"LAYLA"

By
Tyler Michael
It was like looking into a mirror. Those damaged eyes. I looked at myself in the
mirror with the same ones. We both had perfected the art of a soft fake smile to
avoid the mental hospitals and the annoying badgering of a therapist. She and I
told the same lies and hid the same truths. Her mask was much more appealing
than mine but she had lost more of her soul than I did. Such a pretty girl. I think
all women are birds that can fly. In Fact, other than a few guitar chords, the only
things of importance I have ever learned were from women. She was a bird that
did not believe she could fly. A lost little girl. A vagabond.
I think everyone has experienced this. The agony of watching a loved one make
poor decisions, indirectly putting the same shotgun Kurt Cobain used at their
own head. The bad batch of heroin that killed Jim Morrison or the tying of a rope
into a noose around their neck like her own mother did when she was 10. I had
my mother still. A drinking woman. But still alive. She put me through writing
school showing me the unnecessary pain that comes with the burden of life. For
Layla's mother that burden was too much and left three children here on Earth.
For a moment just think about a dead body hanging lifelessly from a ceiling. Then
imagine it was someone you loved. I'm sure you'd be a little fucked up too.
My parents divorce was finally taking place and Casey Jones had left me in the
dust. My mother and my two sisters Angelica, 15, and Sydney, 12, were moving
to a ghetto mobile home park in the suburb of Cypress without our father. I
resented my mother for this for a long time. Our father was the one stable thing
in our life and she sent him away to live in a tin can about twenty minutes away
from us. I'm not saying where we lived in was that bad of a place. My sisters and I
just weren't used to a place like this. We had a modest sized home with a
backyard and now we lived in a shack with no yard a no place to garden. One
thing I knew for certain was that drug dealing was happening everywhere in the
park. Something my mom was oblivious to. Our next-door neighbors sold
something stronger than weed. I'm not sure what it was. There were cars
constantly coming and going at that house. The customers weren't teenage kids
either or else I would have been over there. They were sketchy black people and
very skinny white women in their forties. It ran rampant their because no police
would roll through the park because it was such a quiet place. Weirdly quiet.

The thing I hated the most was the way my mom tried to bullshit us by telling us
all the positives of our new abode. "Look you kids can each have your own room
and I think there's even a public pool that you guys can swim in at the summer."
she said with so much enthusiasm that I wanted to fucking puke. At my old house
I always had my friends over to run around and play with, but now I didn't want
anyone to know that I still lived on this planet. Ashamed. That's the feeling. I was
ashamed. I should not have been either. I always think about kids who are less
fortunate than I was and then I'd feel like a real bastard. It's a bad way to think
but I was 17.
GOD, I hated that part of my life. I was going into my senior year when we moved.
I had my own car and I had a part time job umpiring baseball games, which my
friends jokingly gave me shit for saying it "wasn't a real job". But they were
stoners getting weed money from their parents still. I never spent drug money
with my parents money. I felt too guilty so I got a job to buy my own. Umpiring
was a cool job. Adults twice my age would scream obscenities at me if I fucked up.
Which did not matter because whatever I would say would go motha fucka!
Which was a lot of fun for me.
The best parts of the job were the pay, the kids, and the MILFS. I got paid $40 a
game, which only lasted two hours. The age I umpired for was for 7 and 8 year
olds. They made me laugh so much and gave me the hope in life that I needed. It's
too bad that they had pricks coaching them and ruining the game. Then there's
the MILFS. So many beautiful moms's out there watching their offspring learn
America's pastime. That's when I started learning to look at a woman's hand to
see if they had a ring or not. When you're in high school you never check because
I think it's kind of obvious. I got in trouble one time for talking to one too long in
the score booth. I forgot that I had a job to do. There's just something about an
older woman that I love to romance. Maybe I have a complex.
Having a job and going to school are not as difficult as people say it is. Specially if
you never do your homework. I was obsessed with the guitar at this time in my
life. Like scary obsessed. The days I didn't have to umpire I would come home
from school, smoke a cigarette, eat, nap, and then play my guitar until I went to
sleep again. My mother and father were so concerned because I was taking
physics and trigonometry but would never bother with homework. My parents
called the school counselor and had her talk to me to see what was going on. She
determined that I was fine but would just keep tabs on me just to make sure I
would graduate. Which I appreciated. Her and Chad Benson. Chad Benson and I

