#like California couldn't even say no to slavery
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I can't believe I have to go to work. I can't believe I have to sit in meetings. I can't believe that I have to sit across from my staff of mostly 20 year old women and find something to say that isn't just well the U.S. hates Black women.
#like California couldn't even say no to slavery#THAT'S BONKERS#oh and no to raising the minimum wage i guess#i don't know#obviously we're going to fight but in this moment i cannot believe i have to be the responsible adult at work#personal
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One-week-later vent ab recent events / personal / very long post / negative / anxiety
So, this is gonna get personal, but first of all, I finally checked up on how my state voted today. It's fucking scary out there.
I'm really scared for people in general about the 4 point combination of: 1) no minimum wage increase, 2) no affordable housing funding, 3) increased penalty for crimes, and 4) slavery remains legal. Sounds like a generous storm to water the prison industry's crops.
But on a personal note, a relative was over, and I mentioned that we had a local jay sixer in office, while under house arrest in another state, attending her local meetings online. For a small ass rural California town. (I swear I'm not lying about living in a truly conservative area of a generally blue county in this generally blue state. Also, generally speaking, people who aren't from Cali/or are conservative in Cali tend to overstate how liberal this state is. I've been saying that for a while.) Thankfully, she was running for an office where all 3 spots were up for election, and there was a 4th candidate on the ballot. She didn't make the cut, and hopefully that's how the results stay when it's certified later.
Continuing on this subject, when I mentioned this news to the relative, as I was looking up the election results on my phone at that moment, the relative goes, "What did she do at the Capitol, though?" And goes on to imply that she couldn't truly be all that bad if she wasn't one of the ones murdering officers with her own two hands, even if she was there with the mob illegally disrupting an election proceeding!! Can you fucking believe that?! "The officers were waving the people into the Capitol..." I thought this relative would have agreed with me on this, that someone who joined an insurrection, out of state, while holding a local office, should not be in a locally elected position (or any elected position, honestly), regardless of what officers were doing. That sounds like common sense, setting aside whomever is at the top of the ticket.
I guess I shoulda known better. I remember dying of an endometriosis flare up when this relative had to transport me to a different ER and I was making small talk about, "So are you watching the jay six committee?" (When they were streaming the findings and videos and interviews.) Because another stream of it was gonna happen the next day or something. I was watching those! And the relative was like, "Oh, no." And pretended like I said something gross and changed subject.
All this to say, I am finding new ways to be continuously horrified by my living situation.
Semi-related, I literally just finished reading an autobiographical webcomic about someone who went through something horrible and was having issues being able to talk about it to people in a way that wasn't traumatizing to the other person. I just. I've never been through anything even close to what the author did, but on that aspect, I found myself relating, specifically about having to hold in such a traumatic experience that's dying to spill out your mouth at every opportunity, because it's such a big part of what made you into your current self.
I haven't really considered that living with people who are moving in an increasingly conservative direction to be 'traumatizing.' Sure, it's horrible, but it's just like pretending I'm a kid again, since I'm being called the wrong name, and if I've been called the wrong name for some 18ish years (I started going by a diff name before I realized I was trans), then I can continue to live with it. But that's 18 years, bro. My 'new' name is old enough to vote. My name and my pet snake are the same age. My family has been disrespecting me for 18 years. And I don't have anything to show for enduring 18 years of disrespect. (No child out of wedlock, no spouse they disapprove of, no bad career choice, no tattoos only piercings, and no criminal history. Failing to be their perfect social butterfly child is the only sin they can judge me on, because that's the only bad thing they know about me. Besides not joining them in conservativism. But that would still be a weird-ass fuckin' reason to not call someone their preferred name.)
And I am starting to think that maybe staying closeted for this long around my family (about 10 years), while I watch a window of opportunity to start transitioning close before my eyes (with the prez-elect being so anti-trans), that maybe I am digging my own fuckin' grave. I'm 30. Almost 31 now. Youth is fleeting, and I feel like I haven't lived yet. I've been saying this since I was 20 lol. I still feel mentally like a teenager, or at most 19/20 when I realized I was trans. 10 years of having to put off transition because I'm too fucking scared of my family cutting me off and denying me the ability to be my own person.
