The marquis' smile was a terrible thing to behold. “May his presence be a comfort to you.”
THE END.
THE BECOMING: A CHRISTMAS STORY BY JULIE PALMISANO
“Excuse me.” Ramey maneuvered her three hundred sixty pound girth through rows of freshman. Her psych professor had already started. “Would you move your desk?” she huffed at some guy in the third row. “Come on,” Ramey said scowling down at him. “MOVE IT OVER!”
After squeezing into her own desk, she shook her head at her best friend Karen, “Do you believe these people?”
“Would you keep it down?” Karen rolled her blue contacts. “I know these people.”
Ramey could hear low snickering. She repositioned herself to get a look at the culprits. The Alpha frat boys were sitting on the other side of her. They were crouched low in their desks grinning stupidly. All of them except for Marcus. He occupied the desk just next to Ramey's. He simply looked over at her. He was looking at her with those serious brown eyes of his. She knew him from Psych I. In there he sat next to her and Karen. In there he had been nice.
Ramey could tell that Karen heard the frat boys, also, because she was now jiggling one crossed leg and twirling a piece of bleached hair around and around her index finger.
Karen was a different person, from who she had been, in high school. She use to wear thick bottle-bottom glasses and was actually too skinny. But Karen had blossomed. The problem was Ramey had blossomed, as well, way too much.
Reaching for the edge of her desk, Karen pulled herself forward. She looked passed Ramey at the frat boys. Then, shifting her long legs in the opposite direction, Karen sighed loudly. Ramey had finally gotten it. Her so-called best friend was embarrassed to be seen in public with her.
Karen was just like everybody else.
The sound of snickering continued. “And this is supposed to be college,” Ramey said chuckling toward Karen. But Karen just went on taking notes and ignored Ramey. As if she gave a shit what that professor was talking about. Karen had told Ramey she wanted to study dead languages. What psychology had to do with that, Karen said, she had no idea.
Ramey gazed at Marcus. What a cutie. She watched as he leaned to one side. He plucked a package of vending-machine cupcakes out of his backpack and ripped them opened with his teeth. Taking one out of the package, he shoved it into his mouth. His tongue came out and he licked his lips.
“Yum,” he mouthed too her.
Ramey smiled not being able to help herself. Marcus looked quickly up at the professor. Then in a whispered voice, he said to her, “What are you into?”
“Wha… what did you say?”
“What are you going to do for a career? As good a grades, as you get. You could probably do anything. I like bugs--Entomology.”
His face brightened and he, again, reached into his backpack. First, he pulled a magazine out laying it neatly on top of his desk.
“Don’t you own a reader?” she frowned.
“I like the feel of flipping through the pages and the smell of old ink.”
She nodded at this. Ramey also loved the smell of old ink. She loved to read stale old magazines at the doctor's office. Ramey would read anything. She read potato chip bags, candy bar rappers, and every street signs or highway advertisement flashing around her on her drive to school.
The magazine at the top of Marcus’s stack was called: Entomology in Outer Space. Oh, right, like they had any idea what kind of insects were up there. This magazine was one of the many she came across at the Quicky Stop. This was what she thought of as a rag-mag.
On the cover was a distinguished looking man with glasses and salt and pepper hair pointing to a picture of what might have been an extremely large butterfly or a misshapen angel. The headline read:
SCIENTIST BELIEVE MYSTERIOUS DISAPEARANCE OF YOUNG WOMAN IS LINKED TO EXTRATERRESTRIAL COLEOPTERA, see page 55.
Marcus was still rummaging, unable to see her, so she quickly slid the magazine off his desk and found page 55:
“Doctor Henrique Von Louse from the Institute of Lower Ecosystems has isolated an intestinal parasite which he believes is capable of altering the phenotype of its host.”
“This thing is a new type of Coleopteran,” he said, and when this reporter pressed him, Dr. Louse admitted that it could even have come from a small meteor.
“Give me that.” He snatched the magazine from her placing it back on top of his desk.