were in the same grade and he was THE man. Everyone loved him. Very
annoying though. He is a very lovable, plump, Korean fuck. The guy was the
epitome of hectic. He was always on top of his schoolwork, his actual work (he
worked at Korean BBQ), and his social status. He always seems to be on edge
smoking those Korean Marlboro Red's. Gross. I smoked Turkish Royals.
Everyone enjoyed his or her senior year. I guess I did too since I drank a
screwdriver (Orange Juice and Vodka) almost every morning in the parking lot
while I waited for my friend James Taylore to pull up in his all white 1970's
Volkswagen Bus. Sometimes we'd smoke in it before school then fall out of it like
some Jeff Spicoli's. Fast times baby. After some shitty day at school I hear a voice
yelling behind me. "You have time to go hangout with your friends on the
bleachers but don't have time to do your homework? That's fucking bullshit
Shane!" said the man on the cellphone. I've heard that voice before. In Fact I
heard it that morning!
It was 7 in the morning and I heard, "I said get the fucking shovel Shane and put
it in the truck!"
"Goddamn, Dad!", the boy whined.
"You know what I'll do it myself go back in the house."
I was wide eyed now. How could a father talked to their kid like that? It was my
introduction into the mobile home park I guess. My parents yelled at me but
never cursed at the same time so I guess it was weird for me. Anyways, I put two
and two together and figured out that the man yelling at his burnout of a kid was
my neighbor. Good to know I guess.
School was flying by. I spent most of my time making jokes in class, smoking
pounds of sweet Mary Jane on the weekend with my friends, and playing the
guitar. Football season came and went. Christmas didn't stay for long either. I got
call slips into the counseling office at least twice a month to talk about my failing
grades. I started a band called "The Ramblers" which was the best part of the
year. We formed in about March. We played old sixties psychedelic rock. At the
time I had a crush on this girl named Jessie Haley.
It started sophomore year when we had Chemistry class together. Not a
metaphor, actual Chemistry class. Jessie was everything I hated but I loved
spending time with her and her family. They were the American Dream. The

father had graduated from Stanford on a debate scholarship to become a lawyer

and was the Mayor of our town. Rich as fuck. The mom was a lovely lady who was
a stay at home mom and aspired to be a baker since she had so much free time.
Her treats were so good. I wish I had a mom like that. They had a river house on
Lake Havasu. A staple of rich white people. Their lake house was way bigger than
the shack I lived in. Another thing I hated.
Jessie invited me to her birthday at her house. Nothing big. Just good Mexican
food and a few of our friends that we went to school with. That was until these
guys from our rival school Eadgar J. Hoover High School showed up. They were
loud and obnoxious football players. I learned when they showed up that Jessie
had a crush on one of them. It ruined the night for me. Everyone was having a
merry time and I was faking it. I couldn't fake it any longer. I wished her a happy
birthday and smoked a cigarette on my way home. I felt like an animal. You know
in the wild when two males fight to mate with the female, well tonight they were
the alpha and I had to go home and masturbate. I laid in my bed and started
watching The Office to try and cheer me up but unfortunately I watched the
episode where Jim kisses Pam for the first time so I got even sadder.
I saw a glow on the wall above my television, a glow that I had never seen before.
I got up from my bed and looked out my window and over the brown picket fence
that separated my house from the house behind us. There was a fire. A fire with
two people sitting next to it. I walked outside and peeked over the fence like that
guy in Home Improvement with Tim Allen. They saw me and looked startled like
a deer.
"Hi"
"Sorry, if we are being too loud we are going to go inside right now." the girl
apologized.
"Awh, really I was hoping I could join you.." I said sheepishly.
The boy and the girl looked at each other and agreed without speaking. I hopped
over the fence and introduced myself.
"My name is Dopey," I said, "I live next door." as if they didn't know already.
Stupid.
"Dopey? What kind of name is that?

