Tragic Love Friday with a Side of Cringe

When Dooce first brought Sarah Brown's Cringe Book project to light last month, I instinctively knew I had to be a part of it, or at the very least try. I received my first combination-lock diary for Christmas when I was nine years old, and I spent the next ten years documenting the highs and lows of my tortured existence through prose, poetry, and song. Discussion topics ranged from my passionate (one-sided) love affair with a local parishoner at Sunday morning Mass and who will be forever known as Church Boy to the day my cousin threw shreds of toilet paper at the bathroom door while I sat defenseless on the john to the first time a boy's tongue found its way into my mouth. I was the Queen of Cringe; to confine those gems to the pages of my college-ruled notebooks and hardcover journals would be a crime against the blogosphere. So I pulled out my tupperware bin containing the chronicles of my past and jumped right in.

I expected to laugh at the reliving of celebrity crushes, pre-teen angst, and my first French. But I didn't expect to feel so sad.

It's those high school entries, covering a time where I was struggling to grasp what love was, what friendship was, what it meant to nurse a broken heart, that get me the most. It's through those entries I'm transported back to November 14, 1995, to the abandoned field outside the 35th and Archer Elevated train station where Nick broke up with me for the first time; to August 9, 1998, when my mother and I had a two-hour blow-out because she'd found my diary and learned that I'd had sex. I wrote about everything in such detail that I can't help putting myself back in those shoes, during a time period where I had no clue how to set boundaries or stick up for myself or get through a bad day. I'm not just cringing; I'm cradling my head in my hands.

However, I can still see the merit in sharing a few of these stories, because as painful as those experiences were, they were also universal, and they're still funny, because I was so damn My So-Called Life-ish about everything. So I'll continue to delve through these masterpieces and attempt to share some in time for the February 14th deadline.

As if this post weren't tragic enough, it's time for another installment of TLF. Try not to sigh over the Angela Chaseness of it all.

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CHAPTER ELEVEN - JENNA (CONTINUED)

I went back to the prison and straightened things out with Kayla the following day. We talked for a while, and I asked a lot of questions about Katherine and the setup of the prison and infant wing. She answered each question in detail. I revealed very little about myself. [Just because Kayla killed Jenna's baby and was prompted for intimate details regarding the facility's security enforcements and her daughter's feeding schedule doesn't mean J's bonding attempts are anything but sincere!]

Just yesterday, a woman brought in Katherine to be fed. [I like the wording of that line, as if eating were an occasional pastime, like going to the park.] Kayla avoided my eyes as she fed and fussed over the child. I studied closely the way Kayla treated her baby; the way she soothed her cries and made her smile. It still hurt to see the baby, but I promised myself that I wouldn't cry. She'll be in your arms soon, I told myself silently. [OK, Jenna's inquiry on how to obtain expressed breast milk was a little odd, but still. BFFs!]

After I left prison, I went to 'Barb's Beauty Palace' and had my waist-length hair cut so it rested just above my shoulders. I considered getting it dyed while I was there, but I vetoed the idea. A woman there could identify me too easily. I went to the local drugstore and bought baby wipes, baby bottles, formula, a couple of baby toys, and a bag of diapers. [And she's worried about her hair color raising suspicion?] I picked up red hair dye for myself.

At home I applied the dye to my hair. The box said it had to sit on my hair for a half hour. During that time, I packed a suitcase for myself. It contained 2 changes of clothes, some toiletries and, as an afterthought, the largest butcher knife in the house. Just in case, I told myself. [You know, like if the baby tries to talk back or call the cops.] Then I set my alarm for 10:00 P.M. and fell asleep with dreams of the future in my head.

[It wasn't until the mention of hair dye that I remembered my mental image of Jenna changed at this point from Finola Hughes to a young Laura Leighton, aka Sydney from Melrose Place. I thought she was absolutely stunning. Also, God I loved Melrose Place.]

* * *

RING!!!!

I hit my alarm and fell out of bed. It was time to get ready.

I hopped in the shower for a while. I got out and put on black jeans and an oversize black sweater. I brushed my hair and let it fall on my shoulders. I gazed into the mirror.

The changes in my hair made me look drastically different. The red hair looked natural, and the color brought out the green in my eyes. I looked like a new person.

