Anarchy in My Heart



I'm an anarchist personally...A real one too. I don't have any dreams
of utopia or even friendly campfire songs after all the governments
collapse. I think it'll be pretty crazy, real hectic, so I'm stocking
up on stuff now.

I'm Amerasian, female, which means I was always welcome down in Oregon
with the anarchists there. Just angry young men with spray paint
though really, and I was pretty torn about leaving those guys. I liked
living in the woods a lot. I shared a cabin with these three guys for
awhile.

It was strange at first, I mean the bedroom didn't even have a door on
it. So when we were doing it, well, the other two guys would break out
the nachos and crack a beer. So that's probably why I'm not so nervous
around here. Compared to being watched during sex by guys who've done
me, ah...This is easy.

Still, my boyfriend tracked me down one day. I'd mailed my dad, always
a bad idea, but I did it, and I'd left the address for this little
filling station where I could get mail, and I asked him to mail me my
celphone and my Skechers. The pink ones, with blue laces, and so he
told Paul, my boyfriend. And there he was one day, holding half of the
letter, he'd just torn off the address part and found that town.

"Where's my celphone?" I asked, because I saw the shoes.

"My place." He smiled at me. I hated when he smiled because it always
made me smile back.

I just rolled my eyes then, you know. I was with a guy too, that was
sort of bad. His name was Jam, and that just shows exactly what we
were like down there. Jam, with his long blonde hair, and blue tinted
glasses. I haven't thought of him in ages.

"I'm not going back with you." I made a face.

"Your dad's worried." Paul shrugged, because he liked to play the
indifferent role. I'd get emotional and he'd watch, toss out the odd
fact, or observation. It didn't solve anything, it just made me mad,
really.

"I'll call him." I sighed dramatically. "Oh wait...I don't have my
phone."

Even Paul had to smile at that and he rubbed his head. God, he
was...Mmmm, 30 then, ten years older than me and looking so nice. I
missed him, you know? We'd been together since I was 16, on and off,
in and out, and we always got back together.

But not this time. I wrinkled my nose at him. Standing there with Jam,
who had no clue. I think he actually thought Paul was my dad for a
minute, until we started talking. Then once he figured out this was
the boyfriend I liked to b itch about when I was stoned, well...Jam
was a lover, not a fighter. He went into the store for a Coke.

"I got your shoes." Paul nodded, leaning against his car.

"Thanks." I almost walked over, you know, gee whiz. I wanted to touch
him, but I didn't want to either. It was like I loved him so much that
I just hated him! God!

He was cheating on me. Not just once, by accident, but all the time.
Every 4 or 5 months there was another girl. And I was so sick of it.
That was all it was, I didn't even care about that, but I was sick of
the surprise. Of expecting him to change and he never would. I hated
that about him...And myself. I felt stupid.

"I got you something else too." He licked his top lip with the tip of
his tongue, the way he does sometimes.

"What?" I asked, even though I didn't want to. It was a Pavlovian
response I think and it came out before I could stop it.

"This." He was holding something. "Come here." Paul jerked his head,
smiling a little and so I smiled, and then frowned when I realized it.

"I'm not going back with you." I told him again, walking over slowly.

The gravel...I remember that gravel crunching, you know? I can't
remember if it was sunny or cloudy. I don't remember if it was cold.
Maybe it was windy, I don't...I just remember the crunch under my
feet, little rocks grinding together.

Weird the way that works. And then he had a box, and you know what it
was, what it is. He opened it for me because I wasn't moving, I was
just looking. It was blue felt and he opened it and inside was a ring.
A real one. A gold one with a diamond, and I blinked at it and looked
at him, and I didn't know what to say. I had no clue at all.

"Will you marry me, Rachael?" He didn't kneel or anything, but he
meant it. Maybe it was the first thing he'd ever said, without really
saying it, that he meant. He loved me.

"Well..." I looked it at it on my finger and I wish I could remember
how it got there, but it was there and I was looking at it. And I
wanted to cry or something. You're supposed to cry, right? So I was
thinking, I should cry.

But I didn't. I just kissed him, like I'd wanted to since the first
second I saw him standing there. I kissed him and looked down. We were
both looking down and I didn't know what to say or do or anything.

"Well..." I nodded slowly. "It's not my celphone."