She shook her head at him, “Junk science. Pure, unadulterated junk!”
“It’s fun to read though.” he grinned at her.
“Yeah, but you don’t really believe that stuff.”
“No, not literally,”
He went back to rummaging. Eventually he retrieved a small clear plastic box with vents and a handle on top. He knocked on it sending many bugs scurrying.
“I ordered them from that magazine. He opened the lid a little and slid his hand in. Cupping it against one corner, he retrieved several small bugs. Two of them were a kind of beetle with small gold spots on their backs. They immediately took flight.
“Shit,” he said.
“The other ones looked like caterpillars with long silver spines. One began to creep along the edge of his hand. To Ramey's surprise, it had wings also, and it too, took flight.
“Double shit.”
He put what he had left back into the box and snapped the lid shut shoving the cage back into his backpack. He put the magazine in on top.
The bugs had been in the backpack with the cupcakes. “Gross!”
“Ah, they’re just bugs. What’s your major, then?”
She flushed. She shrugged her shoulders and looked away from him back up at the professor. Why was he being so nice to her? It was possible that he was flirting with her. She glanced at Karen who, still, ignored everything but the professor.
Ramey’s stomach fluttered. This was, however, probably because she had not eaten breakfast. Another one of her many attempts to shed a few pounds. A long sound began to slowly emanate from her stomach. ”Gurrr, gurrrrrr.” She remained expressionless hoping Marcus had not heard it. “Gurrr. Gurrrrrrrr, rumble, gurgle.., gurp, gurp.”
Lately these sounds had become more frequent. The more she tried to do what was right; the more she tried to lose the weight, the more the universe and her own body seemed to be conspiring against her.
She had wanted to answer Marcus’s question. But the truth was she couldn’t. There had to be something she was meant for. Everyone else seemed to know who they were, but she simply didn’t. She had gotten no sign, no feeling about anything. Not even her baking hobby seemed right to her. Ramey’s stomach grumbled in response. When it started like this, she could swear she felt something moving in there. And whatever this thing was; it was voracious.
Karen made a face. “How can you be hungry,” she said still without looking.
This made a sort of, sense to Ramey. It was true that she had not eaten breakfast. Therefore, she should be hungry. But it was also true that she did not, in fact, feel hungry. In fact, Ramey did not remember ever feeling hungry. Although in the past, while on one of her crash diets, she had gone without food for more than three days. After, she had binged like a madwoman.
Her stomach made another noise. She looked quickly over at Marcus. Go ahead, she thought, laugh. But he didn't. He only smiled at her.
There was the sound of clearing-of-throat. The psych professor had stopped lecturing. Ramey was looking at Marcus. When she turned to look up at the Professor, the woman’s eyes were already there staring down at her. The eyes lifted and the professor went on lecturing:
“Alright, as I was saying, since its Christmas and I'm in a good mood there will be a free period before the final exam. It will give you a chance to ask any questions you still might have. Oh, be sure to introduce yourself to the people you still don’t know. Anyone’s name could end up on the exam!”
The eyes went back on Ramey. Great, she thought, I’m on the test.
>
“Let’s keep it light,” the woman went on to say. She walked around her desk resting her ass on the front ledge. “Just healthy stuff okay?”
The eyes were briefly back on Ramey. Like most of the world this, supposed, expert believed Ramey's brain was defective because she liked food. Ramey knew that her brain was not the problem. She held a 4.0 grade average. Ramey’s brain worked just fine. The problem was that jerks like this professor thought she needed fixing because she was fat. Ramey had faced that kind of judgmental crap her entire life. Everyone had some flaw; it was just that Ramey's was obvious.
She dealt with the situation in her typical fashion. Without raising her hand, she suggested loudly, “How about I make cookies?”
“Well...” The woman frowned looking at her own feet, “I guess, maybe, since its Christmas...”
“Good, thumbprints it is!”
