They won't let me write in here.
They say it hasn't helped my therapy.
So, in this attempt to sneak you a line, I hope you'll see it and understand where I've been and why I've gone. I don't know how long I'll be here.
Everyone has their breakin' point. I've pushed my parents to the limit and beyond. Thank God for the truth of a mother and father's unconditional love. But even that, I'm afraid, I have often taken for granted.
I got in trouble again. Was arrested again. Public intoxication, destruction of public property, violating my parole...the list goes on.
Kevin was there to bail me out – as he has always been. Problem is, I failed to see the pain in his eyes or the tellin' signs that he had reached the apex of his limitations. All I could see at the time, was that he was there. In being there, I assumed he still loved me. And in lovin' me, I didn't care to see what was left – that he just didn't know what to do with me.
That night, however, I did see. I saw the failed expression on his face. I saw the hurt in his eyes. I saw the anger in his jawline, the dismissal in his refusal to touch me. Finally, all I saw were taillights.
I made the mistake of lettin' him walk himself to my door. I let him tell me he couldn't do it anymore. In choked sobs, I had nothin' to say. I wanted to throw myself at his feet and beg him not to go. Sadness havin' taken hold, I didn't. I ran to my room to hide. Until I heard the sound of his engine outside. But by the time I made my way through the door, all I could see was him drivin' away.
So, I ran after him. I let my sobs turn to cries as I called out his name. But he didn't see me. He didn't hear me. And if he did, it didn't stop him. As I had always feared, he had reached his breakin' point. He had realized that I was not worth the pain and destruction that I caused, that I wrought onto every soul unfortunate enough to stumble across my path.
I couldn't see him after those tiny red lights finally faded in the distance. I couldn't see anything. Blinded by my tears, and numbed by the pain, the stitch in my side was not enough to slow me down. The car wizzin' by me in the darkness of the night, was however. Feelin' the air of metal much to near my skin I fell to the side of the road, my knees hittin' the gravel on the edge of pavement and soft earth. Still, I didn't feel the pain. I could only see the blood I left lyin' on the ground.
I didn't wish to go back home - to be in that place where he had said his last goodbye. So I kept walkin'. The night air was hot on the back of my throat. I needed a drink so desperately that I thought I might choke. Winded and weary, I was suddenly overcome with the very human need for water. I was so thirsty. With every step it seemed as though sand were fillin' my mouth.
I could see litter and trash along the ground, my eyes unable to look ahead or above. A water bottle. Casually, I walked towards it, kickin' it with my toe. Empty.
Another. Empty. Finally, a few steps more, I saw a third. There was water inside. Without thinkin' I picked it up and opened the lid, bringin' it up to my lips before I stopped. How disgustin' was this? Was I really about to drink from garbage in a ditch?
With the last shred of dignity I had I left, I threw it down. No I was not.
But I was still so thirsty.
I continued to walk forward, wonderin' how on earth, my head was still tickin' while the rest of me was not – why it felt the need to beat a dead heart with a stick of memories.
Soon I found my path lit-up with the yellow lights of street lamps. Houses popped up in front of me as I made my way toward another neighborhood. The dogs in the yard of the first house barked as I walked along their fence-line. Normally, I would have been startled by the mad noises of protection, but I was not deterred. I had already heard the trickle of something much more dear. Water.
The second house in the row was equipped with a pool. I could see the the waterfall cascadin' from what I assumed was a jacuzzi into the main pool below, and in response my mouth suddenly felt like an hourglass had exploded inside.
No dogs came to the fence-line here. Quietly, I made my way over the fence and ducked through the opening into the backyard. No lights were on to indicate anyone inside was still awake. Kneelin' down to the edge, I cupped a handful of the chlorinated water into my mouth and drank. No worse than gulpin' it as I swam as a kid I assumed.
The water trickled off my face and the cool damp freshness of it was more than I could ignore. Flippin' around, I put my feet in first and slid in until my head and body were completely submerged. Weightless. I bobbed underwater until I had to surface for a breath.
Unfortunately, when I broke the surface, I saw the back porch light flip on. Then a very angry lookin' man came outside. My ears full of water I could barely make out his shouts as he started yellin' for me to get the hell off his property. Scramblin' up the side of the pool, I jumped out and ran again without lookin' behind me. I was gettin' used to these short reprieves shattered by reality.
I ran down the street until the house was out of sight and slowed back down to a walk. Soon, I found myself on a bridge. One of those old-timey bridges that nobody had bothered to tear down, with arches and eaves overhead. I stopped in the middle and looked down. The bottom looked so far away. My shoes scratched against the gravel at the edge as my body leaned against the railin'. Peerin' as far over the side as I could I wondered if I would ever feel again. If even the breathlessness of a fall would be enough to make me feel alive – even if only for a moment.
Pullin' myself up onto the railin', I grabbed for the eaves overhead to steady myself. How many times had I jumped from a cliff? Had I ever truly appreciated the soar?
With a final look above, I saw how beautiful the moon was as it cascaded the fullness of its light down upon me.
And I jumped.
The wind caught in my throat as I readied myself for the bottom. I let the seconds feel like time stood still as I relished in this final plight.
And then with a splash, I was underwater again. Weightless.
The swirling darkness of the creek overwhelmed me and took me in. I let the icy water churn 'round my body as I pushed myself farther and farther down. Oh, how I wished I could be a mermaid. How nice would it be to stay here forever, and swim away into the depths to find new worlds.
But I was not. Soon, my irritating humanness took hold again as I was forced to break the surface for air. Immediately, I heard shouts from the shore. Great. What law had I broken this time?
“You there! Girl! Get out of there! Don't you know how filthy that water is? This is a runoff creek girl! Get out of there before you catch some brain-eating parasite! What are you trying to do? Get yourself killed? Get of there now! Last thing I need is some brain dead teenager on my hands!”
Swimmin' with a new sense of urgency – for no, I did not realize how filthy the water was, I only had wanted to feel its weightlessness again – I made my way to the shore.
I felt his hand grasp mine as I climbed out of the bank, to fall again on my knees. Sore and bruised, I was almost thankful for the pain.
“What kind of idiot jumps into a stagnant pool of water? Have you no sense?” he asked, his voice cracked and tellin' of his age.
I looked up to see him, but could barely make out his face as he was so dark he practically melted into the background. All I could see were the whites of his eyes. Anger? Fear? I could not tell. Confusion, to be sure.
“I just wanted to swim,” I mustered in a hushed whisper.
“Well, there's better places to do that. A girl your age has no business on this side of town at night, alone, much less swimming in this cesspool.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No need to tell me your sorry. You get on home now, before you get yourself into real trouble.”
I didn't move. I was tired. I didn't have the fight.
“Go on now. Go on home. Go girl.”
“Can I just sit here awhile?” I asked. This was obviously his bridge. Anyone in their right mind would probably have been fearful of sittin' alongside some hobo under some dark bridge. I, however, had nothin' left to be fearful of I figured. Nothin' else could hurt me anymore.
“You are a fool of a girl aren't you?”
He kept his distance. Sure he would pull or push me to my feet and away from his isolated abode, I was surprised when he sat down a few feet away from me. Silently, we watched the dark creek ripple as the leaves fell from the trees.
“Nothing quite as foolish as being a fool in love huh little missy?” he asked finally breaking the tense silence and looking my way.
The moon reflected off the water, providing enough light for me to see the question on his mind.
“To be in love requires two people does it not?” I replied back coolly. “I loved. It's lost. End of story.”
“It's never the end until you take your last breath. Keep on fighting girl. You've got more going for you than you think.”
It was hard to argue with him – the hobo under the bridge. So we sat in silence a while longer before he finally asked to escort me home.
“Come on now, before the law is on my heels. I'm sure your family is looking for you. Let me walk you home.”
Sluggishly, I stood. We walked on in continued silence but I did not take him the route I had come.
Finally, at a length of tall metal fences and gates, I stopped. Breathing deep as I looked inside the empty courtyard of cold concrete, I readied myself for what was to come.
“This is your home?” he asked soundin' surprised.
“It will be.”
I looked up at the sign above the gated entrance. “Herring's Haven,” it read - a haven for wayward girls and the psychologically disturbed. Was there really such a thing? I doubted it. But the toll was bound to be less than on the outside.
“Thank you for walkin' with me,” I said, tryin' my best to smile my good graces, but sure it probably looked like more of a sneer as my cheeks failed to work with my efforts.
“Chin up missy. This too shall pass.”
I wanted to believe him. But he didn't know that my demise was of my own makin'. And I had little hope left that my future would ever look any brighter. Yet, it was harder still to forget his words altogether – the hobo from the bridge, a man who most would assume had no hope.
So this is where I am. Herring's Haven. They don't want me to write to you - to tell you how magical it was for the time I had to live my life without pause, without doubt, and with only impulse. It has been a destructive road. Maybe, given time, I will learn a way to find that happy medium between extremes. Maybe they can make me a bird. Maybe.
So, farewell, until we meet again my friends.
23.1.12
Grounded For Life
“Jeaux!”
“Jeaux!”
I heard my dad yellin’ for me from downstairs. He didn’t sound happy. In fact, he sounded down right perturbed. Well, I was perturbed too.
I was grounded.
Oh yeah. That’s right - a grown woman, grounded by her mommy and daddy for going out of town. Sure I left without word, missed the holidays, and had them worried out of their minds…but grounded?
I pretty much slept the entire first day I had been home. Listening to their lectures not only had killed my love buzz, but was exhaustin’ in of itself. Once they put the hammer down (grounded me like a five year old I mean) I was pretty much done listenin’ and had gone to bed to sleep off the weekend.
The second day, my mother had me cleanin’ and reorganizin’ closets. On the third day, my father woke me up bright ‘n early with a shovel in one hand and a bag of mulch waitin’ for me in the backyard.
After that – well before that…but after that for sure – I was pretty much done with the whole groundin’ thing.
First, Mom’s favorite spatula suddenly went missin’. Then, it was dad’s shovel. How it found its way into the neighbor’s backyard, I just swear I’ll never know.
Mom, of course found her spatula. There wasn’t an inch of the house she didn’t know about, and I knew she’d find it eventually. But it sure was fun watchin’ her look for it.
“Jeaux!” Dad yelled again. “Where is the remote control?”
“Couldn’t tell ya dad!” I yelled back not botherin’ to go help him look. I mean, of course I knew where it was. I hid it. Duh.
They were on to me. I hadn’t planned to be a menace. The opportunity merely fell right into my lap. But once I’d started my little game, I found it difficult to stop. If they were gonna keep me cooped up in the house like a juvenile delinquent, then I was gonna act as childish as possible. We’d see who drove who crazy first.
“Jeaux, don’t toy with me young lady. Where is the remote control? I know you know where it is.”
Standin’ in my doorway, he tried to look as intimidatin’ as possible (which had always seemed to work in his favor in the past) but I was unmoved.
“Sorry dad. I really don’t know.”
“Dammit Jeaux, quit playing these games. The playoffs start in five minutes, and I can’t turn on that new TV without my damn remote!”
Dutifully, I followed my dad down the stairs, but damned if I was gonna help him tear apart the house to find the remote when I knew right where it was. That would just be silly.
Mom stood in the kitchen, stirrin’ a pitcher of tea, shakin’ her head at me as we walked by. I knew what she was thinkin’. That she was gonna win this game. But I knew she was on the edge. If it’s one thing my mother cannot stand, it’s a house out of order.
As my dad started his search again, flippin’ couch cushions and gettin’ on all fours to look under the furniture, he continued to yell at me to help him.
“Aw, Dad you look like you’ve got it all under control. Your pants could use the assistance of a belt though. Come on, plumber crack!”
“Girl, you are really pushin’ it you know that?”
“What are you gonna do? Ground me?”
The second it flew from my mouth, I regretted it. By the look on my dad’s face, I was right to. Luckily, his wrath was stopped short by the coughin’ and sputterin’ from the kitchen, followed by my mother’s shrill voice shoutin’ my name.
“Jeaux! Did you put salt in the sugar canister? Jeaux!”
Peekin’ my head around the corner, tryin’ my best to plaster a look of pure innocence on my face, I replied, “No Mommy I have no idea how that happened.”
Then another interruption. From the living room, it appeared as though Dad had finally found his beloved remote control as a triumphant “Ah-ha!” resounded through the room. My mother only continued to glare at me as she poured the fresh pitcher of salty tea down the sink.
“Goddammit Jeaux! Where are the batteries? No more games girl! Where are the damn batteries?”
“Sorry dad, couldn’t tell ya.”
“Okay! Enough. Enough of this,” my mother shouted, wipin’ her hands on her apron as she emerged from the kitchen. “Jeaux. You tell your father where the batteries are right now. You stop turning my home into some kind of a circus. You will not force your father to resort to taking the Lord’s name in vain. Not in my house.”
“Gotta entertain myself somehow don’t I? You got me locked up in here like a kid on a leash. Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?”
“And do you have any idea how worried we were about you? We are not just going to let that slide young lady.”
“Young lady? I’m a grown woman Mom. Look. See? All grown up. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’ve told you that a million times already. What else do you want? You can’t ground me like a child.”
“As long as you live under my roof…”
“Like I have a choice! Don’t you think if I could live on my own I would? But I can’t. But that doesn’t give you guys the right to treat me like a kid for the rest of my life!”
Like I couldn’t fathom bein’ reliant on my parents for the entirety of my adult life, I think they still forgot just exactly why I had yet to move out. And even further, forgot just how long I might have to stay.
“You’re right.”
“I’m sorry, I’m quite certain I’m hallucinatin’, because I swear I thought I just heard you say I was right.”
“You’re not right enough to deserve an instant replay. You heard me,” my father smirked. “Look, we’re not tryin’ to control you. We both know there’s no doing that. We just…it’s hard to break the mold hunny. We’re still your parents.”
“Just go Jeaux. Go find Kevin. I’m just up to here,” my mother sighed, her hand swayin’ above her head to show just how high her limits had been tested. “You can’t be told anything, you can’t be respectful of our wishes, you can’t help but play games and do your very best to drive everyone around you crazy. So just go Jeaux. Consider your grounding officially revoked.”
I didn’t hesitate. Grabbin’ my purse, I bounded for the door before they changed their minds again, and figured lockin’ me in my room would be the best route after all.
It wasn’t until I was halfway to Kevin’s house that my mother’s words started to sink in. I don’t do well with guilt. It creeps in on my like the mornin’ fog, and before long, I’m blinded by it, cloaked in it, swimmin’ in the heavy curtain of grey grief my mother can deftly deliver like a tranquilizer dart. You may not even know at first that you’ve been hit. You think you won. Then you start feelin’ your knees wobble. Your spine suddenly seems too weak to carry the weight. And that’s when you realize…you’ve been got.
Sometimes even my impulses get confused. In those moments when I can literally hear my ego and id arguin’ in my head, I feel like my feet are tryin’ their damndest to find the next step in some ridiculous dance. I step side to side or front to back in short hops, not sure which foot to take, which voice to follow, which impulse to accept.
But eventually, one wins. Never know which it’ll be…but it happens every time. I find my footing. I go along.
So I turned around.
I walked back up my sidewalk, back into my house, straight past my parents on the couch, into my room, and locked the door.
And let the grounding continue.
“Jeaux!”
I heard my dad yellin’ for me from downstairs. He didn’t sound happy. In fact, he sounded down right perturbed. Well, I was perturbed too.
I was grounded.
Oh yeah. That’s right - a grown woman, grounded by her mommy and daddy for going out of town. Sure I left without word, missed the holidays, and had them worried out of their minds…but grounded?
I pretty much slept the entire first day I had been home. Listening to their lectures not only had killed my love buzz, but was exhaustin’ in of itself. Once they put the hammer down (grounded me like a five year old I mean) I was pretty much done listenin’ and had gone to bed to sleep off the weekend.
The second day, my mother had me cleanin’ and reorganizin’ closets. On the third day, my father woke me up bright ‘n early with a shovel in one hand and a bag of mulch waitin’ for me in the backyard.
After that – well before that…but after that for sure – I was pretty much done with the whole groundin’ thing.
First, Mom’s favorite spatula suddenly went missin’. Then, it was dad’s shovel. How it found its way into the neighbor’s backyard, I just swear I’ll never know.
Mom, of course found her spatula. There wasn’t an inch of the house she didn’t know about, and I knew she’d find it eventually. But it sure was fun watchin’ her look for it.
“Jeaux!” Dad yelled again. “Where is the remote control?”
“Couldn’t tell ya dad!” I yelled back not botherin’ to go help him look. I mean, of course I knew where it was. I hid it. Duh.
They were on to me. I hadn’t planned to be a menace. The opportunity merely fell right into my lap. But once I’d started my little game, I found it difficult to stop. If they were gonna keep me cooped up in the house like a juvenile delinquent, then I was gonna act as childish as possible. We’d see who drove who crazy first.
“Jeaux, don’t toy with me young lady. Where is the remote control? I know you know where it is.”
Standin’ in my doorway, he tried to look as intimidatin’ as possible (which had always seemed to work in his favor in the past) but I was unmoved.
“Sorry dad. I really don’t know.”
“Dammit Jeaux, quit playing these games. The playoffs start in five minutes, and I can’t turn on that new TV without my damn remote!”
Dutifully, I followed my dad down the stairs, but damned if I was gonna help him tear apart the house to find the remote when I knew right where it was. That would just be silly.
Mom stood in the kitchen, stirrin’ a pitcher of tea, shakin’ her head at me as we walked by. I knew what she was thinkin’. That she was gonna win this game. But I knew she was on the edge. If it’s one thing my mother cannot stand, it’s a house out of order.
As my dad started his search again, flippin’ couch cushions and gettin’ on all fours to look under the furniture, he continued to yell at me to help him.
“Aw, Dad you look like you’ve got it all under control. Your pants could use the assistance of a belt though. Come on, plumber crack!”
“Girl, you are really pushin’ it you know that?”
“What are you gonna do? Ground me?”
The second it flew from my mouth, I regretted it. By the look on my dad’s face, I was right to. Luckily, his wrath was stopped short by the coughin’ and sputterin’ from the kitchen, followed by my mother’s shrill voice shoutin’ my name.
“Jeaux! Did you put salt in the sugar canister? Jeaux!”
Peekin’ my head around the corner, tryin’ my best to plaster a look of pure innocence on my face, I replied, “No Mommy I have no idea how that happened.”
Then another interruption. From the living room, it appeared as though Dad had finally found his beloved remote control as a triumphant “Ah-ha!” resounded through the room. My mother only continued to glare at me as she poured the fresh pitcher of salty tea down the sink.
“Goddammit Jeaux! Where are the batteries? No more games girl! Where are the damn batteries?”
“Sorry dad, couldn’t tell ya.”
“Okay! Enough. Enough of this,” my mother shouted, wipin’ her hands on her apron as she emerged from the kitchen. “Jeaux. You tell your father where the batteries are right now. You stop turning my home into some kind of a circus. You will not force your father to resort to taking the Lord’s name in vain. Not in my house.”
“Gotta entertain myself somehow don’t I? You got me locked up in here like a kid on a leash. Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?”
