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CHAPTER 23 A practically unanimous decision was made when the band next gathered together; the grrls should take a month or so away from each other. Everyone was tense, and they needed a break from the constant contact. The idea was proposed by Heather, which of course got Kim up in arms the moment it was said. “Don’t talk rot; the only one of us who needs a break here is you, and we’ll be bloody glad to see ya’ go!” Heather stood up, her eyes flaming, quite prepared to get just as deep into this as Kim seemed to want. Her mouth was open, cruel retort ready, when Elke pulled her back, muttering something about wanting to kill both of the bitches. “You two make me sick, you know that?” Kim straightened, glaring. “Really?” “Bloody hell, yes. You’re two of the most important bits in the band, and you both seem intent on tearing the band in bloody half!” “And why the bloody hell are you always on her side, Elke? Huh? My best friend of the past god knows how bloody many years, why do you side with her?” “What sort of a best friend relationship do we have going on when you’ve got your bassist and sax-grrl hanging off you at all times, so I can’t even approach?” Kim narrowed her eyes. “Right, and what bloody sort of best friend would refuse to live in the same apartment building? Would, in fact, move in with the little vengeance-toy drummer?” Elke and Kim stood staring at each other for the longest time, tensed and ready for another attack, when Jessie spoke up. “I think we should take a break from each other. We’ve just had a hectic tour. We’ve been spending all our time together, and that’s not good for any of us, it seems. I know I have some things that need doing in the States, and I’m sure the rest of you can find something to fill the time.” Ebony glanced at Chatha quickly, then leaned forward in her seat. “I was thinking of going to Germany for a while.” As she had expected, Chatha fell out of her seat. “Wha’? Yer leavin’ me behind? Y’can’ go t’Germany! No’ even fer a month!” Hiding a smile, Ebony shook her head. “Raine’s been planning a visit for the longest time. He wants to see what their goth movement is like; wants to learn how to say ‘gother than thou’ in another language.” “Well, Raine’s jus’ a li’l shit-fer-brains thing wi’ a prick ‘oo’s takin’ you away...” Chatha crossed her arms and pouted, not moving from where she was on the floor. Rolling her eyes, Ebony went to kneel beside Chatha, annoyed that the other grrls were all watching. “Raine’s a goth, Chatha Darling. Most true goths are rather androgynous.” Chatha mouthed the word over and over again, stumbling over it every time. Then she understood, or at least thought she did, and her eyes went wide. “’E’s a hermaphrodite?” Unable to hold back her laughter, Ebony shook her head. “No. He has both male and female aspects, not male and female organs.” “Oh.” Chatha thought for a moment. “You’re no’ andro ... androgi ... anderogin--” “Androgynous.” “’Xactly.” “No, I’m not. But that’s because not only am I a goth, I’m a grrl.” Heather snorted. “Is it just me, or does being a grrl equate to looking like a sex toy?” Chatha hopped to her feet, her hands clenched. “You shut up! Yer always twistin’ everythin’! Eb’s no’ like Kim or Elke. She’s always wearin’ full length everythin’, ne’er shows skin. She’s go’ mystery an’ class! Proof tha’ y’can be a grrl withou’ bein’ obvious. Sh’ thinks for herself, an’ she’s proud of ‘oo she is an’ what sh’ is. Proud t’ be a grrl, so she’s always wearin’ skirts, ‘cause that’s the oldest and classiest female thing t’ do.” “Wearing a skirt is like accepting the place society has been trying to put girls into, though. Because we weren’t allowed to wear trousers for so long, why the hell would anyone want to backtrack?” Heather shot a sidelong glance at Kim. “Nah, wearin’ a skirt an’ bein’ empowered is sayin’ there’s no shame in bein’ female, an’ we can do wha’ we damn bloody well please. Eb’s made ‘erself practically untouchable by becomin’ this ideal from centuries back; she’s s’ timeless an’ tha’s great. I’ doesn’t mean she’s any less than you, which would be bloody tough t’do! Yer s’ caught in yourself tha’ I’m amazed y’ know wha’ the world aroun’ you looks like!” Chatha turned away, overcome. She hadn’t yelled at Heather with purpose before in the entire time the band had been together. Ebony took Chatha in her arms, glaring at Heather over the pink grrl’s head. “You might want to take up the issue of skirts with Elke,” was all Ebony said before taking Chatha out of the room to have a private talk with her about the whole Germany/Raine issue. Geneveve was looking around at the remaining grrls. She started laughing. “What?” Kim growled. “I think this is proof of Heather’s first point. We should take a bloody break before we kill each other.” Not taking her eyes off Heather, Kim thought for a while. Then she looked away and shrugged. “What the hell. A month off. So long as you’re all prepared to work on album two the second you get back.” *** Ebony did end up going to Germany with Raine. She left Chatha in a mopey mass on her apartment floor, but a colorful bird that landed on the windowsill brightened the pink grrl’s mood rather quickly. She decided only a day or so after that she would spend the month off experimenting with other styles of music, and ended up offering her saxophone playing skills to a small jazz band who played at The Tarnish Yard nightly. While Chatha was discovering jazz, Geneveve was discovering the nightlife. That included lots of clubs, lots of boys, and lots of drugs. Lots. Even though she stayed in London, the other grrls who stayed