Ash Eater

by Emerson, Joanna

He looks into my eyes for the first time. “Are you looking to get suspended too?”

  “No.” Cowed, I back away.

  “Keep your head down. Study and work hard. Don’t be like them.”

  Oh no, he did not just say that. “They are some of the best people I’ve ever met, and you’ll never know that because you’ll never take the time to know them. I hope I do become like them. It’d be better than turning out like you.” Balling my fists tightly, I storm out of the cafeteria.

  Hanging out quietly in the courtyard, I stare daggers at all the assistant principals. Great. My first week in high school and already I’ve made enemies among the head faculty. Brilliant, Miya, just brilliant.

  At least I don’t get suspended.

  But I don’t think Ryan or Nate will care that I tried to stick up for them.

  Out of the corner of my eye, wind picks up a pile of leaves and ripples them through the air. Or is it a dragon’s tail? The closer I look, the more it takes on a dragon-tail shape. A mud splattering on the wall forms into a hideous snout shape. Blinking hard, I shake my head vigorously. There’s nothing after all, just the walls and some leaves. Am I really so tired?

  I crack open Hamlet and read some more until the bell rings. Oh, sweet Ophelia, so desperate to be noticed, how I wish I was less like you!

  On Friday, my brothers return with more subdued outfits. The bullies still have their comments and still don’t face any repercussions for their behavior.

  But my brothers don’t seem to care. Tonight’s the night. It’s the biggest gig my brothers’ band has scored to date. It means I’ll have to meet their new drummer. I’ve heard his voice in the basement and I’ve seen him from down the street, but I’ve had no desire to meet any more drummers. Still, he’s ten years my senior. Maybe he’ll have the good sense to leave me alone.

  And maybe I’ll have the good sense to leave him alone.

  Besides, Greg, the new guy I’m kind of, sort of dating, may come tonight. With his mom. Ugh. She hates me. What does he say to her when I’m not there? But I’ll forgive him for that.

  For I have eaten ashes like bread,

  and mingled my drink with weeping.

  ~ Psalm 102:9

  Chapter 14

  The Willow’s Branch, the Oak Tree, and the Green Field

  I walk into the Willow’s Branch behind my mom and show my high school ID to the ticket man. He checks the card to make sure it matches the name on the guest list. I cringe as the ticket man scrutinizes my baby face.

  He waves for me to proceed. “When they said All Ages, I guess they meant all ages.”

  The club isn’t anything like I thought it’d be. It’s smaller than all the hype surrounding the place. Posters line the walls like a wallpaper border, advertising all the bands that have played this venue. My head swims at thoughts of The Ramones and The Clash having played the same stage my brothers are about to play. And the Sex Pistols! How cool is that?

  At the sight of U2’s poster, my knees grow week. Bono, The Edge, Adam and Larry walked these very same tiles! Gah! My giddy teenage heart!

  At least I’m not like the girls from middle school who gushed over those silly boy bands. How embarrassing.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Nate asks as he bounds up to me. I guess I’m not the only giddy one here.

  “Water for now.”

  “You got that for my sister?” he asks the man behind the bar.

  The barman sets a glass of water on the wide bar for me.

  “Thank you.”

  He smiles as if gratitude isn’t something he encounters often here.

  I follow Nate downstairs to the dressing room. The whole place is filled with people crammed in like it’s a potato chip bag instead of a band dressing room.

  “All right people!” Ryan calls out over the clamor. “Everyone out except for band, crew and family.”

  I sigh, thankful to be included in that list. For once. Although I feel like it’s by default.

  Weaving through the shifting crowd, I find an empty seat at the far end of the room.

  “You must be the little sister.”

  I look up to see Barry, the new drummer, standing beside me, towering over me.

  I extend my hand to shake his. “I’m Miya. You must be Barry.”

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “I have water.” I gesture to my glass.

  He sits across the table from me. He’s much less intimidating at eye level. “I heard about the last drummer. I’m sorry he treated you like that. I wanted to let you know I’ll never make the moves on you, and I’ll keep a close eye out on any guy who tries to.”

