The Idyllic Chaos of My So-Called Life

by Amy-Noelle Smith

  “Geez, smooth,” I offered. “Are you okay?”

  “Holy crap, I got to get that step fixed. That’s the second time I’ve done that today.”

  “Well, slow your roll goofball,” I jokingly said, trying (unsuccessfully) not to laugh. I was forever laughing at inappropriate times. I was glad she didn’t hurt herself, but even if she had the sheer look of panic on her face as she propelled herself forward was, well, hysterical.

  She hopped in the car, and we began the short drive to town.

  “Where do you want to go?” she inquired.

  “I was thinking we’d drive through town, you know, collect some applications. Then I need to go to the library to get some references and maybe use the Internet for my report on ‘The Great Gatsby.’”

  “Oooh, you’re doing a report.”

  “Yes, I am,” I said indignantly.

  I’d read the book before, and thought I could throw together a book report without too much time and effort. I liked the book anyway. It took me to a different place, and let me know that no matter how much money people had, they could still be really messed up. I didn’t know why, but there was some consolation in that for me.

  I eased the car into a parking spot, choosing a space in front of several tourist gift shops. They were empty right now, but I’d been told that as soon as the high season hit during July and August that the streets would be filled with fudgies, which I’d learned were people from down state who came up north, and seemingly like to buy scores of fudge.

  In Charlevoix there seemed to be only varying degrees of coldness. Today was less cold than most. Even though it was spring, there was a bite in the air that chilled me to the core. I wondered if it would ever warm up in this godforsaken northern territory.

  We walked along the sidewalks, occasionally veering into various establishments and collecting applications. I was dissuaded gently by the shop owners citing the downturn in the economy for the lack of part-time jobs. It looked like McDonalds was going to be my only option, and frankly I didn’t look good in paper hats or whatever type of hat they made employees wear nowadays. My resolve strengthened—no fast food joints! It looked like I was going to have to take Audrey up on her offer and ask her for help to find a part time job.

  We came upon the library, and I took my applications and shoved them hastily into my tan messenger bag. I needed at least two critical references to cite for my paper on good old F. Scott. We passed through the stacks of books, and I tried in vain to find something among the records. I was never good at the Dewey Decimal System, and I didn’t feel like using my super slow computer. The computer back at the shoebox had slowed to the point where it would have been faster to use two tin cans and some string to collect information. I liked books anyway; the feel of the covers and the robust smell of the pages made the hunt for information a bit more pleasant. Information from a book seemed more official to me anyway. I made my way to the reference desk to ask for some help.

  As I stood up there waiting for someone to notice me, I scanned the room, and there he was...Will. I felt my breath and pulse quicken. I looked over at Evan to see if she had noticed the instantaneous change in my demeanor—she hadn’t. I turned back around immediately and my thoughts suddenly became scattered like confetti in the wind.

  “Hey, that’s Will,” Evan nonchalantly said. She obviously didn’t seem to find him attractive, although I didn’t know why.

  “Oh yeah,” I muttered, trying to conceal my excitement. Why was I so excited? Why was my heart beating a mile a minute? I had found other guys attractive before, but it didn’t seem to trigger such an intense reaction. I was interrupted by the desk clerk—my brain was in a complete state of chaos.

  “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Twisting my head back around quickly I answered, “Yes, I need some references on ‘The Great Gatsby’ please.”

  The clerk typed on her computer and wrote several numbers mixed with letters on a small slip of paper. “Here you go honey, you’ll find these in the stacks on the north side of the building on the second floor. Our computer lab in on the third floor if you need Internet access.”

  I looked at her as she gave me the directions, but couldn’t make sense of them in my Swiss cheese brain. I was trying to see if Will had seen me. I wondered if his heart was beating as fast as mine. It was highly unlikely, I decided.

  Evan jabbed me in the back. “Hey I’m going to say hi to Will.”

  I panicked. “What!”

