,” I held my hand out.

“She ain’t goin’ no whea,” He slurs. Slang kicks in when he's drunk.

“She’s leaving with me, don’t test me!” I take Melanie’s hand.

“Or what?”

I walked to the kitchen. I opened the refrigerator and took out water bottle. I sauntered back to the dining room and stood next to Melanie.

“Tell me Melanie, has your dad ever smoke crack?” I slowly opened the bottle of water.

She nods.

“Does he like it?”

She shakes her head.

Then, I dump the water on some of the cocaine on the table.

“What are y-you doing!?” Her jaw shivers.

“The man said ‘or what?’ so I’m showing him,” I explain.

“I’m taking your daughter and that’s it!” I tell Ryan.

He sits down and nods. I’m surprise he didn’t swing.

I take Melanie’s hand, and lead her to my car.

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We walk silently to the pool. It’s November but it’s still pretty warm in Florida. I take my shoes off and roll my pants. I dipped my feet in the water. I checked on my dad, he eventually took a shower and went back to bed. He probably won’t remember what had happened yesterday.

Melanie sat with me. She took off her heels and dipped her feet in, too, getting her blue dress wet.

She inhaled deeply then exhales.

“I hate holidays,” She says.

“Me too.”

We stay silent.

“Does your dad make you do that often?” I ask a while later.

“He tries but cocaine makes him lose focus. So I can side-track him and then I leave before he makes me do it.” She murmurs.  “I’m afraid that one day he’s going to succeed on making me do it,” She says quietly.

I can’t tell her to call me, because she’ll take too seriously  and call me even when it isn’t an emergency. Yes, sometimes I hate her so much, but she’s the only one that knows that my moms a drug addict and that my dad is an alcoholic. She knows me and what I go through. And I kind of know her. She tends to hide things very good.

“Dave?” She mutters.

“Yes?”

“I-I know you won’t have sex with me. But please, make me forget about this night,” She breathes out.

I think about it for a second. And think why the hell not? I bet none of our ‘friends’ haven’t been through what we went through tonight. I stand up and take off my pants but leave my boxers on. I unbutton my shirt and shrug it off. I jump in the pool splashing Mels. She giggles. Melanie takes the hint takes and off her dress. She has no bra and white lace panties. She jumps in too, when she comes up she’s smiling and carefree. She’s was the Melanie I once knew.

We splash around, laughing. Then, we stop to catch our breaths. Everything turns serious. I make it over to her. I kiss her, my heartbeat doesn’t stutter like it used to when I was with her. But it makes me forget too. She wraps her hands around my neck. Her legs go around my waist. She moans- I want to push her away but I don’t. Because in a fucked up way, we need this.

And when my hands grab her breast, her body archs into me.

And when I play with her pink nipples, she whimpers.

And when my hands make into her panties, her nails dig into my skin.

And my fingers are inside her, I make her forget.

And Even though I’m thinking of someone else while she rides my hand, she comes apart for me.

She lays her head on my chest and whispers ‘Thank you’.

And we stay like that until she falls asleep and I carry into the guest room.

 

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"AND IF YOU DON'T KNOW, NOW YOU KNOW -----!!!"  B.I.G

 

LOL Just kidding.

But were you expecting that?

I bet you weren't!

Okay some people are good at inferencing... so who knows!

 

Now you see a bit of a kind of vulnerable Melanie and David.

 

I think they'll be three parts in chapter Thirteen. Not sure.

I'll let y'all know.

Chapter Thirteen [PART 2]: Jaz's Thanksgiving

Chapter Thirteen [PART 2]: Jaz's Thanksgiving

 

"Because I'm happy! Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof! Because I'm happy! Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth! Because I'm happy! Clap along if you know what happiness is to you! Because I'm happy” -Pharrell Williams 

 

I Love Holidays. Every single one of them. Like seriously, it’s bad. I feel like a kid again counting down the months, weeks, days and hours. I even know the exact time when I can finally see my father. Three hours, five minutes, and four seconds. Three hours, five minutes and three seconds.

‘Focus Jaz’

I love holidays, because it’s a day that gives me the possibility to see my dad. A time where I get to see my mom very happy. Her smile is so big, that her eyes get very squinty. I don’t have cousins or aunts coming over. Unfortunately, mom is the only child and dad is in bad terms with his family. I am certain one day they will make up, they have to. They’re family. Also, my mom is big on cooking. She does this whole meal on almost every holiday. I’d like to say that the food doesn’t mean much. But I'm not gonna lie, days before Thanksgiving, I dream of eating so much food. I know, I know it’s probably bad to be obsessed with food. I can’t help it, I looove it.

Anyways, I only have three hours, four minutes and thirty seven seconds to get ready. Man, I’m sooo excited! I loooove holidays. I mean, who doesn’t?

 

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My mom is at the airport getting Papi. Stacey just gave me the news that her mom and brother are coming over here for Thanksgiving. My mom obviously okayed it. I find it a little weird, she never really talks about her mom much. When she is ready to tell me what is going on between them, I’ll definitely listen. But like my mom says, ‘the more, the merrier’ or something like that. Mom finished the food earlier and it smells divine. My stomach growls just thinking about the juicy turkey. And the desserts, the creamy, chocolatey mousse. Or the chewy, fudgey brownies.

‘Oops I think I just drooled on myself a bit.’

I chose maroon pants, black and white plaid shirt with a white tank top, with a grey infinity scarf to wear. I end up wearing my black knee-high riding boots. I have Stace put my in a loose fishtail braid. I only filled in my eyebrows and put mascara on for make up.

“Okay you look good,” Stace smiles looking at me up and down, approvingly.

“You did good with the outfit, I’m so proud.” She winks.

“Thanks,” I chuckle.

“Welllpp, I have to go get ready,” she says picking up her makeup bag.

“Okay.”

 

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I go on Spotify and make a quick playlist. My dad likes salsa and my mom like bachata. Stace likes hip-hop and trap music. I literally cringe when I hear trap music, sometimes. Just thinking about it gives me goosebumps. But I respect her taste in music and I endure the pain while I listen to it with her. I like anything but that specific genre. While I’m making the playlist, I listen to The Weeknd on low. The doorbell rings, I run. For a second I think it's my mom. When I open a door, I see a cute guy with his arm wrapped around a woman in her late thirties. I immediately know it’s Stacey’s family.

 

“C’mon on in, welcome,” I usher them inside.

They step into the hallway. They both look around the house with curiosity in their eyes. I have to say I can see where Stace got her looks from. She has her eyes and her skin color. But she had blonde hair and Stacey was a natural brunette. Her brother and her were the opposites, the only thing they had in common was their eyes. He was average height, tan and dark hair.

“Wassup, my name’s Shane.” The guy gives me a smile and a small nod.

“Jazielly. Stacey is upstairs getting ready,” I tell them.

“I swear she always gets ready at the last minutes.”

“Tell me about it,” I snort.

 

I look at his mom. She’s standing there