Status: two students with procrastinating issues, you guess the status.
With a Little Help from My Friends
Native American princess.
This town I live in is a Podunk town. It may have once been thriving and interesting, but technology blew it out of the water. It is lost in the woods. Hell, it is backwoods. Everyone here knows each other. The people were probably born here and stayed here because the outside world scared them.
This town has a diner, two bars, an old film house, a mechanic, a grocery store, and ten odd stores. It has its own elementary and middle school. For high school the kids have to take a bus out to a high school on the outskirts of Seattle. Going to the school worked in the townies’ favor. Kids were frightened by the new lights and sounds. They would graduate high school and come straight back home.
I think I have lived here for two or three weeks now. Maybe more. In that amount of time I have seen everyone that lives in this town. Most of them have learned my name. In a short amount of time I have become a townie. I never had this back in Nevada. If I went down the wrong street in my neighborhood no one would have known who the hell I was. I kind of always wanted to belong somewhere.
I hung around the diner for a couple of days. She wasn’t there. When I want to find her, I can’t. The owners of the diner, Ashley and Toby, said Tiger Lily took some time off. They call her by that ridiculous name. They couldn’t tell me why she goes by that odd moniker. I’ll just live in this fantasy where she is insanely in love with Peter Pan and named herself after the Native American princess.
Abernathy Utivich. What is wrong with me? I am getting my head wrapped around her and don’t mean to. There is nothing to block my thoughts from her. So I decided to buy DVDs from a used shop in Seattle. I stocked up on TV shows. At least I can have something playing in the background. It’ll make the cabin less isolated. The music from my iPod is causing me to ram my head against a wall. It gets old listening to the same songs all the time. Hey Hall & Oates, can you hear me? I can’t go for that, you sons of bitches. No can do.
TV shows are on constant loop on my TV now. It is just as annoying as constant music. There must be something wrong with me. I think I hate life. It probably hates me back. I need someone. Ryan, I need you…
I am annoying and whiney. Tiger Lily must have ran for the hills once she noticed that. I am old, alone, and done for.
Old. Alone. And done for.
--
Bacon sizzles in a pan. French fries were baking in the stove. I was making myself a turkey, bacon, and mozzarella sandwich. That is one thing that I can make well, a sandwich. My mom was a little nuts. She made my family weird food. One time we had a pineapple soup. It was disgusting. But she could make sandwiches like a wizard. They were normal. It is one of the few things I willingly picked up from her, the knack to make good sandwiches.
I guess I am going to live off frozen dinners and sandwiches. Man food. Bachelor food.
There were noises behind me. The TV was playing in the living room while I fiddled with toasting my bread in the kitchen.
“No more of this ‘I’ve got a soul’ crap?”
“What can I say, hmm? I was going through a phase.”
“You’ve really got a yen to hurt this girl, haven’t you?”
“She made me feel like a human being. That’s not the kind of thing you just forgive.”
A girl’s voice overlaps the voices from the TV. “Oh man, I freaking love this show. Good choice, sir.” The spatula in my hand clatters onto the counter. It was Miss Disappearance.
I rush into the living room. All I see is the back of her head. Her gorgeous white hair is tied back into a pony tail. She was watching the TV, or more precisely Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I walk closer to the couch. She was sitting on it, hugging her knees. The door to the cabin was shut and locked out of paranoia. A window to my left was wide open. She crawled into my home.
Her head tilts backwards. “Hi.”
“Yeah, hi,” I frown at her. “Do you know that it is rude to break and enter a person’s home?”
“Yeah, sure. It is against the law and all that bullshit. I am sorry. I can’t off turn a deaf ear to rules. And, dude, if you didn’t want someone to break into your cabin then lock your window. It was unlocked and opened.”
I lean over her. “Did you even try the front door?”
A sly grin is on her face. She redirects her face to the TV. “I loved this show. My older sister watched it religiously. She was a fan of Angel. I am all for Spike. He is such a pansy but tries to be such a bad ass.” She tucks her feet underneath her body. “What are you cooking, sir?”
My body turns and heads back into the kitchen. “Bacon for a sandwich I am making. And I have a name. It is Spencer.”
“Spencer… I don’t calling people by their first names, too mechanical. I think I am going to give you another name, okay? How about Maverick? Or Tum-Tum? Snot Face?”
“You are being too forward,” I say over my shoulder. “You hardly know me yet you are sneaking into my home, dissing my name, and trying to give me a new one. It’s rude and making me uncomfortable.”
Her bare feet make soft noises against the floor. I look over my shoulder and there she is. She was leaning against the wall. “I am sorry. I--I kind of don’t have a sense of boundaries. I’ll leave. Sorry to disturb you, Spencer.” Her snowy hair spins like a cape as she turns to leave. I watch her duck under the window and start to crawl out.
“Wait. Don’t go.”
She slowly slips back inside. She slinks into the kitchen and plops down in a chair. Her eyes stare at me. There is this sad and lonely look in them that makes my knees go weak. “Spencer.” Her voice sounds mournful.
