Something Different.
Susan Sowerby
Young Adult
Some things you really can’t explain. I don’t know what it was about them that seemed so different, it just was. I first noticed them when I looked up over the rim of my cappuccino as I sat alone and embarrassed, feeling a lot like a social reject on display. You know it’s not cool to be fifteen and sitting alone in a public place. It’s kind of silly, but I felt so insecure I could have been sitting there completely naked. I guess I really needed someone else to stare at so I could get my painfully shy mind off myself.
Those two stood out in sharp relief against the writhing café population. It flowed around them like human larva, unseeing and unaware, but even the air above their table felt electric to me. I could almost hear it crackle. Despite my feeling, I thought they appeared normal, even perhaps a little careless and unkempt among the polished city movers, yet normal enough. What was it about them? Was it just my imagination?
Then, I noticed something odd. Her straight black hair sparkled with tiny silver droplets even though I was sure it wasn’t raining outside. The man wore a grey jacket with a little rip at the pocket and I wondered if it was the result of a recent tussle.
As I scrutinised them, the woman suddenly looked up and her eyes hit mine. ‘Hit’ is the word. She had black eyes with a bright glare in the centre - what I’d call a ‘sharp Spanish’ look. Discreetly, I glanced away and then back again just in time to catch her leaning over and saying something to the man. Whatever it was, it made him look straight at me. Most people wait before they stare, so it isn’t obvious. Indignantly, I judged him as short of a few manners. When you are shy, you rely heavily on such customs as a sort of shield, something to hide behind.
When his attention drifted back to her, I snatched the chance to study him more thoroughly. Although his hair had turned grey, I thought he still looked rather sexy because fascinating expressions flickered across his face continuously, plus he reminded me a bit of Richard Geer.
Before I had a chance to avert my gaze, he turned straight towards me and smiled broadly. My face prickled bright red and I shrank to about two inches tall. Oh God, they really were talking about me! Or, again was I imagining it? Anyway, I’d noticed his front tooth was chipped. Funny, I thought he must be from the country because most city image freaks would get that fixed right away, before they dared to inflict their cheesy grins on society.
I looked down and counted five because I felt really awkward - the usual teenage curse. It was only a moment, but when I glanced out of the corner of my eye, they were gone! I mean, it was only a few seconds. In all logic, they couldn’t have got from their seats to the door in that time, it wasn’t mortally possible. Everyone in the cafe was seated, so I would have seen them if they were on their feet and still around. I felt all confused. Human beings don’t just disappear! Not in my reality, anyway. I stood up to see if they had just bobbed down to pick up some money or something, but no, nothing. Then I hit panic buttons, you know, when pins and needles go all over you. I wondered if maybe I’d just had a fit and missed a few seconds of life. I really didn’t know which version of reality I preferred. ‘Maddy, get a grip,’ I told myself, ‘you don’t want to live up to the silly name your mum gave you.
Spooked out of my brain, I wasn’t going to hang around any longer. Apart from getting a nasty shock, and needing to chill, I’d run out of patience for my scatty friend who always keeps everyone waiting. It’s her way of feeling important. Amanda’s a bit of a twit, but she is my link to a better social life. She’s popular because she’s noisy and pretty - a typical attention addict. I think she likes me because I listen and no one listens very much to anyone these days. Every one’s too busy trying to be cool.
‘Madoleine,’ she says, primping her hair, ‘You’re the only one who understands me.’ Well, I’ve got to say there’s not much to that. It’s just about boys, clothes and parental unfairness. You can catch the same theme on any soapy. Mean, aren’t I? I want to be a writer, but I’d have to starve in an attic because I’d hate to write mainstream stuff.
The trouble is, I feel really different from the others, but no one else knows it because I pretend I’m the same. I can rave on about boys, makeup and superstars as well as anyone of them. That gets me through the day. My problem is that I’m not thrilled by it. I hate feeling different, it’s a strain, but just when I think someone else is ok and doing fine socially, I find out they are as stressed as I am. We all think everyone else is ok. What a wacky world!
