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A troublesome voice repeated the lines of a song calming the intimidating fears evading from my imagination.
Close your eyes let the sunlight shine through your weary lids.
Visions of the morning dew singing your name.
Reminisce in the good.
You will survive the nightshade.
Be a strong soul.
You are bred for brilliance.
Making my way to the campus cafeteria rendering my hungry stomach to an empty abyss. Fellow schoolmates stalked the steps and sidewalks leading the way to X on my treasure map.
First observed Briggs Byington as he exited the boy’s lavatory. He shined, inklings made me furious that my knowledge of him catered to gossip. The boulder of a boy, lived up to his gargantuan name. His eyes round with concern, the destructive personality gravitating towards me, wanting me to make friends with the man behind the wounds and tremors. The sweetheart expression that lured immature women in was smacked on extra ripe today. Sleekness in his smile quaked my knees and I wanted to be his ultimate casualty.
The epitome of womanizer. Using feminine favors for his benefit. Casted my eyes below the sight of his. I knew for certain he was calculating me in comparison to his other objects of prey. Though his mannerisms read true to the persona of a ladies’ man. I saw a glimmer of kindness, the sugar daddy act, may not be just a cover up. His gaze meeting mine as I shuffled to the nearest lunch line. Time in slow sequences foremost to the careful wink to the unanticipated Amish girl. I shyly took his note of flattery, shoving it in my back pocket for safe kissing. KEEPING, I pledge I preordained keeping, not even a little bit intrigued with his voluptuous lips.
Ate my lunch alone on a corner table nibbling bites out of my turkey hoagie, being mousy in my motions to ward off potential companions. My eyes glued to the counter in which my school books piled. I found my thoughts scattered and detected by one particular object in motion: Briggs. The scene combusts into lovely embers of hopeful thinking. Chapter closed to inappropriate chit-chat going on in my head. Thoughts being unwelcome in the modest soul I once had. Study for quizzes and questions, answering incorrectly. In a manner of speaking, my wits were still wildly alive. A hunch inside seemed as though no matter my answer I would always receive a failing grade, even if it be the right choice in the category.
Gray like the autumn days, the white puffs of clouds missing from the dimmable sky. I found myself in a daydream, a wonderment of opportunity. In my own circle of trust I let the very deep desires evolve into madness. Consciously giving a ton of effort in the possibilities of becoming more than a shunned Amish.
A stroll along the sidelines of stunning gardens I created with my mind control power, sprouting individual bulbs out of the dirt. Experiments grew wild as the scientist in me bred harmonious flowers with fruit of all genders. Muteness taking over the struggle going on inside me. My form relaxing, the temptation to bring up worries almost evident but I denied its seduction. Tranquil surroundings giving aide to the wounded solider I called dignity. Bowing my head in agreement of the peace treaty to go forth.
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Knock, knock!
Thunder struck outside the apartment door, gliding upon the britches. The lightning igniting childhood suspicions. Positioned alone in the living room watching the most delirious horror movie of the century. Waiting, I suppose for that someone I didn’t need the recollection in receiving.
The next great demonic villain pronounced upon the fuzzy screen. Tonight, the holiday for hallowed souls.
Breeched by the impact as the front door had.
“Hello?” The external personage shouts. Place the bowl of mac & cheese onto the ottoman. Struggling with the stubborn handle I open the plank of wood to find a drenched boy dripping.
“Hello?” I questioned back politely. Appearances from roommates’ were irrelevant; stomaching the awkward statement of stranger danger. Declared to become the first lovely brunette to fall victim to this crazy man’s demented calling.
“Hey car died half block back that way and my apartment is twelve roads north. Could I use your phone, to call for a tow?” He gripped the outskirts of his shoulders, shivering with neediness. Unappeased as I was, I stood aside welcoming him into the cave.
“Of course.” Judgments sidewise, I was alone, so was he.
“Thanks.” He followed to the kitchen, where a pair of lips hung as a cordless phone.
Back onto the purple couch our studio acquired as permanent property.