  I then became all too aware that my hair was pulled back in an unattractive ponytail situated firmly on the top of my head, and I still had dirt under my fingernails from pulling weeds this morning—never mind that my coat made me look like the Michelin man. There was no way I was going to go over there. I was silently panic stricken. It suddenly then occurred to me why I hadn’t gotten such a positive response while job hunting...I looked like crap.

  “I’ve known him for years. I mean we don’t really hang out, but he’s a nice guy all the same,” Evan said as she made her way over to the table.

  I grabbed her by her coat, and she whirled around.

  “What are you doing?” she snapped, slightly annoyed.

  “Um–Uh—I’m going upstairs. I’ll meet you back down here.”

  “Whatever,” she said with a valley girl lilt, holding her fingers up to make the letter W, and turning them to the side to make an E.

  I shifted my body back from her and stuck my tongue out at her. “Whatever,” I echoed.

  I quickly made my way up the steps and once I’d reached the landing I stopped. I was being a bit voyeuristic, but I wanted to see the conversation unfold. I couldn’t hear, but I could tell a lot by their body language. God knows what I was looking for, but I definitely wanted to spy.

  As I peeked down through the stacks, I tried to make out what Will was reading. Was it something interesting and unique, or was it Sports Illustrated? I hoped it wasn’t Sports Illustrated—please not the swimsuit issue! Evan stood at the end of Will’s table. Her shadow interrupted his reading, and he peeked up from his book. A slight hint of a smile crossed his face as he waved. I could see Evan’s mouth moving a mile a minute, but not having any formal training with lip reading, I wasn’t able to make out even the slightest bit of what she was saying.

  Will had turned his book over, and was covering the title with his hand. Damn! They spoke for just a brief moment, and then Evan was off. I was fixated on Will. I had to know what he was reading, some clue as to what kind of person he was. I’d always thought books were an excellent barometer of one’s inner thoughts and desires. He then lifted the book to his face, covering his golden brown hair...and there was the title, “Cash” by Johnny Cash. I wrinkled up my nose, and felt my lips curl up in amusement. Suddenly, Will’s eyes shifted up until they met mine. It was just a fraction of a second before I peeled my gaze off of his, and I swiftly ascended the steps to the second floor to get my materials.

  I returned with my books and hastily made my way to the circulation desk where Evan was waiting. I had to take a detour around the edges of the room so I could avoid Will. I didn’t feel up to speaking when I felt that I looked utterly ridiculous. I kept my head down, and pulled my hair out of its ponytail around my face. I continued keeping my head down while the librarian scanned the materials and stamped them with the suggested return date. Evan seemed a bit perplexed with the cloak and dagger routine, but I shrugged it off by telling her I wasn’t feeling well. She readily bought this excuse, considering the chili cheese fries we had devoured earlier.

  On our ride back to her house we passed the marina. Evan assured me that once the warmer weather came (or should I say the less cold weather) that the water would be full of sailboats, cigar boats, and yachts. I wondered if we could bribe the yacht owners to give tours. I liked to imagine myself on a large yacht sailing around the world; docking in various safe harbors, soaking in the different cultures.

  My daydreams were starting to ge
t the best of me. I snapped myself back to reality when Evan said, “Don’t you know Will?”

  “I fell into him...sort of...on my first day,” I responded. “I think we’re in the same drama class too,” I said with a fake casual indifference.

  She shot me a sideways glance. “He’s cute, but not really the letterman type most girls go for around here.”

  “Oh really, I hadn’t noticed,” I coyly replied.

  Evans eyes shifted back at me sideways once more, as her lips formed a smirk. “Huh, I figured he might be your type.”

  Evan wasn’t buying my demure routine, but I wasn’t admitting to anything.

  I dropped Evan off at her house and made my way back home. It was around seven, and I began to think about the fruitless job search today, and the near encounter at the library.

  I would have to start wearing a hat out more often if I was going to go out in public with bad hair, which surprised me because I usually wasn’t concerned with my hair or my clothes for that matter. I reminded myself to settle down. This guy wasn’t that big a deal. Plus I wasn’t planning on sticking around here much past the summer anyway. I’d convinced myself that it was best to keep entanglements to a minimum.

