90s Girl

by Mia Archer

  8

  Old Timey

  We moved as fast as our legs would carry us around the edge of the rink and through the arcade. Which was pretty fast where Jenny was concerned, the woman was a master on her skates, but not all that fast for me since I had two left feet when it came to moving around in these things.

  I really wished they had some in line skates ready to go for me tonight, damn it. Though as I looked out onto the skating rink I realized that there weren’t all that many people using in line skates for some reason.

  Weird. I could’ve sworn I saw more people like that out there. The more time I spent here the more I got the feeling there was something very wrong here.

  My mind was telling me what that something was, like a nagging little worry in the back of my head, but the more rational parts of my brain me refused to believe it.

  “So what was that all about?” Jenny asked when we finally got to a place that had a little bit of privacy.

  Privacy being relative, of course. There were people skating past us, but they were all moving so fast that it’s not like they were going to catch any of our conversation.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I guess it just pisses me off when people talk like that. I mean you can’t talk about people like that in this day and age.”

  “People like what?” she asked, moving her hand towards me on the little bench we’d sat on.

  I looked down at her hand. Realized I was doing that thing where I was dancing around what we were talking about without actually coming out and saying it.

  Coming out. There was a good one.

  “I think you know,” I said, swallowing and wondering if this was really happening.

  I’d been a little unlucky in the whole love department. Sure people were a lot more open about being out these days than they’d ever been even a few years ago, but the problem was I still had to find someone who was both out and worth dating and interested in me.

  Straight folks didn’t know how easy they had it having the default pick of anyone they were interested in.

  "I think I know what you mean too," she said. "But…"

  Unfortunately for both of us she didn't get a chance to finish that thought. The sound of an argument flaring up in the arcade pulled her attention away from me.

  I tried not to sigh or growl in frustration, but it was difficult. After all, I'd been so close. So damn close. She'd been leaning in and everything. Like the moment in a movie right before the big kiss.

  I couldn’t see the fight brewing because I was facing the rink, but whatever she saw didn't make her happy. Not that a fight would ever make someone happy, but she looked really passed off. Her eyes narrowed and she made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat.

  "Son of a…"

  I turned around. "What is it?"

  "That asshole is causing trouble again," she growled.

  It was pretty obvious who "that asshole" was. James was pushing around some skinny kid who looked like he didn’t have a prayer of fighting back against the bigger bully. Which immediately got me good and riled up.

  I mean I was already riled up because of what the guy at the concession stand had said, followed by the frustration of getting interrupted when things were just getting good with Jenny. But seeing someone pushing around somebody else who couldn't defend themselves?

  That really pissed me off!

  "Come on," Jenny said. "We have to do something before they kill George."

  I blinked at that. Kill somebody? That seemed a little extreme for what looked like a typical run of the mill fight. But she knew this place better than I did. She seemed like a regular, and I'd just come here for the first time tonight after being gone for a long time. If she said someone was in danger of getting killed then I’d believe her

  Besides, following her was something I very much enjoyed, thank you very much. Getting the back view was a more than pleasant experience.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Jenny growled as we got closer.

  The guy looked at her and rolled his eyes. I got the feeling Jenny getting in between him and whoever he was bullying wasn’t out of the ordinary.

  "Seriously Jenny?" he said. "I can understand you getting pissed about me moving in on someone you think you have a chance with, but what are you doing here?"

  I shivered as he mentioned me being the kind of person Jenny might have a chance with. I'd already had a strong suspicion she was into girls, and into me in particular, but this asshole pretty much confirmed it.

  The other thing I realized as I looked at this poor kid was that he was, well, kind of fabulous. If you catch my meaning.

  I couldn't really explain it. There was just something about the way he carried himself. Though maybe he was just a more feminine dude. Even a guy being more feminine than other guys seemed like all the excuse a prick like James would need to make the poor guy's life miserable.

  I didn't like that. Not one bit. Especially considering I'd been on the receiving end of his bullying.

  "So what's that supposed to mean?" I asked. "He's not Jenny's type, so does that mean he's your type? Are you over here pushing him around because you're hoping for a date or something? Like a guy pushing a girl over on the playground because he doesn’t know how to tell the world about his wittle crush?”

  James turned his attention from Jenny to me. His nostrils flared and his eyes went wide. He balled his hand into a fist, and for a brief terrified moment I thought he might actually hit a girl.

  I mean I thought the whole prohibition against hitting a girl was bullshit, don’t get me wrong. It smacked of bankshot misogyny which I wasn't a fan of, but if that stupid “rule” was going to keep this guy from planting his fist on my face, especially considering all the muscles he was sporting, then I wasn't going to knock that rule too much.

  "What the fuck is your problem?" he said. "I thought we already cleared things up earlier?"

  "Like hell we cleared anything up!" I said. "You're an asshole who pushes people around if you think they’re weaker than you, and that’s not cool!”