"Yeah I get that a lot... that's just what my parents named me."
"My name is Layla and this is my brother Shane!" Layla said.
Shane... Shane... where have I heard that name before. It hit me. I told them
about how I had heard the dad yelling at him almost every morning and asked
him if he was okay. He just laughed and said, "Yeah. He's just an asshole."
"Fair enough."
She told me that she was a junior and had seen me around school before. Which I
felt awkward cause I had never seen her in my life until now. But she was very
pretty. Big doe eyes. Shane was still in junior high and went to Jamestown Middle
School just down the street but he was much bigger and mature than the kids
around him. I could tell he was a bit of a bully. They offered me a shot of Fireball
Whiskey which I thought was funny because I was used to drinking Wild Turkey
Bourbon, but they were young so I understood. About fifteen minutes later Shane
pulled out a small cigarillo that smelled of Kush. He asked if I had a lighter on
me... which I always did. He sparked it up and passed it around like a goddamn
Wiz Khalifa song. Layla said she always heard me playing guitar from my window
because her window was right next to mine. She said I was really good. I blushed.
She also said that she noticed my Pulp Fiction poster I had in my room that you
could see through my window. She told me that, that was her favorite movie too. I
showed her my wallet. It was a replica of Jules Winfield's in the movie played by
Samuel L. Jackson. It was brown leather that had "Bad Mother Fucker" stitched
in black on it.
Pot always puts me to sleep and it was around 1 A.M. now. I helped Layla put out
the fire. I put my number in her phone along with a kissy emoji face. I thought I
was fucking slick but in reality I was acting like a faggot.
I saw her on Monday at school. I'm a sucker. I walked her to all her classes
getting to know her little by little everyday. It was like she was strip-teasing me
with every little bit of information eventually ending with her naked soul. This
lasted for a week. We lived right next to each other so I thought I should start
pumping the brakes a bit.
That Friday was the school's Dodge ball Tournament. I had my team of bastards.
Inglorious. We wore all black and were headhunters. Hunters. Headshots were
very illegal and the penalty was just being out for that one game. But trust me, a

head shot was well worth the cringing "OOOOOOOOOOH's" coming from a packed
gym of peers. It was the jungle baby. A place where you'd wink at the opponents
girlfriend right after you hit him with red adulterous rubber ball. I hated the
feminist all lady teams. I threw a little harder at them.
We lost in the semi-finals. I didn't think that we would've even made it that far. I
checked my gym bag. I had seven missed calls and one text from Layla. I got
worried. I called her back immediately.
"Hello." her slow slurred voice said.
"Hey, Layla!"
"Are you busy?"
"Not anymore! What's up?"
"Nothing I'm just drinking at a friends house and I don't have a ride."
"Where are you?"
"Just down the street."
"Okay text me the address right now."
She texts me the address. It really was right down the street. Walking distance. I
drove to the location. It was an apartment with nowhere to park except a busy
street. I called her and let her know I was there. She walked out with a black guy
named Terrance Watson, a nigger who had just moved here from Pasadena and
had brought a great deal of meth with him to sell. I'm not racist, I swear. I'm
Mexican and there's even beaners that I hate. I love all races of people..... But
Terrance was a nigger and a disgrace to the black community. I grabbed my
knife.
Layla got in my car.
"What are you doing hanging around people like that?" I scolded her.
"What do you mean? He's my friend." She said.

"Does your father know who you're hanging out with?"

She didn't respond. That was the end of my lecture. I had no right. I was just
angry. I grabbed something to eat because I hadn't eaten all day and to give her
some time to sober up.
We got back to our place. I walked her inside to make sure her dad wasn't going to
yell at her too bad. "Where the hell have you been? Have you been drinking? Just
go to your room Layla!" Her dad yelled.
I told him that she asked me for a ride home and that I had made sure she was
safe. I was the devil myself but he didn't know that yet. He thanked me and I went
home.
I texted her the next morning to make sure she was okay. She said she was and
she thanked me for helping her out. I invited her over to hangout at my house. I
hopped the fence to her house just so I could walk around the block with her to
my house. On the walk to my house I had to ask what happened.
"So how do you feel today?"
"Fine. Why?"
"Well you seemed pretty fucked up last night."
"Ya.... Well.."
"Well what? What'd you drink?"
"I wasn't drunk!"
I was confused.
"What do you mean?"
"I did some meth last night."
God damn it. I got really said. I'm no saint. I've had my fair share of sins, but
there was just something about meth that I would not do or tolerate.