Dealing with the hurdle of grief in 2018 that had me giving up and coming home, and then 2019 finding out that I wouldn't be able to leave home, and now this... nightmare... of having to relive 2016 without friends I could escape to - it feels insurmountable. Especially because when I did move out in 2017, I still wasn't able to feel financially independent, and the job I took didn't feel safe to transition at (baby's first scared-shitless homophobia incident!) So it's like I may as well have never tried to make the effort at all, since it put me 10 steps back.
And now being closeted is feeling more and more suffocating BY THE MINUTE because of reality setting in about what happened one week ago.
I just. I still can't do it. I'm not able to be financially independent at all! I can barely carry the water pitcher from the fridge to the sink, how the fuck am I supposed to work a job? Doing pollworking on election day (and hiding my back injury for it in a pain-induced state of adrenaline) had me out of commission for days, and then I still had to do hard work around the house and I'm regretting that now because I AM LIVING WITH A BACK INJURY THAT'S DRIVING ME NUTS. I don't even know if my back injury from May is going to require surgery yet, because the MRI has yet to happen!
Maybe it's less "digging my own grave" and more "trying to dig my feet out of the mud while the waters rise." Because it's both something I have to do in order to truly live, and also there's the perceived burden of a time-limit. Sure, maybe the rising flood only goes chest high, but do I put down the shovel and let it rise with the expectation it won't go higher than my chest and I can dig myself out more easily when the waters recede? That sounds like a shitty choice to make, right? How do I know the option to dig myself out later will even be an option? (How do I know the option to start HRT/start HRT with insurance will be available later? I haven't even done a lot of research on it if insurance will cover me, because I don't feel safe!!)
How the fuck am I ever going to transition at an age that I can still try and enjoy life?? And I don't say that in an ageist way, I say it like that because I probably have a shorter lifespan ahead of me than most people because of all my physical problems and now I'm apparently at an age where I get an RSI on my back, fROM HELPING THE VERY PEOPLE WHO I AM TERRIFIED OF ALLOWING TO KNOW A SINGLE FUCKING THING ABOUT MYSELF. I may have caused permanent damage to my back helping people that I'm terrified of telling I'm trans. I don't even know how extreme their reaction will be. They have supported me in many ways, but never emotionally. I have even heard one family member (that I still depend on), saying that he would turn away an internationally visiting relative, if that international relative arrived with a gay partner - after travelling across the world! Am I to expect that I would get any different treatment? When I already have a more contentious relationship with that particular family member? I would have no option but to leave with a jacket and say bye to all my things, since I can't even carry a water pitcher of weight without extreme pain.
Recently saw someone repeat the phrase "strict parents make good liars" again, and I am reminded of how I haven't let my family into my life since I was old enough to earn their disapproval (meaning, my entire life). And now I'm a whole-ass grown adult, and still hiding an entire glacier's worth of information about myself, because I'm scared of getting blamed for wrecking The Titanic. Instead of, y'know, the captain being at fault ((the metaphor for my family holding such... [I was going to say 'antiquated,' but actually, America just proved transphobia will always be modern...] ...rigid views about gender and sexuality that they are unwilling to budge even a few degrees further away from their position.))
I mean, let's roll with me being a glacier in the larger picture, because that's also at stake with this election, too! Climate change is ready to destroy entire pieces of the antarctic, and also, the next person holding presidency is making me feel like my hand is pressed to drop everything and pursue urgent HRT so if the worst comes to worst, I could maybe be grandfathered in! Which will be an entire fucking disaster for my situation with my family, and also if I DON'T get grandfathered in, then I've just successfully outed myself for nothing, to more than just people I know because it'd have to be to the DEA since T is controlled, and that's a federal agency. Ugh. And I don't mean outed for 'nothing' - I do feel like I need and want it, I just don't feel safe right now!! But guess what, the level of safety I feel right now, may be the last semblance of safety that I feel for a long time, and that sucks because I haven't felt safe irt gender since I first started realizing my own gender. I will be 34 if the next term flips back the other way (or 32 for mids), but it feels doubtful trans issues will take forefront over whatever other disasters happen. If anything, America definitely sent the message to me that trans people will never be accepted or safe here. ((Leaving is not an option, I would not leave if I even had the option. I'm Native and I can't give that up. [It's the non-Native side of my family that I'm scared of.]))