I put the suitcase in the backseat of my car, then went back inside. I grabbed my jacket and threw bags of pretzels into a small plastic bag. [In case you didn't notice, I was obsessed with recording every. single. detail. of my characters' appearances and actions. I'm surprised I didn't outline the intensity of their bowel movements.] I slipped black glasses on my face for the finishing touch. I ran into the car and turned on the engine, giggling. I felt (and looked) like the Terminator.

[Growing up, my entire household was in love with Arnold Schwartzenegger and his portrayal of America's favorite cyborg who rocked the casbah with his black leather jacket and once steriod-induced pecks. My mother taped the first movie for us when it aired on cable, but it wasn't until I was an adult that I realized she had conveniently paused the recording during Kyle and Sarah's romp in the motel. I did think it interesting that they went from making out to tying their shoe laces, but it was the eighties, for cripe's sake. What did they know about editing?]

It was 11:30 when I reached the Prison, and I wasn't smiling anymore. My heart was pounding like crazy. What was I doing? How could I even think about taking someone's child?

Because her mother took mine. [This line was originally written as follows: "Because her mother doesn't deserve her. I could give her a better life, a life that she wouldn't spend visiting her screw-up of a mother behind bars." I'm not sure why I scratched it out.]

With newfound determination, I took the butcher knife out of the suitcase, pressed it to my side, and quietly walked into the prison. [If the guards ask, I'll just tell 'em I was making a sandwich! Who doesn't eat their turkey on wheat with the crusts cut off?]

The jail was brightly lit up, and a small man stood at the desk. He looked old, like someone's grandfather. I discretly slid the knife blade-up inside my jeans, covering it up with my sweater. [How does one "discretly" shove a sharp object down their pants? No pun intended, of course.] Limping, I walked up to him. "Hi," I said, smiling weakly. "I'm here to visit Kayla Evans."

He gave me a smile. "It's late, young lady," he said kindly but firmly. "Can't it wait?"

I managed to squeeze a few tears. They clouded up my vision through the glasses. "Oh, please," I begged. [She's still wearing the glasses? Some anonymous woman comes staggering into jail after hours wearing all black and security isn't the least bit alarmed? Jenna must have some grade-A boobies.] He softened [or should I say hardened?] and held on to my arm lightly. "OK. Let's go." He had forgotten to search me, and for that I was grateful. [Another missed opportunity on behalf of a lust-filled man.] He glanced at the metal detector. "I don't need to turn that on to check you, do I?"

"Oh, no sir," I said, shaking my head innocently. "You can trust me."

[In one of my Nancy Drew books, Nancy took on a suspect's identity and weasled out of signing a credit card slip by feigning a hand cramp. Which means this scenario is totally plausible in fiction.]

We went up a flight of stairs, and we started to walk down the hall towards Kayla's cell. A guard was at the end of the hall, his back facing us. "You should go back to the desk. I can go the rest of the way," I whispered.

He smiled. "OK. Bye now." I tiptoed quietly towards the guard until the deskman was out of sight. Then I walked quietly back to the stairway and made a left turn. I found myself staring into the window of the prison's nursery.

The nurse sat in a chair inside by the door. She was snoring, and her head was against the door. [Your tax dollars hard at work, everyone!] There was no one else.

I opened the door slowly and slipped in.

There were about 20 babies, but I spotted Katherine right away. I gazed at her in her bassinet and my heart swelled with happiness. I gently picked her up and held her to me. She started to stir. [Apparently these babies are all on the same schedule. Prison IS strict!] I covered her with my jacket and zipped it up. Cradling her as if my stomache was hurting, I exited the room and took the stairs two at a time.

[Can you picture it? The concealed knife and now-suffocating baby jiggling around in Jenna's coat as she makes her great escape? I could totally see this happening on Melrose Place. Totally.]

The deskman looked surprised as I walked slowly, my arms wrapped around my belly [a baby's limb poking through the sleeve of her coat...]. "I have to go," I gasped. "My period is really heavy this month."

He reddened. "Go on," he said, waving me away. [Ah, the old menstrual card. Well played, Jenna!]

I ran into my car and scrambled inside. I wiggled out of my jacket and wrapped Katherine securely in it. Her eyes gave me a curious stare.