I knew I’d had quite a shock that day because when I went out onto the street my knees were all unsteady and my feet refused to walk in the right direction. I admit I get sick of everything being so normal and boring, but when its not it sure freaks me out and makes me realise how weird and contradictory I am. I wish I didn’t notice those things about myself.
When I finally got home, Ben and Frankie were watching T.V. and they’d been eating donuts on the couch. It was all covered in sugar, so like a virus they’d migrated to the next level, i.e. the carpet. At least reality is consistent around home. I’d have to clean the couch before I could sit down, so I stalked off to my room feeling like a cat switching its tail. No way could I say to them that I’d just seen a couple of people disappear. I know the response already - ‘Yeah, right, freak!’
I stood for a while glaring furiously at my pillow. I had two options. One - ignore the weird event and pretend it didn’t happen or two; play like a sleuth and see what I could dig out. So much for a decision! Where could I start anyhow? I spent the next week diving between the two solutions like some kind of faulty oscillator.
You know, I’ve got a problem I don’t tell anyone about. I get depressed. Sometimes the world is not enough and sometimes it’s too much. I know I think about things and want to talk about things other people my age don’t, but I’ve learned not to do it because my friends look at me like I’ve got two heads, or if they’re older, they patronise and say a ‘pretty poppett’ like me shouldn’t be worrying her ‘darling brain’ about such things.
Needless to say, after a few days I decided I’d suffered some kind of aberration, and was prepared to let the whole café incident go. But just when I had, I caught sight of them again as I headed home from school. It was a particularly wet and unfriendly afternoon. They were walking together arm in arm in the rain. Was this an example of a good relationship? I sure needed to witness one. Although I could only see from behind, I could have sworn it was them.
I walked fast to catch a look, but right then they turned off and crossed the road. I felt I couldn’t do it again without looking obvious. I’ve finally decoded the general social code which is about doing things in non obvious ways so no one knows what you’re really doing.
When the woman turned her head to the side, I was almost certain it was her profile. Anyway, you can’t run up to someone and say, ‘Er -Did you disappear in a cafe last week?’ They’d think I was a real fruit loop. The situation was ridiculous. I decided to follow them even though the rain pelted down and soaked me to the bone. They had raincoats and I didn’t, but I foolishly followed them for blocks. They didn’t turn around and they didn’t slow down. Car lights began flicking on, all blurred in the rain and the sky was getting darker. I thought of rushing up to them and asking the way, but you know I’m a bit low on courage. I bet they’d see right through me and I’d make a fool of myself.
Finally I gave up and turned back dejected. I was probably following the wrong people anyway. It was unlikely I’d see them again unless they lived on my street and I knew they didn’t. Mum would be having a stress because I was so late. If I stayed out any longer she would be ringing the cops. I glanced back one last time and thought I could see that couple, hazy in the distance, standing motionless, looking back at me. The increasing rain blocked my vision, pouring a double dose of frustration down on me.
I have to admit I felt super stupid trying to explain to mum why I was so late and so we
t. I’m a lousy liar, but really, I couldn’t say I was traipsing around in the rain after a couple who disappeared last week. She worries about my mental health already, and she’d think I’d completely lost my marbles.
After that I tried, but I couldn’t get them off my mind. You know how things bug you? What did they have on me, or again, was I imagining it? Maybe I just wanted to relieve my brain from social pressure and school work. When you already doubt your sanity, happenings like that don’t help much. I wondered about escapism and if I’d invented these people as an escape route out of reality – like a schizophrenic episode. What’s reality anyway? Was I going around the twist in my usual quiet and unspectacular manner?
I’ll confess that I don’t want to do school work at all. I want to write plays. It’s not just a whim, but dad says one big N.O. He says he wants the best for me and he doesn’t want to see me as a poor, barefoot, morally loose, bohemian psychopath. Boy, what an image! My downfall is that I’m not dumb enough. I get good grades. Good grades seem to work for everyone else, but they’re a disaster for me. I mean, what depresses me is that I seem to be going back to front with everyone else, a kind of heyoka indian, swimming upstream.