“The phone lines aren’t working.” An echo sounded as the phone slammed back into placement.
“Oh yeah, there aren’t any landlines.” Motioning at the plastic telephone recently dialed; a decor item fellow mates purchased.
“Why didn’t you say that before?” I didn’t mention it, because the guy asked for a phone. I gave him one. He didn’t inquire if there were strong communications to the outside world.
“Let me get something to dab yourself dry.” Returned with a warm towel.
“Thanks.” The soaked t-shirt was sticking to his masculine body. I wasn’t good at this odd incident and from my awkward motivation to make this scene less uncomfortable I looked at the damp pants clinging to his flexed thighs. Laughter erupted from his gut shooting out.
“What are you watching?” Shaking off the excess water. Pause button on the screen; engaging in conversation.
“Crimson Expiry the 6th or 7th.” Placed comfortably back onto the cushions, hiding kneecaps under the comforter.
“Mind if I join you? Sleet is coming in sheets.” A shrug for as an answer, making the communication flow better. He sat on the cushion next to me. Should I put my arm around him? Wait! No, Trae, guys do that to their blonde female contacts, not to the last of the Mohicans. Stop talking to yourself, undoubtedly he could mind-read every word.
“Where are your roommates?” Glances made around the empty room.
“Bobbing for apples at an unofficial Halloween celebration.” I got up to retrieve him his own bowl of mac and cheese, with kiwi strawberry pop.
Inclining on a friendship.
He gladly accepted.
“Didn’t you want to go out to the parties?” He tugged at the wet jeans. Should I get fresh clothes, would their length fit this colossal good looking guy?
“Not my thing, besides I don’t need to go looking for trouble when it comes knocking on my front door.” Blush colors formed on my cheek bones. I tried obediently to focus my attention on the ending plot of blood and gore.
“Oh yeah? Not much of my thing either. I was headed to the grocery store. I like it better here though.” He sucked on the foam escaping from the rim of the can.
Movie sequences went on cue, everybody ended up dead. There was no need for survivors in this type of show. No one needed to explain to the police or go on living in torturous fear of what lurked beyond in the shadows.
The room stayed quiet for several minutes, the odd tones of screams and sirens rushing through the slides of film.
“My name is…” He held the bowl of macaroni tightly with the left hand. I could see the round curvatures hinting at blood flow, muscles smooth.
“Briggs Byington.” I never looked away from his gaze. Wobbling his head at an angle. I think now that maybe my response was too quick.
“You’re all the girls converse about in this household!”
“Well that is unsettling!” A grin in my direction.
“If you knew how my roommates talked about you or boys in general it’s very unsettling!” Forces joined with his side of the uncomfortable spectrum.
“’Briggs. Is that short for something?” Acknowledgments made at my own shortened sort.
“Nope, just Briggs. Or take him to the brig! Or bridges without the whole D.” He grinned like a son of a gun. A slap on his right knee, he was excited to be share on his name tactics.
“Sounds piratical!”
“Oh you haven’t the tiniest hint of how pi
ratical I can be, you scrounger!” His coded voice tempting me with humorous laughter.
“I’m sure you make kaput lovers walk the blank!”
“Only cracked modern ones. I wouldn’t dream of letting you walk off the high ledge.” Winking at the playfulness in my tone. Shyness in my smirk gave way to fresh speech.
Laughing together in introductions of our names.
“Honestly my first name is that of my Aunt’s former title. She is superficial and gaudy beyond conviction. You’d love her! My earlier girlfriends loved shopping and going to the spa with her. Now that I say it out loud, they may have only dated me to go shopping with Aunt Macee…” Eyebrows in deep frustrations. He spoke of girlfriends like I was the next one to fill the position for the one who had miraculously gone missing.
“She sounds wonderful. I steer far of shopping malls. Speckled nails and done up toes aren’t my forte. Sorry to inform you of the letdown.” I couldn’t be his GF, even though my insides pleaded for Brigg’s companionship.
“Damn, I looked forward to the day you could dishearten my attractions for you.” Damn. Only reading it in the bible, hearing it out in the open made my toes quiver. A lightning bolt struck miles away from here; God must hear him swear.