I took off my glasses and gazed at the baby in my arms. I covered her face with kisses. At last! The baby I had dreamed of having was with me. I placed her on my lap, and putting one arm on the baby and using my free hand to drive, very slowly started to pull away from the curb. In 15 minutes, I was right in front of the Illinois Cematary. [Yes, just one for the whole state. Apparently people aren't accustomed to dying in Illinois.] I couldn't enter; the gates were locked. I just stared at the gravestones beyond and whispered David a tearful good-bye.

"I'm so sorry, David," I said, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I'm sorry I lost our baby, and I know that by taking Katherine, I'm making things worse. I know it's wrong, but .... I don't want to be alone." My body was shaking. The baby started to cry. "Dont cry, baby girl," I whispered in a soft but trembling voice. I rocked her in my arms for a few minutes, and she went back to sleep.

A few minutes later I was on the road again, heading for my last stop before I left Illinois for good.

[A few lines down from that last sentence is the following post-script: "When Jenna leaves with the baby, let her pass Cassie and try to talk to her. Next day, Cassie goes into fits of hysteria." For fans wondering about the wherabouts of TLF's favorite batshit-crazy mental case, this is the last mention of her until the sequel.]

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We're nearing the end of Part One, folks. Only twenty-seven pages to go until we find out how the first segment of this tragic tragedy ends. Anyone brave enough to make a wager?

Comments

[Molly]

FIRST!

Now that I got that out of my system, I will leave a real comment in the morning. The real morning, I mean, that does not involve 1:30am right now.

I just wanted to beat Sant and Silly Hily to the punch...even if I DID have to coax Sant out of the computer chair after she'd already read and started a comment.

Mwahahahaha

[Sant]

Low you son of a bitch! I was already signed in and everything!

Now onto what is your first REAL comment on this installment of TLF (provided Silly Hily's midnight alarm failed to go off and she doesn't beat me to the post:)

Ahem-- who called it?! I knew that she'd be off her rocker with stolen goods in no time. So funny, I can just imagine the meeting Jenna had with Kayla that day, like the phone conversations your mind wanders out of and then back again, realizing that you should at least "mmhmm" in agreement-- I mean hey, you don't want to be rude.

Back to the baby-napping (I feel the need to decipher this from kidnapping on the recent clarification made by my four-year-old nephew that I babysit his brother, I kidsit him)-- so can I just say that this was one of my favorite entries of Frema's comments ever! I could totally see all of this going down, and the only thing left out of the scenario was Jenna's black baret (a detail unlike her fiber intake, that was carelessly left out!)

I realize that she is a teenager, and that photos were provided, but I could not help myself from picturing Jenna's make-over to unveil her as an American Girl doll. Forgive me.

Also, I was a bit concerned about the Britney Spears she was pulling, and because she is not from the South (not even the South side as a technicality), she should watch herself as she makes her escape to Canada!!!

Yes, that's what I said-- okay, hopefully her short education has taught her more about geography than it did about birth control-- LEAVE THE COUNTRY. Especially with a stolen baby in tow. Although, being that the prison leaves their nursery (of 20 babies?? That's a whole lotta mothers behind bars... a little like MADD, but MBHB, you pickin up what I'm throwin down?) open and attended by only my sister's gym sitters...

FOCUS! Okay, my only guess is that she will leave minimally the state, but hopefully the country, where we will revisit mother and (stolen) daughter six years from now, with Kayla's release!!!

Sidenote-- I also gasped out loud when you revealed the number of pages left in your masterpiece, albeit, with a sequal, but every week I wonder how much more-- and that you better get back to work!!!:D

[Stacey]

Gah, how I loved Melrose Place.

I am thrilled that there are 27 pages left...you just don't know how I look forward to Fridays.

[David McNelis]

I nominate Frema to run a SuperMax prison! I feel like I'm reading about Oz!

[Silly Hily]

Unlike some of your other crazy readers (pointing finger above at first two comments), I'm peacefully sleeping at 2:30 in the morning. 2:30 to tha A.M. ladies! Yall be crazy. (What am I talking about? I'm totally jealous. Oh well, I guess I'll have to make up for it by leaving 20 comments all by my little self.)

