Outcast

by Susan Oloier

  “Who’re your friends?” the guy asked.

  “This is my girlfriend Cassie and her friend Noelle. This is Bob.”

  Bob appeared to be a friendly guy, maybe because of his smile. He grinned widely, revealing a full set of plaster-cast teeth.

  “Way to go.” He slapped Pete on the shoulder blades and returned to the group.

  “He wishes,” Cassie interjected.

  Cassie and Pete moved inside. I lingered behind, swallowing mouthfuls of beer before following them. Bob gave me a devilish wink, and then I went in.

  Cassie and Pete immediately abandoned me. I decided to sit at the corner of the couch. A brunette with clear hazel eyes sat next to me, but leaned forward to talk to a mousy-looking redhead. Both nursed beer bottles. I monitored the slit in my skirt, knowing it revealed too much.

  “It was psychologically profound the way she characterized the main character.” The brunette shouted her opinions over the music.

  The redhead nodded.

  “It’s full of mythology and metaphor, especially with the rooster.”

  “I know,” the redhead pretended. She noticed me listening to their conversation and gestured my way. The brunette pivoted in her chair.

  “Hey.” She looked me over. “We were just discussing Black Women’s Literature. You look familiar. Are you in the program?” She continued to yell over the music.

  “No.”

  “My name’s Tori. This is Sheila.”

  Sheila gave a barely discernible wave.

  “Want another beer?” Her question made me realize my bottle was already empty.

  Without offering me the chance to respond, Tori stood up and retrieved a bottle from a cooler. She opened it and handed it to me.

  “Sorry. I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Noelle.”

  “Cool. What are you majoring in?”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  “That’s cool. I didn’t know what I wanted to major in right away. Are you a freshman?”

  I simply nodded my lie, then gulped the beer, hoping to rinse away the events of the dance.

  “Who are you here with?”

  “Pete.” I motioned to where he stood.

  “Cool.” Everything was cool to her. “Boyfriend?”

  “No,” I said. “He’s with my friend.” I pointed them out.

  I thought I put up a pretty good show for a sixteen-year-old. The conversation lulled for awhile. My chair faced the door, and I considered leaving to return to the dance. If I could find a way back to Scottsdale, I would know for sure if he and Trina were together. I felt a tinge of guilt for running off without saying anything to him, but it quickly passed when I replayed the scene between the two of them in my head.

  “Wow. He’s so hot,” Tori declared.

  “I know,” Sheila responded.

  I turned to look. A number of guys stood around the room, but the girls focused on one in particular. Jake. He stood on the other side of the room, talking to a girl, beer bottle in hand. He looked gorgeous. He wore Levi’s and a white T-shirt covered by an open bowling shirt. I hadn’t seen him in ages. Being with Chad made me completely forget his existence. Now it all came rushing back at me. The attraction I once felt for him brewed inside. Before it was a drizzle. This time it was a rainfall.

  But he was with somebody, possibly a girlfriend. I felt overwhelmed by the sight of him and suddenly felt the effects of the alcohol. I stood, completely opening the split in my skirt. I knew Tori and Sheila paid each other a look.

  “Excuse me.”

  I hurried outside, hoping the cooler air would calm me. The last thing I needed to see was Jake with someone, too. It made the feeling of aloneness that much stronger.

  Bob smoked a cigarette on the porch. “Hey! What’s up?”

  I ignored the cordiality. “Can I bum a cigarette?”

  “Sure.” He handed one to me and lit it. “Everything okay?”

  “Uh huh.” I drifted away from him, venturing toward the lawn while I inhaled the nicotine.

  “Want some company?”

  “No, thanks.” I headed toward the darkened street, trying to figure out how things went so wrong for me. I listened to the crickets keeping time with the bass of the music and thought of all the people who abandoned me. My sister, my father, Grace, and now Chad. Even Cassie deserted me the moment she stepped into the party. What was the point in getting close to anyone? No one ever stayed.