I told her that I really cared about her and that I wanted to continue to be her
friend but that I couldn't let myself watch her do that if we were going to hang
out. She said okay and swore it was the last time. An addict's famous last words.
She gave me a hug. We continued to hangout like normal.
The whole day passed. She told me everything about her. About her mother had
committed suicide about 10 years ago and how the kids used to make fun of her
mismatched clothes since she didn't have a mother to dress her. That happened
at her old place in Venice and then moved down here for a fresh start. As fresh as
you can get I guess.
Her father's name was Tom Papadopoulos. He was a construction worker who
was short but stocky. The motherfucker was strong. Built like a wall and had the
physical shape that resembled a thumb. He was Greek who prided himself as
being a descendant of the Spartan nation. His phone would reference King
Leonidas in the movie 300 by shouting, "THIS. IS. SPARTA!" whenever he got a
text message. The man did not have a clue to what an inside voice was. I think he
skipped that day of kindergarten and would surely be kicked out of a library in
seconds. I always thought he was yelling at me but that's just the way he talked. I
guess it was because when you work on construction sites that you had to be
louder than the tools to be able to figure out what you're buddy wanted from the
liquor store. He did the best he could raising two kids.
Her brother called. He said Tom was making them walk the dogs. She asked if I
wanted to go. I declined. She hugged me and left.
I didn't see her again till the infamous Blood Moon two days later. The Blood
Moon was the lunar eclipse that made the moon turn a deep red like Mars' twin
sister. She texted me around midnight. The peak of the event. She told me to
come outside. I saw her sitting on the steps of the threshold of her door. Her
father wasn't home. He was working nights so she was there smoking a joint. I
joined her. We shared a couple laughs until I grabbed her hand. "C'mon" I said. I
lead her to the middle of the street. I started to slow dance with her. We swayed
back and forth slowly together. Hand in hand with her head lying on my chest. I
lifted her chin and gave her as passionate kiss as a man could give under a full
red moon. She pulled away and looked me in the eyes. She had a crazed look. Like
a shark who tasted blood in the water. I liked it.
She started to take me inside. When I opened the door her father pulled up. She
pushed me away and I made a fucking run for it. I didn't even use the chair I

normally did to hop over the fence. I just scaled that motherfucker on pure
adrenaline. I got into bed and texted her right away. She said that everything
was fine and that she missed me already. Just some teenage stuff. I told her I
missed her too. She called me "pumpkin". It was a reference to our favorite movie
Pulp Fiction. I called her "honey bunny". Honey Bunny and Pumpkin were bank
robbers and decided to rob a diner in the movie. It mirrored Bonnie and Clyde.
That's what we were. Two young Devils causing trouble.
This is the poem I wrote about that night for her:

Blood Moon
Mars fury calms
Her eyes lie
On the sweet innocence
Of teenage romance
The lovers have ingested their green leaves
And surf
The black sea of night
Her face glows red
With happiness
And jealousy
Her only friend
Is the end
And her worst enemy is
Solitude
Unlike the free will
Of the dancing hearts below
She is suspended
In a black sea
Of nothingness
And despair
Goodnight Blood Moon
I little corny. We still had school the next day. I saw her in the halls and just gave
her a nod as she passed me. I was trying to play it cool. At lunch she asked me for
a ride home. I said sure and told her to meet me at my car. I always parked on the
furthest parking lot, away from administration. It made it easier to leave school
at any time of the day and to make a quick getaway if I had to.

The final bell rang. I walked out to my car and there she was, standing next to my
tan Nissan Altima. "How was your day?" I asked. "It was good." She replied.
I opened the door for her because chivalry is not dead. Before I took her home we
stopped at a record store by the school that had just opened up. We walked into
the store and started browsing the selection. I only had a few records to my
collection. An old Johnny Cash one that my grandmother had given me, a Willie
Nelson one, an Eagles Greatest Hits, and Slowhand by Eric Clapton. That one
rarely worked because I bought it for three dollars at a hole in the wall pawnshop
a couple years ago so it was pretty damaged. I went to the used section while she
looked at the newer ones. I started with the "A's". Abba, AC/DC, Animals, Air
Supply.... eh. I got to the "B's" and saw a used Beatles "Magical Mystery Tour" in
good condition for seven bucks. A no brainer. She was excited to find a Rod
Stewart and a KISS record. I'm not really a fan of eighties music. I ended up
getting The Beatles record, A Doors compilation album, and Van Halen II for my
father. She just got the KISS one.
We made our purchases and went on our way home. I parked at my house
because I wanted to walk her home.
"Do you want to go listen to these at my house?" She said with a smile.
"Yes, I'd love too." I said like a dork.
We walked to her house.
"Where's ol' Tom at?"
"Oh he's working late tonight"
"Oh well where's Shane at?"
"He doesn't come home till this afternoon since he has practice for the flag
football team at school."
Interesting.
We went into her room and set down the records. I put on The Beatles one first.
Her room is like one of those Tumblr rooms. Wood floor. A full body mirror.
Christmas lights. A bed and record player. Pretty simple. I like simple. I put the