“And do you have any idea how worried we were about you? We are not just going to let that slide young lady.”
“Young lady? I’m a grown woman Mom. Look. See? All grown up. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’ve told you that a million times already. What else do you want? You can’t ground me like a child.”
“As long as you live under my roof…”
“Like I have a choice! Don’t you think if I could live on my own I would? But I can’t. But that doesn’t give you guys the right to treat me like a kid for the rest of my life!”
Like I couldn’t fathom bein’ reliant on my parents for the entirety of my adult life, I think they still forgot just exactly why I had yet to move out. And even further, forgot just how long I might have to stay.
“You’re right.”
“I’m sorry, I’m quite certain I’m hallucinatin’, because I swear I thought I just heard you say I was right.”
“You’re not right enough to deserve an instant replay. You heard me,” my father smirked. “Look, we’re not tryin’ to control you. We both know there’s no doing that. We just…it’s hard to break the mold hunny. We’re still your parents.”
“Just go Jeaux. Go find Kevin. I’m just up to here,” my mother sighed, her hand swayin’ above her head to show just how high her limits had been tested. “You can’t be told anything, you can’t be respectful of our wishes, you can’t help but play games and do your very best to drive everyone around you crazy. So just go Jeaux. Consider your grounding officially revoked.”
I didn’t hesitate. Grabbin’ my purse, I bounded for the door before they changed their minds again, and figured lockin’ me in my room would be the best route after all.
It wasn’t until I was halfway to Kevin’s house that my mother’s words started to sink in. I don’t do well with guilt. It creeps in on my like the mornin’ fog, and before long, I’m blinded by it, cloaked in it, swimmin’ in the heavy curtain of grey grief my mother can deftly deliver like a tranquilizer dart. You may not even know at first that you’ve been hit. You think you won. Then you start feelin’ your knees wobble. Your spine suddenly seems too weak to carry the weight. And that’s when you realize…you’ve been got.
Sometimes even my impulses get confused. In those moments when I can literally hear my ego and id arguin’ in my head, I feel like my feet are tryin’ their damndest to find the next step in some ridiculous dance. I step side to side or front to back in short hops, not sure which foot to take, which voice to follow, which impulse to accept.
But eventually, one wins. Never know which it’ll be…but it happens every time. I find my footing. I go along.
So I turned around.
I walked back up my sidewalk, back into my house, straight past my parents on the couch, into my room, and locked the door.
And let the grounding continue.
9.1.12
A First Date
There was no more control. There was no more filter. There was no possible way I could contain myself any longer. I had been on the brink of an emotional pitfall and I was tumblin’ down the rabbit hole.
Wakin’ up next to Kevin on New Year’s Day was more than I could have asked for. I don't know how long he had been awake, but when I opened my eyes, he was already lookin’ at me. There had been no time for words the night before. I had no intentions of taintin’ the moment with what could have been catastrophic emotions, needs, wants...and unrealistic promises.
My body reacted to his gaze as though his eyes were the key to ignitin’ some magnetic force between the two of us. I could feel myself bein’ pulled to him by some unseen rope -- wrapped round my head, my heart, and soul. Our body heat roiled and collided around us, envelopin’ our bodies in its energy-charged warmth.
All of the things I had ever thought of sayin’, I now physically needed so desperately, there was no turnin’ back. There was no choice...as though I would have had one anyhow. It was all so very much on the forefront of my mind. Even my burnin’ desire to just replay the previous night's events, couldn't stop the verbal vomit that spewed from my mouth.
Somehow, he managed to sit silently and ate it all up like a baby penguin. If Rachel had been a fly on the wall, I knew what she would be sayin’. “Yack. Disgusting.”
And maybe it was. If there was ever a moment where I have felt a complete and absolute loss of control...it was that moment when I finally told him I loved him. It wasn't the first thing I said...or the last. I mucked it up somewhere in the middle.
“I can't believe you came for me,” I’d blurted out. “You have no idea how much it means to me. I've missed you. And I don't know if you've missed me...and I don't know who that girl was that you were out with. I'm sorry I ran away like that. Did you know I was runnin’ from you? It doesn't matter. You're here now,” I ranted on.
“I know it's not right...it's not fair for me to say it out loud. But I need you Kevin. I need you in my life. And I want you. I want you as more than just a friend. I don't want anybody else to have you. I want you to be mine.
“There's no way to make it right. I know it's more than I should ever ask...it's more than I probably even deserve to want. But I can't hide from it anymore Kevin. I miss you even when we're in the same room. I love you Kevin. I don't know what to do about that! I don't know where to go from here...
“I'm so scared of losin’ you. I'm terrified of not having’ you in my life...that it won't work. Can't work. And we won't be able to be friends if it doesn't...and then what? I can't risk losin’ my best friend. It terrifies me to do it. But I don't know that I can continue to be what we are. What are we? We've never talked about it.
“I mean...we've never gone on a real date. Hell I've never really dated anybody. Or rather, nobody has ever had to date me. Nobody has ever had to swoon me like that. I mean, the couple of boyfriends I had in high school don't really count do they – a few football games and dances, or a movie every once in a while? But since the accident? I just end up...well you know. And then that's it. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less. No effort needed. I don't even know what that would be like...”
“Jeaux.”
I tried to say something else.
“Jeaux.”
I stopped talkin’ as his finger pressed against my lips.
At some point his expression had changed from that half drunk, half sleepy look of lovers still baskin' in post-copulatory bliss, to something stronger; something more attentive; something more fervent.
“Go on a date with me Jeaux. A real date.”
“Kevin...I don't know. What am I doin’? What are we doin’?”
“We've never had to define it before Jeaux. We don't have to define it today. We love each other. That's all that matters.”
“We love each other?”
“Yes Jeaux. I love you. And if you love me...then there's nothing else we need to worry about.”
What can I say? The next two days were heaven. We spent the rest of New Year’s Day loungin’ in the hotel, much to Rachel’s disdain. We were not easily roused from our room. Rachel had been officially kicked out, but busied herself in the shops around town, leavin’ us alone. It was like being on a mini-weekend vacation. Something fancy people that had houses in the Hamptons did. I felt grown up all of a sudden – like I was turnin’ a page to open a new chapter in my life. It felt good. Damn good.
We were like a real couple. There were no awkward moments when I had to feel guilty and he had to be understandin’. I wanted nothin’ but to look at him -- feel him, hold him, smell him…hear his voice. There was no impulse to do anything else, because I wanted nothin’ else. Had we been the last two people alive on the planet, I probably wouldn’t have noticed anyone missin’. Everything and everyone I had ever wanted were wrapped into a perfect package and sat before me.
We crossed boundaries we’d never crossed before. The rules that constitute the “Friends with Benefits” handbook had been tossed aside. For instance, the three day rule was out the window. Obviously. And waitin’ a certain number of pre-meditated minutes before replyin’ to texts seemed silly. There weren’t enough hours in the day as it was! Then, of course, before, I had been careful to never ask a question that I may not want to hear the answer to. But now, we were askin’ questions about anything and everything -- it was no holds barred. And I was bein’ completely honest with him. And it was okay.
Then, before I knew it, it was the big day -- our first real-life date. I hadn’t been given any details, other than I was to “dress comfortably.” Which left me in a whole new state of panic, because, let’s be real for a minute, no girl is goin’ to go on her first date with a guy she’s in love with in jeans and a t-shirt. I immediately disregarded the idea to call Rachel. (I had been avoidin’ her a bit, I’ll admit. I was a little hesitant to let her pop my balloon of delusionary bliss.) I wanted to look nice, I decided, but more like myself.
I finally chose a little black dress, gray leggings, black boots and a wrap. It wasn’t too dressy, but got my point across I think. I hoped. What if it was totally inappropriate for what he had planned? My knees quaked. Calm down! I ordered myself, as I felt another round of hysteria knockin’ on my door.
Then, creepily on cue, there was a knock on my door. Findin’ the clock on the wall, I couldn’t believe it was actually time. With suddenly sweaty palms, a huge lump in my throat, and nervous butterflies hijackin’ my body, I made my way to the door. I stood there for a minute, tryin’ to make it seem as though I hadn’t been just standin’ there waitin’ for his knock. I hadn’t in fact…but still…I dunno, guess some rules stick.
I opened the door to flowers.
I think it was a little weird for both of us. Good weird, but weird. We had seen each other naked…sure. But somehow, I felt more vulnerable at that moment, than I had when my clothes were off. Never havin’ allowed ourselves to look at one another in that light, we both just took a moment and stared. He was beautiful - all handsome and smilin’ with a big bouquet in his hands. And the way he was lookin’ at me…I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe…the only woman.
“You look amazing,” he finally said, breakin’ the heavy silence.
“Thank you. I hope it’s not too dressy,” I said feelin’ my cheeks flush.
“You’re perfect. Ready? Oh, here,” he replied pushin’ the flowers into my hands. He was all twitchy. I tried to hide my amused smile at his obvious discomfort. But he was so cute.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you. Let me just go put these in water and we can go,” I said buryin’ my face into the bouquet, and smellin’ each bloom one by one. We hadn’t even made it to our first destination and I was already swoonin’.
The restaurant he took me to was uptown and he knew it was one of my favorites. Well, dreamt of favorites, as I always just talked about how nice I was sure it had to be, on the drive by to some other place. It sat high on top of the bluff lookin’ over the ocean. A large patio ran around the back, facin’ the water, and a boat dock sat down below, connected by a long set of stairs.
The restaurant was already filled with people, it bein’ Friday night date night I guess. Those waitin’ on tables, milled about, up and down the steps, along the boat dock, and in the parkin’ lot.
When we made our way to the hostess stand, I was impressed to hear the Kevin had made a reservation. Unfortunately, we were still goin’ to have to wait. The bar was packed with people as well, but afraid that I’d ruin our dinner somehow by…oh, I dunno…jumpin’ off a cliff or something, I opted to stay inside.
Pushin’ our way towards the bar, Kevin ordered us drinks as I tried to make a hole somewhere for us to stand.
We toasted to our first date, rather clumsily, but both giggled at our awkwardness.
“So let’s play one of your little games while we wait,” Kevin suggested.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. You know what you do. Let’s fuck with somebody.”
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and then gasped in mock dismay, “I do not FUCK with people.”
“Leavin’ little messages on toilet paper rolls for drunk girls at bars isn’t fuckin’ with people?”
“Those messages are quite often enlightening and insightful, I’ll have you know.”
“Yeah I bet. And I’m sure nobody ever wonders how they all seem to be so perfectly reflective of their own lives.”
It was true. If I found myself in front of a girl in line for the bathroom, and I had seen her at the bar, I would often write notes on the toilet paper that I deemed…er, apropos.
Here, there was a good mix of girlfriends laughin’ and gettin’ toasty, deep in conversation as they huddled around their tiny tables. There were singles, and regulars havin’ a quiet drink at the bar. Couples, new and old…young and old. I had a little game, where I would try and calculate how long I thought they’d been together. It was normally pretty easy to guestimate. New lovers always had that aura of romance where the hands pull at one another with a mind of their own, and the kisses are delivered without concern of onlookers. The married couples were different. But every once in a while, some would surprise me. I’d see tiny gestures, and practical acts of kindness, delivered with small but meaningful smiles of appreciation. And then of course, there are those random moments of surprise when I find the pair that’s been together forever, and still acts like a couple of teenagers in heat.
And then of course there are the single guys forever on the prowl. Some are handsome; some are not. Some will get lucky and some…well most…will not. I could see two of them at the bar right away. They were practically droolin’ over the girls next to them, and I’m pretty sure the drinks in the ladies’ hands had been compliments of these same gentlemen. The guys’ poor attempts at conversation were bein’ politely rebuffed by the girls. I knew they wouldn’t be going home with these guys. Question was, did the guys know? They wouldn’t quit. I watched the blonde turn her back towards one of them at least three times, but still, like a gnat that refuses to buzz-off, the dude was persistent.
Light-bulb.
“Still got that fistful of condoms in your jacket?” I asked.
I had teased him before about not grabbin’ a couple “just in case” and so he decided to shove damn near the whole box into his pocket. Yeah- that’d show me…like we’d really need that many. Would we? Naa.
“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I got a few.”
“Put them on the bar.”
“What?”
“Just grab a handful, set them on the bar, and walk away. Don’t look at anybody square in the eye, and they won’t even notice what you’re doin’.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yes! Do you want to play my game or not?”
“Okay then.”
His back stiffened like a teenage boy walkin’ up to the counter to buy the damn things for the first time. What a wuss! I wanted to squeal at him. (But that wasn’t something a girlfriend would do was it? That was the reaction of a buddy, a pal...I didn’t know really. Don’t know. Stupid rules.)
Pullin’ the condoms from his pocket, he left a small pile on the bar-top and turned, practically trippin over the barstool like he was a thief tryin’ clumsily to flee the scene of a crime.
Rushin’ back to my side with a silly grin on his face, he asked, “Now what?”
“Now we stand back and watch. Okay, which one do you think will go for them first?”
“No way! You think these guys are just gonna…” but he stopped short in surprise.
Already, one meek lookin’ little fellow was makin’ his way toward the pile. I smiled. He, I had not figured would be the first. Slow to start, but the closer he got the quicker he moved, like a carnivore stalkin’ his prey, till he’d caught the small golden package of symbolic hope that he would be laid. Sad truth of it was, I was sure, that he had yet to find any actual “prey” for the night.
Another guy sittin’ within arm’s reach of the pile, plucked one up like a frog catchin’ a fly.
Kevin chuckled again beside me, his grin stretched ear to ear.
“Pathetic isn’t it?” I asked teasingly.
“Actually…a little bit, yes,” he agreed with a nod and a smile.
Then finally, the two charmers spied the pile! Just as I had suspected, both took at least three, gave one another a little low-fly high-five and ventured back toward the ladies with a new swag. Sorry boys, I thought, no amount of condoms or confidence will be gettin’ you two laid by those girls tonight.
“Poor guys, they don’t even know they don’t stand a chance,” I said shakin’ my head.
“Why? Those girls haven’t told them to shove-off or anything.”
“You can just tell. Those two aren’t interested in anybody tonight. They’re flyin’ solo.”
“How can you tell that just by watchin’ them for three minutes?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I dunno. Just can. Maybe I’m wrong…but prolly not.”
“See-it’s that kind of shit that makes dating some damn hard!”
Then he grinned at me with a flourish as though something sparked his mind. And with a yank of my hips, we were one of those disgustingly happy pairs of lovers, I’d just talked about. It was nice - I had to admit - bein’ in the lovers’ seat, and not the bitter, cynical, and only semi-jealous spectators’.
We were interrupted by the buzz of our little square box, indicatin’ our table was ready.
The drinks were plenty, the food was divine, and the silence when we ate was still comfortable.
When we had finished our meals, I only then realized that I had managed to make it through nearly an entire dinner without havin’ any odd urges, or outright displays of “crazy.”
Risin’ from his chair, Kevin dropped a hundred dollar bill on the receipt plate and came around to my side of the table. Holdin’ out his hand, he asked in a very courtly manner, “Would you accompany me down to the docks m’lady?”
“Why certainly sir,” I said, smilin’ like a goofball I’m sure. “What are we goin’ to the docks for?” I asked in a more serious tone.
“You’ll see.” He was just full of surprises tonight.
In a little fishin’ boat, he’d borrowed from a friend, I found myself bein’ carried out into the middle of the ocean in the dark of night. There was a cooler, with a cheesecake and strawberries for dessert, a bottle of wine, and two little plastic champagne glasses. There was even a candle stickin’ out the side pocket.
As we lost sight of the restaurant and the waves came to a calm, he slowed the motor to a crawl allowin’ us to coast over the water glitterin’ by the light of the full moon.
A few splashes ahead of us managed to break the haze of peaceful serenity that had settled over us.
“What’s that?” I asked unable to hide my anxiety.
“I don’t know,” he replied quietly, peerin’ into the distance. “Oh Jeaux! Look, I think it’s dolphins.”
“No. Seriously?” I asked, tryin’ to squeeze in beside him for a better look. “What if it’s sharks.”
“I don’t think so Jeaux. Look. It’s dolphins I swear it. I’m gonna turn off the engine, I don’t want them to get to close to the propellers, we’re heading right for them.”
He was right. It was only a moment later, that we coasted further out and could see without question that it was in fact a small group of dolphins.
“Wouldn’t it be a cool job to work at Sea World or something where you get to work with them all the time? Swim with them? Learn their language. There’s a whole world down there we don’t yet understand,” Kevin spoke aloud but it was more of an aside. I’m sure he wasn’t even really talkin’ to me. And he definitely wasn’t intendin’ on plantin’ the little seed in my head that he did.
I was takin’ off my clothes before he could turn around.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to swim with them.”
“Are you serious right now? Jeaux, the water is freezing! You can’t go in there.”
“Sure I can,” I answered, and didn’t wait for him to talk me down further. Steppin’ up onto the seat, I dove from the side, and sliced into the water with hardly a splash. I couldn’t open my eyes in the salty water, like it would help in the dark, but it drove me crazy to not see what I could have possibly been swimmin’ right into.
When I broke the surface, I saw Kevin first, starin’ at me, a little mad I think, and a little excited. He pointed behind me and said something, though I couldn’t quite make out what it was. Turnin’ around, I gasped. They were so close. I could almost touch them, but didn’t want to scare them away. So, like one would do around any other animal they didn’t want to panic, I tried my best to act like they weren’t there. I swam.
Then they were all around me. Swimmin’ and playin’, they splashed around me like I was an accepted member of the family. I wanted to cry. I think I might have been cryin’. It was the most amazin’ thing I’ve ever experienced. There really are just no words I could express to properly describe it.
One little curious guy, came so close his fin brushed my thigh. I jerked at the touch, and couldn’t keep my small cry of surprise silent.
And just like that, they were gone. It was just me in the big, dark, cold ocean water. Cold. Very cold. Suddenly aware of just how cold, I propelled myself into high gear for the boat.
Kevin pulled me back into the boat, callin’ me crazy, and tellin’ me how I was gonna die of pneumonia. But, I knew he wasn’t mad. His eyes looked just like mine felt…full of wonder.
My teeth were already startin’ to chatter.
The Texas air was still warm for January, but the water was not. Quickly, Kevin took off his jacket and I thought he was goin’ to wrap it around me, but he put it on the bench behind him.
“Body heat’s best.”
“Of course,” I agreed dumbly.
Our eyes locked and in that moment our history together was somehow forgotten. The fear and uncertainty was gone as well. He was brand new…but still, he was home too.
In the bottom of the boat, I leaned back against the side-wall, and watched as he removed his shirt and pants. Cuddlin’ up to me, his body was in fact like a furnace against my skin, calmin’ my clatterin’ teeth nearly immediately. The curves of his chest muscles pressed against my breasts made my body grow even warmer. I could feel the blood rushin’ hot through my veins now - each heartthrob felt against his own fuelling the flame until I felt like I was a fire that needed to be put out.
Allowin’ my impulses to gladly take hold, I let my hands roam free, pawin’ and pullin’ at his body, pressin’ him closer against mine, never quite satisfied that it was close enough.