And back to wanting to transition before my age gets the better of me: the way my mental and physical health have been since moving back home (and before I even moved back home), I am on a downward trajectory. I don't reasonably foresee overcoming ageing-related health issues - I've been chronically ill since age 11. Even shitty doctors have told me I can't have the conditions I have because only old people get them. Well, now I've had them for like 20 years lol.
I THOUGHT I was making real progress by working out EVERY DAY this year from February to the end of September when I re-injured my back (it never got better, only worse). But now I can't even keep up exercise because lifting my dumbbells hurts my spine. It was already a struggle to do with the back injuries in the picture, but it took so long for me to get appointments that I had no choice until the most recent injury made me stop. I still try to use my lightest dumbbells 2x a week, but even that is too much, and I can't do any leg or core exercises because it hurts my spine too much to move when shifting legs. I was previously, in the middle of summer with no AC, exercising up to like 4 hours a day at max. Every day. (2-4 hours, really, and I worked up to that in the first 3 months, but it was EVERY day.) I was seriously fighting to overcome both my back injury and body/gender dysphoria, and multiple chronic illnesses. I ain't got any fight left, now.
If someone dedicating 4 hours of exercise every day cannot make progress towards a healthier life, then what is the fucking point? I'm 30, but it's an OLD 30.
God, and I had to deal with some seriously traumatizing shit this past summer on top of my back injury. I am still seeing ""ants"" whenever my eye catches a tangent, and I have to double check to make sure I'm 1) not seeing a real ant and 2) not still hallucinating ants.
ANYWay, back to the point about reading that comic, I remember in college, one class was having small talk about what we were all doing for Thanksgiving (a holiday I do not give a single fuck about), and when it came to me I was like, "Oh, no, I'm staying at the dorm, I don't really miss hearing all the homophobia and bigotry that comes up at family get-togethers. Y'know, the ushe." And the class just goes dead silent and the teacher is like, "That's not the ushe..." and I had to backtrack to explain how my sample size for 'ushe' is small since I basically only knew other queer ppl and that was not uncommon. And all-around made a clown of myself in my socially awkward way. And you can tell I'm still embarrassed about that moment. That I'm still embarrassed about my family's bigotry. I have been embarrassed about their bigotry since fucking Prop 8, before I even realized I wasn't straight! I am EMBARRASSED. FOR. MY FAMILY. God, I hate that.
Thankfully, California voted to officially undo Prop 8 this time. Maybe trans people will see statewide protections in another 16 years, if that is the pattern of social acceptance (sounds like a stretch for even that though). Fucking infuriating that it took that long at all to put it back on the ballot. Not like California law affects my family's stance at all, though. I don't expect them to ever change. I don't expect my existence to ever change them. It's a miracle I haven't yet come out in anger, when hearing the way they talk about queer people.
Anyway, it's after 2am, and I gotta be up early tomorrow. I just needed to get this out of me. I started panicking and then stopped at the glacier metaphor, so what's a couple hours of typing if it means I didn't need to take anxiety pills (at this time of night I can take either anxiety pills or sleeping meds, not both, so I am glad I can get sleep tonight).
If anyone read this far, I'm sorry lol. Hope you're having a better day than me, dude. If you're not, cheer up, at least you didn't break a full flower pot of dirt in the shower.
Actually, I gotta keep telling myself that. Every day that I don't break a flower pot in the shower, can NOT be eligible for 'worst day ever.' Because if you're having a bad day, it can always be made worse by breaking a flower pot in the shower. Especially if you already showered and were in the middle of toweling off. And a handful of other 'worst day' multipliers are in effect. (Back injury, bathroom flooring is not down, ants in the bathroom, etc. It was a slot-machine/lottery numbers type of worst day, not a worst moment day.)
'I re-injured my back!!1!1!!' Okay, but did you also break a flower pot in the shower again? 'No...' Then get back in there, soldier, you already dug out a tub full of dirt with a back injury, so you can dig yourself out of this flood!
I still have that picture I took in disbelief, I should print that out and remind myself of that more often. Maybe add a shitty one-liner like, "If you're not drowning in soil, you're not dead yet. Keep digging." Maybe a worm emoji, but in beige, for ultimate Tack.
03:22 lmao, okay I gotta sleep for real. I was just doing a proofread and Tumblr bugged but showed me a new restore post option, which is cool, but I'm not gonna tempt fate with a post this long that I am unable to Select-All and Copy. Wish me luck conveying even half of this to my therapist tomorrow. I can type a thousand words, but maybe speak 20 words, my thought processes are so hard to convert into linear spoken language.
