[thatpfunk]

That Someone Should Care

“Debit or credit?” the transvestite asks.

“Credit,” I mumble. I feel someone staring at me so I glance towards the ATM and the two pretty girls. The one staring at my back is blond and has an average body. Her jeans are tight and her yellow shirt is cut low. I stop staring when Rachel gives me the receipt. I sign it sloppily and take the case of beer and cigarettes and walk to the exit towards the girls. The one who had been staring at me whispers something to the other who is taking out money. She has a nice ass and I glance at it as I walk past. She turns her head slightly and looks at me like I know her and it makes me pause in the doorway of the convenience store. She has a very pretty face, thin, pouty almost, and I wonder what actress she reminds me of. Her mouth moves and I have no idea if she is even talking to me but I pause, holding the case of beer, looking at her and waiting. “Huh?” I finally ask, sounding dumb, and she turns to her friend and hands her the money from the ATM and takes a step towards me.

“Did you go to Mission High?” she asks again. She is deeply tanned and her tight pink tank top shows off a chest that looks plastic.

“Yes?” I panic and wish that I had not stopped at all. I don’t remember her from any classes and my mind races and I need to remember who she is because she is really attractive and I wonder if she thought I was an [censored] or maybe she was just a cheerleader or something.

“How are you Nick?” she asks sweetly. She licks her lips and the lip gloss she is wearing shines and I wonder what it tastes like.

“I’m good,” I answer tentatively. Before she has the chance to trap me I blurt, “Do I, uh, know you?”

“Ashley,” she states expectantly. I stare at her. “We went to prom together.”

“Um, wow. I didn’t even recognize you.” She is hotter than she used to be. Her hair used to be blond. I wonder about her natural hair color. “So what are you up to?”

“Nothing much. We’re just headed down to The Tavern. What about you?” I remember her lying on the cheap hotel bed asking me why I didn’t want to make love to her anymore, not knowing that I already came, and I just ignored her phone calls after that night until she stopped calling two and a half months later. Her father had abandoned her mom, her wheelchair-bound brother, and herself when she was seven. I blamed him for her obsessive qualities.

“Uh nothing. Just hanging out. I live right next door actually.” I shift the beer uncomfortably and look towards my house.

“Oh, that’s cool.” We stare at each other awkwardly.

“So, um, what are you doing nowadays?” I wonder if she still wants to [censored] me.

“I’m going to State. Working. That kind of thing.” Her friend finishes buying their cigarettes and sugar-free Redbulls and walks towards us.

“So, uh, do you want to come have a drink or something? I honestly live right next door.” I motion my head towards my house again and she smiles.

“Yeah, sure. That sounds cool, I guess.” She talks to her friend and I realize I should be listening but I’m not. Her friend asks me where they should park. I tell her somewhere down the street. She walks towards the car and Ashley follows me towards the house. We walk past the white picket fence, through the gate, and in to the front door that I left open. The house is messy, empty beer bottles are scattered on the living room table, and I’m embarrassed, but only briefly. Kill Bill I is playing on one of the movie channels. I mute it and grab the I-pod, searching for something. I put on an Outkast album while she stares at my back. I offer her a beer that she accepts and I wish I wasn’t as sober as I was. She sits on the couch, observing the house and asks me who else lives here. I explain that one of my roommates just flew home to the East coast and the other is over at a friend’s house. He started sleeping with a girl that he works with and has been spending a lot of nights over there recently, I explain. I answer Ashley’s questions while drinking my beer. I admire her body. It is tan and thin. Her friend walks in and I get up from the couch and extend my hand, asking her name.

“Oh, sorry, I’m Sarah.” Ashley is better looking than Sarah but I think Sarah would probably more fun to [censored]. She looks slutty, adventurous. I think about Ashley being in my house and I blink quickly a few times, suddenly surprised at the random meeting. Four years is plenty to forgive I think. I suddenly have the urge to shout “So are you still an emotionally unstable psycho?” but don’t and instead chatter with them about school and jobs and my lack of plans after graduation. They both laugh at my jokes and I offer them the half bottle of cheap rum that has been laying in our freezer for a month and a half. They both give in and we walk in to the kitchen and take a shot and chase it with flat Pepsi. I think am the only one that grimaces after the shot.

The girls walk back towards the living room, both holding their beers, and step slowly with the beat of the older Outkast song. I admire both of their asses while they dance. I sit back down on the couch. They start to gossip about a girl that I don’t know and I feel myself zoning out and quickly finish the remainder of my beer. I get up and grab another, offering each of them another drink but they both decline. I stand in the kitchen alone, breathing shallowly, and close my eyes to stop the wave of nostalgia that I write off as pointless and trite: Ashley, top off, room darkened, licking her lips, grabbing at my back. She joins me in the kitchen again and dances next me briefly, laughing, flirting, and I grab her hand and spin her playfully.