  The dude and his buddies turned and looked at one another. They seemed genuinely confused. Then they all burst into laughter. Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but whatever. At least he wasn't punching me.

  "What the hell are you talking about lady?" he asked. "Look. I'm willing to maybe give you a pass because you’re hot and all, and I wouldn't mind a little girl on girl on me action with you and Jenny here, but I'm not putting up with this fag looking at me all weird!”

  My eyes went wide.

  "You can't say that!" I said.

  "Why not?" James said, laughing again. "The guy's a fag!"

  Again my actions went a little ahead of my thinking. Which probably wasn't a good thing, but I was so surprised that he would use language like that!

  My hand stung. I looked down. My palm was bright red, which was a little odd. Why would my hand be bright red? And why were my ears ringing?

  Then I looked up at James. His hand was over his cheek. His cheek which also had a blooming red spot on it. A red spot in the shape of five fingers and a thumb.

  He stared at me in disbelief, and then his eyes narrowed. He was clearly furious, and I was clearly in trouble.

  He held his fist up, and I worried that this really was going to happen. That he was going to punch me. Strike one for equality, and all that good stuff, but I really didn’t want someone punching me.

  His fist moved up in front of my face, but he wasn’t moving so fast that I figured he’d actually strike me. His finger popped out and pointed right at me. I went cross-eyed looking at it.

  I didn’t like that I was reacting like this. The guy was an asshole, and he didn’t deserve my fear. I was quickly discovering that there was a monkey brain part of me that didn’t care about all those high minded thoughts though. I was being threatened, and the more instinctive parts lurking deep in my brain were in a mood to bare some teeth and start flinging poo at th
is asshole as a self defense measure.

  “You better watch yourself,” he said. “I’ve got my eye on you, and I don’t like people saying I’m a fag like George here.”

  And then he was walking away. It would seem that disaster had been averted. For the moment. I breathed a sigh of relief as the prick and his friends walked off.

  “Holy shit. I can’t believe I just did that,” I said.

  “I don’t know,” Jenny said. “I thought it was pretty impressive.”

  She put her arm around me. That felt nice. Like I’d stood up to the big asshole bully and now I was getting the girl. Wasn’t that how it always worked out in those cheesy movies mom always watched?

  I smiled. Then turned to the guy who’d been getting picked on. As fun as it was thinking about Jenny wrapping her arm around me, I was more concerned with how this guy was doing. He looked like he was having just as much trouble as I was, that fight or flight response was kicking in, and I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help the poor terrified dude.

  9

  Consolation

  “Hey man, you okay?” I asked.

  I wanted to put a hand on his shoulder or give him a hug. Some sort of human contact to let him know it would be okay. That not everyone was like that prick who’d been threatening him.

  He jumped and looked at me with wide eyes. Like he lived in a constant state of terror of people pushing him around, and assumed I was simply the next in line for all that I’d just saved his ass.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I guess I’m just used to people…”

  This time I did wrap him in a hug. He seemed surprised, but then he put his arms around me and started shaking. I guess having a bunch of big burly assholes threatening to beat the crap out of you could give a person a case of the shakes.

  It made me want to track down that James asshole and slap him around a few more times.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about them now.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not going to stop him the next time,” the guy, George, said. “I just want to come here and enjoy myself without worrying about that prick threatening to beat me up.”

  “Hey George,” Jenny said, coming up next to me. “You know my mom isn’t going to let that happen. Heck, if you want I can have him kicked out of this place for good.”

  I glanced at Jenny from the middle of my hug. That sounded an awful lot like her mom owned this place. That or she was pretty high up on the org chart, and I couldn’t imagine an org chart being all that big for a skating rink.

  “It’s okay,” he said, pulling away from the hug and wiping away a tear. “If you do that it’s just going to piss them off. You know how he loves to cruise for girls to cheat on Amy with, and if I cut him off from that he’s going to be even more pissed. They might actually beat me up.”

  “Well you come and get me if you ever have any kind of trouble,” Jenny said. “We don’t let people bully other people around here.”

  “You going to be okay George?” Jenny asked.

  “I think so,” he said, a slight smile coming to his face. “There was a cute guy who I’m pretty sure was flirting with me. At least I think he was. It’s hard to tell sometimes, y’know?”

  “Yeah, well just remember to be careful,” Jenny said. “You have your protection, right?”

  George rolled his eyes. “Come on Jenny. You know that stuff doesn’t really work.”

  “Wait, what are you talking about?” I asked.

  They looked at me like I was a total idiot. Given everything that’d happened to me tonight I was almost inclined to believe them. I wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

  “I’m talking about how George here needs to use protection if he's going to go out and have the kind of fun I know he's looking to have. Right George?" Jenny asked.

  There was a strained quality to her voice. Like they'd had this conversation several times already, and she didn't like how it had gone the many times they'd already had it. George rolled his eyes.