#delete later / /#vent / /#queerphobia mention / /#politics mention / /#Cori.exe#ShitPost.exe#long post / /
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Will Smith takes the stage for the first time since that Oscar slap to accept the Beacon Award for Emancipation at the AAFCA Awards
Will Smith returned to the stage for the first time since his infamous Oscar slap of Chris Rock to accept the Beacon Award for Emancipation at the AAFCA Awards on Wednesday evening.
The 54-year-old actor accepted the Beacon Award at the 14th Annual AAFCA Awards, held at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel in Beverly Hills, California.
Smith's appearance comes just hours after reports claim that Chris Rock's new live Netflix special will address the slap.
He was joined by his Emancipation director Antoine Fuqua on stage, opening his speech by revealing, 'Emancipation was the individual most difficult film of my entire career,' before joking, 'It was all outdoors, that is true.'
He was joined by his Emancipation director Antoine Fuqua on stage, opening his speech by revealing, 'Emancipation was the individual most difficult film of my entire career,' before joking, 'It was all outdoors, that is true.'
'I remember it was the second day of shooting and it's really difficult to transport a modern mind to that time period. It's difficult to imagine that level of inhumanity,' Smith said.
'I remember it was like 110 degrees, we're out there and I'm in a scene with one of the white actors. We had our line and the actor decided to ad-lib,' Smith continued.
'So we're doing the scene and I did my line and he did his line and then he ad-libbed... spitting in the middle of my chest,' he said, as the audience gasped.
Smith himself facetiously gasped, adding, 'If I had pearls on, I definitely would have clutched them,' adding he wanted to cry out to his director Fuqua but he stopped.
'I stopped and I realized Peter couldn't have called the director,' Smith said, referencing his character, known as 'Whipped Peter,' whose famous scourged back photo was published in 1863 and revealed the horrors of slavery.
'So I sat there, and I took a deep breath and we did Take 2, and the actor felt that the ad-lib had gone well... I do my line, he does his line, and spits in the middle of my chest again. I just held in that moment and there was a part of me that was grateful that I got to really understand,' Smith said.
He then joked that he heard director Fuqua's voice calling out, 'Hey, let's do a take without the spit,' adding, 'And in that moment... I knew God was real.'
Smith then turned to his fellow Black artists in the crowd, saying they are people who really, 'suffer for the art to bring these stories to the screen and deliver them in a way that has emotional impact for the telling of our stories and hopefully just a subtle possibility to change a heart, or to change a mind.'
He went on to thank everyone in the room, 'for doing what you do to keep our stories alive,' while thanking Apple as well, saying they 'never flinched' when the budget kept increasing.
'It was the first time I heard from a studio, "The story is more important than how much it costs to get it done,"' Smith said to applause, before joking, 'Then we added some more stuff that we wanted.'
He wrapped up his speech by adding, 'More than anything, I want to thank my brother Antoine Fuqua. He didn't compromise on one shot.'
His heart, his mind, his desire to deliver this story to all of you and the world, I was blown away by the lengths that he was willing to make me go through to deliver this film. I appreciate all of you. Peter has changed my life,' Smith concluded.
Director Antione Fuqua also spoke on stage, beginning with the importance of the award they received.
The Beacon Award is intended to highlight films that are tackling challenging subjects with insight, enlightening, as well as engaging the audience,' he said.
'It was our hope that Emancipation, that it would be able to bring Peter’s triumphant story and unwavering faith and his deep love for his family to life,' Fuqua added.
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OMGOMGOMG I read your Mexico Texas post AND I'M SO GLAD YOU SAID IT
Having a bit of knowledge of early Texan history from a Mexican perspective, it is depressing but not surprising at how whitewashed the state history is. I noticed this is a big issue with the rest of the country, but especially with Texas, some of the ways they teach in school (and it does vary) tell an incomplete story that is sometimes used to justify villifying Mexicans. And I don't know the full extent, I'm still learning.