She walks me back towards the living room and the music. Her friend starts laughing at her and I wonder how much she drank before she drove down here. I sit on the love seat and laugh at Ashley and she lays next to me. She sings softly into my ear while her friend changes the channel of the muted TV. She stops and suddenly yells, “Lets take another shot,” towards Sarah. I look up and it is surreal because I am 17 again and she smelled like tangerines and the ocean and when she kisses my neck and jumps up, running towards the kitchen, I am back in the living room and the Bud Light is cold in my hand.

The throw up in my mouth is swallowed and I grab the sink after the third shot. The girls are yelling and I wonder if they notice my hands, white knuckled and gripping the sink. I don’t think they do because Ashley grabs my hip and pulls me towards her and runs her hand up my stomach. Sarah steps in front of me and grabs my ass, pulling me towards her and grinds down my leg to the beat of the faint Outkast song and they start laughing and I swallow again. They are talking about how crazy they are and I am between them and they scream playfully again.

We are watching Sportscenter and it is muted and the music is still playing. Ashley gets up, putting her hand on my leg and she says that she is going to the bathroom. Sarah starts laughing and when Ashley looks back at me I ask myself, “why tonight?” I get up and follow her. She stops in my roommate’s doorway and asks me if some of her friends that she is supposed to meet at the bar can come and stop by the house. I am leaning close to her and kiss her neck and whisper “yes” in her ear. She lets me kiss her, running my hand up her back while she opens her phone. She backs away from me, in to the room and begins to give directions to her friend.

The light is off and I am on top of her, hand under her shirt, tongue in her mouth, when I stop and turn on the light and grab a drink from my beer that I had placed on the floor. She looks at me briefly, confused, and I ask her if she parties. She shakes her head slowly so I ask her if she wants a line. She stares at me, gets up, and walks slowly towards me. She kisses me but when I don’t respond she says slowly, “yes” so I reach in my pocket for the small baggy and clumsily cut out four lines on the desk. I take a $20 out of my wallet and roll it quickly and tightly.

She inhales slowly and I hope she finishes at least one line. She hands me the $20, head tilted backwards, sniffing, and I do the three remaining lines quickly. She is drinking my beer and I want a cigarette but she kisses me and I taste her lip gloss, tangerines, and it mixes with the drip of the cocaine in my throat and I kiss her back, taking my beer from her hand.

I hear voices in the other room so I stop kissing her and smile to myself. I need a cigarette so I leave. Ashley stays laying down on my roommates bed. I walk up to one of the guys, mildly surprised, and introduce myself. I pick the pack of Marlboro Lights up from the table and walk outside. On the front porch, through the open door, I watch Ashley walk out of the darkened room and hug Darren, the dude I had just met. She holds his hand and walks him out towards me. I inhale deeply on the cigarette and she asks sweetly, “Nick, did you get a chance to meet my boyfriend, Darren?”

I’m really high so I don’t miss a beat when I shake his hand for the second time and say “Nice to meet you again, Dude,” and I laugh drunkenly. My hands are shaking with paranoia or anxiety or adrenaline or something and I can’t believe she has a boyfriend and I suddenly need to do a lot more coke but I drag on the cigarette and gulp my now-warm beer. Ashley and Darren walk back inside, holding hands, and go towards the refrigerator. She gives him one of my beers and I close my eyes and lean back against the porch railing. Outkast is still playing and I finger my cell phone in my front jean pocket. I call Rob and calmly ask him what he is doing tonight. He tells me that he is probably going to crash at the chicks house. “Cool,” I say flatly. “Um, cool. I guess will see you tomorrow.”

My hands are still shaking and I wonder if this chick is [censored] crazy and I taste the acid from the throw up and I drag on the cigarette. I am really [censored] scared about the situation, momentarily, and then I wonder if it is just the coke and maybe I am just overreacting. I finish the cigarette, throw it over the fence and walk through the door. Everyone is talking and I am glad that no one is paying attention to me. I walk towards the I-pod and put on the best of The Smiths and grab a chair from out of the kitchen, get another beer, and sit in the living room. I watch everyone talking and drinking and I drink fast. The new beer is cold and I concentrate on Sportscenter. I hear Ashley shriek playfully and turn to watch her slap Darren, clutching her chest, laughing. She tells Darren “You are such a [censored] pervert,” too loudly, looking at me, and I see Jorge Posada win a game for the Yankees. They are only a half game back.