Thumbprint cookies were a tradition in Ramey’s family. A mixture of flour, eggs, shortening, brown sugar, and butter; rolled over chopped nuts and baked to a golden hue. Like Christmas, they represented all that was good about life, and Ramey made them to perfection.
She had only wanted to screw with her psych professor, but the day of the free period, Ramey found that she was enjoying herself. She stood proudly next to the Christmas cookie platter filled with cookies, which she kept for just such an occasion. People came back for seconds, and even thirds, complimenting her on her generous plate of deliciousness. As yet, however, Marcus had not come near her, not even once. He had stayed in his desk studying--deliberately, Ramey thought.
Karen had not really talked to her either. Not here and not at the apartment the two of them shared near campus. Something was up. Karen had hurried past the kitchen every morning without stopping for a cup of coffee or even a doughnut.
Karen claimed she was studying at the library, but Karen had never studied so much in her life. Next, Ramey thought, she would ask her to move out. But I’m a good friend to her. Shit, I don’t even borrow her clothes. However when it came to popularity by association, Ramey knew, she was a tactical disadvantage.
While Ramey stood by her cookies, Karen was on the other side of the classroom laughing it up with her prettier more popular friends. There were a few of the Alpha’s around Karen as well.
Ramey glanced over at Marcus still in his desk. What a fake, Ramey decided-all of them. She looked down at her own desk: at the half-empty brightly colored Christmas platter, she kept specifically to hold her thumbprints. The cartoony image of Santa smiled inanely despite the fact that he was being squashed beneath half a pile of cookies. Ramey felt like an idiot. This would be a new low. Suddenly she wanted a cookie.
No, I’ll blow my diet.
Karen just had dumb luck that was all. Some people were genetically skinny. No matter how much they ate, they never gained a pound. Karen was like her mother and father. They were both skinny. Ramey's own mother was as round as she was high.
Ramey was just like her mother and her eight brothers and sisters. She looked again at the platter of cookies. Just one.
There were occasions when Ramey ate too much; she could admit that. But she had seen Karen pig out as well. She had also seen Karen refuse food. Something Ramey never did unless she was on one of her diets. But she was always on one of her diets-so why was she so dam fat!”
Just thinking about the unfairness of it all made her crazy, made her want a cookie. Oh, one won’t hurt you. In her mind, she saw her sweet faced mother nod her head. Ramey picked a cookie up off the stack. She was about to slide it quietly into her mouth when she noticed her professor was coming toward her.
She put it back down.
“These are the absolute best--the best cookies I’ve ever eaten!” The professor picked one up.
Ramey watched her recklessly cram the cookie into her mouth. This was the way genetically skinny people could eat.
“Yumm,” the woman said smacking her lips. “I think I'll have a couple more.”
Dam, Ramey thought, there won’t be any left for Marcus. The professor got even closer to her. She slid her arm around Ramey’s shoulder. Ramey cringed as she hugged her blowing cookie dust in Ramey’s face.
The professor said, “Ya know, these cookies are a work of art! You, my dear, are a true culinarian!”
The professor let go, and turning walked back to her own desk.
Ramey rolled her eyes heavenward. Yikes, she thought. Up at the ceiling she noticed something. It was one of those bugs from Marcus's backpack buzzing overhead. The bug wasn’t long for this world. It sluggishly loped around the room, and then began to bounce off one of the florescent tubes.
Underneath, Marcus was getting up. He walked toward Ramey. He is making his approach, she thought. The bug continued to bounce following the line of the tube over Marcus’s head. Marcus got closer, the bug got closer.
Marcus grinned at her picking up one of her cookies. She saw above him, the bug begin to falter. It fell landing directly on the cookie Marcus was about to put in his mouth. He had apparently not noticed because cookie plus bug went in.
She watched him chew. He briefly stopped grimacing as though he had maybe tasted something, but then he began to speak.
“Ramey if your half as much fun on a date, as you are good, at making cookies; I'd come around for that too!”
