mistreated: the beginning

The beginning of a short story I wrote.


1 She threw me hard that night. Harder than any of the other times. This night was different, undoubtedly. I could feel it in every single one of her fingers; they felt angry. But not angry like usual, angry like that was the only emotion that she could feel. Angry like this was the end… the end of us. You see, we have known each other for as long as I can remember. I was born with her by my side. You could say we are best friends, but that would be an understatement. She tells me all her secrets and I don’t have to say mine because she can just look at me and see them in my eyes. People say that the eyes are the window to the soul but some people say about me that is impossible simply because they feel that I do not have a soul. But she knows better because she knows me. On a usual night, she will hold me tight and we will fall asleep together. Not this night. This is the last. The last of me and her. The last of us. She will be leaving tomorrow, I know it. No one told me, I just know. This is the end. There will be no do-overs, no mistakes to be remedied, I have been mistreated and they will take her away. For good.








2 Lisa Singley was born on February 14, 1988. She was born in the back of a cab in New York City. As you might assume, the cab was in a hurry. However, it was not in a hurry to the hospital. The cab smelled of cheap booze and had that almost-refreshing smell of contradiction. Lisa’s mother was an addict. She was addicted to everything. Drugs, alcohol, attention, coffee, sex, love, hate, people, sidewalks, alleys, money, and most of all fear. She needed everything. She got everything.

The night Lisa was born, her mother was on her way to a party. It was a bad, and quite honestly typical, habit that she was not ready to let go. She loved to drink and didn’t let pregnancy stand in her way. She did however, sacrifice her cocaine addiction for the last three months of her pregnancy, a way to prove to the father that she could settle down. This particular party was for a woman named Henrietta Harrilson. She was a major PR rep. for almost every local Broadway theatre actor in the City. (And yes, she changed her name to be Henrietta Harrilson once she got “big”). Lisa’s mother knew her because she was addicted to the theatre. She loved to watch things unfold, she felt that there was more reality in the theatre than she could ever find on the streets of New York. She was unaffected by death, homelessness, disease, and poverty in general but the theatre she believed in. It helped soothe her. She called it her “therapy of love”. And in fact, she loved it more than any human she ever had come in contact with. Including Lisa. She knew Henrietta solely because she was at the theatre every night, even if there was not a show. Henrietta bought her a cocktail the night Lisa was conceived. She recognized Lisa's mother and sent her a drink with a note on the napkin saying, ‘Cheers to bad luck’. Henrietta really just felt bad for her, she could tell that her night had been full of bad choices and she was here to forget about the “fake” outside world. Henrietta knew that the theatre was the place Lisa’s mother found therapy because she told her. She had actually said it to her every single time they had met. Tonight was no different. Lisa’s mother raised her glass in Henrietta’s direction and mouthed ‘theatre is my therapy of love’. Henrietta gave her a pitiful grin that meant I know, you tell me all the fucking time, but here’s to you because I am better than you will ever be but to Lisa’s mother it was a nice gesture that would get her started on her usual booze binge. The sad thing about this night was that Henrietta would be right, she always was.

Lisa was born on that Valentine’s night. The night of Henrietta’s party. The birth of Lisa would stop her mother from attending, would stop everything. Lisa was born at 9:52 p.m. She emerged without uttering a sound, but she could hear the screams of her mother and the cab driver, Ahmul. Ahmul was an Indian male in his mid-30’s. He was single and had never been in a situation like the one he was in that night. Lisa’s mother started to shriek around 3rd and Broadway and Lisa was born 2 blocks later. It was short and not-so-sweet. As Lisa came out, her mother said with disdain, “Ahhh, of all the fucking nights…why little child? Why? I knew you were the worst decision I would ever make…god damn it.” Ahmul looked at Lisa in disgust and said to her mother, “you better give me a big tip” as he pulled out a knife from his glove compartment and cut Lisa’s umbilical cord. He had seen it done on TV recently. He felt proud of himself but it didn’t matter because he was alone in New York and he would have no one to share this story with, except the next passenger in his cab. He felt worthwhile nonetheless and he dropped Lisa and her mother off in front of a man named Jade’s apartment. This was the last night he would ever feel worthwhile.
Jade answered the door in cut off jeans and a ripped black T-shirt. He looked at Lisa’s mother with pity in his eyes and knew this child would be his responsibility. Lisa’s mother was holding her with one arm, Lisa was still bloody and she was freezing cold. She was not crying however. Jade looked at Lisa and took her in his arms, he was in love. He carried her with strength and confidence over to his bathtub and washed her with warm water. This was the first act of love that Lisa had felt, it was here she began to cry. Jade slowly washed her until her skin came to what seemed to be a normal color. He took her out of his arms only for a second to grab a towel off the floor. He wrapped Lisa tightly in the cotton and gave her back to her mother. Her mother smoked a cigarette as she fed Lisa for the first and last time.








3 Jade awoke on his black leather couch with Lisa in his arms, the same way he would wake up for the next two years. The sound of his squeaky screen door woke him up as it slammed against its frame. Lisa’s mother was gone. Jade stood up and left little Lisa on his couch while he looked for his wallet. He found it quickly and scooped Lisa up in his arms with only the towel upon her. Lisa woke up and looked at Jade with her bright green eyes and began to scream. He held her tighter and she continued. They walked out his front door and thought of nothing else but his little girl. As they headed down the street Jade found exactly what he was looking for, without even knowing it. A bargain store. He walked in and managed to find a few onesies for Lisa even though she had not yet stopped screaming as loud as something that little could. He was pleased at his accomplishment and moved on to find her something to eat. Again he prevailed. There was one last thing Jade felt she needed, and he knew it when he saw it. It was me. He unloaded his wallet on the counter and he clutched us both in his arms as we walked home.
Without much hard work he became a father. And a pretty good one at that. Day in and day out Jade took responsibility for her and he loved more than many men can in their whole lives. Though his new-found daughter did not come from a stork high above, he still felt lucky to have met Lisa’s mother one night many years ago at the theatre. Jade was there for an opening night and Lisa’s mother noticed him the minute he walked in. Though they never slept together, Lisa’s mother knew that he was the man she should have ended up with. He was too good for her at this point and she had always promised that the day she could overcome her addiction to anything, she would call Jade and ask him out. She told him this numerous times over the next few years and he always laughed. He was intrigued by her. She was nothing like most women he came in contact with, partly because she was a whore, but also because she had something inside of her. No one ever gave her the chance to show it but he knew it was there and he also felt that given a different social circumstance, Lisa’s mother should have been his one and only. Though, of course, he never told her that.
That was their flaw. Each other. They only met a few times all the years they had known each other but they both knew that they were horrible for each other in this life. Lisa’s mother said that the night she died. She said, “I will come back in my next life for you and you better not be me.” Their love was not romeo-esque, rather it was unfit. Inside their souls felt the need to be together but their lives got in the way.