Wound up in one another, we matched fold for fold like a puzzle, each piece fallin’ easily into place. His breath was hot on my neck, and just a little wet, turnin’ me on even more. And his hands searched over the curves of my body with an added fervor, I swear hadn’t been there before.
“I love you Jeaux,” he whispered hot in my ear. I don’t know how long I had waited to hear him say those words to me, but it felt like a life-time.
Then he slid the last piece into place, and I was home again. Our moans called out against the waves splashin’ along the sides of the rockin’ boat. My fingers dug into his back, as though I was afraid he would pull away…wantin’ more…needing more…desperately holdin’ tight to him and all that he now meant to me. All I had allowed him to mean to me.
I small rush of panic and fear attempted to push its way into my head, but I pressed it back down again.
It was soft, and hard. Fast and slow. He kissed my mouth and brushed my hair from my face, and whispered sweet nothings against my cheek. It was everything.
When I felt the familiar surge, and shudder of his shoulders and biceps, we came to a slow stop. Layin’ there enmeshed in each other’s arms, I listened as his heart rate found its way back to normal.
“So what now?” I asked breakin’ my number one commandment. I was afraid of what his answer might be. One voice in my head afraid, the other tellin’ me it was okay. I tried not to cringe as I waited for his answer.
“Only tomorrow knows.”
Then he kissed me again. And again. And again…
Wakin’ up next to Kevin on New Year’s Day was more than I could have asked for. I don't know how long he had been awake, but when I opened my eyes, he was already lookin’ at me. There had been no time for words the night before. I had no intentions of taintin’ the moment with what could have been catastrophic emotions, needs, wants...and unrealistic promises.
My body reacted to his gaze as though his eyes were the key to ignitin’ some magnetic force between the two of us. I could feel myself bein’ pulled to him by some unseen rope -- wrapped round my head, my heart, and soul. Our body heat roiled and collided around us, envelopin’ our bodies in its energy-charged warmth.
All of the things I had ever thought of sayin’, I now physically needed so desperately, there was no turnin’ back. There was no choice...as though I would have had one anyhow. It was all so very much on the forefront of my mind. Even my burnin’ desire to just replay the previous night's events, couldn't stop the verbal vomit that spewed from my mouth.
Somehow, he managed to sit silently and ate it all up like a baby penguin. If Rachel had been a fly on the wall, I knew what she would be sayin’. “Yack. Disgusting.”
And maybe it was. If there was ever a moment where I have felt a complete and absolute loss of control...it was that moment when I finally told him I loved him. It wasn't the first thing I said...or the last. I mucked it up somewhere in the middle.
“I can't believe you came for me,” I’d blurted out. “You have no idea how much it means to me. I've missed you. And I don't know if you've missed me...and I don't know who that girl was that you were out with. I'm sorry I ran away like that. Did you know I was runnin’ from you? It doesn't matter. You're here now,” I ranted on.
“I know it's not right...it's not fair for me to say it out loud. But I need you Kevin. I need you in my life. And I want you. I want you as more than just a friend. I don't want anybody else to have you. I want you to be mine.
“There's no way to make it right. I know it's more than I should ever ask...it's more than I probably even deserve to want. But I can't hide from it anymore Kevin. I miss you even when we're in the same room. I love you Kevin. I don't know what to do about that! I don't know where to go from here...
“I'm so scared of losin’ you. I'm terrified of not having’ you in my life...that it won't work. Can't work. And we won't be able to be friends if it doesn't...and then what? I can't risk losin’ my best friend. It terrifies me to do it. But I don't know that I can continue to be what we are. What are we? We've never talked about it.
“I mean...we've never gone on a real date. Hell I've never really dated anybody. Or rather, nobody has ever had to date me. Nobody has ever had to swoon me like that. I mean, the couple of boyfriends I had in high school don't really count do they – a few football games and dances, or a movie every once in a while? But since the accident? I just end up...well you know. And then that's it. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less. No effort needed. I don't even know what that would be like...”
“Jeaux.”
I tried to say something else.
“Jeaux.”
I stopped talkin’ as his finger pressed against my lips.
At some point his expression had changed from that half drunk, half sleepy look of lovers still baskin' in post-copulatory bliss, to something stronger; something more attentive; something more fervent.
“Go on a date with me Jeaux. A real date.”
“Kevin...I don't know. What am I doin’? What are we doin’?”
“We've never had to define it before Jeaux. We don't have to define it today. We love each other. That's all that matters.”
“We love each other?”
“Yes Jeaux. I love you. And if you love me...then there's nothing else we need to worry about.”
What can I say? The next two days were heaven. We spent the rest of New Year’s Day loungin’ in the hotel, much to Rachel’s disdain. We were not easily roused from our room. Rachel had been officially kicked out, but busied herself in the shops around town, leavin’ us alone. It was like being on a mini-weekend vacation. Something fancy people that had houses in the Hamptons did. I felt grown up all of a sudden – like I was turnin’ a page to open a new chapter in my life. It felt good. Damn good.
We were like a real couple. There were no awkward moments when I had to feel guilty and he had to be understandin’. I wanted nothin’ but to look at him -- feel him, hold him, smell him…hear his voice. There was no impulse to do anything else, because I wanted nothin’ else. Had we been the last two people alive on the planet, I probably wouldn’t have noticed anyone missin’. Everything and everyone I had ever wanted were wrapped into a perfect package and sat before me.
We crossed boundaries we’d never crossed before. The rules that constitute the “Friends with Benefits” handbook had been tossed aside. For instance, the three day rule was out the window. Obviously. And waitin’ a certain number of pre-meditated minutes before replyin’ to texts seemed silly. There weren’t enough hours in the day as it was! Then, of course, before, I had been careful to never ask a question that I may not want to hear the answer to. But now, we were askin’ questions about anything and everything -- it was no holds barred. And I was bein’ completely honest with him. And it was okay.
Then, before I knew it, it was the big day -- our first real-life date. I hadn’t been given any details, other than I was to “dress comfortably.” Which left me in a whole new state of panic, because, let’s be real for a minute, no girl is goin’ to go on her first date with a guy she’s in love with in jeans and a t-shirt. I immediately disregarded the idea to call Rachel. (I had been avoidin’ her a bit, I’ll admit. I was a little hesitant to let her pop my balloon of delusionary bliss.) I wanted to look nice, I decided, but more like myself.
I finally chose a little black dress, gray leggings, black boots and a wrap. It wasn’t too dressy, but got my point across I think. I hoped. What if it was totally inappropriate for what he had planned? My knees quaked. Calm down! I ordered myself, as I felt another round of hysteria knockin’ on my door.
Then, creepily on cue, there was a knock on my door. Findin’ the clock on the wall, I couldn’t believe it was actually time. With suddenly sweaty palms, a huge lump in my throat, and nervous butterflies hijackin’ my body, I made my way to the door. I stood there for a minute, tryin’ to make it seem as though I hadn’t been just standin’ there waitin’ for his knock. I hadn’t in fact…but still…I dunno, guess some rules stick.
I opened the door to flowers.
I think it was a little weird for both of us. Good weird, but weird. We had seen each other naked…sure. But somehow, I felt more vulnerable at that moment, than I had when my clothes were off. Never havin’ allowed ourselves to look at one another in that light, we both just took a moment and stared. He was beautiful - all handsome and smilin’ with a big bouquet in his hands. And the way he was lookin’ at me…I felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. Maybe…the only woman.
“You look amazing,” he finally said, breakin’ the heavy silence.
“Thank you. I hope it’s not too dressy,” I said feelin’ my cheeks flush.
“You’re perfect. Ready? Oh, here,” he replied pushin’ the flowers into my hands. He was all twitchy. I tried to hide my amused smile at his obvious discomfort. But he was so cute.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you. Let me just go put these in water and we can go,” I said buryin’ my face into the bouquet, and smellin’ each bloom one by one. We hadn’t even made it to our first destination and I was already swoonin’.
The restaurant he took me to was uptown and he knew it was one of my favorites. Well, dreamt of favorites, as I always just talked about how nice I was sure it had to be, on the drive by to some other place. It sat high on top of the bluff lookin’ over the ocean. A large patio ran around the back, facin’ the water, and a boat dock sat down below, connected by a long set of stairs.
The restaurant was already filled with people, it bein’ Friday night date night I guess. Those waitin’ on tables, milled about, up and down the steps, along the boat dock, and in the parkin’ lot.
When we made our way to the hostess stand, I was impressed to hear the Kevin had made a reservation. Unfortunately, we were still goin’ to have to wait. The bar was packed with people as well, but afraid that I’d ruin our dinner somehow by…oh, I dunno…jumpin’ off a cliff or something, I opted to stay inside.
Pushin’ our way towards the bar, Kevin ordered us drinks as I tried to make a hole somewhere for us to stand.
We toasted to our first date, rather clumsily, but both giggled at our awkwardness.
“So let’s play one of your little games while we wait,” Kevin suggested.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. You know what you do. Let’s fuck with somebody.”
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and then gasped in mock dismay, “I do not FUCK with people.”
“Leavin’ little messages on toilet paper rolls for drunk girls at bars isn’t fuckin’ with people?”
“Those messages are quite often enlightening and insightful, I’ll have you know.”
“Yeah I bet. And I’m sure nobody ever wonders how they all seem to be so perfectly reflective of their own lives.”
It was true. If I found myself in front of a girl in line for the bathroom, and I had seen her at the bar, I would often write notes on the toilet paper that I deemed…er, apropos.
Here, there was a good mix of girlfriends laughin’ and gettin’ toasty, deep in conversation as they huddled around their tiny tables. There were singles, and regulars havin’ a quiet drink at the bar. Couples, new and old…young and old. I had a little game, where I would try and calculate how long I thought they’d been together. It was normally pretty easy to guestimate. New lovers always had that aura of romance where the hands pull at one another with a mind of their own, and the kisses are delivered without concern of onlookers. The married couples were different. But every once in a while, some would surprise me. I’d see tiny gestures, and practical acts of kindness, delivered with small but meaningful smiles of appreciation. And then of course, there are those random moments of surprise when I find the pair that’s been together forever, and still acts like a couple of teenagers in heat.
And then of course there are the single guys forever on the prowl. Some are handsome; some are not. Some will get lucky and some…well most…will not. I could see two of them at the bar right away. They were practically droolin’ over the girls next to them, and I’m pretty sure the drinks in the ladies’ hands had been compliments of these same gentlemen. The guys’ poor attempts at conversation were bein’ politely rebuffed by the girls. I knew they wouldn’t be going home with these guys. Question was, did the guys know? They wouldn’t quit. I watched the blonde turn her back towards one of them at least three times, but still, like a gnat that refuses to buzz-off, the dude was persistent.
Light-bulb.
“Still got that fistful of condoms in your jacket?” I asked.
I had teased him before about not grabbin’ a couple “just in case” and so he decided to shove damn near the whole box into his pocket. Yeah- that’d show me…like we’d really need that many. Would we? Naa.
“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I got a few.”
“Put them on the bar.”
“What?”
“Just grab a handful, set them on the bar, and walk away. Don’t look at anybody square in the eye, and they won’t even notice what you’re doin’.”
“Are you serious right now?”
“Yes! Do you want to play my game or not?”
“Okay then.”
His back stiffened like a teenage boy walkin’ up to the counter to buy the damn things for the first time. What a wuss! I wanted to squeal at him. (But that wasn’t something a girlfriend would do was it? That was the reaction of a buddy, a pal...I didn’t know really. Don’t know. Stupid rules.)
Pullin’ the condoms from his pocket, he left a small pile on the bar-top and turned, practically trippin over the barstool like he was a thief tryin’ clumsily to flee the scene of a crime.
Rushin’ back to my side with a silly grin on his face, he asked, “Now what?”
“Now we stand back and watch. Okay, which one do you think will go for them first?”
“No way! You think these guys are just gonna…” but he stopped short in surprise.
Already, one meek lookin’ little fellow was makin’ his way toward the pile. I smiled. He, I had not figured would be the first. Slow to start, but the closer he got the quicker he moved, like a carnivore stalkin’ his prey, till he’d caught the small golden package of symbolic hope that he would be laid. Sad truth of it was, I was sure, that he had yet to find any actual “prey” for the night.
Another guy sittin’ within arm’s reach of the pile, plucked one up like a frog catchin’ a fly.
Kevin chuckled again beside me, his grin stretched ear to ear.
“Pathetic isn’t it?” I asked teasingly.
“Actually…a little bit, yes,” he agreed with a nod and a smile.
Then finally, the two charmers spied the pile! Just as I had suspected, both took at least three, gave one another a little low-fly high-five and ventured back toward the ladies with a new swag. Sorry boys, I thought, no amount of condoms or confidence will be gettin’ you two laid by those girls tonight.
“Poor guys, they don’t even know they don’t stand a chance,” I said shakin’ my head.
“Why? Those girls haven’t told them to shove-off or anything.”
“You can just tell. Those two aren’t interested in anybody tonight. They’re flyin’ solo.”
“How can you tell that just by watchin’ them for three minutes?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I dunno. Just can. Maybe I’m wrong…but prolly not.”
“See-it’s that kind of shit that makes dating some damn hard!”
Then he grinned at me with a flourish as though something sparked his mind. And with a yank of my hips, we were one of those disgustingly happy pairs of lovers, I’d just talked about. It was nice - I had to admit - bein’ in the lovers’ seat, and not the bitter, cynical, and only semi-jealous spectators’.
We were interrupted by the buzz of our little square box, indicatin’ our table was ready.
The drinks were plenty, the food was divine, and the silence when we ate was still comfortable.
When we had finished our meals, I only then realized that I had managed to make it through nearly an entire dinner without havin’ any odd urges, or outright displays of “crazy.”
Risin’ from his chair, Kevin dropped a hundred dollar bill on the receipt plate and came around to my side of the table. Holdin’ out his hand, he asked in a very courtly manner, “Would you accompany me down to the docks m’lady?”
“Why certainly sir,” I said, smilin’ like a goofball I’m sure. “What are we goin’ to the docks for?” I asked in a more serious tone.
“You’ll see.” He was just full of surprises tonight.
In a little fishin’ boat, he’d borrowed from a friend, I found myself bein’ carried out into the middle of the ocean in the dark of night. There was a cooler, with a cheesecake and strawberries for dessert, a bottle of wine, and two little plastic champagne glasses. There was even a candle stickin’ out the side pocket.
As we lost sight of the restaurant and the waves came to a calm, he slowed the motor to a crawl allowin’ us to coast over the water glitterin’ by the light of the full moon.
A few splashes ahead of us managed to break the haze of peaceful serenity that had settled over us.
“What’s that?” I asked unable to hide my anxiety.
“I don’t know,” he replied quietly, peerin’ into the distance. “Oh Jeaux! Look, I think it’s dolphins.”
“No. Seriously?” I asked, tryin’ to squeeze in beside him for a better look. “What if it’s sharks.”
“I don’t think so Jeaux. Look. It’s dolphins I swear it. I’m gonna turn off the engine, I don’t want them to get to close to the propellers, we’re heading right for them.”
He was right. It was only a moment later, that we coasted further out and could see without question that it was in fact a small group of dolphins.
“Wouldn’t it be a cool job to work at Sea World or something where you get to work with them all the time? Swim with them? Learn their language. There’s a whole world down there we don’t yet understand,” Kevin spoke aloud but it was more of an aside. I’m sure he wasn’t even really talkin’ to me. And he definitely wasn’t intendin’ on plantin’ the little seed in my head that he did.
I was takin’ off my clothes before he could turn around.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to swim with them.”
“Are you serious right now? Jeaux, the water is freezing! You can’t go in there.”
“Sure I can,” I answered, and didn’t wait for him to talk me down further. Steppin’ up onto the seat, I dove from the side, and sliced into the water with hardly a splash. I couldn’t open my eyes in the salty water, like it would help in the dark, but it drove me crazy to not see what I could have possibly been swimmin’ right into.
When I broke the surface, I saw Kevin first, starin’ at me, a little mad I think, and a little excited. He pointed behind me and said something, though I couldn’t quite make out what it was. Turnin’ around, I gasped. They were so close. I could almost touch them, but didn’t want to scare them away. So, like one would do around any other animal they didn’t want to panic, I tried my best to act like they weren’t there. I swam.
Then they were all around me. Swimmin’ and playin’, they splashed around me like I was an accepted member of the family. I wanted to cry. I think I might have been cryin’. It was the most amazin’ thing I’ve ever experienced. There really are just no words I could express to properly describe it.
One little curious guy, came so close his fin brushed my thigh. I jerked at the touch, and couldn’t keep my small cry of surprise silent.
And just like that, they were gone. It was just me in the big, dark, cold ocean water. Cold. Very cold. Suddenly aware of just how cold, I propelled myself into high gear for the boat.
Kevin pulled me back into the boat, callin’ me crazy, and tellin’ me how I was gonna die of pneumonia. But, I knew he wasn’t mad. His eyes looked just like mine felt…full of wonder.
My teeth were already startin’ to chatter.
The Texas air was still warm for January, but the water was not. Quickly, Kevin took off his jacket and I thought he was goin’ to wrap it around me, but he put it on the bench behind him.
“Body heat’s best.”
“Of course,” I agreed dumbly.
Our eyes locked and in that moment our history together was somehow forgotten. The fear and uncertainty was gone as well. He was brand new…but still, he was home too.
In the bottom of the boat, I leaned back against the side-wall, and watched as he removed his shirt and pants. Cuddlin’ up to me, his body was in fact like a furnace against my skin, calmin’ my clatterin’ teeth nearly immediately. The curves of his chest muscles pressed against my breasts made my body grow even warmer. I could feel the blood rushin’ hot through my veins now - each heartthrob felt against his own fuelling the flame until I felt like I was a fire that needed to be put out.
Allowin’ my impulses to gladly take hold, I let my hands roam free, pawin’ and pullin’ at his body, pressin’ him closer against mine, never quite satisfied that it was close enough.
Wound up in one another, we matched fold for fold like a puzzle, each piece fallin’ easily into place. His breath was hot on my neck, and just a little wet, turnin’ me on even more. And his hands searched over the curves of my body with an added fervor, I swear hadn’t been there before.
“I love you Jeaux,” he whispered hot in my ear. I don’t know how long I had waited to hear him say those words to me, but it felt like a life-time.
Then he slid the last piece into place, and I was home again. Our moans called out against the waves splashin’ along the sides of the rockin’ boat. My fingers dug into his back, as though I was afraid he would pull away…wantin’ more…needing more…desperately holdin’ tight to him and all that he now meant to me. All I had allowed him to mean to me.
I small rush of panic and fear attempted to push its way into my head, but I pressed it back down again.
It was soft, and hard. Fast and slow. He kissed my mouth and brushed my hair from my face, and whispered sweet nothings against my cheek. It was everything.
When I felt the familiar surge, and shudder of his shoulders and biceps, we came to a slow stop. Layin’ there enmeshed in each other’s arms, I listened as his heart rate found its way back to normal.