Despite the fact that he was talking to her, despite the fact his face flushed, and she could swear she heard his heart beating; despite the fact that this was her wildest dream come true, here is what Ramey said,
“You know you just ate a bug?”
“Uh…” He shifted on his feet. He chewed awkwardly as he slowly began to form words. Umm…”
She could see fragments of bug still in his mouth. There was gold stuff all over his teeth, and the ridges at the roof of his mouth, and the soft flesh on either side--and on his tongue!
He leaned in. “Really,” he said. “Even better.”
Taking a couple more cookies, he turned around and went back to his own desk. Karen's voice was suddenly behind her.
“Alpha's having a Christmas party this Friday. I think you should make your cookies.” Her voice lifted. “And me and you should go!”
So later that week, Ramey found herself at the Alpha party lugging her platter around again. She walked through the front hall. There were a few cardboard decorations taped to the walls, but Christmas was obviously just another excuse for these idiots to get drunk. And all of them were idiots; all of them but Marcus. There was definitely something off about that guy, but he was far from being an idiot. She began to look for Karen. She’d apparently gotten ahead of her.
“Hey Karen,” she yelled into the crowd. “Wait up!”
Ramey peered through the people. She could barely see Karen’s shoulder length over processed hair. She could barely see the blue jean vest Karen had decided to wear after changing her outfit sixteen times. The hair and the vest weaved in and out through bodies. Ramey saw somebody step behind Karen. Oh god, it was Marcus. She could tell for sure it was him. She saw him take Karen’s hand. He guided her around a banister and up a flight of stairs.
Ramey would not be following them.
Karen was not her friend, Ramey now realized. Karen had never, really, been her friend. Karen was a backstabbing, two faced…
Karen knew what she wanted, though: MARCUS. But more than that, Karen knew what she wanted from life. She knew who she was. Karen had told Ramey often enough. She was a Forensic Linguist. All that Karen needed was a degree, a simple matter really, she had said.
Ramey remembered the question Marcus asked her: What are you into. Maybe that had something to do with why he was interested in Karen. That and her tight ass.
Even though Marcus had joked about dating Ramey, she now knew, she was being naive. He was nice to her to get to Karen. Ramey was more like the bugs in the cage. He liked the bugs. He was good to the bugs. In the end, however, he thought of it as being nice. Ramey did not want nice. Ramey wanted someth
ing else. Ramey wanted more.
As yet, however, she had nothing. She was a big fat nobody who just wanted to put the stupid cookies down. She could leave, go back out the front door, slide them onto the seat next to her; take them back to the seclusion of her apartment where she would eat them in private. Let Karen get her own ride home.
No, she decided. Ramey did not have a clue who she was, but she did know she was not a quitter. She had come to the party to have a good time and she, damn well, would! She saw a puny Christmas tree in the entryway to another room. She could probably put the cookies down somewhere in there.
She entered and looked around. There was a coffee table in the center of the room. It held only a couple of crunched beer cans and one stubbed out cigarette. There was a couch next to it. Perfect she thought. A fireplace was against the far wall. Somebody had actually built a fire. It was flanked on either side by two frosty windows. The moon hung full and low in one of them. It was cold out finally. Snow had begun to lightly fall.
After shoving, the beer cans off the table and putting the platter down, Ramey squeezed her ass between the coffee table and the couch.
Plopping herself down, air escaped her mouth in an inadvertent, “Humph!”
This was more like it. She could remain stationary, and still keep an eye out for interesting prospective men. It would be nice to show both Marcus and Karen that they had not hurt her.
People stumbled against the couch bobbing their head to music. Occasionally one of them would glance down, then quickly look away, and walk off.
If things were different, she thought… if she were different…
Ramey began to fantasize that some hot guy would come out of the crowd. Noticing her cookies, he’d stop. “Are these the cookies?” He’d sit down next to her. Unable to control himself, he would grab a cookie. “Oooooooooh so good!”
9 Tales Told in the Dark 2 Page 6