“Why did your aunt name you?” I pried into his life story like bake beans on the Sabbath.
“My mother chose the easy way out and overdosed before going into labor with me. Luckily they saved me in time to obligate addiction tendencies and everything else potential babies would want to handle in their lives.” For a couple of shocking moments the hole I ate with was left open, mashed up noodles out on display.
“Your mother gone to rest young of age?” We both carried grief from the loss of admired ones.
“Yeah. The day before I was born she celebrated too much on her 21st birthday.” Both of us witnessing that monumental day for ourselves.
“Do you have pictures of her?” Those were the memories in which my lifestyle abandoned. All I had left of those were a faded image on glossy finish paper.
“Here I keep one on me. My aunt likes to hide things about her. Her name was Scarlett James. Fiery red hair and the greenest of emerald eyes. Good thing my genetics skipped the whole ginger trait, how terrible that might be. Welcome to the World, both your parents are dead from causes of impractical pleasure. Not only are you an orphan, you also have the spawn of Satan resting upon your lovely noggin.” Confessions of truth in first minutes of meeting. In my mind he just needed a friend a similar soul who could understand the hardships that came with trying to love those loathed by our guardians.
I took comfort he could cause such a humorous tone when speaking of ill subjects. It comforted me and let me know it was okay, he would be alright. A smile or two only offered at each interval of a pause or quirky comment.
Photo of his mother slipped between my fingertips. I clenched on to it, hoping the wind and rain would not vanish the only identity he had for this woman.
“She’s gorgeous!” And she was, the smiling soul staring back, had ambitious dreams in her strut. Happiness sparkling on her white teeth.
“Those blissful times came before the addictions and sex with unmentionable men.” Addiction shocked me, now the sex with unmentionable men sent panic to my pulse.
“Oh, I see.” Casual, act casual. Act like nothing alerts you, pretend you’ve overheard this all before and your relatives go wild every weeknight.
In fact I use too.
“My father, a meth addict, his fate the same as hers only months earlier. How they found out he was the sperm donor I don’t know.” Conclusion of his birth in this presently nasty world even more tormenting than I figured possible.
I wondered the truth behind his awful words. Briggs turned and glanced at me through the corner of his oval perception. Honesty ringing correct of earlier facts stated.
“Oh how very troubling it’s to listen to. Your adjustments must be moderately bothersome.” Taps upon my fingertips letting me know to calmly discuss the condition.
“I’ve accomplished thus far. Thank you for your concern. Am I ever going to get to catch that nickname of yours people whisper about?” Making attempts to connect to my lifestyle now.
“Trae Lae. I am.” Stupid! In formation to entertain, forgetting I stood not on the ground of the circus tents but on the apartment’s stained carpet.
“As in a dinner Tray? And lay, like lay down?” I shook my head politely. Briggs aimed at putting two and two together hitting bull’s-eye every time.
Conclusion made that we only had some choices for naming children. All having to do with inanimate objects and things used as dinnerware.
“Want me to get you more?” Gestured at the ceramic bowl.
“Okay.” I realized my empty bowl no longer filled with luscious gold noodles in it. I stayed positioned unsure if I should get more or if I could pretend to eat the air.
Yes, I gave the go-ahead.
“Where did you come from?” My mother’s womb I speak silently.
“Utah, Arizona, Arkansas, Minnesota, South and North Dakota, Pennsylvania, Alabama, North Carolina and South.” I avoided name the place of my birthing record; did he want that information?
“Wow. Okay, don’t need your whole life story, Trae!” He gestured at a silence rampage. I removed myself from the blame.
“You?” Knuckling under my own intensions of companionship.
“Utah, too.” He was flipping out his cell phone waving it around.
“We go to the same university. You think we would’ve bumped into each other?”
“With the other 10,000 students? Just a matter of time.”
I moved away, nervous about the connection that being created.
“Aren’t you Amish?” Spotting an Amish on modern soil, must be like seeing an albino donkey.