  I pulled the VW into the garage where I caught the faint aroma of pizza coming from the kitchen. I was pleased. I shot through the back door and leaped up the steps touching every other step. I bounded into the kitchen ready for pizza, when I was stopped abruptly by the sight of Lucy, Lilah, and Audrey sitting at the kitchen table picking at the pepperoni pizza.

  “Hi,” I said, surprised.

  “Hi there,” Audrey greeted me with a sly smile. “You met Lucy and Lilah today?” she asked more like a statement of fact.

  “Oh...Umm...yeah...I met them.”

  I was frozen with the same dread that had infected my body earlier. The voice in my head started. Don’t stare, don’t say anything insensitive.

  “We were just discussing a proposition for you,” Audrey said as she pulled a piece of pepperoni off her pizza, and swirled the cheese around her finger.

  Cautiously, I asked, “What?” I was sure she could hear the ambivalence in my voice.

  “Well—” Audrey was interrupted by Lucy’s soft more velvet voice.

  “Well, you know that Lilah attends the Charlevoix Center.” I could feel Lucy starting to build her case.

  “Uh huh.” I nodded passively.

  “They drop her off at three-thirty, and with my new hours at work I can’t be home until five-thirty.”

  I could feel it. I knew what was coming. I was panic stricken, pushed into a corner with no foreseeable way out. Here it comes, I thought, feeling sick to my stomach.

  Lucy continued. “I was wondering if you could...babysit for Lilah for a couple hours a day.”

  There it was. I felt like I had been shot. I lost the feeling in my toes and felt paralyzed. I was trying to mask what I thought was an obvious panic attack. I must have been doing an excellent job because Lucy continued on, not missing a beat.

  “I can pay you about a hundred dollars a week,” Lucy insisted.

  Audrey put her two cents worth in and added, “That would be more than enough for your car payment, plus a little extra for spending money. You can’t beat the hours either. What other job can you work just two hours a day?”

  I thought that Lucy was beginning to feel my uneasiness as to how I was going to babysit Lilah. She interjected, “Really she won’t be any trouble. The center will bring her into the house, and all you would have to do is give her a snack, and, well, she usually takes a nap, or likes to sit outside on warmer days.”

  I could feel the shock wearing off, and I began to process the request. I weighed the obvious downsides to the situation, but decided ten hours of work a week and a hundred dollars was good enough to endure the uncomfortable nature of this job. Plus, it had to beat scooping fries and making milk shakes at the local fast food joint.

  I looked over at Lucy’s pleading eyes, and said, “Sure, I guess that wouldn’t be a problem.”

  I had no idea that this singular act would be the one thing that would change the course of my life forever.

  Chapter Six

  I lay in bed that night with only the kaleidoscope movements of my acid trip yellow wallpaper to distract me—these were the worst times. My mind was free to wander during the nights, and I couldn’t seem to divert myself from the pain. It was during those times that I thought I might explode, like there was no place for the rage to go except in a rapid succession of quiet tantrums; sometimes I felt as though the anger would rip me apart from the inside out.

  I hadn’t been the most innocent of girls. I’d done my share of smoking, drinking, and gambling at the local pool hall where they don’t care to check I.D.s, but now I seemed to be under a different set of circumstances. I didn’t know if Audrey really cared or was she trying to ease her conscience. I couldn’t deny the fact that there seemed to be some level of expectation that I hadn’t had before.

  I was caught between two opposing inclinations. One, I didn’t want to disappoint Audrey, and the other, I wanted desperately to destroy it all. This was a line I seemed to straddle on a daily basis.

  In my other homes, I knew that self-destruction was a path that felt better than vulnerability. I convinced myself while being hypnotized by the shapes on the wall, “You can’t be shuffled from person to person and be unguarded. You have to be strong. So what smoking and drinking made you feel better.” I paused to reorganize the monologue I’d prepared for myself. “So what you have a couple smokes (you gave up pot), and a few drinks now and then. It’s no big deal, you can’t change just because you’re here! She will leave—everyone leaves—don’t change, stay strong!” I clenched my fists down by my side and spoke tersely. I probably sounded nuts, but sometimes I found the best person to talk to about my problems was, well, myself. I’d always had the best answers.