“Please don’t sound so melancholy. It is breaking my heart.” I think I meant it in a sincere way. It didn’t sound sincere. It sounded like my joking, sarcastic voice.
It didn’t bother her. It actually made her cheer up. Her body bounces over to me. “So, how long have lived in Tacoma, Washington?”
“Is this the part where we finally get to know each other?” The girl eagerly nods. “Um, not long. I am not even from here. I have been in Washington for less than a month.”
“And originally from?”
“Vegas, baby.”
A laugh escapes her pretty lips. “Dork,” she mutters. She leans against the counter. I remove the bacon from the pan and lay it on top of my open sandwich. “I’m not from here either.” There is a large enough pause for me to say something but I don’t. If she wants to talk about it, she can. I am kind of afraid of her talking about her suicide attempt. Ever since the receptionist at Dr. Monahan’s office told me that I have been on edge about seeing Tiger Lily again.
“I am originally from Oklahoma, Nebraska,” she continues. “Not much to do in that town.”
I take a sideways glance at her. It might have been the way her head was tilted back or the lighting, but I saw it. There was a discoloration on her neck. I haven’t noticed it before because her erratic hair was always in the way. But her hair was completely out of the way. It was thin line that extended from perpendicular to her ear to over the bones in the middle of her neck. “Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath.
Her eyes dart towards me. “What’s up?” I try to look away as fast as I could but she noticed. The girl looked like she had been struck across the mouth. “Right. I should go. Yeah, sorry to impose and all that.” Her body slips away. I grab her wrist.
“Stop trying to leave me. Something is wrong. Do you… like, do you want to talk about it?” This question has worked wonders on my friends. I only need to say it once and they will gush. Their mouth will open and won’t stay close. Ryan was a little more reluctant than others. He closes people off like a magician. People might be wondering how I became so cold and distant. Well, look no further than my best friend. I can read him, so he doesn’t need to talk. But still, I would like the guy to actually tell me what is making him moody than making me hunt. I think, and this is the therapy talking, I am clamming up and acting up because I want him to react. It is sad that I am doing all of this for his attention, right?
Her hair whips side to side in her ponytail. “No. No, Spencer, I don’t want to talk about it.” Her body tries to keep moving away from me. I keep a firm grip on her.
“Well, you don’t have to go because of that. Stay. I’ll make you a sandwich or whatever you want.”
“You really don’t have anyone else, do you?” The gypsy girl gives me a lopsided grin. “I’ll take a salad, if you don’t mind.” She hops into the living room, jumping over the back of the couch.
I stick my sandwich in the microwave so it stays warm while I fix her a salad. I just rip up lettuce, chop tomatoes, toss in some stale toast, slice carrots, and throw it all into a bowl for her. I bring out her salad and Ranch dressing then dash back into the kitchen to get my sandwich and fries. When I come back into the living room she is sitting on the floor. Her legs were folded into a pretzel shape with the bowl of salad sitting on her lap. “Hey, Tiger Lily, can I ask why you are called that?” I sit down on the edge of the couch.
Her body scoots closer to me. She angles half her body to me and the other half to the television screen. “Well, it is my middle name. Sort of.” She sets the fork down in the bowl. “My full name is Abernathy Lily Utivich. But when I left good ol’ Nebraska I also left Abernathy Lily Utivich.” A soft wash of sadness sweeps across her face. “So I ditched that name for Tiger Lily Utivich. Couldn’t forget my Jewish roots.” She pushes back a few stray strands of hair. “Yeah, sorry, off track. Anyway, I stole it from Peter Pan. And it works pretty well for my real job, tattooing.”
Just like I thought. Score one for Spencer Smith. But minus a point for not guessing she is a tattoo artist. I would have never been able to tell, though, since she doesn’t have any visible tattoos.
“That is pretty cool. I used to love that movie as a kid. Tiger Lily was my second favorite character. She was cute.”
“Who was your first favorite?”
“Peter Pan, of course.” I sink lower into the couch. I pick up my sandwich and take a big bite out of it. Time slowly passes. “Man, I forgot how awesome this show is.”
“Right?! Same here until I saw it on your TV. Good taste, gorgeous.” She leans back against the bottom of the couch. “Best friends forever?” Her head tilts back in my direction.
I already have a best friend forever even though I secretly wish his death almost every time I see him. I wonder how he is doing in LA. He hasn’t called yet. Fuck, no one has called me yet. It has me slightly anxious and wound up because this means they don’t need me. I have written each of the guys a letter but haven’t bothered to send them. What is the point?
“Yeah, sure. Best friends forever, Tiger Lily.”
This town has a diner, two bars, an old film house, a mechanic, a grocery store, and ten odd stores. It has its own elementary and middle school. For high school the kids have to take a bus out to a high school on the outskirts of Seattle. Going to the school worked in the townies’ favor. Kids were frightened by the new lights and sounds. They would graduate high school and come straight back home.