“So what now?” I asked breakin’ my number one commandment. I was afraid of what his answer might be. One voice in my head afraid, the other tellin’ me it was okay. I tried not to cringe as I waited for his answer.
“Only tomorrow knows.”
Then he kissed me again. And again. And again…
2.1.12
New Orleans for a Fairytale
I woke up from a dead sleep this morning, once again, totally unsure of my whereabouts. And I was alone. I rolled over to see another full size bed next to mine, the covers left mussed reassurin' me that someone, hopefully Rachel, had slept in them overnight.
I don't know why I expected to open my eyes and see my own room around me. It took me a minute to register that Rachel and I had even decided to take a road trip. Everything was fuzzy. I could remember our stay at the Omni downtown in San Antonio. I could remember walkin' down the Riverwalk through the sparklin' display of Christmas lights. We'd had dinner at a funny place called Dicks, where the waitstaff is expected to be anything but polite...literally. But past that...my memories were dim.
This must be one of the old hotels downtown, I thought, by the looks of the room. The bed and furniture were all antiques, and the drapes hanging high over the window, were heavy and looked to come from a similar era as the rest of the decor. I swung my legs off the bed, only to find that my feet were still a solid 8 inches from reachi'g the floor off the high-set bed.
Hopping down, I reached to pull the heavy drapes aside, immediately wincin' at the bright sunlight pourin' in from the other side. And though I wasn't an expert on the San Antonio sky-line, when I peeked outside for even that split second, I knew something wasn't right. Where in the hell was I?
Runnin' from the bedroom, I thrust open the french doors to find another lavishly decorated sittin' room, with gold goblets, sculptures and velvet tapestries on the walls. Still, no sign of Rachel. The bathroom door was left open, and it was plain she wasn't in there either. But the light was on. So maybe she had been.
On the edge of panic, I turned to go look out the window again in hopes that I'd at least remember where I was. But, of course, in my haste, I managed to stub my toe on the claw foot juttin' out from the bottom of the Victorian couch.
Yellin' out in pain I jumped around as one does, tryin' to hold my foot and rub my toe, cussin' the existence of the stupid old furniture and its stupidly dangerous design.
I tried to lean onto the window pane for a little stability, when I heard Rachel's voice call my name.
“Jeaux?”
As the window I had attempted to lean my weight against swung open – actually being another set of french doors that led onto the terrace where Rachel sat drinkin' her mornin' coffee – I made my grand entrance onto the balcony head first.
“Oh my God Jeaux! Are you okay?” Rachel asked rushin' to my assistance. “It's okay, I've got her,” I heard her say to somebody nearby.
“That your friend you been telling us about?” the somebody asked. I figured she just nodded an affirmative.
The man wasn't the only one. I could hear people all around us, and a hearty round of applause sounded as Rachel pulled me to my feet. Apparently, she was not the only one enjoyin' her mornin' on her balcony. The neighbors on either side of our room were as well. Even the guys across the street gave me a much appreciated thumbs-up, when I stood to face them.
“Where are we?” I seethed in question, my embarrassment growin' with every second. And just to make sure I was replete of any shred of dignity I may have had left, I only then realized I was barely dressed in just an A-cut tank-top and a pair of panties. Maybe that was the reason for the thumbs-up then, I thought. Either way, not cool.
“Sit down, here,” Rachel insisted pullin' out a chair. “Sit down. We're in New Orleans. Duh! It was your idea. New Year's Eve in New Orleans? You don't remember?”
“No,” I grumbled shakin' my head, “I don't remember anything past the Riverwalk really. How did we get to New Orleans? What day is it?”
“The Riverwalk? Jeaux are you kidding me right now? That was a week ago! I mean, yes, you've been asleep for practically four days, but you don't remember leaving San Antonio? Buying our tickets? Getting on the plane? You don't remember your little freak-out?”
I was havin' a hard time keepin' up. She sounded pretty concerned about me (which made me a little concerned for me) until the last question, when I realized, there was a reason for why I was havin' such a hard time rememberin'. And apparently, I was the culprit. Big surprise there.
There were people everywhere. All of the hotels linin' the streets had guests dotted across the fronts, watchin' even more people millin' in the streets. Lots of people. Even for New Orleans I had to assume.
“What's with all the people?” I asked. I couldn't stop squintin' my eyes. It was so damn bright! “Did you say I've been asleep for four days?” the gem of insight only just beginnin' to dawn on me.
“Yes! It's New Year's Eve!” Rachel nearly shouted full of exasperation. “I've been freaking out Jeaux! You had me scared out of my mind. You've been asleep since Wednesday. We flew out of San Antonio Tuesday night remember?”
“Kind of,” I tried shakin' my head. “Not really. I don't know it's like a dream. How could I have been asleep that long? What happened? It's really New Year's Eve already?” I asked with a pang in my heart. Even though I had left town with the intentions of getting' away from Kevin specifically, I hadn't meant to stay away for the whole week. And whether the plans were still standin' after his “date” or not – I didn't know – but we had planned to spend New Year's Eve together.
There was a knock on the balcony door, and a room service cart suddenly appeared from behind the curtain.
“Good morning Miss Rachel. You said to bring it on outside this morning, correct?”
“Yes Samuel, thank you very much, you can just leave it there.”
“Thank you ma'am. Good morning, Miss. You must be the sleeping beauty we've all heard so much about.”
“All good I hope,” I managed with a smile.
“Of course ma'am. You ladies have a nice day now.” And he was gone as quickly as he had come.
“Well it seems somebody's been busy makin' friends,” I teased.
“What did you expect me to do? Sit around and watch you sleep?”
“I thought you were freakin' out!”
“I was! But you were breathing and looked to be dreaming. You were just asleep,” she shrugged, “I don't know what happened. I guess whatever that guy gave you was just too strong for you.”
“What guy? You let some random guy drug me? What the fuck Rachel?”
“Oh don't look at me like that! I did not. You were the one pullin' some hellish re-enactment of a Bridesmaids meltdown. All that was missing was the damned colonial woman on the wing! It was either that or get to watch the Air Marshal take you down as well. Give me break. He offered to give you something to relax, and you took it. And yes, I let him,” she ranted on soundin' more and more irritated. But then her face relaxed and she grabbed my hand, “But I really was worried about you.” And with a new sly grin spreadin' across her face she added, “But you should've seen yourself bein' carted up here by the bell-boy on that luggage cart! Samuel helped him load you up. That's why he's so familiar with our sleeping beauty.”
“A luggage cart? Really Rachel? That was your best option?”
Throwin' her hands in the air, she flew into an upheaval again. “Would you have rather I approached the desk clerk for assistance from the handy police officer so that he could have taken you to the hospital and arrested me and tested you for whatever drug you might've had in your system? Did you want me to call your Mom? What would you have had me do? I got you here, and I kept you safe. I even dribbled water down your damn throat so you wouldn't die from dehydration okay! So stop giving me shit. This is all your fault anyway. This whole damn trip.”
She was way past irritated and barrelin' right for mad at this point. I tried to be sympathetic to what she must have gone through havin' to haul me from the airport to the hotel and then through whatever fit I'd managed to have on the airplane as well. But I couldn't get the image of me folded up on a luggage cart and bein' snuck up an elevator out of my head. Did they have to carry me from the taxi?
So I just started to laugh. And once I started, I couldn't stop. I tried to wipe the tears rollin' down my face, just to have more to replace them. Rachel's face unclenched, and she too, began to laugh alongside me.
Finally, it seemed that my tear ducts had run dry, and even my cheek muscles had their limits.
“A luggage cart huh? Wish I could've seen that,” I smiled, shakin' my head. Really, I couldn't be mad at Rachel. She probably handled it all way better than I would have, that was for sure.
“Well you wouldn't have seen too much. We had you curled up enough so your hands and legs didn't hang off the edges or anything,” she chuckled, “but I put my coat over you so I wouldn't get the guys fired,” she explained grinning.
“So what started this whole mess? I mean, on the plane. I can guess as much as to why we're here, but what did I do?”
“Holy shit Jeaux! What didn't you do would be more like it.”
The breeze must have shifted or my appetite finally caught up with me. Smellin' the fresh food from the room-service cart, I wheeled it around in front of me and lifted the lids from the various plates.
“Okay, tell me what happened. And start at the beginnin'. Oh my God I'm starvin'!” I didn't hesitate to dig into the dishes in front of me, not botherin' to ask Rachel which she had intended on bein' her own. Grabbin' a pancake, I loaded it with scrambled eggs and two sausage links, drizzled it all with syrup, and scarfed it like a taco in only a few bites. Rachel couldn't speak, seein' as how her jaw was glued to her neck, and only sat starin' at me.
“You're disgusting. You know that right?”
“Whatever! You said I hadn't eaten in four days! You go that long without food and see how you feel.”
“You're still gross. Anyways...Okay, the beginning...Right. I got the Ding.”
“The what?”
“The Ding on my phone from Southwest Airlines that alerts me when there's good deals. We were talking about how beautiful the Riverwalk was for Christmas, and that we had to go somewhere just as beautiful for New Years, and then I got that Ding, and you jumped at the chance. We went shopping the next day, got our tickets, and bam, we were set for New Orleans on Tuesday. You don't remember any of that?”
“No. And it doesn't make sense, I was plannin' on bein' home for New Year's Eve.” I didn't have to say it aloud, Rachel knew me well enough to know what I wasn't sayin' – that I wanted to be with Kevin.
“Yeah I know. But you weren't barely over seeing him at that restaurant, when we saw that guy. You don't remember the guy either? Remember...the guy that kind of looked like Kevin, really sounded like, and after you jumped on his back from behind, you swore “totally” smelled like him?”
“Oops. No. I don't remember that either.”
“This is crazy. You're brain damage must make you really susceptible to drugs or something.”
I just shrugged. Who knows. I hardly remember to ask questions when freakish shit happens to me anymore.
“Okay, so you jumped this guy, I don't know what you were thinking, and he of course, was not Kevin. But then after smelling him, you went off all crazy about what an asshole he was for not telling you, and how much you loved him anyways, and how dare he not spend his every last waking day pining over the one he can't have...I'm paraphrasing of course,” she said grinnin'. “Anyways, so after that I'm pretty sure you weren't thinking about any other, err, plans you might have had.
“So, like I said, we went shopping the next day and got our tickets, no big deal. Then, comes Tuesday. We're standing in line, and its crazy long, of course, and there's no abundance of patience had by anyone. And then there you are, flipping your lip around like we're in the god-damned Chili's. So, you get picked to be patted down all special like...Jesus I can't believe you don't remember any of this...and then that gets you all in a huff as you can imagine. And really, it was just down-hill from there.
“You pissed off the lady at the ticket counter, because when she asked for your ticket, and you retorted that it had been “stripped away along with your modesty at the stripper pole/security check-point,” you then informed her that if she wanted it, you were surprised she didn't want a “feelsky” to go along with it as well – as you were sure was the security-guard's intent, seeing as how you called him an old pervert. I mean seriously Jeaux, when you get emotional you're like a freaking walking time-bomb, but somebody keeps hitting reset.
“By the time we were on the plane, you were sure the stewardess had been informed of your “touchy” disposition and would have it out for you, so you took the offensive and had it out for her from the get go. You even asked her when the baby was due, and you knew good and damn well that girl wasn't pregnant!
“Then when the plane started to move forward, you just got really tense and I think maybe you were having an anxiety attack. That's when the guy behind us offered to give you something to relax. I swear, I just thought it was a Valium or something, but I think he might've given you Propofol. Don't look at me like that! I didn't know, and you're fine now remember. You didn't die or anything.”
Swallowin' the large lump of food in my mouth so I could finally speak, I retorted, “Yeah, tell that to Michael Jackson. Oh wait, you can't!”
“Whatever. So, he gave you the stupid pill. Or maybe two, I don't know. You took them your damn self Jeaux, and you weren't drunk or anything. At first it seemed to just calm you down a bit, but then you got really goofy, and you stopped making any sense altogether.” Laughing aloud now, Rachel tried to continue through her fit of giggles “You were saying weird stuff...like...the blue square is 13...oh my God it was so funny.
“But then you just got really calm and quiet and I thought you were asleep at first. I mean, you barely made it on your own two feet out of the airport, even with me holding you up most of the way. And once we got in the taxi, that was it. You were out.
“That's when Samuel and the bell-boy came into play. We get to the hotel, and you're out. I mean O-U-T! And I couldn't get you out of the damn cab myself. Well, like I said, I was afraid me hauling some catatonic zombie up here might incur more attention than we wanted. So, I told Tommy, he's one of the bell-boys, that if he helped me get you onto the luggage cart I'd give him fifty bucks. But, I couldn't get a-hold of you right, I mean you were totally just dead weight. So, then he asked Samuel to help, and I gave him another $50. But that was money well spent, I say, because Sam's been absolutely magnificent since we got here.
“Sorry...anyways...So yeah, I mean that's pretty much it. We put you on the cart, covered you with a jacket and piled our bags on top of you and here we are.”
“Here we are,” I garbled through my full mouth of food. If I didn't end-up throwin' up it'd be a miracle. It all tasted so good.
“Oh there was one other little thing.”
“What?”
“Well, like I said, I was kind of starting to freak out when you wouldn't wake up. I mean, it'd been two days already Jeaux, and I know you were just sleeping, but I just...I had to do something. Ask somebody for advice or help, you know...”
“Rachel, what did you do?” I asked her slowly getting a little more than nervous.
Her eyes squinted, as though she were preparin' herself for a beatin', before she finally whispered, “I kind of called Kevin.”
“You did what?” I yelled at her, jumpin' to my feet, and sendin' my plate of food to the floor. I really did want to hit her! So I did. Not hard though. Don't worry.
“Ow!” she cried, grabbin' her stingin' bicep. “I was just worried about you Jeaux.”
“Are you fucking kiddin' me Rachel! I mean we come out here to escape one person. And at the first sign of trouble, you call that very person! I mean what the hell were you thinkin?”
“The first sign of trouble? Oh come on Jeaux, I should've called him that very first day. He'd been worried out of his mind, you know? Nobody knew where we were.”
“What did you tell him Rachel?”
“I told him what happened. I told him I didn't know what to do!”
“What else did you tell him? Did you tell him why we're here? Did you tell him I saw him Rachel? That I freaked out like a stupid sissy little girl? Please tell me you didn't tell him Rachel.”
“Not in so many words...no...what did you want me to tell him?”
“Nothing! Anything! That we were runnin' away from our families! Not have called him at all maybe!”
“I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call.”
And the truth of it was, I didn't know who else I would have called in the same situation either.
“What did he say?”
“He was disappointed. Worried about you, of course. He did mention that ya'll were supposed to hang out for New Years.”
“Hang out? Is that exactly what he said?”
“No. He said that you had a date to spend the New Year together.”
“Oh!” I cried, grabbin' my chest in true dramatic fashion. “You're killin' me Rachel. I have to get home. I have to go home now!”
“No you can't go home now. I've been in this city by myself for three days, now you're going to see this New Orleans New Year's through! I'll be damned!”
“I'm sorry Rachel, but you did it to yourself, I've got to go!”
“Don't give me that shit. You're not going. You can't fly by yourself, that we've already learned. And you'll never get a flight out of here tonight. You're kidding yourself if you think otherwise.”
But I wasn't hearin' her. I was already back inside the hotel room in search of my bag and a phone. Packing my bag was easy, but finding a flight...was not.
After several hours on the phone with every airline in town, I had to succumb to either spendin' my New Year's Eve with Rachel, or with a bunch of strangers in an airport, trying to catch a red-eye. And though a party in the party capital of the world, with my best girlfriend in the world, should have sounded like a perfect evening...it didn't even come close to the hole I now felt, knowin' I could have had the true epitome of perfection I desperately desired.
Rachel did her best to pull me out of my funk. She took me to a fancy dinner and back to the hotel to get dressed-up for the night. I let her do my hair and make-up, and dress me up like a doll, but nothing worked. She wasn't lacking for conversation, and did her best to deter my thoughts and fill me in on everything and everyone I'd missed in the last few days.
As the evening waned to night and the first glimpses of fireworks started to light the sky, the buzz outside our terrace was loud enough to nearly drown out the crack of the explosions.
“Okay, I think we've done everything we can do. You're beautiful. Let's get the party started!” she sang, wigglin' her hips.
“I'll meet you down there.”
“No, Jeaux, come one. No more moping. Come with me. We'll get some drinks, have some fun. Come on! Please. I will not let my masterpiece go unseen.” Spinnin' my chair so I could see my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but gasp. I hardly recognized myself. Rachel did in fact, have magic hands. I couldn't help but wish Kevin would be the one to see her “masterpiece.”
“No really, I just need a minute. I gotta take a shit.”
“Ew. Jesus Jeaux, do you have to be so gross all the time.”
“What?” I asked laughin', “I do!”
“Okay, whatever, just hurry up and meet me in the lobby.”
Once she was out the door, I ran back over to my bag. I didn't really have to take a crap. I just really didn't want to be down there. I knew where I wanted to be, and damn it I was gonna do whatever I had to do to get there.
I stuffed all of my clothes and the bits of make-up I could call me own into my bag. If I had to sit at the airport all night I would. I'd miss New Year's Eve. I'd miss my kiss. But I couldn't wait another day to see him.
I waited just long enough that I was sure Rachel had been appropriately distracted by the onslaught of guys I was sure were surroundin' her by now. It didn't take her long to make friends anywhere.
I couldn't believe it was almost midnight already.
When the elevator doors opened, I'm not sure what else I had expected. I knew the noise of the crowd outside had been increasin' for awhile, but from this vantage point...down in the midst of it...I knew what Rachel had meant. I'd never get to the airport. I'd never get out of this neighborhood! A taxi couldn't move through this street if it had wings. Streamers and confetti flew from balconies on either side of the road. People were crammed so tight through-out the district, that I was scared to move. It didn't look like anyone should be able to move. They were packed like sardines, shoulder to shoulder.
Tryin' my best to not be so easily deterred, I pulled my bag in closer to my side and dove onto the sidewalk, pushin' and shovin' with the best of them. Maybe, if I could just make it to the end of the street, then I could make it to the end of the next street. This madness had to stop eventually, and surely I'd be able to find a taxi then.
Totally lost in my own train of thought, I was surprised by the sudden outburst from the crowd. Shouting, and clangin' anything they could find, the final countdown of the year rang was bein' shouted by every person left standin'. Except me. I felt lost. In the blur of kids and adults, of drunks and tweakers, of fireworks and streamers, I was forced to a stop. I could feel the anxiety mountin' in my chest, and wondered if this was the same sensation that had sent me off before.
“Jeaux!”
Now I was hallucinatin'. Great.
“Jeaux!” came the voice again. Yes. His voice. I lifted my head, still tellin' myself I had in fact lost what was left of my mind.
But I hadn't. Pushin' his way through the crowd, his eyes locked on mine, I wished that my feet would work. Firmly cemented into the sidewalk, however, they failed me. This must be shock, I thought.
And just like any girl has ever dreamed, my life was suddenly a living fairytale.
Kevin reached me just as the last second of the night came to a close. The cheers stopped for only a moment as the people around us paused for their New Year's Eve kisses. But as far as I was concerned, they ceased to exist altogether.