  His speech leaves me cringingly embarrassed and thoroughly thankful. “Nice to know. I’m glad they have you for a drummer.” I form the friendliest smile I can find. “I think my boyfriend is coming tonight, so don’t beat him up. He’s nice.”

  “I’ll still keep my eye on him.” He smiles then stands to join the band.

  While the band discusses the set list, I wander upstairs in search of people I know. Namely, Greg, the guy I’m kind of, sort of dating.

  He’s sitting at the far corner of the club with several friends and his mom. He looks up and our eyes lock for a moment. Then he pulls his gaze away. No wave. No smile. And he’s sitting rather close to a girl I’ve never seen before. I guess we’re kind of, sort of not.

  I’m glad when Abbie interrupts my journey. “Where are you sitting?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I glance at Greg’s table again. “Where are you sitting?”

  Of course it’s next to Greg’s table. I drop my backpack on the bench between our tables and try not to glare at him. “How are you?”

  “Great! Good to see you, Miya.” Greg gives me his first smile of the evening.

  And I’m swimming in infatuation again.

  “Have you met Danika? She lives a few doors down from me and plays drums. I was thinking she could be the drummer if we start a band.”

  That glass ornament of my emotions slams to the ground. So much for a nice boyfriend. I extend my hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Danika.”

  “Greg’s told me so much about you! He says you’re the best female bassist he’s ever met.”

  I hate playing bass. Always a bass player, never a guitarist. “Thanks. I need help with rhythm, though, so I’m glad to meet you.” And I’ll never go to band practice again.

  I’m so done with jealousy. I’m so done. It has to be the worst emotion ever. It crawls within me like a serpent and lashes through my limbs. I ball my fists at my side to keep them there. Does anyone know how hard I work to keep this cover over the volcano of my emotions?

  I hope it’s time to dance soon.

  The silence between the tables is frighteningly awkward.

  My brothers finally take stage. I feel the collective sigh at Greg’s table as I get up.

  The best thing about this gig is that the dance floor is full. That’s also the worst part because I don’t have anywhere to just let go. I select a corner far from the stage and far from my friends.

  My weary heart grips hold of the music, and I begin to dance. Swirling, twirling, spinning, I forget the crowd and bask in the dim light of the lyrics. No longer in the night club anymore, I’m dancing through a field that’s greener than any I’ve danced through before. Hills stretch for miles, rising and falling gently against the crisp blue sky. If only I can stay here instead of returning to the place where either memories or darkness will swallow me whole.

  I open my eyes to a relapse of darkness. I’m yearning, grasping, reaching, but for what? I don’t even know what I want anymore. I want things to be the way they were before Mom left Dad for Abbie. I want things to be the way they were when Christmas morning was beautiful. I want things to be the way they were before Ryan hurt me. I want those angry lyrics from my brother’s lips to not be about me. I want to not spend my evenings pining for guys who leave me all too quickly. I want things I can never, never h
ave.

  “So, we have an announcement to make,” Ryan says through the microphone.

  I snap back through beauty and darkness to this half-packed night club, hoping he’s going to announce a new album.

  “We’ll be going on a cross-country tour in two days. Our first show when we return in six months will be here at the Willow’s Branch.”

  My legs almost give way beneath me. Two days? They’re leaving in two days? I can hardly breathe. I can hardly think.

  I’ll have to walk through the halls of that high school alone after all.

  And the house will be quiet with no band practice.

  Why do I always yearn for things I don’t want?

  “Hey.” Greg taps me on the shoulder. “My mom says I’ve got to go.”

  When I turn to him, his hand falls to his side. Danika stands right behind him with her hand on his shoulder.

  I force myself to smile. “You’re leaving before the encore?”

  “Curfew.”

  “Oh.” My stomach drops. This is probably an excuse. “It was good to see you. And nice to meet you, Danika.”

  “Tell your brothers it was an excellent show.”

  “I will.” If I remember.