“I was raised Amish. My family lives in Indiana.” He was wondering if it was the two named relationship Amish folk toke casualty too; like those of Mary Anne or Martha Sue. Although, I was supposed to come out a Rebecca Jean, I did not follow anyone’s plan. My name was clearly a misguided notion Levi took as a try for another son.
“Indiana has the 3rd largest population of Amish folk.” Surprising nobody with that fact.
“Amish, buggy and a steed.” Hummed to the juxtaposition.
Sworn in holy oath that I saw him run out that front door, leaping away from this strange girl who had experienced not too much more than rule breaking. When opening my eyes, he was still standing there.
“Really?” The darkness lifted and we were gleaming.
“Honest to God.” His eyes flickered at the mention of Him. I swear eventually maybe later that night, I would regret making him walk out the door.
“Why did you say you were from 4 different states?” He made conspicuous soap bubbles under his chin, trying to be funny. Don’t play with soap, I thought. I couldn’t help but smile either.
“Because you asked where I came from and those were the latest states I lived in.”
“All of them?”
“Every single one. North and South!”
“You just might be on the top list of interesting people I should get to know.” Quick quirks made our first greeting spectacular.
“Trae Lae, how is that remotely traditional?”
“Tracey Aliza.” I confessed the real name.
“Tracey Aliza, Tracey Aliza.” Mulling over the vowels sand constants, tasting the pronunciation with his tongue.
“Do Amish people not go to universities of their own? The student body is stir crazy about you being here at the Mormon college.” His cavernous imploration to inform him more of where I came from.
“WE stop schooling around the 8th grade. We continue education as you would an internship in a specific field; carpentry, farming, those sorts of expertise.”
“Sounds easy.” His voice confirming every conjecture the outside world thought we indeed did. Women sat around with needle
and thread sewing socks for future children. While the menfolk produced moonshine by the river, taking a break from farm work and higher gender duties.
“Yeah, I suppose.” Connection with my hand, one finger lingering down the lines I had been shaped with. I pulled away instinctively. We aren’t allowed to touch, as if they were about to engage in that activity. They were never going to touch as long as I felt this pounding deep in my stomach lining.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, pounding on your door.” He got up moving his body around the room trying to figure out the best way for an escape.
Moved away from the front door hoping in time he would learn how to use it.
Raindrops quietly stopped. Visions of outside seeped into the living room window.
“Looks like the rain has completed its cycle. I should get going?” He looked at me as if it were my question.
“Guess so.” It was sour on the tips of my lips, clenching them together, no other mistakes would be made.
“Do you think I could see you again?” He wanted this; eagerness in his eyes.
“Um... yeah, of course.” My hands tangled in the wavy hair.
He shook his head, agreeing with my statement.
“I will see you around campus.” He was hopeful for our outstanding friendship.
He began to exit the door and I realized that I wanted to go with him.
I had no reason to scramble to that action.
“I could walk you, if you wanted company.” I moved my lips against the pearly whites. He didn’t say a word.
“Better yet, I need to finish an essay for math class.” I looked away trying to find evidence of this so called essay. Crap! Did I say math?
“I’d like that. If you would go with me on my journey home.” He held out a hand as if he were asking me to be Cinderella on this darn carriage ride. I should never speak. In fact I was mute to the surrounding world. Inside, though, I could definitely spill a thing or two. I could confess to my own company why my roommates were never going to get married. As much as they wished, hoped, prayed to their loyal God to bring them Prince Charming.
Focus attention on something other than the male figurines that happen to stroll by the kitchen windows every day. Their careers might be a decent area to start with. I doubt they require the credentials to qualify themselves beyond the potential housewife title. No I am not demeaning women who lead their bodies to the breeding grounds every year or so. If you want to be pregnant the rest of your life, try investing in something like a cancerous tumor. Their presence can last years on end, just ask Queen Mary I. This dampens feelings in many cases, well I am speaking the part of my mind we all own the right in expressing; the whole cranium. Now I am for sure going to paradise prison.
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The Circus in Me Page 5