He had come for me. And, wrapped in his arms, I forgot about it all. There was nothing but him. And his lips. And for that moment, they were both all mine.
I don't know why I expected to open my eyes and see my own room around me. It took me a minute to register that Rachel and I had even decided to take a road trip. Everything was fuzzy. I could remember our stay at the Omni downtown in San Antonio. I could remember walkin' down the Riverwalk through the sparklin' display of Christmas lights. We'd had dinner at a funny place called Dicks, where the waitstaff is expected to be anything but polite...literally. But past that...my memories were dim.
This must be one of the old hotels downtown, I thought, by the looks of the room. The bed and furniture were all antiques, and the drapes hanging high over the window, were heavy and looked to come from a similar era as the rest of the decor. I swung my legs off the bed, only to find that my feet were still a solid 8 inches from reachi'g the floor off the high-set bed.
Hopping down, I reached to pull the heavy drapes aside, immediately wincin' at the bright sunlight pourin' in from the other side. And though I wasn't an expert on the San Antonio sky-line, when I peeked outside for even that split second, I knew something wasn't right. Where in the hell was I?
Runnin' from the bedroom, I thrust open the french doors to find another lavishly decorated sittin' room, with gold goblets, sculptures and velvet tapestries on the walls. Still, no sign of Rachel. The bathroom door was left open, and it was plain she wasn't in there either. But the light was on. So maybe she had been.
On the edge of panic, I turned to go look out the window again in hopes that I'd at least remember where I was. But, of course, in my haste, I managed to stub my toe on the claw foot juttin' out from the bottom of the Victorian couch.
Yellin' out in pain I jumped around as one does, tryin' to hold my foot and rub my toe, cussin' the existence of the stupid old furniture and its stupidly dangerous design.
I tried to lean onto the window pane for a little stability, when I heard Rachel's voice call my name.
“Jeaux?”
As the window I had attempted to lean my weight against swung open – actually being another set of french doors that led onto the terrace where Rachel sat drinkin' her mornin' coffee – I made my grand entrance onto the balcony head first.
“Oh my God Jeaux! Are you okay?” Rachel asked rushin' to my assistance. “It's okay, I've got her,” I heard her say to somebody nearby.
“That your friend you been telling us about?” the somebody asked. I figured she just nodded an affirmative.
The man wasn't the only one. I could hear people all around us, and a hearty round of applause sounded as Rachel pulled me to my feet. Apparently, she was not the only one enjoyin' her mornin' on her balcony. The neighbors on either side of our room were as well. Even the guys across the street gave me a much appreciated thumbs-up, when I stood to face them.
“Where are we?” I seethed in question, my embarrassment growin' with every second. And just to make sure I was replete of any shred of dignity I may have had left, I only then realized I was barely dressed in just an A-cut tank-top and a pair of panties. Maybe that was the reason for the thumbs-up then, I thought. Either way, not cool.
“Sit down, here,” Rachel insisted pullin' out a chair. “Sit down. We're in New Orleans. Duh! It was your idea. New Year's Eve in New Orleans? You don't remember?”
“No,” I grumbled shakin' my head, “I don't remember anything past the Riverwalk really. How did we get to New Orleans? What day is it?”
“The Riverwalk? Jeaux are you kidding me right now? That was a week ago! I mean, yes, you've been asleep for practically four days, but you don't remember leaving San Antonio? Buying our tickets? Getting on the plane? You don't remember your little freak-out?”
I was havin' a hard time keepin' up. She sounded pretty concerned about me (which made me a little concerned for me) until the last question, when I realized, there was a reason for why I was havin' such a hard time rememberin'. And apparently, I was the culprit. Big surprise there.
There were people everywhere. All of the hotels linin' the streets had guests dotted across the fronts, watchin' even more people millin' in the streets. Lots of people. Even for New Orleans I had to assume.
“What's with all the people?” I asked. I couldn't stop squintin' my eyes. It was so damn bright! “Did you say I've been asleep for four days?” the gem of insight only just beginnin' to dawn on me.
“Yes! It's New Year's Eve!” Rachel nearly shouted full of exasperation. “I've been freaking out Jeaux! You had me scared out of my mind. You've been asleep since Wednesday. We flew out of San Antonio Tuesday night remember?”
“Kind of,” I tried shakin' my head. “Not really. I don't know it's like a dream. How could I have been asleep that long? What happened? It's really New Year's Eve already?” I asked with a pang in my heart. Even though I had left town with the intentions of getting' away from Kevin specifically, I hadn't meant to stay away for the whole week. And whether the plans were still standin' after his “date” or not – I didn't know – but we had planned to spend New Year's Eve together.
There was a knock on the balcony door, and a room service cart suddenly appeared from behind the curtain.
“Good morning Miss Rachel. You said to bring it on outside this morning, correct?”
“Yes Samuel, thank you very much, you can just leave it there.”
“Thank you ma'am. Good morning, Miss. You must be the sleeping beauty we've all heard so much about.”
“All good I hope,” I managed with a smile.
“Of course ma'am. You ladies have a nice day now.” And he was gone as quickly as he had come.
“Well it seems somebody's been busy makin' friends,” I teased.
“What did you expect me to do? Sit around and watch you sleep?”
“I thought you were freakin' out!”
“I was! But you were breathing and looked to be dreaming. You were just asleep,” she shrugged, “I don't know what happened. I guess whatever that guy gave you was just too strong for you.”
“What guy? You let some random guy drug me? What the fuck Rachel?”
“Oh don't look at me like that! I did not. You were the one pullin' some hellish re-enactment of a Bridesmaids meltdown. All that was missing was the damned colonial woman on the wing! It was either that or get to watch the Air Marshal take you down as well. Give me break. He offered to give you something to relax, and you took it. And yes, I let him,” she ranted on soundin' more and more irritated. But then her face relaxed and she grabbed my hand, “But I really was worried about you.” And with a new sly grin spreadin' across her face she added, “But you should've seen yourself bein' carted up here by the bell-boy on that luggage cart! Samuel helped him load you up. That's why he's so familiar with our sleeping beauty.”
“A luggage cart? Really Rachel? That was your best option?”
Throwin' her hands in the air, she flew into an upheaval again. “Would you have rather I approached the desk clerk for assistance from the handy police officer so that he could have taken you to the hospital and arrested me and tested you for whatever drug you might've had in your system? Did you want me to call your Mom? What would you have had me do? I got you here, and I kept you safe. I even dribbled water down your damn throat so you wouldn't die from dehydration okay! So stop giving me shit. This is all your fault anyway. This whole damn trip.”
She was way past irritated and barrelin' right for mad at this point. I tried to be sympathetic to what she must have gone through havin' to haul me from the airport to the hotel and then through whatever fit I'd managed to have on the airplane as well. But I couldn't get the image of me folded up on a luggage cart and bein' snuck up an elevator out of my head. Did they have to carry me from the taxi?
So I just started to laugh. And once I started, I couldn't stop. I tried to wipe the tears rollin' down my face, just to have more to replace them. Rachel's face unclenched, and she too, began to laugh alongside me.
Finally, it seemed that my tear ducts had run dry, and even my cheek muscles had their limits.
“A luggage cart huh? Wish I could've seen that,” I smiled, shakin' my head. Really, I couldn't be mad at Rachel. She probably handled it all way better than I would have, that was for sure.
“Well you wouldn't have seen too much. We had you curled up enough so your hands and legs didn't hang off the edges or anything,” she chuckled, “but I put my coat over you so I wouldn't get the guys fired,” she explained grinning.
“So what started this whole mess? I mean, on the plane. I can guess as much as to why we're here, but what did I do?”
“Holy shit Jeaux! What didn't you do would be more like it.”
The breeze must have shifted or my appetite finally caught up with me. Smellin' the fresh food from the room-service cart, I wheeled it around in front of me and lifted the lids from the various plates.
“Okay, tell me what happened. And start at the beginnin'. Oh my God I'm starvin'!” I didn't hesitate to dig into the dishes in front of me, not botherin' to ask Rachel which she had intended on bein' her own. Grabbin' a pancake, I loaded it with scrambled eggs and two sausage links, drizzled it all with syrup, and scarfed it like a taco in only a few bites. Rachel couldn't speak, seein' as how her jaw was glued to her neck, and only sat starin' at me.
“You're disgusting. You know that right?”
“Whatever! You said I hadn't eaten in four days! You go that long without food and see how you feel.”
“You're still gross. Anyways...Okay, the beginning...Right. I got the Ding.”
“The what?”
“The Ding on my phone from Southwest Airlines that alerts me when there's good deals. We were talking about how beautiful the Riverwalk was for Christmas, and that we had to go somewhere just as beautiful for New Years, and then I got that Ding, and you jumped at the chance. We went shopping the next day, got our tickets, and bam, we were set for New Orleans on Tuesday. You don't remember any of that?”
“No. And it doesn't make sense, I was plannin' on bein' home for New Year's Eve.” I didn't have to say it aloud, Rachel knew me well enough to know what I wasn't sayin' – that I wanted to be with Kevin.
“Yeah I know. But you weren't barely over seeing him at that restaurant, when we saw that guy. You don't remember the guy either? Remember...the guy that kind of looked like Kevin, really sounded like, and after you jumped on his back from behind, you swore “totally” smelled like him?”
“Oops. No. I don't remember that either.”
“This is crazy. You're brain damage must make you really susceptible to drugs or something.”
I just shrugged. Who knows. I hardly remember to ask questions when freakish shit happens to me anymore.
“Okay, so you jumped this guy, I don't know what you were thinking, and he of course, was not Kevin. But then after smelling him, you went off all crazy about what an asshole he was for not telling you, and how much you loved him anyways, and how dare he not spend his every last waking day pining over the one he can't have...I'm paraphrasing of course,” she said grinnin'. “Anyways, so after that I'm pretty sure you weren't thinking about any other, err, plans you might have had.
“So, like I said, we went shopping the next day and got our tickets, no big deal. Then, comes Tuesday. We're standing in line, and its crazy long, of course, and there's no abundance of patience had by anyone. And then there you are, flipping your lip around like we're in the god-damned Chili's. So, you get picked to be patted down all special like...Jesus I can't believe you don't remember any of this...and then that gets you all in a huff as you can imagine. And really, it was just down-hill from there.
“You pissed off the lady at the ticket counter, because when she asked for your ticket, and you retorted that it had been “stripped away along with your modesty at the stripper pole/security check-point,” you then informed her that if she wanted it, you were surprised she didn't want a “feelsky” to go along with it as well – as you were sure was the security-guard's intent, seeing as how you called him an old pervert. I mean seriously Jeaux, when you get emotional you're like a freaking walking time-bomb, but somebody keeps hitting reset.
“By the time we were on the plane, you were sure the stewardess had been informed of your “touchy” disposition and would have it out for you, so you took the offensive and had it out for her from the get go. You even asked her when the baby was due, and you knew good and damn well that girl wasn't pregnant!
“Then when the plane started to move forward, you just got really tense and I think maybe you were having an anxiety attack. That's when the guy behind us offered to give you something to relax. I swear, I just thought it was a Valium or something, but I think he might've given you Propofol. Don't look at me like that! I didn't know, and you're fine now remember. You didn't die or anything.”
Swallowin' the large lump of food in my mouth so I could finally speak, I retorted, “Yeah, tell that to Michael Jackson. Oh wait, you can't!”
“Whatever. So, he gave you the stupid pill. Or maybe two, I don't know. You took them your damn self Jeaux, and you weren't drunk or anything. At first it seemed to just calm you down a bit, but then you got really goofy, and you stopped making any sense altogether.” Laughing aloud now, Rachel tried to continue through her fit of giggles “You were saying weird stuff...like...the blue square is 13...oh my God it was so funny.
“But then you just got really calm and quiet and I thought you were asleep at first. I mean, you barely made it on your own two feet out of the airport, even with me holding you up most of the way. And once we got in the taxi, that was it. You were out.
“That's when Samuel and the bell-boy came into play. We get to the hotel, and you're out. I mean O-U-T! And I couldn't get you out of the damn cab myself. Well, like I said, I was afraid me hauling some catatonic zombie up here might incur more attention than we wanted. So, I told Tommy, he's one of the bell-boys, that if he helped me get you onto the luggage cart I'd give him fifty bucks. But, I couldn't get a-hold of you right, I mean you were totally just dead weight. So, then he asked Samuel to help, and I gave him another $50. But that was money well spent, I say, because Sam's been absolutely magnificent since we got here.
“Sorry...anyways...So yeah, I mean that's pretty much it. We put you on the cart, covered you with a jacket and piled our bags on top of you and here we are.”
“Here we are,” I garbled through my full mouth of food. If I didn't end-up throwin' up it'd be a miracle. It all tasted so good.
“Oh there was one other little thing.”
“What?”
“Well, like I said, I was kind of starting to freak out when you wouldn't wake up. I mean, it'd been two days already Jeaux, and I know you were just sleeping, but I just...I had to do something. Ask somebody for advice or help, you know...”
“Rachel, what did you do?” I asked her slowly getting a little more than nervous.
Her eyes squinted, as though she were preparin' herself for a beatin', before she finally whispered, “I kind of called Kevin.”
“You did what?” I yelled at her, jumpin' to my feet, and sendin' my plate of food to the floor. I really did want to hit her! So I did. Not hard though. Don't worry.
“Ow!” she cried, grabbin' her stingin' bicep. “I was just worried about you Jeaux.”
“Are you fucking kiddin' me Rachel! I mean we come out here to escape one person. And at the first sign of trouble, you call that very person! I mean what the hell were you thinkin?”
“The first sign of trouble? Oh come on Jeaux, I should've called him that very first day. He'd been worried out of his mind, you know? Nobody knew where we were.”
“What did you tell him Rachel?”
“I told him what happened. I told him I didn't know what to do!”
“What else did you tell him? Did you tell him why we're here? Did you tell him I saw him Rachel? That I freaked out like a stupid sissy little girl? Please tell me you didn't tell him Rachel.”
“Not in so many words...no...what did you want me to tell him?”
“Nothing! Anything! That we were runnin' away from our families! Not have called him at all maybe!”
“I'm sorry, I didn't know who else to call.”
And the truth of it was, I didn't know who else I would have called in the same situation either.
“What did he say?”
“He was disappointed. Worried about you, of course. He did mention that ya'll were supposed to hang out for New Years.”
“Hang out? Is that exactly what he said?”
“No. He said that you had a date to spend the New Year together.”
“Oh!” I cried, grabbin' my chest in true dramatic fashion. “You're killin' me Rachel. I have to get home. I have to go home now!”
“No you can't go home now. I've been in this city by myself for three days, now you're going to see this New Orleans New Year's through! I'll be damned!”
“I'm sorry Rachel, but you did it to yourself, I've got to go!”
“Don't give me that shit. You're not going. You can't fly by yourself, that we've already learned. And you'll never get a flight out of here tonight. You're kidding yourself if you think otherwise.”
But I wasn't hearin' her. I was already back inside the hotel room in search of my bag and a phone. Packing my bag was easy, but finding a flight...was not.
After several hours on the phone with every airline in town, I had to succumb to either spendin' my New Year's Eve with Rachel, or with a bunch of strangers in an airport, trying to catch a red-eye. And though a party in the party capital of the world, with my best girlfriend in the world, should have sounded like a perfect evening...it didn't even come close to the hole I now felt, knowin' I could have had the true epitome of perfection I desperately desired.
Rachel did her best to pull me out of my funk. She took me to a fancy dinner and back to the hotel to get dressed-up for the night. I let her do my hair and make-up, and dress me up like a doll, but nothing worked. She wasn't lacking for conversation, and did her best to deter my thoughts and fill me in on everything and everyone I'd missed in the last few days.
As the evening waned to night and the first glimpses of fireworks started to light the sky, the buzz outside our terrace was loud enough to nearly drown out the crack of the explosions.
“Okay, I think we've done everything we can do. You're beautiful. Let's get the party started!” she sang, wigglin' her hips.
“I'll meet you down there.”
“No, Jeaux, come one. No more moping. Come with me. We'll get some drinks, have some fun. Come on! Please. I will not let my masterpiece go unseen.” Spinnin' my chair so I could see my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but gasp. I hardly recognized myself. Rachel did in fact, have magic hands. I couldn't help but wish Kevin would be the one to see her “masterpiece.”
“No really, I just need a minute. I gotta take a shit.”
“Ew. Jesus Jeaux, do you have to be so gross all the time.”
“What?” I asked laughin', “I do!”
“Okay, whatever, just hurry up and meet me in the lobby.”
Once she was out the door, I ran back over to my bag. I didn't really have to take a crap. I just really didn't want to be down there. I knew where I wanted to be, and damn it I was gonna do whatever I had to do to get there.
I stuffed all of my clothes and the bits of make-up I could call me own into my bag. If I had to sit at the airport all night I would. I'd miss New Year's Eve. I'd miss my kiss. But I couldn't wait another day to see him.
I waited just long enough that I was sure Rachel had been appropriately distracted by the onslaught of guys I was sure were surroundin' her by now. It didn't take her long to make friends anywhere.
I couldn't believe it was almost midnight already.
When the elevator doors opened, I'm not sure what else I had expected. I knew the noise of the crowd outside had been increasin' for awhile, but from this vantage point...down in the midst of it...I knew what Rachel had meant. I'd never get to the airport. I'd never get out of this neighborhood! A taxi couldn't move through this street if it had wings. Streamers and confetti flew from balconies on either side of the road. People were crammed so tight through-out the district, that I was scared to move. It didn't look like anyone should be able to move. They were packed like sardines, shoulder to shoulder.
Tryin' my best to not be so easily deterred, I pulled my bag in closer to my side and dove onto the sidewalk, pushin' and shovin' with the best of them. Maybe, if I could just make it to the end of the street, then I could make it to the end of the next street. This madness had to stop eventually, and surely I'd be able to find a taxi then.
Totally lost in my own train of thought, I was surprised by the sudden outburst from the crowd. Shouting, and clangin' anything they could find, the final countdown of the year rang was bein' shouted by every person left standin'. Except me. I felt lost. In the blur of kids and adults, of drunks and tweakers, of fireworks and streamers, I was forced to a stop. I could feel the anxiety mountin' in my chest, and wondered if this was the same sensation that had sent me off before.
“Jeaux!”
Now I was hallucinatin'. Great.
“Jeaux!” came the voice again. Yes. His voice. I lifted my head, still tellin' myself I had in fact lost what was left of my mind.
But I hadn't. Pushin' his way through the crowd, his eyes locked on mine, I wished that my feet would work. Firmly cemented into the sidewalk, however, they failed me. This must be shock, I thought.
And just like any girl has ever dreamed, my life was suddenly a living fairytale.
Kevin reached me just as the last second of the night came to a close. The cheers stopped for only a moment as the people around us paused for their New Year's Eve kisses. But as far as I was concerned, they ceased to exist altogether.
He had come for me. And, wrapped in his arms, I forgot about it all. There was nothing but him. And his lips. And for that moment, they were both all mine.
