"Now why can't I draw a straight line on paper?" I ask myself as I successfully finish tracing my lipline with a vamp red colored lip liner. I fill in the rest of my lips with the matching lipstick I bought down in The Village earlier today. Stepping back from the mirror, I eye myself critically, my long hair is hanging down straight to the waist of my black jeans. After an hour and a half of sitting under the blowdryer, my normally pale cheeks have become rose-colored. I let out a half-hearted sigh, this rosey tint is causing the freckles on the bridge of my nose to appear.
I can hear someone approaching my bedroom door, oh shit! Judging by the heaviness of the footsteps I can tell it's my dad. Instinctively, I start doing the battle of the bodysuit dance. Wiggling and jumping around trying to force it to cover up the cleavage that I decided to put on display for the evening. My father always flips out when I wear things like this. I was running late and in no mood for one of his lectures on tasteful clothing. "Hi daddy" I say sounding like the eight year old he sees me as. I hope that this will distract him. Maybe then he won't notice my outfit and he wont remember to ask me what time I'll be coming in tonight. "Hi-ya kid" he says affectionately. I smile, "how was work?" He looks up at the ceiling "Nanci, do well in school, you'll never have to deal with the kind of shit I get from these people on a daily basis." I look away, it's hard not to being that I ditched out of school today. How could I not, it was a perfect spring day. Besides I'm a senior. He hangs up his coat in the other room before coming back into mine. "Call your mother later, I'll be at a meeting." I nod. He goes off to the living room, to get his nightly fix of Wheel Of Fortune. It's a ritual for him, just like my make-up. I give my undivided attention back to the mirror.
"Why am I even bothering?" I can't begin to describe how much I love the little chats I have with myself. Some would probably think I have a screw loose or something. Hell, maybe I do. I was going to be blessed with spending the evening in a club watching a "death-metal" band with Frank. Ahhh, Frank, we've been a couple for two years and three months. The thing is, I really don't know why . I just don't think I'm attracted to him anymore. In fact, I'm not sure I ever was. See, the only reason I said yes when he asked me out was because he could make me laugh. He had a way of teasing me that made spending time with him fun. Though he does fit the criteria of men that I usually date, {the criteria being having long hair and some form of creativity, whether it's art, music, writing or all of the above} before we even began I had a feeling he wasn't for me. It's not that he's a repulsive monster but something about his looks just doesn't do it for me. People always say "looks aren't everything" and I believe that. If I didn't, I wouldn't have gone out with him in the first place. It's just lately, even his teasing that I once found so appealing has started to get on my last nerve. I don't know why I just don't break up with him. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that the thought of him being with some other girl really buggs me. Or my friends are right and I am terrified of being single. My thoughts wander back to the question I originally asked myself and I realize why I'm making such an effort to look attractive. It's for one man in paticular. A man that has fast skillful hands and could make me feel better than any other, the bartender. If I was gonna make it through this, I would definitely need several drinks. And if the bartender turns out to be a woman, I'll be needing a rope to hang myself with.
Over the radio, I hear the honking of a car horn. I go over to the window and fumble with the blinds, that stupid string that my mother swears gets them to go up never works for me. After a few tries and half a dozen dirty words I get fustrated and just shove them over to one side and peek out. I see Franks white Ford with the green and white plastic bird swinging away in the window. Although it can be annoying and not to mention embarrassing it does come in handy. I mean how many other people are going to hang a cheap plastic bird in their car window, so in crowded parking lots it helps to find the shit-mobile "Fuck!" I look down and realize I don't have any shoes on. I get down on all fours and stick my head under my bed. I grab my shoes pulling out a few dust bunnies as well and put them on. I stand up and wobble foward, it takes me a few seconds to gain my balance. Three and a half inch platforms,I know for a fact that my feet are going to despise me for this one. I look longingly at my comfortable flats, "Drinks" I think.
As I walk to Franks car the guys who hang out infront of the building next door whistle. I ignore them. But I cant ignore the garbage that lines the curb and is sprinkled all over the street like confetti. "The neighborhood gets shittier and shittier each day" I say as a greeting to Frank. "You can say that again" he leans over and kisses me on the cheek. An advantage to wearing red lipstick is he wont kiss me on the lips . As he pulls away from the curb I light a cigarette.
The ride to the club was fairly long. I kept waiting for the car to die. That might not be so bad because then I could get out of having to spend the evevning listening to some guy grunt into a microphone. It was out on the Island {Long Island} so it gave us a good amount of time to discuss the latest 'Sullivan' gossip. 'Sullivan' is the park we hang out in. It has an exclusive little group which I think in order to be a member of, you either have to be an asshole, an alcoholic or female. I noticed that when ever a new girl comes around all the guys are on their best behavior. But when a new guy comes along forget it. Especially if the guy is goodlooking, that means in their book, he's definitly a fag. I remember one time, I bought this guy I was seeing up to meet my girlfriends and the beer guzzling idiots chased him out of the park ranting and raving about how they were gonna kick his ass. As you can guess he broke up with me shortly after that, I think he thought I was in on it. So I've made a ton of new girlfriends but I'm having trouble making friends with the opposite sex. Gee, I wonder why?