behind barely saw her, and when they did, she was rather gone. Elke had intended to stay for the entire month and patch things up with Kim, but that led to a fight almost the second their conversation started. She had come into Kim’s apartment, telling her Heather was heading off to Australia in a few days, to which Kim had responded: “What a pity. Who will I have to fight with for this next month?” “She’s not that bad, y’know.” “Not that bad? Elke, she is the antithesis of everything I stand for. She does her best to make all my views seem stupid and bloody useless. And she’s attacking my other grrls for no bloody reason!” “Actually, I understand her side of the skirt argument.” Kim stopped, staring at Elke. “What?” “I understand her--” “Bloody hell, I heard that. Elke! You wear skirts!” “And I’m a slut. I know that much.” “Jessie wears skirts.” “She is the walking epitome of what a girl should be. Reserved, shy, polite, oh so proper. She knows her place rather well, doesn’t she? Serving up to someone with more power than her.” “And who is that someone?” “You, Kim.” So she wouldn’t slap Elke, Kim stalked across the room and slammed open her closet, ripping down hangers with skirts and tossing them back at Elke. “Am I a slut?” She turned back to Elke, throwing one of her red plaid skirts at her as hard as she could, hanger and all. “And if I am a slut, then how can Jessie be your typical girl? Sluts have no power. Sluts just give and give and give. Not even the lowliest girl would serve up to a slut.” “She’s an American. Can you get any lower than that?” With a shriek, Kim threw herself over the pile of skirts and tackled Elke. They both hit the floor hard, screaming and clawing at each other. Elke shoved Kim, screaming: “If you’re a slut, you’re a bloody useless one! Only taking and leaving the things with pricks? Why not use up one of your own too, huh? Why the bloody hell not?” “I learned my bloody lesson already!” Kim withdrew, her back hitting the foot of her bed. “Why don’t you go join Heather in Australia? I don’t want to have to hear you and your bloody stupid presumptions, not again.” “What are you saying?” “I’m saying get out of my bloody face!” “I’m just telling it the way it bloody is. Where’s the sin in that?” “Get out! Go join Heather in Australia, bitch, you two deserve each other. And if you don’t come back, I won’t bloody well care!” “Kim--” “Out of my face, bitch! Go!” Elke scrambled to her feet, then with one last defiant glare at Kim, she stalked out of the apartment, not even bothering to slam the door behind her. It stood open in the empty air and Kim stared at it, feeling numb. She slid away from the bed and fell into her pile of skirts, holding the material up around her face so she could scream without being heard. A hand on her shoulder made her jerk up. Her eyes stayed on Jessie for a few moments before recognizing her, at which point she shrugged her off. “Thought you were packin’,” Kim muttered. “I was.” Jessie sat on the floor beside Kim. “I heard the commotion. You okay?” “Just sent Elke off with permission t’ never come back.” Jessie picked up a skirt absentmindedly, turning it over in her hands. “She’ll be back. We all just need a break.” “Do you need a break, Jess? From me?” “Actually, I wanted to ask you something...” Jessie put the skirt down and took Kim’s hand instead. “Something important.” Kim watched their interlocked hands, somewhat confused. “What?” “I’m going to find my father, Kim. That’s why I’m going to the States. I don’t know if I can do it, but I have to try. It’s been years. I need to hear his voice again.” She gripped Kim’s hand tighter. “I want you to come with me.” Kim opened her mouth, shocked. “I...” She looked across her room and saw that the front door had been closed, probably when Jessie came in. “Jess, I... It’s the States, Jessie. The bloody US of A. You know how I feel about that country.” “You’ll be with me, Kim. It can be any country you want it to be. Just pretend. Please.” “Jess, the bloody States will never have me, alive or dead, aware or not. I’m sorry. I just can’t. I can’t go there.” Jessie kissed Kim’s hand then dropped it. “I understand.” She stood up. “Jess--” “No, I think Heather was right, we all need a break from each other.” Kim hung her head. “I’ll see you in a month, then?” “Yeh. Best of luck with your father.” “Thank you.” Jessie lingered, watching Kim with sad eyes, but she eventually had to leave, closing the door firmly behind her. *** While the other grrls were occupied with travel and music and drugs, Kim kept mostly to herself. She seethed in self-hatred, over what she had let happen to Chatha, over chasing Elke away, and over letting Jessie go to search for her father alone. Kim swore to herself that she would never hurt her friends again, because it wasn’t forgivable. She swore to herself that she would change. Give up on the things with pricks again, even if that meant she’d be alone. She couldn’t afford to hurt her grrls. She spent most of the month writing lyrics. Sad ones, angry ones, escapist ones. A newer, stronger album seemed to form under her hands, but it was so much older than Torn Horses. It was colored by her breakup with Gwen, her confused relationship with Jessie, and her new decision to drive anything male out of her life again. Even though Chatha and Geneveve were still just down the hall from her, Kim lost contact with them. She barely ever thought to leave her apartment, and even then it was if she had run out of food in her pantry. Maybe it was punishment, but she wouldn’t admit it to herself. Over the month, Kim’s blue streak faded out. |
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