26.12.11
A Road Trip for Christmas
So, needless to say, Rachel was none too happy when she woke up. I'm sure she had a touch of the evil drummer man in her head, but add to that the fact that the first thing she saw when her eyes opened was a sign for the San Antonio city limits, and she was fit to be tied.
“What in the hell happened Jeaux? What are we doing? Are we seriously in fucking San Antonio?” she squealed, hurtin' her own head enough that her hands flew to her ears, probably in an attempt to hold the remnants of her brain in place.
“You know I'm not supposed to drive,” I answered simply.
“Not supposed to drive huh? I thought you got crazy road rage or something! Jeaux we're more than a hundred miles from home! It's Christmas tomorrow! What in the hell are you thinking?”
This I had an answer for. Jerkin' the car to the side of the road, I threw it into park and turned to look her in the face.
“I was thinkin' that I'm tired of sittin' around that damn town wishin' everyday I was with Kevin and tryin' my hardest to have a regular group of friends, because Lord knows I can't have a regular job, or a regular boyfriend, or a regular life of any kind. But I can't even have a regular group of friends that does regular things. No I still end up ridin' with strangers, acceptin' kisses I don't want, and behind the wheel of a car I shouldn't have to worry about bein' able to drive!
I was thinkin' I don't wish to sit through another family meal while my mother does her damnedest to make sure I don't offend anybody, and never fails at every opportunity to further explain or defend my lack of said career, boyfriend, life...
I was thinkin' I wanted to get the hell out of town. Get away from Kevin. Go somewhere I don't have to worry about my every step and my every word. Fly right through town on a whim, without lookin' back, without remorse, without guilt, without that forever impendin' sense of doom I have around people I have to see day in and out.
I was thinkin'...road trip.”
Rachel's facial expressions changed from surprise, to pity, to empathy, and right back around to anger as I concluded my rant.
“A road trip?” she sneered. “Are you fucking kidding me Jeaux? It's Christmas tomorrow! What am I supposed to tell my family? What are you going to tell yours? Your mom is going to kill us! My mom is going to kill us!”
“Oh come on! You know as well as I do, you don't really care if you miss tomorrow. Don't you ever get tired of the constant string of questions tainted in underlyin' “you're not good enough” connotations? Those, “why can't you be more like cousin so-and-so” comments or looks? You're tellin' me you're going to miss all that?”
I'm sure she didn't appreciate my mockin' tone, because she didn't soften right on up or anything. But I knew my words rang true. I'd heard her complain enough about her family, and the whispers of judgment she never failed to hear behind her back. She didn't even have a "nifty" disorder to get to use as her scapegoat.
“So where are we going then Jeaux?” she asked, leanin' back in her seat with a sigh.
“Guess we'll have to wait and see.” I didn't know anymore than she did.
Within minutes our bellies both sounded as though they were the introductory drum-roll to the sunrise. With, of course, an added melody of gongs and trumpets for added effect.
“Are you at least gonna feed me on this little excursion of yours? Have you even considered that we haven't got not one change of clothes Jeaux? How long are we going to be gone?”
“Only one question at a time please. And to answer the first, that is an affirmative senorita. And I'm thinkin' Mexican.”
Makin' a sudden mad dash across two lanes of traffic, I careened onto the access road, and pulled into the parkin' lot of a Jalisco's – who's business did not seem to be sufferin' from the early mornin' hour.
Rachel's hands were firmly clenched into the sides of her seat, and her foot had a mean hold on the floor board.
“Pushin' your brake over there?” I asked laughin'.
“Oh my God Jeaux. Okay-I'll go with you on this little soul-searchin' road-trip of yours, but I'm driving from now on!”
I just laughed and nodded my head. That would of course be for the best.
The restaurant was already alive inside with the smell of coffee, the hum of light conversation, and the sound of the traditional rhythms of Latin music on the speakers over-head.
Everything was painted in bright colors, and there were even pinatas hangin' from the ceiling. Quite festive I assure you.
Once we were seated, our drinks before us and our order had been placed, I still didn't have a straw. I gotta have me a straw! I'd already gulped my first cup of coffee and knew it wasn't helpin' the dehydration that was sure to set-in given the amount of alcohol I'd recently consumed.
I couldn't help but notice the glass of water that had obviously gone untouched at the table across from us. Beads of undisturbed condensation covered the glass from top to bottom. And it, miraculously, had a straw stickin' up from its brim.
I pushed away from the table, and Rachel started to say “stop” – thinkin' I was goin' to complain to the waiter, for she is a firm believer in not fuckin' with the people that fix her food. But to her benefit, but disbelief, I only leaned across to the opposin' table and stole the straw with a quick but certainly polite “you're not usin' this are you?”
Yeah – it was gonna be that kind of day. Accustomed to the looks by now, I just stuck the straw in my cup and sucked my water totally dry.
“Ah, that's so fresh,” I gasped wantin' more.
“Please tell me the next time you need something Jeaux. Wouldn't want you getting herpes of the mouth because you had the steal the neighbor's salsa.”
“She didn't touch it!”
“Oh my God, whatever! That's so gross.”
I couldn't help but take the opportunity to further disgust her by lickin' the sides of the straw, in a most definitely lewd manner, and then enthusiastically suckin' the last couple of drops as though the goodness of it all and made me cross-eyed for a moment.
“You're disgusting, you know that right?”
Still, she couldn't help but laugh along with me.
“So what are we going to do today? For real? Keep driving? Do the tourist thing?”
“I've never been here before. So I say we do the tourist thing. See the Alamo maybe?” I suggested with a grin. “I bet there's bound to be some Christmas stuff goin' on downtown. This is a big city. I'm sure we'll find something to do.”
“What in the hell happened Jeaux? What are we doing? Are we seriously in fucking San Antonio?” she squealed, hurtin' her own head enough that her hands flew to her ears, probably in an attempt to hold the remnants of her brain in place.
“You know I'm not supposed to drive,” I answered simply.
“Not supposed to drive huh? I thought you got crazy road rage or something! Jeaux we're more than a hundred miles from home! It's Christmas tomorrow! What in the hell are you thinking?”
This I had an answer for. Jerkin' the car to the side of the road, I threw it into park and turned to look her in the face.
“I was thinkin' that I'm tired of sittin' around that damn town wishin' everyday I was with Kevin and tryin' my hardest to have a regular group of friends, because Lord knows I can't have a regular job, or a regular boyfriend, or a regular life of any kind. But I can't even have a regular group of friends that does regular things. No I still end up ridin' with strangers, acceptin' kisses I don't want, and behind the wheel of a car I shouldn't have to worry about bein' able to drive!
I was thinkin' I don't wish to sit through another family meal while my mother does her damnedest to make sure I don't offend anybody, and never fails at every opportunity to further explain or defend my lack of said career, boyfriend, life...
I was thinkin' I wanted to get the hell out of town. Get away from Kevin. Go somewhere I don't have to worry about my every step and my every word. Fly right through town on a whim, without lookin' back, without remorse, without guilt, without that forever impendin' sense of doom I have around people I have to see day in and out.
I was thinkin'...road trip.”
Rachel's facial expressions changed from surprise, to pity, to empathy, and right back around to anger as I concluded my rant.
“A road trip?” she sneered. “Are you fucking kidding me Jeaux? It's Christmas tomorrow! What am I supposed to tell my family? What are you going to tell yours? Your mom is going to kill us! My mom is going to kill us!”
“Oh come on! You know as well as I do, you don't really care if you miss tomorrow. Don't you ever get tired of the constant string of questions tainted in underlyin' “you're not good enough” connotations? Those, “why can't you be more like cousin so-and-so” comments or looks? You're tellin' me you're going to miss all that?”
I'm sure she didn't appreciate my mockin' tone, because she didn't soften right on up or anything. But I knew my words rang true. I'd heard her complain enough about her family, and the whispers of judgment she never failed to hear behind her back. She didn't even have a "nifty" disorder to get to use as her scapegoat.
“So where are we going then Jeaux?” she asked, leanin' back in her seat with a sigh.
“Guess we'll have to wait and see.” I didn't know anymore than she did.
Within minutes our bellies both sounded as though they were the introductory drum-roll to the sunrise. With, of course, an added melody of gongs and trumpets for added effect.
“Are you at least gonna feed me on this little excursion of yours? Have you even considered that we haven't got not one change of clothes Jeaux? How long are we going to be gone?”
“Only one question at a time please. And to answer the first, that is an affirmative senorita. And I'm thinkin' Mexican.”
Makin' a sudden mad dash across two lanes of traffic, I careened onto the access road, and pulled into the parkin' lot of a Jalisco's – who's business did not seem to be sufferin' from the early mornin' hour.
Rachel's hands were firmly clenched into the sides of her seat, and her foot had a mean hold on the floor board.
“Pushin' your brake over there?” I asked laughin'.
“Oh my God Jeaux. Okay-I'll go with you on this little soul-searchin' road-trip of yours, but I'm driving from now on!”
I just laughed and nodded my head. That would of course be for the best.
The restaurant was already alive inside with the smell of coffee, the hum of light conversation, and the sound of the traditional rhythms of Latin music on the speakers over-head.
Everything was painted in bright colors, and there were even pinatas hangin' from the ceiling. Quite festive I assure you.
Once we were seated, our drinks before us and our order had been placed, I still didn't have a straw. I gotta have me a straw! I'd already gulped my first cup of coffee and knew it wasn't helpin' the dehydration that was sure to set-in given the amount of alcohol I'd recently consumed.
I couldn't help but notice the glass of water that had obviously gone untouched at the table across from us. Beads of undisturbed condensation covered the glass from top to bottom. And it, miraculously, had a straw stickin' up from its brim.
I pushed away from the table, and Rachel started to say “stop” – thinkin' I was goin' to complain to the waiter, for she is a firm believer in not fuckin' with the people that fix her food. But to her benefit, but disbelief, I only leaned across to the opposin' table and stole the straw with a quick but certainly polite “you're not usin' this are you?”
Yeah – it was gonna be that kind of day. Accustomed to the looks by now, I just stuck the straw in my cup and sucked my water totally dry.
“Ah, that's so fresh,” I gasped wantin' more.
“Please tell me the next time you need something Jeaux. Wouldn't want you getting herpes of the mouth because you had the steal the neighbor's salsa.”
“She didn't touch it!”
“Oh my God, whatever! That's so gross.”
I couldn't help but take the opportunity to further disgust her by lickin' the sides of the straw, in a most definitely lewd manner, and then enthusiastically suckin' the last couple of drops as though the goodness of it all and made me cross-eyed for a moment.
“You're disgusting, you know that right?”
Still, she couldn't help but laugh along with me.
“So what are we going to do today? For real? Keep driving? Do the tourist thing?”
“I've never been here before. So I say we do the tourist thing. See the Alamo maybe?” I suggested with a grin. “I bet there's bound to be some Christmas stuff goin' on downtown. This is a big city. I'm sure we'll find something to do.”
19.12.11
Reality Check Part 2
Sittin' across from him, was a thin blonde with legs that wouldn't quit and cheekbones Cindy Crawford herself would die for.
“What? Come on, it's this way. You can walk and breathe can't you? Jeaux? Jeaux what's the matter with you?”
“Rachel did you or did you not talk to him?” I asked her again not botherin' to look away.
“Oh,” she said. Oh. She saw full well what I was lookin' at and exactly what I was askin' her. Did she know he was goin' on a date? Did she know that he would be at that restaurant in particular?
“Come on, Jeaux, I don't think it's serious. You're not helping yourself staring.”
I knew it wouldn't matter how many different ways I asked the question, whether Rachel had intended on me seein' Kevin there or not, I would probably never know.
But that thing I had wanted to know – that question, of like or love...or monogamy...(or a comparable number of painful nights pinin' at the very least)...or a stream of girlfriends I never knew about – was just as I had originally figured it to be... too painful to bare. I didn't want to know!
Now I could not NOT know. He was on a date! With a gorgeous woman. One actually in his league- 'cause as I have it figured, I am probably not.
My mouth felt dry, but my hands were slick with sweat. And somehow I felt cold all over but still felt something burnin' a hole in my chest. Any other day and I doubt I would have taken it so poorly. We'll call it bad timin' at its finest.
“Look at her Rachel! She's gorgeous!”
“Eh,” she grunted, shruggin' her shoulders (as any good friend would do), “Come on, let's go,” she coaxed again, tuggin' on my arm. I'm not sure if I was tryin' my absolute best to will Kevin to turn his head and look at me, but it sure wasn't workin'.
Just then, a group of guys came stumblin' out of the bar. Two of whom had been kind enough to buy Rachel and I a round of drinks, and were currently hailin' down a cab.
“Headin' to The Hideout ladies, care to join us?” they called, wavin' us over to their cab.
“Now Jeaux. Let's go,” Rachel demanded, stompin' her foot.
Jumpin' into the cab with the guys we barely knew, (sure I'd managed to make-out with one of them already, but that was a given considerin' my blood-alcohol level and his please-kiss-me lips) and drove away from the reality I wished that wasn't. The reality I knew I didn't want to know. I could feel my instinctive reflex to find a diversion. Anything. Anybody. And, I just happened to be in luck. There was a pretty handsome diversion sittin' next to me.
Pullin' a joint from his jacket pocket, he didn't bother to ask the cabbie, or be concerned with the criminality of his actions, when he lit the fat end, puffed twice and passed it to me.
By the time we got to The Hideout, I was drunk, high, pissed, hurt, and irritated even further that I had not yet consumed enough drug-type substances to let me forget that I was pissed and hurt.
Inside the bar, I was on a mission, and Rachel saddled up right next to me. I let my new friend (who's name I kept forgettin') stick around, snugglin' my neck and wrappin' his arms around me from behind. His kisses were soft and sweet, which was nice. But he wasn't the one I wanted.
“Shot!” I called out again.
Like magic, there was suddenly another round bein' passed out, put back, and glasses slammed down.
Another.
Again.
Swoonin' back and forth, I tried my best to bury myself into his chest. But he didn't smell right. I nuzzled his neck, but his skin was prickly with whiskers, not smooth as it should be. I tried to dance with him, but his hips kept movin' in the opposite direction of my own. We couldn't find a rhythm.
And I was toasted. The drunker I got, the less impressed I was with my new friend, and I found myself brushin' him away and soon was avoidin' his kisses altogether.
I had barely even acknowledged Rachel's friend, and had to be reminded that her name was Aubree, 'cause apparently she doesn't like bein' called “hey.”
“I'm ready to go,” I abruptly announced prolly a bit louder than was required. Mr. Kiss-me-lips, had become Mr. Can't-take-a-hint and I was ready to be rid of my leech. I literally swatted his hand away like a fly only moments before, and still, he was there, creepin' his way in for a feelsky.
“Oh my God! Can you not take a hint?” I finally cried out, “Thanks but no thanks, okay, it's not gonna happen.”
“What's your problem?” he asked, lookin' wounded.
“It's not you,” Rachel said, tryin' to help, “she's just upset.”
“I got something that'll make you feel better,” he grinned, tryin' to rub against me again.
“Seriously?” I couldn't believe this guy. I grabbed his nuts in my fist, watched as his eyes bulged along with his Adam's-apple, (and I'm pretty sure he might've stopped breathin' for a minute) and spat, “You don't have half of what I need.”
“Definitely time to go!” Rachel squeeled jumpin' from her seat. Grabbin' my purse and Aubree's hand, she pulled me away from Mr. Not-so-much and shoved us all out the door.
Outside, Rachel nearly fell down she was laughin' so hard. Barely standin' upright, she hunched over, grabbin' her sides with her hands and with tears streamin' down her cheeks.
“Oh my God Jeaux! Did you see the look on that guy's face? We've got to get out of here! Oh my God!” she said still shakin' with laughter.
I couldn't help but feel kind of bad for Aubree. I think she might've found her a keeper, and she didn't look to be quite as understandin' of the treatment wrought upon my fella. Her deer-in-the-headlights gaze, combined with the fact that her jaw still hung half agape, made me wonder if my company might be a bit much for the poor girl.
And in perfect harmony with my “change” themed day, a bicycle cabbie pulled up in front of us.
“Need a ride?” he asked.
“Yes!” we all chimed together.
My mind was still awash with thoughts of Kevin, but given my hefty buzz, they were all of a more risqué nature than that of the torturous emotions of a mind more concerned with realisms.
“So you make pretty good money doin' this?” Rachel asked the cabbie. I only then noticed how slurred her speech was startin' to get. I hadn't been payin' attention to how soused our DD was.
The cabby's shirt was stained with sweat down the center of his back, and his hair was shiny along his brow. He had the best calves I had ever seen though. Gotta look for the positive in a job like that I'd assume.
“My God, how did we get so far away?” Rachel asked, lookin' around like she was lost. “Weren't we parked just around the corner?”
“We took a cab over there remember?” I reminded her.
“Umm, you can just drop me off here,” came a tiny voice. Oh, it was Aubree. Why was she so easy to forget about? Was I really so completely consumed by my own bullshit? Yes, I think I was.
Droppin' her off, and havin' to remind Rachel yet again, of our destination, because yes, we had taken a cab, and yes we were currently bein' towed by a guy on a bike, and no, he was not goin' to slaughter us an in alley...and man, this was gettin' out of hand fast.
After payin' the cabbie, and tippin' him handsomly for his chivalrous attempts at heavin' the now nearly unconscious Rachel from the carriage, we were loaded in the car.
There was just one problem.
I was in the driver's seat. And I don't drive for a reason.
“What? Come on, it's this way. You can walk and breathe can't you? Jeaux? Jeaux what's the matter with you?”
“Rachel did you or did you not talk to him?” I asked her again not botherin' to look away.
“Oh,” she said. Oh. She saw full well what I was lookin' at and exactly what I was askin' her. Did she know he was goin' on a date? Did she know that he would be at that restaurant in particular?
“Come on, Jeaux, I don't think it's serious. You're not helping yourself staring.”
I knew it wouldn't matter how many different ways I asked the question, whether Rachel had intended on me seein' Kevin there or not, I would probably never know.
But that thing I had wanted to know – that question, of like or love...or monogamy...(or a comparable number of painful nights pinin' at the very least)...or a stream of girlfriends I never knew about – was just as I had originally figured it to be... too painful to bare. I didn't want to know!
Now I could not NOT know. He was on a date! With a gorgeous woman. One actually in his league- 'cause as I have it figured, I am probably not.
My mouth felt dry, but my hands were slick with sweat. And somehow I felt cold all over but still felt something burnin' a hole in my chest. Any other day and I doubt I would have taken it so poorly. We'll call it bad timin' at its finest.
“Look at her Rachel! She's gorgeous!”
“Eh,” she grunted, shruggin' her shoulders (as any good friend would do), “Come on, let's go,” she coaxed again, tuggin' on my arm. I'm not sure if I was tryin' my absolute best to will Kevin to turn his head and look at me, but it sure wasn't workin'.
Just then, a group of guys came stumblin' out of the bar. Two of whom had been kind enough to buy Rachel and I a round of drinks, and were currently hailin' down a cab.
“Headin' to The Hideout ladies, care to join us?” they called, wavin' us over to their cab.