Something that I wanna say is that how people describe Mexico as abusive to Texas is lowkey kinda racist. I've always wanted to speak up on it, but just couldn't find the words for it. Even if I did, I'm scared of people just talking down to me or treat it as drama and downplay it, as it happens whenever someone speak up on racism. I recognize that these people aren't hateful towards Mexicans, everyone here has been lovely, but that doesn't mean they still don't push the Violent Mexican stereotype onto Mexico. It just rubs me the wrong way regardless of the intention.
I'm tired.
Thank you for reading this kinda long message. I'm sure it wasn't a comfortable read, but dealing with racism has and will never be comfortable.
I'm glad you liked it. I'm white, so I was hesitant to call it racist myself because white people also have a tendency to call random things racist, but like... when you look at Texan history, they kinda revolted to uphold white supremacy ideals (slavery).
Personally, I think Mexico and Texas, if they are in any way related, because they could not be! are like siblings. And Texas is the annoying younger sibling who pushes things too far and still needs to learn to reign things in a bit.
I've noticed that people have implicit bias's that they work with. Other popular ones being making the South just super hateful/mean and making it out like California can't do wrong/is perfect/it's a sad thing he has no friends and not a direct result of his own behavior.
If Ben would finish his history series it'd be a lot easier to headcanon backstories I think
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About Haley
Full name: Haley Emmanuella Vasquez
Date and place of birth: August 17, 1987, Arroyo, Puerto Rico
Gender: Trans woman
Height: 6' even
Weight: 142 lbs
Baptismal and confirmational name: Francisco Onesimus Nonnatus Emmanuel García de Vasquez
Legal deadname: Immanuel Carlos García
Parents: Camila Paola Vasquez de García (née Rodriguez, born 1972), Luís Carlos García de Nakamura (born 1962)
Siblings: a twin, Diego Pierre García
Relationship status: Separated
First language: Spanish
Second language: English
Third language: Russian
Trying to learn: Taíno, an extinct language since the 1800s, to communicate better with her ancestors
Ethnicities: Taíno, Japanese, African American (predominantly West), colonizer, Japanese and Indian - she took a DNA test and despite being 100% that bitch she is also:
33% African - West (Benin, Nigeria, and Togo)
7% Spanish
25% Japanese
20% Indigenous Americas - Taíno
10% Indian
4% South African
1% Indigenous Americas - Yucatan Peninsula
Employment: former fuller service sex worker, current limited service sex worker (dancing and creating content predominantly), drug and arms deals - wants nothing more than to be a museum curator or coffee roaster, or both
Disorders: major depressive, gender dysphoria
Species: succubus, vampire
Religion: formerly devout Roman Catholic, currently Yoruban Lucumí/Santería
Favorite musical artists: Beyonce, Lizzo, Cardi, Daddy Yankee, Pitbull, Princess Nokia
Bio: Born the baby, always the baby.
Haley was born at precisely midnight on August 17th, giving her a different birthday than her twin. It was only the beginning of their differences. Their father was completely unknown to them for the majority of their lives, although they found him - and their siblings, including a Luís Junior - on Facebook. Needless to say, after years of him being a deadbeat, they didn't slide in his DMs or shoot him a FR. He had groomed their mother, after all. She was nearly a decade younger, and he left the second she got pregnant. He was an adult and knocked up a freshman, after all.
By age seven, their mother had saved enough to get them to the mainland. The loss of culture and culture shock was a huge problem for Haley, but Diego thrived. He got along great with his little white friends, throwing away their language and traditions to assimilate. It caused a large divide between the twins. Haley could never stand a colonizer. She told them white boys thank you, next -- til she met the right one.
Raised in Concord of Contra Costa County, California, Haley had a hard time fitting in. People always be touching her hair, insulting her mama's food. Despite being a woman, she'd shave her head just to keep them girls from touching it with their oily ass hands. It made her cry every time. Her mother would curl her hair before she shaved it off for her, and let her doll herself up and play dress up for a while. It helped her heal from the buzzcut.
Haley's mother always supported who she was and told her to live her truth. Diego couldn't stand it. It was just one more thing that made them different. They were identical twins; they were supposed to be exactly the same. To hell with it, though, Haley said - she was a good person and there were two things she'd never be confused for: a man, and a straight.