What I want to say next is that just when I’d firmly told myself I’d never see them again and dealt with lots of interesting fantasies concerning them, there they were coming down the escalator in the supermarket. Talk about electrocution! Of course I had to be going up the crowded escalator at the time and I could hardly scramble across the moving belt in the middle could I? How embarrassing would that be? I hate attracting attention, yet I know I crave it.
I craned my neck around as they went down and I went up on life’s merry-go-round and they disappeared through the revolving door. Not literally this time, because I saw them through the glass as they walked away on the other side. I felt an unutterable longing to go after them.
By the time I got up the top and back down again, of course they were gone, but I had seen their faces clearly, fresh and alive among the clock-work city crowd, as if they’d just come from an adventure in the jungle. I had the fleeting fantasy that he was Indiana Jones. This time, I’d noticed her hair was dry, fantastically black and silky. He still wore the old ripped jacket and jeans, but she was in smart suede and boots. I told myself that this little saga was no doubt in my head, some need in me, perhaps a desperation for something different in life, something fresh, something real.
In my heart and in my mind, I told myself I’d invented them as people who really understood me. I’d imagined the most delicious moments of kinship with her, and as for him, I pretended he totally admired me as a young woman of substance. Like, yeah! From experience, I know that this kind of fantasising is dangerous because reality always comes around and knocks you flat - like when I dream about a boy who looks good, and he ends up being a rat. That’s why I decided I didn’t want to meet that couple any more. My fantasies were probably better.
After that decision, I felt depressed, so I went for some donuts. Donuts help - marginally. It’s great that I’m one of the few girls who can do donuts, because no matter what I eat, I never get fat. I’d be a never do well if I were a cow and they’d probably shoot me, though I’m not complaining. I reckon life is unreasonably rough on those chubby girls who get low and can’t pig out on comfort food because it lowers their self esteem even more. Poor chicks, they must hit rock bottom with a real splat!
As I walked my well worn track to the good old café, I felt someone walking too close behind me, literally breathing down my neck. I glanced around and it was them. Talk about freak-out! Again, they looked straight at me. I walked faster, pretending my sneakers were really fascinating and felt the back of my neck sizzling red like a peppered frank-furt. This was way too weird! They walked close up behind and stayed there even when I was nearly running. Help! I wasn’t imagining this. They turned into the café behind me, staying in close formation. It had to be deliberate, I couldn’t avoid this. My heart was pounding madly. What could they want? Could they have noticed the time I’d followed them and taken offence? For goodness sake, it was only once. Were they like those serial killers who prey on the vulnerable? Shaking, I grabbed my donuts and turned to go, not daring to look at them at all, but the woman blocked my way, smiling like a cat who’d cornered her mouse.
‘Aren’t you staying for coffee? Our shout.’ I looked at her then, my eyes just about popping out of my head. I must have looked stupid, like a scared rabbit. She just stood there smiling sweetly. I noticed that under her smart suede coat she wore buckskin and beads. At first I felt relieved. So that’s it! She’s an Indian, South American by the look, but not pure! As my dad would say, a Spaniard had ‘slipped in’ somewhere. The man was the same but with even more Indian blood, I guessed. So that’s what it was about them. That was the jungle freshness! At least I had solved that bit, but I’d also heard about drugs in the jungle and I was scared. Then the man smiled too. He had broad cheekbones and looked a bit wolf-like, I thought.
‘We aren’t kidnappers you know,’ he said amiably, ‘We’ve noticed you around and we’d just like to buy you a coffee and have a chat.’ I detected a slight Mexican accent.
‘Oooh…kay,’ I replied shakily. I never have been good at saying no, even when I’d like to run away, so this was not usual. Still, these kinds of things don’t happen to the likes of me. I mean events usually stay boringly normal, but I knew I’d been longing for something different, just a small change - preferably a new life.
This hombre and his woman told me to choose a table and they returned with three steaming coffees. I’d watched like a hawk, so I knew they hadn’t put any stuff in mine. They didn’t ask me my name or tell me anything about themselves. Instead they wanted to know what my favourite animal was. I felt really shy and stupid. I said Razzer my dog, but they ignored that and asked which animal really attracted me. It was weird, but they seemed to have really good vibes and to be genuinely interested. I thought of the sinuous black panthers I’d seen in the Zoo, the eyes of pumas, and the taut walk of jaguars. I felt there was a sleek feline stretching and waking up inside me. I love big cats, even though I feel myself to be such a mouse.