“Now Jeaux. Let's go,” Rachel demanded, stompin' her foot.
Jumpin' into the cab with the guys we barely knew, (sure I'd managed to make-out with one of them already, but that was a given considerin' my blood-alcohol level and his please-kiss-me lips) and drove away from the reality I wished that wasn't. The reality I knew I didn't want to know. I could feel my instinctive reflex to find a diversion. Anything. Anybody. And, I just happened to be in luck. There was a pretty handsome diversion sittin' next to me.
Pullin' a joint from his jacket pocket, he didn't bother to ask the cabbie, or be concerned with the criminality of his actions, when he lit the fat end, puffed twice and passed it to me.
By the time we got to The Hideout, I was drunk, high, pissed, hurt, and irritated even further that I had not yet consumed enough drug-type substances to let me forget that I was pissed and hurt.
Inside the bar, I was on a mission, and Rachel saddled up right next to me. I let my new friend (who's name I kept forgettin') stick around, snugglin' my neck and wrappin' his arms around me from behind. His kisses were soft and sweet, which was nice. But he wasn't the one I wanted.
“Shot!” I called out again.
Like magic, there was suddenly another round bein' passed out, put back, and glasses slammed down.
Another.
Again.
Swoonin' back and forth, I tried my best to bury myself into his chest. But he didn't smell right. I nuzzled his neck, but his skin was prickly with whiskers, not smooth as it should be. I tried to dance with him, but his hips kept movin' in the opposite direction of my own. We couldn't find a rhythm.
And I was toasted. The drunker I got, the less impressed I was with my new friend, and I found myself brushin' him away and soon was avoidin' his kisses altogether.
I had barely even acknowledged Rachel's friend, and had to be reminded that her name was Aubree, 'cause apparently she doesn't like bein' called “hey.”
“I'm ready to go,” I abruptly announced prolly a bit louder than was required. Mr. Kiss-me-lips, had become Mr. Can't-take-a-hint and I was ready to be rid of my leech. I literally swatted his hand away like a fly only moments before, and still, he was there, creepin' his way in for a feelsky.
“Oh my God! Can you not take a hint?” I finally cried out, “Thanks but no thanks, okay, it's not gonna happen.”
“What's your problem?” he asked, lookin' wounded.
“It's not you,” Rachel said, tryin' to help, “she's just upset.”
“I got something that'll make you feel better,” he grinned, tryin' to rub against me again.
“Seriously?” I couldn't believe this guy. I grabbed his nuts in my fist, watched as his eyes bulged along with his Adam's-apple, (and I'm pretty sure he might've stopped breathin' for a minute) and spat, “You don't have half of what I need.”
“Definitely time to go!” Rachel squeeled jumpin' from her seat. Grabbin' my purse and Aubree's hand, she pulled me away from Mr. Not-so-much and shoved us all out the door.
Outside, Rachel nearly fell down she was laughin' so hard. Barely standin' upright, she hunched over, grabbin' her sides with her hands and with tears streamin' down her cheeks.
“Oh my God Jeaux! Did you see the look on that guy's face? We've got to get out of here! Oh my God!” she said still shakin' with laughter.
I couldn't help but feel kind of bad for Aubree. I think she might've found her a keeper, and she didn't look to be quite as understandin' of the treatment wrought upon my fella. Her deer-in-the-headlights gaze, combined with the fact that her jaw still hung half agape, made me wonder if my company might be a bit much for the poor girl.
And in perfect harmony with my “change” themed day, a bicycle cabbie pulled up in front of us.
“Need a ride?” he asked.
“Yes!” we all chimed together.
My mind was still awash with thoughts of Kevin, but given my hefty buzz, they were all of a more risqué nature than that of the torturous emotions of a mind more concerned with realisms.
“So you make pretty good money doin' this?” Rachel asked the cabbie. I only then noticed how slurred her speech was startin' to get. I hadn't been payin' attention to how soused our DD was.
The cabby's shirt was stained with sweat down the center of his back, and his hair was shiny along his brow. He had the best calves I had ever seen though. Gotta look for the positive in a job like that I'd assume.
“My God, how did we get so far away?” Rachel asked, lookin' around like she was lost. “Weren't we parked just around the corner?”
“We took a cab over there remember?” I reminded her.
“Umm, you can just drop me off here,” came a tiny voice. Oh, it was Aubree. Why was she so easy to forget about? Was I really so completely consumed by my own bullshit? Yes, I think I was.
Droppin' her off, and havin' to remind Rachel yet again, of our destination, because yes, we had taken a cab, and yes we were currently bein' towed by a guy on a bike, and no, he was not goin' to slaughter us an in alley...and man, this was gettin' out of hand fast.
After payin' the cabbie, and tippin' him handsomly for his chivalrous attempts at heavin' the now nearly unconscious Rachel from the carriage, we were loaded in the car.
There was just one problem.
I was in the driver's seat. And I don't drive for a reason.
15.12.11
Reality Check
You know that moment when you're dreamin' a good dream...and I mean a real real good dream...just gettin' to the best part...when you're awakened by some stupid tickin' or a persistent fly on a kamikazi mission to make sure if he's awake, by God, you will be too...and all you wanna do is go back to sleep? You lay there for a minute, squeezin' your eyes shut, tryin' your best to will yourself back into the depths of sleep, of the reprieve of the dream, the bliss of what could be...
But no. Stupid fuckin' fly.
I was havin' a magnificent dream, and Kevin was the starring actor. If I had to chase that fly with a bat only to succumb to burnin' down the house to be sure I singed its stupid buzzin' wings, that's exactly what I would do. Somebody was goin' to die.
It wasn't like I had never had these dreams before. But the fire between Kevin and I had been gettin' hotter for weeks. Ever since our afternoon together for Veteran's Day there had been a stronger-than-usual shock factor between us. It was like electricity every time we were together - the sexual tension practically settin' off sparks when we touched.
And it didn't matter.
I couldn't have him. I couldn't ever truly call him my own. It was something I wanted to ask him all the time. How did he feel about me? Really? Did he love me? Was he dating anybody else he wasn't tellin' me about? Did he love her?
But I didn't ask. I never did. We didn't broach the subject, as though all we needed to ever say was understood and therefore needn't be said...but it wasn't understood! But would understandin' make it any easier? Either way? If he loved me and couldn't have me, that would make it all the more painful, probably awkward, and could possibly prove to dismantle our friendship. If he didn't love me, and I really was left pinin' alone, that would surely be more painful than I could bare...and would again probably dismantle our friendship. So we bared the burdens of our functional and beloved yet undefinable relationship with an unspoken agreement not to speak of it (our true feelings) with me all the while workin' diligently to convince myself I didn't really want to know.
Completely sexually frustrated, and now irritated that my happy haze had been replaced by the swarmin' thoughts and girlie, irrational, ricochetin' emotions in my head, I again returned my attentions to the fly.
Stupid fucking fly.
Grabbin' the magazine from my bedside table, I rolled it up and flew out of my bed. I could see him sittin' on my dresser, all buzzy and cheerfully unaware that he was currently breathin' his last gulps of air.
After a few wild attempts, I managed to calm my thrashin' arms a bit and mercked the irritatin' little shit before I finally did have to ignite my own house in order to guarantee his demise.
I'll be honest, I was a little too gleeful in my trip to the toilet to flush his squished little body. I didn't even realize the devilish grin I had plastered on my face until I was watchin' him spin down into the pipes and a small chuckle escaped my throat.
Jesus Jeaux, you gotta relax. You need a change of scenery. A change of self maybe? Change is good.
I told myself all these things. Change.
What does a girl do when she awakes and impulsively seeks something she can immediately change in of herself?
She visits a beauty parlor.
“I need a haircut,” I told the woman at the front-desk at the salon.
“Was there a stylist you would prefer?” the woman asked.
“No,” I answered, barely payin' her any attention. My attention had focused on the pictures along the wall of the hair models. I was thinkin' something drastic. Drastic change would be the order of the day.
After my hair had been thoroughly washed (which is of course my favorite part of visitin' a salon) and I was cozied up in my chair with my stylist smilin' brightly behind me, she finally asked, “So what are you lookin' for today?”
“Short. Cut it all off.”
“How short? You have such beautiful hair,” she smiled again, runnin' her fingers through the long stretches of brown waves down my back.
“Here,” I gestured, drawin' a line with my finger from my ear to my chin. “Just chop it off.”
“Are you sure? It had to have taken you years to grow your hair this long.”
“Yes. I'm sure. Just do it okay. Donate it. Whatever. I don't care. Just cut it off. We're goin' for a change. Complete makeover okay?” I said startin' to feel a little exasperated with the woman.
“You can makeover yourself all you want and it won't makeover you life hunny,” she whispered, placin' her hand on my shoulder.
Words of wisdom from a girl lookin' much to young to be handin' them out...A life I knew I couldn't change...Feeling such a lack of control it felt like the roller coaster of my life went on unhinged from the tracks, my seat alone left forgotten and unattached...My hair, it seemed was the one thing I had total control of.
Grabbin' the scissors from her hands, I pulled my hair into a ponytail at the side of my head and in four easy snips, took complete control of that tiny sliver of my life.
“Okay, think you can clean that up for me?” I asked, handin' her the scissors.
Stunned – I'm quite sure that was a first for her – she barely nodded. “Straight across the back? Or, I think a slight bob would work well with your curls maybe?” she asked timidly.
“You're the expert, just do whatever you think would look best,” I replied tryin' to smile.
Luckily, my snarky behavior managed to keep the typical salon dribble to a low, minimizin' my chances of hurtin' the stylist's feelings any further.
So with my new haircut, waxed eye-brows, manicured fingers and still burnin' upper lip, I left to find Rachel to do my make-up and play dress-up. I wasn't worried that she'd have anything better to do...I figured she'd be so shell-shocked by my uncharacteristic requests, she'd know something was up and be ready to dish over the day's dramas.
Not to mention, all I'd have to do was give her one look at my new hair, and I was pretty sure my future would also include a large bottle of wine. She was handy that way.
A few hours later, I was workin' on my third glass of wine and my face had been colored with every kind of pen, brush, and powder Rachel had to offer. I had already poured my heart out about Kevin (even though I was always hesitant to discuss him with her) and sent her into a fit of laughter over the poor stylist I'd abused, and had leaned on her shoulder when I then burst into tears in the peak of my pity-party lamentin' my life, my disorder, and my secret but totally undeniable love for my best friend.
“Okay, finish that glass and we're going out! We're going to go drink and dance and flirt and scrounge up some fun. And you are going to stop thinking Kevin and you are going to start enjoying yourself. Do you have any idea how many people would love to be you? Come on now...drink up,” she encouraged, tiltin' my glass for me, so I had no choice but to gulp down the rest.
“That's a good girl,” she said grinnin'. “Come on now, lets get you dressed.”
“Alright alright,” I groaned, pullin' myself from her couch. “Have you talked to him today?”
“You seriously did not just ask me that did you?”
I only stared back. It was a stupid question. But apparently today was ask-and-say-stupid-unspoken-things-out-loud day.
“I'm not even going to dignify that with a response Jeaux. I'm not gonna do it!” she exclaimed, wavin' her hand in the air.
On the strip, the night went along like most any other. We drank, we danced, we turned a few heads. It was goin' along great. I had even managed to keep myself from thinkin' about him for more than five minutes at a time.
The combination of alcohol, loud music and smoke too thick to see through made me feel as though all of my senses were being clogged. Lights blinked, makin' the dancers appear to be movin' faster than they really were. It just made me feel like I couldn't find my next step quite right. Was the floor movin?
“We gotta go meet my friend Aubree at The Hideout. You ready?” Rachel asked.
Yes.
Outside, the crisp air made me feel a little more alert. I took two deep breaths, enjoyin' the fact that I could see again, and breath without coughin'. Maybe I wasn't as drunk as I thought I was.
But I soon wanted to be.
Across the street, through the window, I caught a glimpse of a very familiar profile.
It was Kevin. And he wasn't alone.
But no. Stupid fuckin' fly.
I was havin' a magnificent dream, and Kevin was the starring actor. If I had to chase that fly with a bat only to succumb to burnin' down the house to be sure I singed its stupid buzzin' wings, that's exactly what I would do. Somebody was goin' to die.
It wasn't like I had never had these dreams before. But the fire between Kevin and I had been gettin' hotter for weeks. Ever since our afternoon together for Veteran's Day there had been a stronger-than-usual shock factor between us. It was like electricity every time we were together - the sexual tension practically settin' off sparks when we touched.
And it didn't matter.
I couldn't have him. I couldn't ever truly call him my own. It was something I wanted to ask him all the time. How did he feel about me? Really? Did he love me? Was he dating anybody else he wasn't tellin' me about? Did he love her?
But I didn't ask. I never did. We didn't broach the subject, as though all we needed to ever say was understood and therefore needn't be said...but it wasn't understood! But would understandin' make it any easier? Either way? If he loved me and couldn't have me, that would make it all the more painful, probably awkward, and could possibly prove to dismantle our friendship. If he didn't love me, and I really was left pinin' alone, that would surely be more painful than I could bare...and would again probably dismantle our friendship. So we bared the burdens of our functional and beloved yet undefinable relationship with an unspoken agreement not to speak of it (our true feelings) with me all the while workin' diligently to convince myself I didn't really want to know.
Completely sexually frustrated, and now irritated that my happy haze had been replaced by the swarmin' thoughts and girlie, irrational, ricochetin' emotions in my head, I again returned my attentions to the fly.
Stupid fucking fly.
Grabbin' the magazine from my bedside table, I rolled it up and flew out of my bed. I could see him sittin' on my dresser, all buzzy and cheerfully unaware that he was currently breathin' his last gulps of air.
After a few wild attempts, I managed to calm my thrashin' arms a bit and mercked the irritatin' little shit before I finally did have to ignite my own house in order to guarantee his demise.
I'll be honest, I was a little too gleeful in my trip to the toilet to flush his squished little body. I didn't even realize the devilish grin I had plastered on my face until I was watchin' him spin down into the pipes and a small chuckle escaped my throat.
Jesus Jeaux, you gotta relax. You need a change of scenery. A change of self maybe? Change is good.
I told myself all these things. Change.
What does a girl do when she awakes and impulsively seeks something she can immediately change in of herself?
She visits a beauty parlor.
“I need a haircut,” I told the woman at the front-desk at the salon.
“Was there a stylist you would prefer?” the woman asked.
“No,” I answered, barely payin' her any attention. My attention had focused on the pictures along the wall of the hair models. I was thinkin' something drastic. Drastic change would be the order of the day.
After my hair had been thoroughly washed (which is of course my favorite part of visitin' a salon) and I was cozied up in my chair with my stylist smilin' brightly behind me, she finally asked, “So what are you lookin' for today?”
“Short. Cut it all off.”
“How short? You have such beautiful hair,” she smiled again, runnin' her fingers through the long stretches of brown waves down my back.
“Here,” I gestured, drawin' a line with my finger from my ear to my chin. “Just chop it off.”
“Are you sure? It had to have taken you years to grow your hair this long.”
“Yes. I'm sure. Just do it okay. Donate it. Whatever. I don't care. Just cut it off. We're goin' for a change. Complete makeover okay?” I said startin' to feel a little exasperated with the woman.
“You can makeover yourself all you want and it won't makeover you life hunny,” she whispered, placin' her hand on my shoulder.
Words of wisdom from a girl lookin' much to young to be handin' them out...A life I knew I couldn't change...Feeling such a lack of control it felt like the roller coaster of my life went on unhinged from the tracks, my seat alone left forgotten and unattached...My hair, it seemed was the one thing I had total control of.
Grabbin' the scissors from her hands, I pulled my hair into a ponytail at the side of my head and in four easy snips, took complete control of that tiny sliver of my life.
“Okay, think you can clean that up for me?” I asked, handin' her the scissors.
Stunned – I'm quite sure that was a first for her – she barely nodded. “Straight across the back? Or, I think a slight bob would work well with your curls maybe?” she asked timidly.
“You're the expert, just do whatever you think would look best,” I replied tryin' to smile.
Luckily, my snarky behavior managed to keep the typical salon dribble to a low, minimizin' my chances of hurtin' the stylist's feelings any further.
So with my new haircut, waxed eye-brows, manicured fingers and still burnin' upper lip, I left to find Rachel to do my make-up and play dress-up. I wasn't worried that she'd have anything better to do...I figured she'd be so shell-shocked by my uncharacteristic requests, she'd know something was up and be ready to dish over the day's dramas.
Not to mention, all I'd have to do was give her one look at my new hair, and I was pretty sure my future would also include a large bottle of wine. She was handy that way.
A few hours later, I was workin' on my third glass of wine and my face had been colored with every kind of pen, brush, and powder Rachel had to offer. I had already poured my heart out about Kevin (even though I was always hesitant to discuss him with her) and sent her into a fit of laughter over the poor stylist I'd abused, and had leaned on her shoulder when I then burst into tears in the peak of my pity-party lamentin' my life, my disorder, and my secret but totally undeniable love for my best friend.
“Okay, finish that glass and we're going out! We're going to go drink and dance and flirt and scrounge up some fun. And you are going to stop thinking Kevin and you are going to start enjoying yourself. Do you have any idea how many people would love to be you? Come on now...drink up,” she encouraged, tiltin' my glass for me, so I had no choice but to gulp down the rest.
“That's a good girl,” she said grinnin'. “Come on now, lets get you dressed.”
“Alright alright,” I groaned, pullin' myself from her couch. “Have you talked to him today?”
“You seriously did not just ask me that did you?”
I only stared back. It was a stupid question. But apparently today was ask-and-say-stupid-unspoken-things-out-loud day.
“I'm not even going to dignify that with a response Jeaux. I'm not gonna do it!” she exclaimed, wavin' her hand in the air.
On the strip, the night went along like most any other. We drank, we danced, we turned a few heads. It was goin' along great. I had even managed to keep myself from thinkin' about him for more than five minutes at a time.
The combination of alcohol, loud music and smoke too thick to see through made me feel as though all of my senses were being clogged. Lights blinked, makin' the dancers appear to be movin' faster than they really were. It just made me feel like I couldn't find my next step quite right. Was the floor movin?
“We gotta go meet my friend Aubree at The Hideout. You ready?” Rachel asked.
Yes.
Outside, the crisp air made me feel a little more alert. I took two deep breaths, enjoyin' the fact that I could see again, and breath without coughin'. Maybe I wasn't as drunk as I thought I was.
But I soon wanted to be.
Across the street, through the window, I caught a glimpse of a very familiar profile.
It was Kevin. And he wasn't alone.
5.12.11
How to Get Banned from Macy's
I don't know how I always manage to let Rachel talk me into things. But somehow it never seems to take much convincin'. She has a way about her, I guess you could say that makes you just want to agree with just about everything she says.
So it's the weekend of Black Friday – I absolutely refused to come on the actual day of – and we are at the mall of all places in the entire world we could possibly be. The parkin' lot is so full we had to park in friggin' Bangladesh and hike up the Appalachian friggin' trail to get to our destination – the Macy's.