  I started to feel drowsy, and my thoughts began to drift seamlessly into one another. I thought that Friday night I’d buy a pack of smokes, so what if it had been a few weeks. I could feel the tension ease as soon as I thought about that sweet smoke passing through my lips. I was still definitely going through some type of withdrawal.

  Next problem, Evan. She was becoming a friend. She was someone to eat lunch with and pass the days with until I was eventually shipped off again.

  “Don’t get too close,” I drowsily whispered.

  Then that damn boy’s face invaded my thoughts. Will with his long and lanky six-foot frame. His perfect teeth and chiseled features, all hidden under a mountain of golden-streaked hair, with his face buried in a book. I even daydreamed about the way he walked, the slight curve of his shoulders, and the downward tilt of his head.

  I shook my head abruptly and spoke curtly, “No, no, don’t waste your time.”

  Soon after that my thoughts began to meld together even more incoherently; random ideas drifted in and out of my mind. I could feel the heaviness of my eyelids and the freedom from my own thoughts, not having to make sense of them, and before long I drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning I awoke to the rarity of the sun slanting through my window and warming my cheeks. I hopped out of bed with an uncommon alertness and pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean purple T-shirt. As I brushed through my hair and tied it loosely back away from my face, I began to wonder if today wouldn’t be the perfect day to skip school. I didn’t have any tests or quizzes, and nothing major was due. I put on a pair of black flip-flops, and made the quick decision that today was not going to be a school day.

  I jumped into the VW and made a quick mental itinerary of how I could spend the day. First on the list was to get a cup of coffee, then a trip to the marina to relax and maybe sneak a smoke. I thought I would make a trip to the local music store to check out a Baby Taylor guitar I had my eye on—maybe if I saved the extra cash from my newfound job I would be able to afford it.

  I searched my pockets to see how much mo
ney I had on me—crap, just enough for the coffee. I may be skipping that much-needed smoke, and possibly lunch, I thought. My good mood only slightly modified.

  I entered my favorite coffee shop filled with interesting local artwork, CDs, and books. I ordered my usual, Cafe Americana, black. I browsed the artwork as I carefully sipped the scalding coffee. The first two attempts proved unsuccessful, as it was too hot. As soon as the steam would reach my lips, I could feel the intense heat. I retreated each time, lowering the cup. I didn’t want to burn my mouth. On the third attempt I braved the steam and took a large gulp. Ouch! My lips stung, and as I swallowed I could feel the intense pleasure-pain of the caffeine slipping down my throat. It instantly warmed my stomach. That first sip was always the hardest.

  I wandered down the street to Ear-x-tacy, the local music store. There they had a Big Baby Taylor guitar. I had hoped to be able to replace the old hand-me-down guitar that I’d bought for five dollars at a yard sale about seven years earlier.

  As I passed through the front doors, I spotted the Big Baby Taylor. The Big Baby, as I called, it was the older sibling to the smaller Baby Taylor. It was gorgeous! A 15/16 scale dreadnought with solid Stitka spruce top, and Sapele laminate back and sides. As I scanned up the guitar I saw the Pearloid dot inlay. I wondered how much this exquisite piece would be—three hundred, maybe even four hundred dollars. I quickly did the calculation in my head of how much I would have left over after the car payment, and how long it would take me to save the cash.

  I walked up to the guitar hanging on the wall and gently ran my fingers along the strings. I quickly plucked one to hear the sound. It sounded so much better than the garage sale special I had at home. I was amazed that I had been able to make any music on what I now considered a total piece of crap.

  As I scanned the guitar, I carefully flipped over the small white price tag strategically placed out of sight, as to have me fall in love with the damn thing first...Ugh!