  I heard footsteps behind me and turned around. Pete stood there, buzzed. I finished my cigarette and extinguished it with the toe of my spangled shoe.

  “Want a hit?” He extended a joint to me.

  The more inebriated I became, the more I hoped the memory of Chad and Trina would fade. I decided to smoke with Pete. We perched ourselves on the edge of the curb, side by side.

  “I like your dress.” I felt his eyes climb all over me.

  “Thanks,” I said hesitantly, giving him a sideways glance. Then I took a drag from the reefer.

  “It’s…nice.” He fingered an inch of fabric near my thigh.

  I scooted away, feeling his eyes on me again. Before I knew it, his lips were on mine. I shoved him away.

  “What are you doing?” I yelled.

  “It’s just that you’re so beautiful.”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “What’s so beautiful about me?”

  If I truly was desirable, why did Chad have his hands and lips all over Trina instead of me?

  “Everything.” He moved his hand beneath the opening in my skirt and kissed me again.

  “Like what?” I leaned away, removing his hand from my bare leg.

  “Your eyes, your lips, your neck…” Pete kissed the curve of it, practically pushing me onto my back as he devoured me at the curbside. The smell of sweat, marijuana, and cologne mixed like a failed chemistry experiment. I kept my eyes open, wanting to witness it all. “Your sexy body…” His hands were all over me, trying to unfasten the mystery of the dress.

  “Don’t my freckles disgust you?” I pushed at him, not at all aroused by his advances.

  “They’re sexy.” His mouth explored my face; his hot breath trailed over my skin like an unseen specter. He pushed himself toward me again, growing increasingly aggressive. That time I tasted the sour beer on his tongue as he pushed it into my mouth.

  “I was a nerd. I wore glasses and had a bad hair. People still call me loser. Doesn’t that turn you off?”

  “No.”

  As high and buzzed as I was, coupled with the betrayal I felt from Chad, I was ready to pour my sorrows into a night with him. I needed to be desired by somebody, even if it was Pete.

  He helped me to my feet, eager to ensconce himself in my flesh. The moment I stood, I froze. Jake descended the stairs to the lawn. He was alone. I dropped Pete’s hand. After seeing Jake, the thought of giving myself to Pete sickened me. Jake paused along the pathway to speak briefly with people.

  “I can’t go with you.”

  “Why not? Cassie never has to know.”

  He leaned in for a kiss, but I dodged it. I eyed Jake from across the yard.

  “I mean it. Cassie’s my friend.”

  “So.”

  “I’m sixteen years old.”

  Pete heaved a sigh. “So is Cassie. Big deal.” He grabbed at me.

  “My dad’s a cop,” I lied, piercing his mind with a slew of possibilities.

  The same eyes that lusted after me moments before, suddenly grew frosty and unfeeling.

  “You bitch.”

  I returned the icy stare.

  “I didn’t want to fuck you anyway. Nobody would, you loser.” He tried to hurt me, but I was far beyond feeling anything anymore.

  I edged back to the curb, looking over my shoulder at Jake as he said the last of his good-byes.

  He headed in the opposite direction, never seeing me.

  I heard voices along the street, remnants of a party that slowly broke up. Everyone had a destination. Everyon
e but me. I had nowhere to go. I was alone. I rested my head in my hands, wondering where I should turn now, wondering about Chad.

  “You idiot! Your car’s over there,” someone yelled.

  “Just a little turned around,” the voice from behind me shouted back. I raised my head and turned to see Jake.

  “Hey,” he greeted me in passing, not recognizing me at first. Then he stopped and turned. "Noelle?”

  I remained silent, not wanting him to see me cry. He already had a younger sister to take care of. He didn’t need another one.

  “I didn’t recognize you. You look…nice.”

  I looked down at the slit exposing my entire leg and quickly pinched it together.

  “What are you doing out here? It’s twelve-thirty.”

  I said nothing.

  “Need a ride?” His eyes combed my face. “Someone to talk to?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “How about just the ride?”