  "I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of it. It doesn't feel the same!"

  Now it was Jenny's turn to roll her eyes. "How the hell do you know it doesn't feel the same? You've never actually had sex with another guy!"

  "What about…"

  "That blow job you got behind the skating rink doesn't count. And you're lucky those cameras back there are dummy cameras mister."

  She suddenly blushed and looked at me. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about that."

  “I didn’t hear anything,” I said.

  I knew exactly what they were talking about now. It would be difficult not to realize exactly what they were going on about. I blushed as I thought about what “protection” meant, but Jenny had a point.

  "She's right, you know. You really need to use protection."

  "Look. Just because those guys out on the coast are dying doesn't necessarily mean it's going to happen to me,” George said, with entirely too much sass considering he was talking to someone who’d just saved his ass. “We don’t even know if it’s around here! I think the worries are way overblown!"

  I frowned. Guys dying out on the coast? As far as I knew there wasn't anything going on out on the coast that would be killing anyone.

  And if they were talking about what I thought they were talking about then I was pretty sure that disease was already everywhere.

  They were talking like we were still in the bad old days. I was too young to see the freakout while it was happening, but my mom had told me about it.

  Plus I'd watched And the Band Played On. Great movie featuring Gandalf/Magneto before he was a nerd darling. Aunt Olivia made sure I watched it. Said it was important, so I watched it to make her happy. It was an important piece of gay history after all, and that was my history.

  Even if it was something they happened to gay men for the most part, and not lesbians.

  But all of this talk about something going on out on the coast was weird. Unless…

  "Are you talking about some of the new drug-resistant gonorrhea or something?" I asked. “I’ve heard some of that stuff can be bad, but I don’t know if protection would…”

  "What are you talking about?" George asked. "She's talking about AIDS. The gay cancer. She's convinced I'm going to have sex with one guy and it's going to kill me!"

  Huh. Gay cancer. That was seriously old school, and not a term a lot of people my age would be throwing around if their aunts hadn’t forced them to watch a movie on the early days of the disease.

  That nagging worry in the back of my head was getting louder and more insistent, but I still refused to acknowledge it.

  "Well I mean you should probably be on PREP or something," I said. "I know a couple of guys who decided to go that route when they weren't going to be fluid bonded. Which seems kind of irresponsible to trust totally in a drug like that, but it seems to be working for them, so…"

  I stopped again. Because they were giving me the kind of look that said that while I was speaking English, I was also speaking a completely foreign language.

  "What the hell are you talking about?" George asked. “What the hell is PREP or fluid bonding?”

  “PREP?” I said. "The drug that keeps you from getting AIDS? Fluid bonding and getting tested so you can have sex without worry?”

  "Honey, I don't know what crap you've been reading, but there isn't any medicine like that," Jenny said. “If there was then people wouldn’t be so fucking terrified.”

  “That fluid bonding thing sounds like a good idea though,” George said.

  I stared at them. Wondered if they could really be that far under a rock. I mean I knew we were in the middle of nowhere when it came to gay culture, but even out here people knew about this stuff.

  It was the difference between living life disease free and living life on a cocktail of drugs meant to keep that disease under control, after all. Which was better than the death sentence infection had been tw
enty years ago, but still not pleasant.

  It was almost like I was back in those dark ages. I looked around the skating rink. Really took it in.

  Everything was in a far more pristine condition now than it had been before I went into that studio. I looked at all the people in their ancient clothes. I listened to the dulcet tones of MC Hammer telling the world how he was going to be rich and successful forever, and from the way everyone was swaying on their skates they were inclined to agree.

  Then I turned back to Jenny and George. The worry that’d been running through the back of my mind ever since I stepped out of that dance studio was starting to ping louder and louder. It was impossible, but…

  "So AIDS is still totally a thing?" I asked. "Like you're terrified you'll die if you get it?"

  "I'm not terrified I'll die if I get it," George said, pointedly looking at Jenny. “Because I know I don’t have to worry about getting it in an out of the way town like this!”

  “Bullshit!” Jenny said. “You should be worried, because it's a death sentence."

  I suppose it was the raw fear more than anything that finally drove everything home and had the pieces clicking in place.

  The concession stand that didn't have a card reader. The asshole who thought it was perfectly acceptable to throw around the F word. The music that sounded like something out of a retro rewind that never ended. Everyone who had perfect costumes for an ‘80s or ‘90s night. Like they’d raided a Hollywood costume shop or something.

  I knew what I was about to say was going to sound ridiculously cliché, but it had to be said. I grabbed Jenny by the arm. Pulled her in close.

  "What's gotten into you?" Jenny asked.

  "What year is it?" I asked.

  She frowned. Stared at me like I'd gone insane. Maybe she was right. Maybe that bump on my head had done more damage than I thought, because this whole thing had to be a hallucination. There wasn't a chance in hell this was actually real. That what I thought was happening was actually happening.