Now, where was I? Oh, here's how it's gonna go down. Jenna is going to drive to the south where we all drive around with our kids on our laps instead of in car seats. She must do this as quickly as possible though so she's going to strap a diaper, on herself, so she doesn't have to stop to use the bathroom. Then, she's gonna board a plane and fly to the Bahamas and get a new birth certificate for Katherine(lynn) and list herself as the mother and David as the father.

[Jessi]

For some reason, the whole "changing identity" thing made me think of the Days of Our Lives subplot where Elaine Davidson (how scary is it that I still know her name) played three characters...one was a nun or something?? Wasn't there a baby involved in that too?

Does the sequel have chapters where Katherine narrates? Now THAT would be interesting...:)

[Silly Hily]

But wait, it doesn't stop there. Here's my sequel. Then Kayla's going to file a lawsuit against her claiming that she's Katherine(lynn)'s mother. But Bahama law will protect Jenna. Then, the state of CA is going to get all up in the business and order a maternity test. Then, Mikey Mike is going to come in and say that HE is the baby daddy, not David. Since David's dead, his family is going to have to fight this custody battle.
It's gonna get ugly before it gets pretty. But eventually, Jenna and Kayla both die of a TrimSpa overdose. Michael will sue TrimSpa, marry Cassie, and raise Katherine(lynn).

And I'm spent.

[Silly Hily]

I got so caught up in TLF that I forgot to ask something that has me just as excited. Are we really going to get to read entries from your diary? Because that would be so cool.

[Rachel]

"grade A boobies", LMAO!! It just gets more and more exciting and nail biting each week!!! Can't wait for next Friday. And, gah, your comments are hilarious.

One question though, how, if the nurse's head was on the door, did Jenna open the door and go in without waking her? Damn that Jenna is good!

[TasterSpoon]

Yep, that Britney moment wouldn't fly on today's television. UNLESS they made a very celeb-referential Law-and-Order style teaching moment out of it and she got snapped by a photographer doing a story on "Safety Don'ts" for Redbook Magazine and she was published (with the black bar over her eyes) in the next month's issue, which Kayla later sees in the prison reading room and is how they discover what happened to the baby.

I got a kick out of picturing her climbing stairs with a big butcher's knife stuffed down her pants.

[Elizabeth]

I'm wondering at Jenna's need to go to the salon to cut her hair, she could've just chopped it off at home! That way, no one would've seen her at all.
And were her parents sleeping at 10:00pm again?!?
Regardless, that Jenna is a smart crazy. Suggesting the guard should get back to his post? Pulling the menstrual card on the way out? Pure [evil] genius.

[Isabel]

She read your diary? And you wrote DETAILED descriptions of having sex?

I'm cringing for you!

[Isabel]

Okay, so there is an infant wing and a prison nursery? Dude, that is one crazy ass State Prison.

And she bought bottles and formula but no car seat?! What was she thinking? (She was thinking "how can I sneak this butcher knife into the State Prison without anyone noticing?" Because dude, that is easier than I would have thought.)

[Pink Herring]

Dyed red hair looking natural? That's the least plausible part of this story so far.
But we'll forgive Jenna for not choosing a more subtle color to dye her hair for puling the menstrual card. I didn't learn that little trick until I got pulled over for speeding. So cliched... and yet it works every. damn. time.

I guess Jenna's smuggling the knife in her pant leg looked about as natural as when my friends and I used to smuggle snapple bottles full of vodka into concerts by shoving them in our pants. And no one caught us, either!

(oh, and the diary? I got busted the same way. My mom not only confirmed my anorexia but also got to read a sordid detail of my deflowering, as well as several tales of underage drinking and frightening promiscuity. Afterwards, while I was writing about how much being grounded SUCKED, I wrote a note that said "MOM: DO NOT READ THIS. I AM SERIOUS. IT IS A VIOLATION OF MY PRIVACY AND I WILL NEVER TALK TO YOU AGAIN" and rubberbanded it to the front. Yea... that'll stop her, idiot).

[May]

Good thing Jenna has a car & unlimited access to $. Otherwise Michael would have just stepped in with some sort of stolen car, fake mustache/bad fake ID scenario (he's so dreamy).

Those prison mommas must have some sweet conjugal trailer out back, because 20 BABIES? Nice.

And how did your Mom expect you to learn about doin'-it if she's going to edit all your movies? Come on Mom!