  Jake navigated the intersections of Tempe. The traffic around the university was still heavy for one o’clock in the morning. Mill Avenue, where he once took me, buzzed with pedestrians who spilled out of the clubs and bars.

  I felt nervous being so close to him. Instead of suppressing my anxiety, the pot and alcohol intensified it. I clung to the passenger’s side door.

  “You haven’t been around the house lately.” He filled the silence with small talk.

  “Yeah, well Grace has new friends now.”

  “Like Trina,” he stated. A trace of sarcasm seemed to dust his tone, but I wasn’t entirely certain.

  “Yeah, Trina.”

  As Jake wound his way along the side streets, I wondered if anything happened between the two of them. Perhaps he was yet another guy who she managed to catch in her claws.

  “I bet they’re good friends by now.”

  “You don’t like her?”

  My silence answered his question.

  “You know, she tried to kiss me once,” he confessed.

  “Oh?” I tried hard to curb my emotions. He remained keen to my responses, measuring each one like a scientist with a beaker.

  He smiled and continued. “I drove her home one night. When we arrived at her house, she leaned in and tried to kiss me. I must have given her the wrong impression.”

  Yeah, I thought to myself, he could do that.

  He pulled into the driveway of a one-story adobe. I assumed it was the one he shared with his roommates.

  “What do you think?” He turned off the ignition and gazed at me.

  “About what?”

  I glanced around at everything—the dashboard, the house, the streetlight—doing all I could to avoid staring into those denim eyes.

  “Do you think I give off the wrong impression?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I finally looked at him. That night, he was better looking than I remembered.

  Jake grabbed my hand and led me to his room. He pushed the door open, then shut it behind us. I sat on the unmade bed. The mess of clothing and bedding blended together. He sat next to me. My brain sent shivers to the rest of my body.

  “Do you think she’s beautiful?” I asked.

  “Who?”

  “Trina.”

  “No.”

  “Some girls at the party said you were hot.” The combination of nerves and beer suddenly made me too honest, too chatty.

  Flattery sculpted a smile on his face. He looked at me a little too long. “And you? What do you think?”

  His question touched all my nerve endings.

  “I think I shouldn’t drink anymore.” I searched the room, hoping to find a distraction. There were only clothes crumpled on the floor like ruined paper, an historical marker of unremembered nights passed in this place. The room was dim. The only light came from a street lamp outside, which filtered through the blinds, creating stripes across the bed. I turned back to Jake, thinking he may have forgotten me. He didn’t. He caressed me with his gentle gaze.

  “You know what I think?”

  I was afraid to ask.

  He traced my freckles with his index finger then planted a kiss on my lips like Boardwalk taffy, pulling back gently from the stickiness of it. I had never been kissed that way before. It felt warm, and I wanted to taste more of his mouth, his full lips.

  Pushing my hair back, his finger drew imagined lines of calligraphy around my ear, along the strands of my hair, down to the first button that held my dress together. He unfastened it, and the material dropped slightly, revealing more freckles at the base of my neck, the top of my chest. He outlined the angle where the material met my skin and unfastened the series of loops. He pulled them all apart slowly and methodically until there were no more to be undone. I closed my eyes, drew in thoughtful breaths, not knowing what to expect, but wishing for more. The top of the dress fell away, exposing my milk-white breasts.

  “Tell me this is wrong. Tell me to stop,” he begged though he continued to trace patterns on my skin. I said nothing. It didn’t feel wrong to me. In Jake I found a sanctuary, even if it was just for one night.

  I crawled out of my skirt, my panties, and inched closer to him, feeling everything would be all right. Together, we peeled his clothes away and tangled ourselves around each other. When he laid me back and pressed his weight against me, I knew I found my true rescuer.

  Eighteen

  I awoke to the chattering of birds. My head drummed. I felt nauseated. Too much beer, possibly the pot.