By age fifteen, Haley was working the streets. She was also falling in love with some dumb as shit, goofy ass, lanky white boy since she was fourteen. He stripped her of all her walls and insecurities and left her whole. Eventually, she became confident in her nose, and her jaggedy ass teeth, and even her afro. The second she got a bag she fixed her teeth though, so how confident was she really? He never considered himself gay just for being with her; he always considered her a woman. They kept their shit on the DL for a couple years because you know how it be. He'd be the school f*ggot, it really do be that way. But nearing their seventeenth birthday, something happened.
Her high school sweetheart never knew Haley was working the streets. He suspected something was up, especially when she was covered in bruises, or worse. He assumed it was familial abuse; the idea she was out there working was unfathomable, especially at her age. He wouldn't believe it when the police came and interviewed him. Insulted and incredulous, he walked out on the interview - and became a suspect, however briefly. Her mother and brother, too, were suspected.
Haley was trafficked on the 9th of August by a client, Vyacheslav Kirillovich Ivankov, she agreed to meet at his home after a few dates. Working the piers had been hell on earth, she'd thought, but that was before she was ripped away from everything she knew and sold into sex slavery. She was now under organized crime control in a child brothel in the Bronx. She quickly befriended a lot of the girls being imported to marry from Russia, learning their language rapidly. She lost many friends along the way. Unbeknownst to her, for a long while, Haley had contracted HIV in the brothel.
Once she had aged out of the child brothel, Haley stayed with the mob. She was too ashamed to return home, and she'd heard what had happened to her loved ones when she'd been taken - her captors had made her watch the news on her disappearance, the trials of her family and friends, how they were suspected - how they thought she left of her own accord. These news reels broke her. She never saw how much she was missed and loved, not for years.
During her captivity, Haley's ancestors reached out to her to tell her they'd been through it too and how to survive. It was from then on that Haley honored the loa and her ancestors through magic, not entirely disowning Christ but finding a way to encompass both Catholicism and Brujería into one. Catholicism was just magic in her head anyway. The sacrifices, though.....
The Russians who held her misgendered her constantly, and on purpose. They pawned her off to all the chasers in town. She quickly grew to hate Europeans more than she knew possible. She kept working their bar - a front for an adult brothel, also full of sex trafficking victims, but all Russian brides - as both a tender and a dancer. She did a hell of a job as both.
It was there that she attracted the attention of her husband. He will remain unnamed, as everything henceforth is far too incriminating. Haley put on a fucking SHOW. She brought her best game for hours on end, every single night. She constantly brought thousands into the house. She was not seeing a damn cent of it, either, which was why she had a side hustle. The bitch never slept. She danced for cheap at an adult store, and she hated every second of it. It wasn't like the bar - with her best friend Brendan, and the free shots, and the being treated like a woman because clients no longer knew her gender unless they clocked her. These clients at the store were all chasers, and she had to watch them masturbate and pretend to enjoy it, or even get off with them if they paid enough. She got paid well enough for it to keep it up, though.
Gentrification was on the verge of ruining her when she met him. All she wanted was to be someone's kept woman, on retainer, on a top floor somewhere in the Upper East Side. He fell for her, and she got more than she could've ever dreamed of. More than money. She got power, and fame, and surgeries, and sneakers, and sports cars, and love. Love. Something she thought she was fucking incapable of. Something taken from her.
He led the racketeering. In fact, it was him who ordered these countless abductions. On all accounts, he'd ruined her life, but he also gave her the best. It wasn't long before she found out he knew her high school sweetheart - by running into him at a party her fiancé was throwing. She still didn't have the heart to tell him everything that had happened, so she let him think she abandoned him. She let him think something was so wrong with him she fled clear across the country into the arms of another man. And she married that man in front of him and never told him otherwise. He still thought it to this day...
But on to the separation. Her husband's brothers weren't invited to the wedding, even though his cunt of a mother managed to make it. Haley never questioned it. She knew not to question him anyway - it was fatiguing, talking in circles. It was a good thing their mutual friend had taught her patience over a decade. Of course, she never told her husband how she knew his friend. He spilled it all drunk, unbeknownst to her, though. That was something that came up in the separation. The main flaws, though, that kept coming up were her depression and her cheating with her husband's younger brother. Haley's husband wasn't considerably older than her, only by a couple of years, but his brother was the same age. Age was irrelevant, though. A strange spark neither could define, a long conversation by the fire and far too much booze, and some seduction on both parts led them to begin an affair.
And so, we pick up where our protagonist left off - fleeing New York in a stolen lemon, for god knows where.
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