When I admitted I’m crazy about big cats, I couldn’t stop laughing, it was such a relief. They laughed too and he said to her, ‘I told you she’s a cat. She might be the one.’ At that I froze inside. The one what? All of a sudden I felt I’d been wrongly cast. I suddenly felt I was in the Matrix and really unsuited for any kind of heroine role.
“What one?’ I faltered out loud.
‘A good one,’ he chuckled, ‘We go a long way to find a good one.’
‘Good what?’ The hair rose on the back of my neck.
‘A good student,’ he shrugged. How did they know I was a good student? I didn’t want to hear that, I wanted to hear something different, weird and special. I was disappointed. He continued to look at me strangely as though I didn’t get what he meant, but he didn’t say anything more.
After that they dropped the spooky bit and just chatted about what I liked, what I didn’t like, my aspirations as a writer etc. It was terrific. I’ve never had so much attention in all my life and it felt great, though I never stopped feeling wary. They were powerful and the whole thing seemed too much like my fantasies - better in fact. Mostly, I find this world flat and unresponsive. It usually ignores insignificant teens and their dreams.
When I’d drained my coffee, they looked at each other and nodded. I was alert again and tingling all over with fright. What were they up to? Then he pulled something on a chain out of that torn pocket of his. It was like a strange metal symbol with a stone in the centre. It looked like an eye, a big cat’s eye.
‘What do you think of this?’ he asked.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I stammered, ‘I feel like I could fall right into it’ I don’t know why I said that.
He was looking at me intently. ‘Excellent! Would you like to keep it for a while?’
‘Why, yes,’ I heard myself saying foolishly before I had time to think. Unfortunately, I wasn’t born wise. What if it was a stolen priceless relic worth a million and he needed a carrier? Another voice in my head said, ‘Idiot! He wouldn’t expose it in the café like this, if that was the case.’
‘It’s very special,’ I heard her say in the distance as my ears were buzzing, ‘When you want to chat again concentrate on it. Think the time, think the place and we will meet you there.’ She touched my shoulder and added in confidential a whisper. ‘Remember to keep it hidden.’
‘Yes but,’ I looked down at it as it rested in my hand. It seemed to be drawing me in, warm and intense. When I looked up, my friends had vanished again and I hadn’t noticed a thing, not even the scrape of a chair. My heart banged in my chest like a sand shoe in a washing machine. I wished they wouldn’t do that! The guzzling café crowd were oblivious, no one had seen anything. Was my aching need for real communication getting the better of me?
I trembled, confused, yet the amulet rested in my hand, warm and real. A tingle of fear ran through me as I put the chain over my hair and the emblem fell down between my breasts, safe and hidden inside my shirt. Forgetting my donuts, I ran home, raced into my bedroom and slammed the door. I was breathing hard and I could feel my heart beating against the metal and stone. What did all this mean? I felt alive and excited for the first time in ages. Even school bore no sting.
I grabbed the relic out of my shirt and examined it, because all of a sudden I thought it might have contained a micro camera, like in James Bond movies. I fought fear of the unknown and the need to see if I could call them up right away. This was our only link as we had exchanged no names or places. Were they laughing at me? Playing a joke on a silly gullible teenager? I decided to wait for the right moment to try to call, but it was hard. It felt unbearable to think they might be laughing behind my back. Still I had the amulet and even though it was probably not valuable in the money sense I knew it was, in some better way. Where would it lead? That horrible little voice inside me kept saying,
‘You’re fooling yourself, baby.’
I knew I had to stop thinking, because this was one of those things you just can’t explain. I raced out of my room, leaped over the back of the couch, ignoring the Pizza remnants and sat cross legged staring at the T.V. That’s pretty mindless and it worked, but the amulet still nestled warm against my pounding heart. At last something real, live and different is happening to me!
##
Salt and Pepper Short Stories and Poems Page 4