By the time we got to the club there was a small line out in front. "I can't believe we have to pay to see this." Frank gave me one of his 'I'm the supierior being looks and therefore everything I like is fabulous' and said "it's better than that fag shit you listen to." I rolled my eyes refusing to say anything. Anyone with the intelligence of a seamonkey wouldn't call Trent Reznors music faggy. After what felt like an eon, the line inched foward. My feet were already starting to hurt and I had only been on them for five minutes. A few of the guys from "Sullivan" had shown up, to my disappointment none of their girlfriends were with them. I politely said hi to Mike, and Kyle and then began to look around at my surroundings.
In front of me was a guy who had to be over six feet tall and weigh at least three hundred and fifty pounds. So that ensured I wouldn't be enjoying the view infront of me. It never fails when ever I go to an event there's always a big fat guy in front of me. To my left I could see a neon sign that flashed "Diner" and what looked like little shops. On my right there were more shops and across the street was the large parking lot where we had parked the shit-mobile. It was getting dark and slightly chilly out. Just as I was starting to wish I had bought a sweater I realized we were at the head of the line. Frank paid the twenty bucks to get us in and a guy wearing a denim jacket with no shirt under it stamped our hands.
To my surprise the inside of the club was rather nice. The carpet was red and looked as if it were madeout of velvet . The ceiling was high and strung up across it were tiny gold and blue lights. Just inside the entrance was a huge winding stair case that appeared to be leading up to balcony seats. It was dark with the exception of the tiny lights that resembled candlesticks. Further into the club on the right was a huge black shiny bar, and behind it was the bartender who was a man. Yippee!! He looked as if he were gaurding the hundreds of bottles of liqueur on the shelves. There was a staircase a few feet away from each side of the bar that lead down to the floor section. That was were Frank would spend most of the evening in the 'mosh pit' infront of a nice sized stage. A couple of roadies were setting up the bands equipment. I looked around for the ladies room.
I found it tucked away in the corner near the right side of the bar. I must say the bathroom was nothing like the rest of the club. It was about the size of my closet, with two stalls, one smelling worse than the other. I always wonder how bathrooms get that sort of smell, I mean do people piss on the floor or something? The mirror that hung crookedly above the sink that was missing a nuzzle was cracked, it resembled a spider. I walked back out and checked the sign on the door, it read "women". See, I thought I might have gone into the wrong restroom because womens rooms are usually fairly clean. Well, in my experiences anyway. Holding my breath I walk back in to conclude my business. As I was washing my hand two girls came in. "Bitchin' color" one said pointing to my lipstick. "Thanks" I said trying to keep a staight face. Both of them looked as if they had been in a brawl only they carried themselves as if they were beauty queens. "Where'd ya get it?" "The Village". I prayed they wouldn't ask to use it. The silent one smiled a partially toothless grin. I smiled and tried not to look like I was in a rush to get out of there, gave a small wave good bye and made my exit.
About an hour or two later one of the opening bands was on stage. Frank was in the 'pit' and I was standing near the bar, bored out of my skull. I took a sip of my drink. A cloud of happiness is hanging over my head, the pains I had taken with my apperance had payed off because the bartender didn't ID me. While I was staring off into space a familiar face caught my attention. It was Russ, a guy who worked with Frank. I have a small crush on him, I'm sure it's totally a physical thing. I barely know him but he's always nice whenever I run into him. The funny thing is, he's also a singer in a death metal band but if you ever heard him speak you would never think so. His voice isn't loud at all and he's very soft spoken, so it's hard to imagine him grunting and growling . The first time I saw him I thought I was going to pass out. He looked just like one of the main characters in a story I just finished writing. With long black hair, pale skin and emerald eyes he pulled me under fast.
I approach him from behind and touch his shoulder lightly. He turns around and I smile "hi." He smiles back and says "hi, what are you doing here?" "Frank wanted to come , so I'm here with him." A look of understanding comes across his face "ooh, where is he?" Rolling my eyes I point down to the "pit". He smiles. I hop up onto the empty stool next to him, dig in my purse and pull out my cigarettes and lighter. I light one and take a long drag, "How's your band doing?" He leans in close to me " I couldn't hear what you said." I think " God he's so close!" I take pleasure in thinking that some bypasser might think we're a couple and that he's leaning in close to speak some sweet words to me. I snap back into reality and realize he's staring at me waiting for me to speak. "How's your band doing?" I repeat. Tilting his head a little to the right his hair falls into his face, "Good, we got a show to play next Sunday. I told Frank about it, so maybe you guys will come." "Definitely". He excuses himself and I'm left sitting at he bar wondering how I'm gonna convince my parents to let me go to a show on a Sunday night.