  I’m so ready to be sick that I can’t imagine containing it. I stagger to the bathroom and lose my dinner. I’m never going to gain weight at this rate, but I don’t want to hold it in anymore.

  By the time the encore begins I’m angrier than a polar bear that’s been shot in the leg.

  What have I done that everyone wants to hurt me? Do I have a sign over my head? Invisible ink across my face that everyone can read except me?

  This cover over the volcano of my emotions won’t stay put much longer. It hurts worse than before, and no, not because of Greg. I had to lie to him about Mom, and I’m sure he saw her holding Abbie’s hand.

  And my brother on stage. Everyone admires and adores him while I’m rejected.

  Why?

  I wish they’d let me drink here, but I have too much of a baby face.

  The music stops. Finally. A reprieve. Why do I keep torturing myself by coming to these shows? I love it at the beginning, but by the end of the show I’m so angry.

  “Miya!” Lisa, Ryan’s girlfriend, calls my name from across the room. “I’m heading back to the house before the party starts. You want to ride with me?”

  I nod and watch my shuffling feet as I meet up with her.

  “Your mom already left, and I told her I’d watch out for you,” Lisa says. She looks at my face. “Wow. That bad of a night?”

  “My boyfriend broke up with me.”

  “Ugh. What a jerk!”

  “Yeah, he brought his new girlfriend tonight.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “Nothing. He acted like we’d never been dating anyway. I’m so sick of guys treating me like this.”

  “Come on. We’ll go back to my house, get drunk and forget all about this.”

  Sounds like the prescription for most of my evenings these days.

  Lisa has some cheap beer in the front seat of her car. By the time we get back to Ryan’s new apartment, I’m sufficiently drunk. I think I called her ‘Crystal’ at one point, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

  “You want to come see some of my sculptures? Lisa asks. “These are what I’ll be working on while Ryan’s gone.”

  Great. Another reminder of the tour. Not what I need. My inside roil, churning like a bubbling pit of lava. “Sure, I’ll see it.”

  I follow her down concrete steps to the basement apartment, steadying my swaying body with outstretched hands. We walk past Lisa and Ryan’s bedroom and I glare at the guitar in the corner, wishing he’d never learned how to play. Then maybe he wouldn’t be leaving in two days. We could iron this out. We might be friends again. But instead he’s abandoning me, rejecting me. All over again.

  Lisa opens the door to her studio and switches on the light. The whole room is filled with sculptures, some tiny, one as large as a closet, all of them extremely sensual. I catch myself on the doorframe as flashbacks assault me. I’m reeling, scrambling, yearning for air, for purity, for more alcohol to numb me.

  “You like it?” She’s giddy and at least as drunk as I am.

  I stare at the various sculptures of a man and woman entwined. “You’re really good.” Not a lie, but I hate it. I want to get as far away as possible. I want to claw these images out of my head. “Um, I need some air.”

  “Did you drink too much, Miya?” She giggles as she leads me back up the concrete stairs.

  “Maybe.” Although I want more. Anything to black out this night.

  The band members stand around the backyard drinking and chatting. I emerge from the basement apartment, ambling nervously through the crowd to the giant oak tree at the edge of the yard.

  Pressing my palms and my back against the grooved bark, I slide down, pushing away the darkness that tries to envelop me. I can’t face that here. Not here. The sharp bark against my tender skin prods me into the moment. I shut my eyes tight.

  “Why are you sitting all the way over here?” Barry stands above me, beside the tree. “You want to join the party?”

  “I’m content to just observe for right now.”

  He crouches down, yet he’s still so much taller than me. “You’re observing with your eyes closed.”

  I shrug, not knowing how to respond. I liked his big brother gesture earlier, but now I’m not so comfortable with him this close.

  “Well, now that your mom’s not around, would you like me to get you a drink?”

  “Sure.” Anything to have some space.

  He returns with a plastic cup filled with red wine. He sits on the ground and hands it to me. “You sure you’re okay?”

  I roll my eyes and take a sip. How am I supposed to answer that question? “Yeah, I’m fine. You guys played a good show tonight.”