  I looked around the room. My clothes were bunched on the floor, and Jake was gone. I gathered my things and dressed. It all seemed surreal, like looking too deeply into an M.C. Escher drawing and getting lost. My perspective on the night’s events was all askew. What happened the previous evening couldn’t possibly be real. I felt as though I had hallucinated. Again, probably just the pot.

  I emerged from the bedroom. The house was quiet. It smelled of stale cigarettes and freshly-brewed coffee. Someone was awake.

  Mike sat at the kitchen table. He wore a wrinkled T-shirt and boxers. His hair was ruffled from sleep, and dark circles outlined his eyes. I felt uncomfortable around him because he knew what went on last night.

  “He’s not here. He went to work.” No greeting or formalities. Just bitterness. “Want some coffee?” His tone suggested that it was better if I said no.

  “I have to go.”

  I wound myself around the door into the blinding light of day. The summer sun already crushed the temperate night air. Things seemed different. I searched the sky, the palm trees, the fairy dusters that lined the driveway. They were unaffected by the night. I was the one who had changed, and no one cared. I realized that the world didn’t stop because of the experience I had. I wished it had.

  The twinkling shoes from Aunt P felt like vice grips around my feet as I limped down the driveway. Sure enough, the Honda was gone. Once again, I experienced the feeling of abandonment. Jake rescued me from my own crucifixion, but he wasn’t willing to remove the thorns. At the moment, they all seemed buried in my toes.

  I hobbled along the sidewalk. I needed to go somewhere, anywhere but home.

  I smelled roasted coffee and freshly baked pastries as I dialed the phone outside of Desert Stone Bakery. My stomach grumbled with either hunger or sickness. Perhaps both.

  The phone rang repeatedly until I was sure an answering machine would pick up. Instead, it was a live voice.

  “Daddy, it’s me.”

  “My God, Noelle! Where the hell are you? We’ve been worried.”

  He probed me for details and told me that my mother called the police, thinking I was a missing person.

  I avoided any discussion of her. I wanted to get to the point of my call. “Do you think I could stay with you for awhile?”

  “Oh,” he reflected, his tone spiraling downward.

  As I started to lay out my reasons, make my case, I heard a voice in the background. “Who is it, Jack?” A woman. Not my mother. There was a period of
silence. He probably stifled her, hoping I didn’t hear.

  I slammed the receiver down. Passersby stared at me as I still wore the Homecoming dress. I looked suspiciously like a hooker who had just completed her night’s work. The last thing I needed was to draw more attention to myself with outlandish behavior. Calming myself down, I rummaged through my purse for enough money to buy a candy bar and a pack of Camels. As I scrounged for change, I thought it would have been better if I did sell my body last night. At least that way I would have had enough cash to buy breakfast.

  After slapping down a counter full of change, I headed out the door with my cigarettes and Kit Kat bar. I couldn’t allow myself to rely on other people forever. It was time to go home.

  The moment I set foot in the house, my mother lunged from her chair and threw her arms around me. Almost as instantly as she hugged me, she withdrew her embrace. Holding me at arm’s length, she scrutinized me from head to toe.

  “Where have you been?”

  When I refused to answer, she shook me. As though rattling me would make me confess. All it did was cause a nauseous feeling to return to the base of my stomach. I had already vomited once at the bus stop.

  She stopped shaking me and assessed my appearance again. “My God! You look like a prostitute.”

  She removed her hands from me and pressed her fingers to her temples. She rubbed them as though searching for hidden buttons that, if pushed correctly, would make this all go away. There was detestation in her tone as she voiced her concern.

  “I know you’ve been spending your evenings with that boy, Chad. So when he called looking for you last night, I flew into a panic. He said you disappeared from the dance without a trace. I called everywhere. Even your aunt. No one heard from you. Where did you go, Noelle?”

  My capacity to think came to a halt when she spoke Chad’s name. He wondered where I went? He was actually concerned about me? I didn’t want to believe it. I saw him with Trina. They danced together, kissed one another, completely oblivious to me.

  “Chad called? What did he say?”

  “He was worried about you, too. Just like I was. Now where were you?”