I can’t stop shaking my foot and I am getting pissed that Ashley is talking so loud, so exaggerated, that I get up and walk towards the bathroom. I lock the door and cut two lines on the counter of the sink when I hear someone approach the door. I pause quietly while rolling up the $20 again. I don’t hear anything so I do the first line slowly. I pause, rub my nose and finish what is on the counter. I turn on the hot water and take a piss. I can feel someone leaning on the door and I wash my hands, sniffing warm water to soothe my nose.

I unlock the door and Ashley pushes the door into me and I fall back, drunk and staggering, and she locks it quickly behind her. I really wish that it was a dream and that I wasn’t drunk or high and I taste tangerines again. I return the kiss, tasting her, and stop. “What the [censored] are you doing?” I whisper.

“Nothing.” She begins kissing my neck, rubbing her hand over my jeans. Even though I’m high, my dick starts getting hard and I kiss her back. She grabs at my belt, and almost panics when it gets caught in my shirt and now her hand is inside my jeans, going slowly up and down on my dick and she is licking my ear when I push her off me.

“Dude?” I ask seriously. She is staring back at me. “What are you trying to do?”

“Nothing,” she whines sexily and tries to kiss me again. I want a cigarette and I need silence and she won’t stop and I think the lights are blinding and I need the cigarette so I walk past her, unlocking the door, and walk, stopping on the front porch.

I hear her crying and Darren is getting up, asking her something, “What’s wrong” and she’s crying out again, and my hands are shaking and I can’t light the cigarette and the front gate is open and I consider just leaving the house when I hear “rape.” I exhale the cigarette slowly, staring at the white picket fence and the palm trees that line the street when I feel my shirt being yanked and I am falling back in to the living room.

The lights are bright and Morrissey sings, “You shut your mouth / how can you say / I go about things the wrong way? / I am human and I need to be loved / just like everybody else does,” and a shoe connect with my ribs. I see Darren’s face over me, it’s all I see, and he looks like Woody Harrelson in Natural Born Killer, not from the slicked back hair or glasses or anything, but the expression on his face and I wonder if I am going to die. I’m not sure if it is Darren or his friend kicking me now, I feel my lip split in half as blood fills my mouth and I realize that Darren is dragging me across the living room floor by my hair, hitting me in the face. As three knuckles connect to my upper lip and nose I feel a foot connect with my testicles and I wonder when the human body goes into shock. I don’t even feel it when my nose breaks but I roll over when I start to choke on the blood running down the back of my throat.

I try to protect myself and look over, head pressed hard against the living room rug, and I can see Ashley and Sarah yelling. I can barely hear them both screaming in a panic, wondering if they are killing me, and loudly a fist connects with my cheek. It is hard and wet and slow. My tongue, covered in blood and acid and saliva, feels around my mouth, confirming that I haven’t lost any teeth yet. The kicking stops and I continue coughing, spitting blood on the carpet. I hear Darren’s fist hit the back of my head. He curses loudly and I can hear him jumping, grabbing his broken hand in pain. He kicks me in frustration and connects with the side of my torso and my breath explodes again.

The girls are shouting at the guys and the guys are screaming at me and I am coughing violently on the floor. “I would go out tonight / but I haven't got a stitch to wear / this man said / ‘It's gruesome that someone so handsome should care.’" The speakers are screaming at me now. I breathe in heavily but an artery has been severed in my nose and I sneeze and cough blood and it makes me dry heave. I am on the ground now, writhing, and a low dull noise is escaping from my mouth in between coughing fits. Blood is slick over the hardwood floors and rug and my hair is wet and matted with it. When I look up I can see that I have somehow sprayed blood all over the TV, Playstation, I-pod, speakers, wall.

“You killed him,” Ashley is screaming over and over again. Darren grabs her arm and begins to drag her out the door. I am on my hands and knees, crawling, and I start to fall and instead try to roll over but my face lands in blood and carpet and I am blind. I lay drunkenly, needing another line, peering through the blood, and begin to throw up while Darren drags Ashley from the house. Sarah and the guy who had been kicking me are already outside. I cough blood, arching this time, and Ashley doesn’t notice me staring at her as she is carried down the porch steps.

I try to slow my breathing, letting the cool wetness of the rug calm me. I take a deep breath and don’t cough. I blink slowly, feeling the carpet, my puke, saliva, a beer that had been thrown at me, blood. There is nothing until my eyes are opened again. I let it disappear again and I put my hand to my lip and wipe away some of the blood and taste its metallic saltiness and underneath, tangerine, and then Ashley is underneath me and I am seventeen and she is telling me she is going to miss me so I kiss her neck and she smells like the ocean.