  “Thanks.” He points at the crowd that’s grown considerably larger. “I’m going to visit with everyone.”

  His visit fills a void for a whole two minutes. I watch the band laugh and party, happy to have them so close.

  That old void returns and sits in the middle of me. The band’s about to leave for tour. I take a gulp of the cheap wine. Why do I drink this nasty stuff? It’s not drowning out anything. It all crowds me like it was yesterday, like I’m eleven and helpless. Eleven and rejected. Eleven and dangling over the precipice of life.

  Ophelia drowning. Except this time her brother never notices.

  Why? Why is Ryan always leaving? I never asked for him to hurt me. Did I? Why is he leaving?

  I’m on my feet. I don’t even remember standing, but I’m storming through the midst of the crowd until I stand in front of him.

  “Why are you leaving, Ryan?” My finger is pointed at him. I hate when I do this. Why can’t I just put my hand at my side?

  Disgust crosses his drunken face. “What?”

  “Why are you leaving so suddenly and for so long?”

  “I planned a tour, Miya. You know how hard I worked for this.”

  “But is that the real reason you’re leaving?” O God, don’t let me do this. I’ve had too much to drink. I need to keep my mouth shut. I can’t seem to stop. “Is it because you don’t want to face what you did?”

  “What are you talking about?” He shakes his head as if pleading with me to stay quiet about it.

  But I’ve been so compliant to that plea for so long. My knee jerk obedience has covered over this anger for years. Pleasing Ryan so he’ll just be my friend again has covered over this anger. Pleasing others has cloaked itself as love for years. This volcano rumbles within me.

  “Why don’t you face it?” The shout scrapes my throat. “You remembered, didn’t you, even when I forgot.”

  “I think it’s time to go in, everyone,” Ryan tells the party.

  “Why?” I’m shouting louder, my fists balled tight at my side. “You don’t want them to know how you hurt
me?” I point at the swaying and blurry crowd. I’m drunk. I’m saying this because I’m drunk. Why can’t I just walk away? If I say another word, I’ll ruin everything. “Why won’t you help me fix this? You messed me up and I hurt so freaking bad every moment of the day because of what you did and you won’t help me make it better!”

  Some of the partiers amble down the stairs to the basement apartment, others walk to the front of the house.

  Ryan follows them.

  “Again, you’re leaving! You messed me up and then leave, just like that!” I stagger toward him, fists raised.

  “You’re drunk, sis.” Ryan backs up. “Just go chill out for a while.”

  “While you party and enjoy yourself? I’m tired of being punished for what you did, while you get rewarded!”

  “Don’t do this, Miya.”

  “Don’t do what? Don’t tell everyone what you did to me?” I point my finger at him. And with voice raised, I tell, for everyone at the party and in the neighborhood to hear, what he had done. “You raped me!” My face is hot and my mind screams for me to stop, but I don’t, I just keep telling everyone. “Why do you get to hurt me and then get everyone’s adoration as if it was all my fault?”

  “Get out! I can’t believe you would do this to me! Get the hell off my property!”

  My fist swings and lands squarely in the center of his chest.

  He stumbles back.

  Someone pulls me back. My fists swing wildly, but make no contact.

  “Get off of me!” I yell at whoever it is. “Why does he get to hurt me but I’m the one who’s punished?”

  “You think I’m not punished?” Ryan’s whisper arrests me. “Yes, I hurt you, but I was a kid, a little kid, the same age you are now, but it haunts me worse than I can ever tell anyone.”

  “I’m not a kid.” As in I wouldn’t do the same thing. But am I really sure of that? Have I really been so innocent?

  “Yes, you are a kid, and you’re too drunk for a kid of fourteen. Someone take her home, please.”

  Whoever pulled me back continues to pull at me. It’s Jenny and one of her friends.

  “Leave me alone!” I wrestle my arms free and stumble toward the oak tree. Angry beyond anything I’ve ever felt before, I pummel the bark with my bare fists, while pain, fear and rejection squeeze sobs out of me.