Either all the pondering I was doing was making me work up a sweat or someone had turned on the heat instead of the air conditioning. I look around and see that it has gotten rather crowded, being some what claustrophobic I feel myself starting to have difficulty breathing. Damn, why does Frank have to be crashing around in that stupid pit! I didn't feel like going outside by myself but I definitely didn't want to try to go in the pit and get him. One time, at another show I had to go to the ladies room and in order to get there I had to cross the pit! I had to duck because someones boot had come flying at my head and just when I thought I was safe some guy slammed into me knocking the wind out of me. He was nice enough to buy me a drink though. I didn't want another experience like that. Thinking it would solve my problem, I walked over to the staircase that lead to the balcony and I flopp down. It wasn't any cooler over there. I get up and walk over to the bouncer at the door, " if I go out can I come back in?" He doesn't even look up at me "is your hand stamped?" "Yeah." I say checking to make sure. "Then you'll be able to get back in."
Outside the air is refreshing, throwing my head back I breathe in deeply. With my head back I spin around looking at the sky and it's twinkling diamond shaped stars. I stop and make a mental note for future reference, not to spin around when I have been drinking "Hmm, what to do, what to do?" I ask out loud. My feet are in major pain but I ignore their cries for mercy and to walk down the street. Passing several closed shops I look in the windows before coming to an open Laundrymat.
I gasp! Sitting on a ledge out front is a guy, who's forhead is bleeding. The fact that he was there to begin with startled me but when I saw the blood . . . My natural instinct was to go and nurture him. "What happened?" I ask taking a tissue out of my purse. Handing it to him I say "Put this over it." He looks up and takes it from me. For someone whose head is gushing blood his gorgeous blue eyes are sparkling with a hint of happiness. "I was in the pit." Now, you think I would get nervous being that Frank is in there but I don't. Blame it on this fabulous looking stranger and my new found interest in being a nurse. "Oh, does it hurt badly?" "Good ol' Jack D is numbing the pain ,I think."
Something is giving me a feeling that I know him. I look more closely taking in his long blond hair, almost perfect facial features, black tee-shirt, ripped denim shorts and those bluer than blue eyes. His voice is has an odd accent and it's soft but entertaining. Like, when he speaks he's performing. It's all so familiar but I I keep my thoughts private. It would sound so rehearsed if I said anything along the lines of "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Teasingly he asks "why did you leave the club?" I start to answer but I stop and then I blurt out "how did you know I was in the club?" He removes the tissue from his cut "I have E.S.P." I look at him skeptically "Yeah, right!" Slowly he comes over and sits next to me on the ledge where I have made myself comfy. He moves my hair away from my ear making it feel like the most suductive touch ever. He whispers " I noticed you in there." His mouth was less than an inch from my ear. I felt myself growing weak and I was close to losing the fight, finding it almost impossible not to turn and kiss him.
I leaned my haed on his shoulder "why did you notice me out of all those people?" "How could I not? I'v always been a fool for a lady that dress in all black. The red lipstick brings out the fire in your hair. That man, is he your lover?" Blushing, I mumble "what man?" "The goth like god you were leaning into at the bar. I watched the way your lips moved, as if you were begging for him to sample." Finding my voice I stand up and shout "NO!" "Ahh, but you wish he was, don't you?" This had to be the most humilating conversation I have ever had with a stranger. Well, possible stranger. "No I don't wish he was my lover." I wonder what he's reading into when I talk to him. He stands up and extends his hand , " Good, then shall we dance?" Laughing, I reach out and take it. He pulls me close, his hair falls around my face it smells like strawberries. It reminds me of the Strawberry Shortcake doll I had when I was a little girl. If you smelled the top of the tiny dolls head you would know why she was named Strawberry Shortcake. I run my fingers down his back as we sway along like branches in the wind. His hands brush my face, I can tell he's wearing a ring. We come to a stand still and I take his hand to get a closer look at his ring. It's silver and it has a ruin carved in it. "That's beautiful, it's the love ruin isn't it?" He takes it off and sildes it onto my finger but it's to big. I don't know what to do or say so I just stand there as he removes the silver chain around my neck. He puts the ring on the chain and then turns me around so he can close the clasp.
Just as I open my mouth to say thank you a car pulls up to a screeching stop. "Hey, get in" the driver yells. He points to his wound, "Hospital" he explains. He looks at me almost longingly like he's asking me to come with him. I'm so tempted. "Take care" I say trying not to burst into tears. He bows "farewell". Our eyes meet once more before he climbs into the waiting car.
I look at the sidewalk while listening to the car pull away. It all happened so fast and I never even got his name. But something tells me I already know his name. I think about him alot, epescially when I see a couple dancing slowly oblivious to their surrounding. I never take the ring off, it makes me feel like he's right there with me. I wonder what could have been if I had gone with him and if he's thinking about me, all alone somewhere, loving me from afar.