It wasn't long before Rachel was stuck to the counter of a shiny glass case, starin' down at the sparklin' diamonds and sapphires twinklin' back at her. You could practically hear them singin' her name. Or I'm sure she could anyhow.
“Miss!” she called, wavin' at a sales clerk. A slightly heavy set woman wearin' too much make-up and too much hairspray bustled over to assist her, but without the happy smile typical of a commission-earner about to make a big sale.
As though we were a complete waste of her time, she quickly sighed and spat, “Can I help you?”
I already didn't like her. She just rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't like her attitude. That “I work in a fancy store so I'm better than you,” attitude.
“I don't know, can you?” I asked.
“Not now,” Rachel said shushin' me. Normally she would have jumped all over the invitation to have the “can you, may you” debate, but the rush of the holiday shoppin' madness was beginnin' to infect her as well.
“I'd like to see that necklace, please,” she asked the lady ever-so-sweetly, pointin' at the necklace with her finger pressed upon the glass.
I saw the quick cut of her eye, heard the tiny sigh, before she reached for her keys to open the door. I leaned over on the glass, pressin' both my forearms along the top of the counter.
She sighed again.
As though I was suddenly overcome with curiosity at what I was sure was a completely over-priced set of earrings only my great-grandmother would wear, I went to lean in even further over the counter, rubbin' my arms along the surface as I reached.
A perfume bottle nearly fell over as I stretched my arm for the earrings from the twirlin' tower. I quickly set it right, nudgin' it over a hair, then grabbed the earrings. As soon as the necklace was laid down in front of Rachel, the woman reached over and nudged the perfume bottle back into “place," glarin' at the fresh smudge marks at the same time.
I don't know if it was a bad day or what, but she apparently didn't know how much Rachel liked to shop. If she were smart, she'd have been a little more invested in our needs. Well, Rachel's needs, but whatever.
So I nudged the bottle over again.
The woman gave me one of those looks that asks, “Really?” and moved it again to its proper location.
I, of course, reached over to move it again, the but she beat me to the bottle, placin' her hand over the lid, and huffin' “Would you please?”
“Please?” I queried back as though I didn't know what she were about to ask of me. Man I was feelin' catty! I must really, really not like this woman, I thought.
“Jeaux stop it,” Rachel jumped in, “I'm sorry. I'll take this by the way, thank you, and...”
“Okay, I'll get you at this register over here,” the sales clerk interjected. But, Rachel hadn't been finished. Now...there was my girl...she was gettin' irritated.
By the time Rachel was finished makin' her purchase, a solid sale for the woman she had to admit, I had been fulfillin' my time by swappin' the earrings and bracelets and pins in the little trays beside the register.
She'd just love that.
“If, you're done, thank you ladies and have a good day,” she said with a horrifically fake smile.
Hah. We'll just see about that, I thought. Jeez...what was wrong with me today? Was I experiencin' some kind of sick shoppin' rebellion or what?
Rachel was too jazzed about her new jewelry set to pay me much mind and had forgotten all about her irritation in her moment of shoppin' bliss. We turned to go and I nearly ran right into a set of those three-tiered towers holdin' folded sweaters and a new arrivals.
I stopped and grabbed one of the sweaters on the top of the tower, and glanced to see the woman watchin' me as she hurriedly tried to fix the mess I'd made of her trays.
I couldn't help myself. Without takin' so much as a three-second look at the sweater, I lifted it up just enough to completely undo the folds and tossed it back down in a heap.
As we turned the corner of the path circlin' the floor of the store, I saw her again rushin' over to fix what I'd done. And by the look of her flushed cheeks and squinty eyes, I'd say she was mad.
And then, as though I'd been suddenly thrown into a WWE wrestlin' ring, I was bein' basically attacked by the shoppers already so infected with the sickness their will to remember their humanity had vanished. Somewhere, I assumed right along with the money in their wallets.
So I decided to stop fightin' it and started grabbin' at shirts and jackets with a comparable frenzy...you know...like my life depended on their purchase, and that alone. I'm pretty sure this one lady would have been willin' to hit me in the face had I not let go of one suede coat when I did.
But this other lady! Oh my God she had it right! Screw tryin' to hold the clothes she wanted, she was wearin' them!
Rachel saw me lookin' at the beacon of shoppin' brillinace and commenced to followin' suit. Before long the three of us were dressed to the nines – or would you say tens? – in multiple layers of un-matchin' shirts and one particularly god-awful sweater for myself, that I had to wear for only one reason – it was too hilarious not to be worn; for I prayed it would be the only time it would see the light of day.
Even given the sensational mad-house that was wreakin' havoc on this side of the partition, the clerks were laughin' and helpin' and doin' their best to keep their peace between the lunatics, as they dodged from left to right like running-backs in haste to their posts.
Maybe that other lady was just a scrooge.
Rachel was tuggin' me on my sleeve around another row of racks when I saw her again. This time, the scrooge was helpin' another customer, the Luis Vitton bag on this woman's arm so shiny I wondered if it still had the brown paper paddin' inside.
And whaddya know? Scrooge was all smiles. From ear to ear, and lookin' genuine as hell too. Well that really rubbed me the wrong way.
Slinkin' over like a cat-burglar duckin' behind one tower and jumpin' to hide behind the next, I made my way back to her counter. Rachel was lost to me by now. I was on my own.
“Oh yes ma'am,” I heard her coo, “that would look absolutely divine on you! You know, I think we have a whole matching set to go along with it, if you have the time let's get you all dolled up and see what it looks like hmm?”
Well, wasn't she just the perfect little helper?
As she was too focused on her upcomin' sale to notice me behind her, I took immediate advantage of my window of opportunity.
Wrappin' my arms around one of the earring towers from the counter, I lifted it and put it on the other end. A few earrings fell off the hooks, sure. Then, I transferred the watch rack and placed its velvet case where the earring tower had been. No harm done there. Then, I tip-toed back behind another rack of panty-hose and waited for her to walk around to my side of the counter.
Finally, she came around. And luckily, nobody noticed me skulkin' around behind the panty-hose like I were tryin' (poorly at that) to sneak a five-finger discount or something.
It took her a minute to notice, but seein' an earring out of place on the counter, she picked it up and went to hang it in it's place, only to find, it's place was no longer in it's usual place. Ha ha!
Her face was priceless. She looked confused. Then, actually shook her head as though she were tryin' to remember if her memory were servin' her right or if somebody was messin' with her. She seemed to notice the swap, and I was pretty sure she was on to me, when I peeked my head over the partition just a little too high.
“I see you over there! You leave my counter alone before I call security! I mean it!”
The laughter finally sputtered forth (I'm pretty sure I actually spit on a few scarves, woops) then and I came tumblin' out of my hidin' place and ran back to find Rachel. I nearly passed her, as she had come to find me as well, but had stopped to smell some perfume selections.
I smiled, a little out of breath, and she did too. “Having fun?” she asked, knowin' me well enough to take a quick glance behind me in search of security guards or somethin'.
“Always,” I said.
She was smellin' a particularly dainty lookin' bottle of women's perfume, one that looked like a glass flower, the stem of the bottle the stem of the flower, and it's lid the petals. I was pretty sure if I held it I'd break it.
A line of women streamed into the store just then, and as we were very near the entrance, we were soon bein' pushed and brushed aside by their bouncin' shoppin' bags, purses, and big asses.
Rachel curled her nose at their inconsideration and turned to catch the last lady in the line-up with a hefty dose of the floral smellin' perfume in her hands.
“Hi! Welcome to Macy's!” she said in a high-pitched sing-song voice. If you didn't notice her own shoppin' bags in her arms, you'd have been sure she worked there.
“Hi! Welcome to Macy's!” she chimed again, squirtin' another surprised customer. I had to smile. The infection was startin' to subside (probably with the amount of money in her bank account). She had started a little game with herself.
I wanted to play.
So, dainty or not, I grabbed another bottle of the perfume and stood a few feet to the side of Rachel. She caught those comin' from one side, and I got the other. At first it was just a few ladies. Then a couple kids. Then even boys and men were fair game, as we knew our game would soon be cut short.
The whispers questionin' our authority as Macy's Perfume Spray Girls had been heard already.
“There! That's them! That's the girl!”
Dammit! Scrooge! I heard her shrill, I'm better than you-and-you-and-you voice, and knew it was time to go!
“Rachel! It's about that time,” I said puttin' the perfume bottle back on the table and gesturin' for the door. But the bottle fell to the floor - the fragile lid breakin' and sendin' shards of glass in all directions. Damn!
Lookin' towards the sound of the voices, I saw a tall, hefty security guard barrellin' towards us. Suddenly, I felt like a criminal. I was scared like a kid.
“Come on Rach, go time, now!” I said runnin' for the open doorway leadin' to the mall. But, as though in one final act of rebellion, (scared or not) I grabbed a purse and hat from one table, and ran to another, puttin' them down and pickin' up a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then I ran those to the next table and made another swap. I was apparently on a mission to mis-match Macy's right out the door, and I was laughin' like a crazed hyena the whole way.
“Jeaux, wait!” I heard Rachel shout, but I was too busy and quickly makin' my way out the door. In the open spaces of the mall's central court, I stopped to wait for her.
That's when I turned to see Rachel in the doorway, takin' off the shirts she had layered over herself, because...once you passed the store's doors, it was stealing.
The sales-clerk was now beside her with a crooked grin. But the security guard was still comin' toward me, pointin' at the ridiculous sweater I was still wearin'...had totally forgot about...and had never paid for.
Shit...
So it's the weekend of Black Friday – I absolutely refused to come on the actual day of – and we are at the mall of all places in the entire world we could possibly be. The parkin' lot is so full we had to park in friggin' Bangladesh and hike up the Appalachian friggin' trail to get to our destination – the Macy's.
It wasn't long before Rachel was stuck to the counter of a shiny glass case, starin' down at the sparklin' diamonds and sapphires twinklin' back at her. You could practically hear them singin' her name. Or I'm sure she could anyhow.
“Miss!” she called, wavin' at a sales clerk. A slightly heavy set woman wearin' too much make-up and too much hairspray bustled over to assist her, but without the happy smile typical of a commission-earner about to make a big sale.
As though we were a complete waste of her time, she quickly sighed and spat, “Can I help you?”
I already didn't like her. She just rubbed me the wrong way. I didn't like her attitude. That “I work in a fancy store so I'm better than you,” attitude.
“I don't know, can you?” I asked.
“Not now,” Rachel said shushin' me. Normally she would have jumped all over the invitation to have the “can you, may you” debate, but the rush of the holiday shoppin' madness was beginnin' to infect her as well.
“I'd like to see that necklace, please,” she asked the lady ever-so-sweetly, pointin' at the necklace with her finger pressed upon the glass.
I saw the quick cut of her eye, heard the tiny sigh, before she reached for her keys to open the door. I leaned over on the glass, pressin' both my forearms along the top of the counter.
She sighed again.
As though I was suddenly overcome with curiosity at what I was sure was a completely over-priced set of earrings only my great-grandmother would wear, I went to lean in even further over the counter, rubbin' my arms along the surface as I reached.
A perfume bottle nearly fell over as I stretched my arm for the earrings from the twirlin' tower. I quickly set it right, nudgin' it over a hair, then grabbed the earrings. As soon as the necklace was laid down in front of Rachel, the woman reached over and nudged the perfume bottle back into “place," glarin' at the fresh smudge marks at the same time.
I don't know if it was a bad day or what, but she apparently didn't know how much Rachel liked to shop. If she were smart, she'd have been a little more invested in our needs. Well, Rachel's needs, but whatever.
So I nudged the bottle over again.
The woman gave me one of those looks that asks, “Really?” and moved it again to its proper location.
I, of course, reached over to move it again, the but she beat me to the bottle, placin' her hand over the lid, and huffin' “Would you please?”
“Please?” I queried back as though I didn't know what she were about to ask of me. Man I was feelin' catty! I must really, really not like this woman, I thought.
“Jeaux stop it,” Rachel jumped in, “I'm sorry. I'll take this by the way, thank you, and...”
“Okay, I'll get you at this register over here,” the sales clerk interjected. But, Rachel hadn't been finished. Now...there was my girl...she was gettin' irritated.
By the time Rachel was finished makin' her purchase, a solid sale for the woman she had to admit, I had been fulfillin' my time by swappin' the earrings and bracelets and pins in the little trays beside the register.
She'd just love that.
“If, you're done, thank you ladies and have a good day,” she said with a horrifically fake smile.
Hah. We'll just see about that, I thought. Jeez...what was wrong with me today? Was I experiencin' some kind of sick shoppin' rebellion or what?
Rachel was too jazzed about her new jewelry set to pay me much mind and had forgotten all about her irritation in her moment of shoppin' bliss. We turned to go and I nearly ran right into a set of those three-tiered towers holdin' folded sweaters and a new arrivals.
I stopped and grabbed one of the sweaters on the top of the tower, and glanced to see the woman watchin' me as she hurriedly tried to fix the mess I'd made of her trays.
I couldn't help myself. Without takin' so much as a three-second look at the sweater, I lifted it up just enough to completely undo the folds and tossed it back down in a heap.
As we turned the corner of the path circlin' the floor of the store, I saw her again rushin' over to fix what I'd done. And by the look of her flushed cheeks and squinty eyes, I'd say she was mad.
And then, as though I'd been suddenly thrown into a WWE wrestlin' ring, I was bein' basically attacked by the shoppers already so infected with the sickness their will to remember their humanity had vanished. Somewhere, I assumed right along with the money in their wallets.
So I decided to stop fightin' it and started grabbin' at shirts and jackets with a comparable frenzy...you know...like my life depended on their purchase, and that alone. I'm pretty sure this one lady would have been willin' to hit me in the face had I not let go of one suede coat when I did.
But this other lady! Oh my God she had it right! Screw tryin' to hold the clothes she wanted, she was wearin' them!
Rachel saw me lookin' at the beacon of shoppin' brillinace and commenced to followin' suit. Before long the three of us were dressed to the nines – or would you say tens? – in multiple layers of un-matchin' shirts and one particularly god-awful sweater for myself, that I had to wear for only one reason – it was too hilarious not to be worn; for I prayed it would be the only time it would see the light of day.
Even given the sensational mad-house that was wreakin' havoc on this side of the partition, the clerks were laughin' and helpin' and doin' their best to keep their peace between the lunatics, as they dodged from left to right like running-backs in haste to their posts.
Maybe that other lady was just a scrooge.
Rachel was tuggin' me on my sleeve around another row of racks when I saw her again. This time, the scrooge was helpin' another customer, the Luis Vitton bag on this woman's arm so shiny I wondered if it still had the brown paper paddin' inside.
And whaddya know? Scrooge was all smiles. From ear to ear, and lookin' genuine as hell too. Well that really rubbed me the wrong way.
Slinkin' over like a cat-burglar duckin' behind one tower and jumpin' to hide behind the next, I made my way back to her counter. Rachel was lost to me by now. I was on my own.
“Oh yes ma'am,” I heard her coo, “that would look absolutely divine on you! You know, I think we have a whole matching set to go along with it, if you have the time let's get you all dolled up and see what it looks like hmm?”
Well, wasn't she just the perfect little helper?
As she was too focused on her upcomin' sale to notice me behind her, I took immediate advantage of my window of opportunity.
Wrappin' my arms around one of the earring towers from the counter, I lifted it and put it on the other end. A few earrings fell off the hooks, sure. Then, I transferred the watch rack and placed its velvet case where the earring tower had been. No harm done there. Then, I tip-toed back behind another rack of panty-hose and waited for her to walk around to my side of the counter.
Finally, she came around. And luckily, nobody noticed me skulkin' around behind the panty-hose like I were tryin' (poorly at that) to sneak a five-finger discount or something.
It took her a minute to notice, but seein' an earring out of place on the counter, she picked it up and went to hang it in it's place, only to find, it's place was no longer in it's usual place. Ha ha!
Her face was priceless. She looked confused. Then, actually shook her head as though she were tryin' to remember if her memory were servin' her right or if somebody was messin' with her. She seemed to notice the swap, and I was pretty sure she was on to me, when I peeked my head over the partition just a little too high.
“I see you over there! You leave my counter alone before I call security! I mean it!”
The laughter finally sputtered forth (I'm pretty sure I actually spit on a few scarves, woops) then and I came tumblin' out of my hidin' place and ran back to find Rachel. I nearly passed her, as she had come to find me as well, but had stopped to smell some perfume selections.
I smiled, a little out of breath, and she did too. “Having fun?” she asked, knowin' me well enough to take a quick glance behind me in search of security guards or somethin'.
“Always,” I said.
She was smellin' a particularly dainty lookin' bottle of women's perfume, one that looked like a glass flower, the stem of the bottle the stem of the flower, and it's lid the petals. I was pretty sure if I held it I'd break it.
A line of women streamed into the store just then, and as we were very near the entrance, we were soon bein' pushed and brushed aside by their bouncin' shoppin' bags, purses, and big asses.
Rachel curled her nose at their inconsideration and turned to catch the last lady in the line-up with a hefty dose of the floral smellin' perfume in her hands.
“Hi! Welcome to Macy's!” she said in a high-pitched sing-song voice. If you didn't notice her own shoppin' bags in her arms, you'd have been sure she worked there.
“Hi! Welcome to Macy's!” she chimed again, squirtin' another surprised customer. I had to smile. The infection was startin' to subside (probably with the amount of money in her bank account). She had started a little game with herself.
I wanted to play.
So, dainty or not, I grabbed another bottle of the perfume and stood a few feet to the side of Rachel. She caught those comin' from one side, and I got the other. At first it was just a few ladies. Then a couple kids. Then even boys and men were fair game, as we knew our game would soon be cut short.
The whispers questionin' our authority as Macy's Perfume Spray Girls had been heard already.
“There! That's them! That's the girl!”
Dammit! Scrooge! I heard her shrill, I'm better than you-and-you-and-you voice, and knew it was time to go!
“Rachel! It's about that time,” I said puttin' the perfume bottle back on the table and gesturin' for the door. But the bottle fell to the floor - the fragile lid breakin' and sendin' shards of glass in all directions. Damn!
Lookin' towards the sound of the voices, I saw a tall, hefty security guard barrellin' towards us. Suddenly, I felt like a criminal. I was scared like a kid.
“Come on Rach, go time, now!” I said runnin' for the open doorway leadin' to the mall. But, as though in one final act of rebellion, (scared or not) I grabbed a purse and hat from one table, and ran to another, puttin' them down and pickin' up a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then I ran those to the next table and made another swap. I was apparently on a mission to mis-match Macy's right out the door, and I was laughin' like a crazed hyena the whole way.
“Jeaux, wait!” I heard Rachel shout, but I was too busy and quickly makin' my way out the door. In the open spaces of the mall's central court, I stopped to wait for her.
That's when I turned to see Rachel in the doorway, takin' off the shirts she had layered over herself, because...once you passed the store's doors, it was stealing.
The sales-clerk was now beside her with a crooked grin. But the security guard was still comin' toward me, pointin' at the ridiculous sweater I was still wearin'...had totally forgot about...and had never paid for.
Shit...
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