I'm A Loser

Chapter 3.

October 17, 1958
Saturday

I sat at the Harrison's kitchen table the next morning, sleepily putting jam on my toast. Mister Harrison watching the news on the television in the corner of the room. The smell of coffee and blueberry filled the air.

"You know mister Harrison, I think sometimes you belong in America." I smiled.

"Why's that?"

"Television in the kitchen. You drink more coffee instead of tea. You choose a bottle of Cola over a pint."

He made a face. "That's none of your buisness now. Louise what are you telling this girl?"

I giggled as George's mom walked over, setting a plate of eggs in front of him. "Molly's just a bright observer love. Maybe her American ways have made you conform." She teased.

"Oh stop it now. I'm just as English as the next fellow. Ah George there we are!"

We all looked over to watch George rubbing his eyes, barefoot and in his sleepwear that consisted of pajama bottoms and a white shirt.

"Dad can ye not?"

Ignoring him, George's father went on. "We were just discussing, do I act American?"

I laughed as George sat at the table and grabbed an apple. "I dunno dad I'm still tryin to waken 'ere."

Finishing my toast, I stood up and set my plate in the sink. "I've got to run."

"Where to? You're always leavin so soon." George's mom pouted. I kissed her cheek.

"I got to go back home and shower. Then I'll be off to my new job." I smiled.

"Job?? Where at?"

George watched on more awake now. His full attention on our conversation.

"Just at a small diner nearby. I'm waitressing. Taking orders." I shrugged.

"You mean the way you do with Peter?" George scoffed. I just looked at him and bit my lip.

"I should go now. Have a nice day alright?" I gave a small smile.

"Well I'm proud of you. Good luck on your first day!" She patted my arm. I nodded, said my goodbyes without a look to George, leaving the building.

It was literally about a five second walk to my door from theirs. We had no yard. Just the sidewalk, then the street. So you can imagine how quick George had to be to catch me right in the middle of barely reaching my doorknob.

"Are ye still with him?"

I turned around. "Does it matter?"

"What time you get off work?" He just asked.

"Six. George wha...."

"Meet me here at seven? Unless you rather spend your eighteenth in the back of his vehicle again after getting a new bruise to cover up.

I sighed. "I have to go George."

He just nodded and left inside. I knew he wanted me to leave. But why now? He's always disapproved of my relationship with Peter. The fights, the purple marks, the tension between me and dad. Maybe he had enough. George had a knack of thinking of others before himself. He once told me it was if he could feel the hurt and pain I was going through as well. Just the need to make me smile was always his priority. I have to make a choice tonight. It's either him or Peter. To be honest, I'm scared at the thought of what will happen when I let one of them down.
..

I was surprised to find the door unlocked. Walking inside silently, I called for dad several times. To my shock, he was gone.

"Dad? I want to talk with you." I ran upstairs, going into his room. Empty. A small note on the bed.

Molly, I left the house in your hands for a few days. Went off on a trip with the class. I would have told you before but, you weren't home in time to tell you. If you're reading this please give me a call when you can. I love you.
     -Dad.

The clock reading nine in the morning. My reflection in the dresser mirror catching my attention. I looked terrible to be honest. As I neared, I noticed the bruises on my arms. The small ones fading from days before. The bruising on my upper cheek dark blue. My eye a bit puffy. I looked tired and weary. Weak and helpless. I wasn't always like this. I needed help. Between my mom's death and Peter's abuse, I was slowly fading from everyone I knew. George wanted that girl back. His best friend. The girl who he'd spend countless hours talking to, holding hands with and laughing the night away. I knew my choice now.

The hell with Peter.
......

The warm shower soothed me. I sniffled as I washed my legs. The bar of soap sliding over the bruises. The marks not washing away. It wasn't that simple. If only....

I grabbed the shaving razor and just stared at it. My mind taking a few dark turns before I set it back down and just finsished up.

I couldn't help smiling to hear Chuck Berry singing next door. I knocked on the wall to give appreciation. A knock I got in return. I giggled and dropped the towel around my body, staring at my nakedness in my long mirror. I hated my breasts. Growing up I was always teased for being the twelve year old with a full set. My mother told me it was a gift. To me, it was a curse.

I grabbed the uniform I had to wear for the waitressing gig and put it on. A small bit of makeup, enough to cover my bruise, and red lipstick. My dark blonde hair pinned up into a messy ponytail. I looked like an average girl from America. That's what I was. George's average girl from America. I smiled at the thought.

Grabbing my purse, I grabbed my pack out and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between my red lips. The match in my other hand soon gained a flame, lighting the smoke. I inhaled and exhaled, sighing in relief.

"New day Molly. New Day. New memories. Make it worth living. Make the day worth living." I said to myself.

"Get through your first day at work, come home, call dad and tell him how sorry you are, break up with Peter...."I paused halfway down the stairs. "Break up with Peter. Then meet George at seven. Easy said." I continued on until I was out the door. "Easy said."

"Molly!"

I turned around to see George still in his pajamas, looking me up and down. A smile over his lips. "You clean up good."

I blushed and looked down. "Thanks. Off to be a working stiff for a few hours. Wish me luck huh?"

"Good luck. Look um, I wanted to give you this."

He handed me a blue journal. Fresh. New.

"You never forget." I smiled. "Thank you George."

"I want this one to be different Molly. I want it to be filled with good memories. No more tears and marks."

I nodded and leaned over, kissing his cheek. "I love you George. You've always been there for me."

"And you've been there for me. I love you too Molly. Please...meet me here at seven." He squeezed my hand before returning inside. I slipped the leather journal in my purse.

"I will." I whispered to myself.
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