needle down on the record. She embraces me with a kiss and starts to undress. I
got nervous. She was lying naked on the bed. I was a virgin still and I hadn't seen
a real life cunt before. Only in porn.
Strawberry Fields Forever comes on and life as a virgin ends for me. I gave her
about ten strokes and pulled out in a hurry.
"What's wrong?" She asked.
"I came!"
"Already?"
"Ya I don't know what to say."
She gave me a kiss and understood.
We got dressed. She reached under her bed and opened a small tin lunch box and
pulled out a joint and lit it. When it was finished she went into the kitchen and
fixed me a small personal pizza. GOD DAMN, was I THAT good for my first time. I
must've been. I didn't know any other way. I can't say too many times in my life
where I was completely satisfied but this is one of them.
We spent a lot of time together after that. I gave her rides to school; we'd walk to
the park, go on the swings, drink and have bonfires on the weekends. I wrote her
songs and poems. All while making love in between. It was an easy time for me. A
good relaxation from what my life was like just a few months ago. I never loved
her. We just got along really well and that was good enough for the both of us. But
all good things come to an end. The waves on the beach don't care, they go back
and forth whether you're having a good time or not.
Prom was coming up. I wasn't even planning to go but since I had a for sure date I
thought what the hell. I love prom season. Everyone's animal instincts kick the
fuck in to find a mate. Drama is at its peak and the scandals are at an all time
high. I never participated in any of that but it was fun to watch the girls get in a
tizzy about what group they wanted to hangout with before and during prom.
Prom isn't even the main event; it's the picture taking before where all the
parents and peers meet at the alpha or queen bee's house to brag about each
other. The fathers always let the thing run its course while the mothers turn into

photographers making you pose in all different sorts of ways with your friends. I
paid for her ticket and all was well.... I thought.
Five days before prom, Tom caught Layla ditching school with some friends. The
school was going to let her attend prom still but her father wasn't. I got mad.
I did everything to plead with Tom to let her go. I gave him the "well it's not fair to
me" argument but he wasn't buying it. I even asked my mom if she would go over
and talk to him. She did and still nothing. The night before I had to convince him
or else I wouldn't have a date. I knocked on the door.
"Hey what's up Dopey? What can I do for you?" He said as if he didn't already
know. Fucking jackass.
"Hey, Mr. Papadopoulos can you please reconsider letting Layla go with me?"
"Dopey, it breaks my heart man it really does, but Layla is failing two classes and
this is the second time I've caught her ditching class. Now she has to take
summer classes to make up for it. What kind of father would I be if I just let this
slide?"
The argument was done right there. I couldn't say anything to the man cause I
completely understood.
"You're a good looking kid. Why don't you just find another date?"
"Because if you haven't noticed I've been spending a lot of time with her and I
would like to take just her."
"Listen buddy, don't worry about any one woman ever. When you turn them
upside down they all look the same."
Wow. How misogynistic but I was disgusted and enlightened at the same time. I
was out of ideas and gave up.
"Okay thanks anyways Tom."
He shut the door behind me. Yes, I still went to prom. Yes, I was the only one out
of my friends that didn't have a date. It was like a movie. I didn't think that this
could have happened to me. I got really fucked up at the after party though. My

friend Gabriel Powers, who was captain of the football team, had the party at his
house. All the homies getting together and getting shit faced. Thats what high
schools all about.
I stopped hanging out with Layla after that. I didn't see her for a month even
though she lived right behind me and our windows faced each other. I just shut
my blinds and kept my head down.
I saw her a month later. I had forgotten my lunch in my car so I went to grab it. I
saw her ditching school to meet up with Terrance the Nigger. I saw her and she
saw me. We just smiled and waved at each other like some goddamn Madagascar
penguins. I felt sad though. Not because what we had was over, but because I
knew what she was doing. I felt bad as a person to another person. I had my
experience and grew from it but she just used it as vacation time from her
demons.
Which if any one understands it's me.