Krista By C.M. Cipriani

Copyright C.M. Cipriani 20091

6 p.m.

I felt the cold right away. It was a familiar cold though. A cold filled with distanceand loathing that stabbed you to the marrow. All wrapped up in Martha Stewartcenterpieces and Pottery Barn shams. Ha, sham. Exactly. I have to go outside in October to get warmed up. I barely noticed my pale reflection in the beveled mirror in the foyer.Yeah, the “foyer”. Not doorway or entrance. Throwing around five dollar words like wehad the change to spare.I shut the door as quietly as I could but in all honesty I didn’t give a shit whoheard me. I was raring to go. The inevitable fight would be the catalyst for me to get outof my personal circle of hell.This afternoon’s meeting with the school shrink did nothing to ease my angst.Apparently, that’s what I have. A compulsory angst that also embodies the entireeleventh grade student body, starting at puberty and ending when ever we can get thefuck out of our parents clutches. Funny how that works, at least in my experience, Ihaven’t heard of anyone perpetually suffering from teenage angst. So, there’s nothingspecial about me. I just have an overabundance of “angst”.Angst seems to be a completely acceptable term, thought the synonyms aretorment, anguish and sorrow. I’m surprised there isn’t a medical billing code for it. Thenagain there probably is but I bet our insurance doesn’t cover it. If you look it up, it meansCopyright C.M. Cipriani 20092

I feel an existential dread arising from an awareness of free choice. Which is complete bullshit. My dread and anxiety arise from very real awareness, which I have no freechoice over.My mother, Cathy -enter audible sigh here- strode out of the kitchen towards me;dressed to the nines in her Anne Taylor kakis, sporting her two-hundred dollar salon cutand color. She has seasonal highlights. It’s like she’s some snow wolf that changes it coatin cold weather. Well, she

is

a frigid bitch so maybe that’s not a very far off comparison.Sad part? She used to not be like this. I swear I’ll never change for a man.“What are you doing home already, Krista? Did you skip therapy again?” shegave me an angry startled look like she did if I dared to come home when she was hostingBunco. Here we go. Countdown to me getting tossed out…five…four…“We finished up early. Doc had to get home for some family thing.” I sighed,“Look, I’m just changing and I’ll be outtie.”“You can’t go out. You know the rules. Not on a weeknight.”“But it’s Halloween! Mark said I could go if I went to school and the doc’s thisentire month and I did. I showed him the paper all signed off on yesterday.” My “angst”was rearing up. This was bullshit. Mark, my stepfather, or stepfucker as I dubbed him,loved doing this shit. He’d dangle a promise in front of me and I’d toe the line, thenCopyright C.M. Cipriani 20093