I think I have lived here for two or three weeks now. Maybe more. In that amount of time I have seen everyone that lives in this town. Most of them have learned my name. In a short amount of time I have become a townie. I never had this back in Nevada. If I went down the wrong street in my neighborhood no one would have known who the hell I was. I kind of always wanted to belong somewhere.
I hung around the diner for a couple of days. She wasn’t there. When I want to find her, I can’t. The owners of the diner, Ashley and Toby, said Tiger Lily took some time off. They call her by that ridiculous name. They couldn’t tell me why she goes by that odd moniker. I’ll just live in this fantasy where she is insanely in love with Peter Pan and named herself after the Native American princess.
Abernathy Utivich. What is wrong with me? I am getting my head wrapped around her and don’t mean to. There is nothing to block my thoughts from her. So I decided to buy DVDs from a used shop in Seattle. I stocked up on TV shows. At least I can have something playing in the background. It’ll make the cabin less isolated. The music from my iPod is causing me to ram my head against a wall. It gets old listening to the same songs all the time. Hey Hall & Oates, can you hear me? I can’t go for that, you sons of bitches. No can do.
TV shows are on constant loop on my TV now. It is just as annoying as constant music. There must be something wrong with me. I think I hate life. It probably hates me back. I need someone. Ryan, I need you…
I am annoying and whiney. Tiger Lily must have ran for the hills once she noticed that. I am old, alone, and done for.
Old. Alone. And done for.
--
Bacon sizzles in a pan. French fries were baking in the stove. I was making myself a turkey, bacon, and mozzarella sandwich. That is one thing that I can make well, a sandwich. My mom was a little nuts. She made my family weird food. One time we had a pineapple soup. It was disgusting. But she could make sandwiches like a wizard. They were normal. It is one of the few things I willingly picked up from her, the knack to make good sandwiches.
I guess I am going to live off frozen dinners and sandwiches. Man food. Bachelor food.
There were noises behind me. The TV was playing in the living room while I fiddled with toasting my bread in the kitchen.
“No more of this ‘I’ve got a soul’ crap?”
“What can I say, hmm? I was going through a phase.”
“You’ve really got a yen to hurt this girl, haven’t you?”
“She made me feel like a human being. That’s not the kind of thing you just forgive.”
A girl’s voice overlaps the voices from the TV. “Oh man, I freaking love this show. Good choice, sir.” The spatula in my hand clatters onto the counter. It was Miss Disappearance.
I rush into the living room. All I see is the back of her head. Her gorgeous white hair is tied back into a pony tail. She was watching the TV, or more precisely Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I walk closer to the couch. She was sitting on it, hugging her knees. The door to the cabin was shut and locked out of paranoia. A window to my left was wide open. She crawled into my home.
Her head tilts backwards. “Hi.”
“Yeah, hi,” I frown at her. “Do you know that it is rude to break and enter a person’s home?”
“Yeah, sure. It is against the law and all that bullshit. I am sorry. I can’t off turn a deaf ear to rules. And, dude, if you didn’t want someone to break into your cabin then lock your window. It was unlocked and opened.”
I lean over her. “Did you even try the front door?”
A sly grin is on her face. She redirects her face to the TV. “I loved this show. My older sister watched it religiously. She was a fan of Angel. I am all for Spike. He is such a pansy but tries to be such a bad ass.” She tucks her feet underneath her body. “What are you cooking, sir?”
My body turns and heads back into the kitchen. “Bacon for a sandwich I am making. And I have a name. It is Spencer.”
“Spencer… I don’t calling people by their first names, too mechanical. I think I am going to give you another name, okay? How about Maverick? Or Tum-Tum? Snot Face?”
“You are being too forward,” I say over my shoulder. “You hardly know me yet you are sneaking into my home, dissing my name, and trying to give me a new one. It’s rude and making me uncomfortable.”
Her bare feet make soft noises against the floor. I look over my shoulder and there she is. She was leaning against the wall. “I am sorry. I--I kind of don’t have a sense of boundaries. I’ll leave. Sorry to disturb you, Spencer.” Her snowy hair spins like a cape as she turns to leave. I watch her duck under the window and start to crawl out.
“Wait. Don’t go.”
She slowly slips back inside. She slinks into the kitchen and plops down in a chair. Her eyes stare at me. There is this sad and lonely look in them that makes my knees go weak. “Spencer.” Her voice sounds mournful.
“Please don’t sound so melancholy. It is breaking my heart.” I think I meant it in a sincere way. It didn’t sound sincere. It sounded like my joking, sarcastic voice.
It didn’t bother her. It actually made her cheer up. Her body bounces over to me. “So, how long have lived in Tacoma, Washington?”
“Is this the part where we finally get to know each other?” The girl eagerly nods. “Um, not long. I am not even from here. I have been in Washington for less than a month.”
“And originally from?”
“Vegas, baby.”
A laugh escapes her pretty lips. “Dork,” she mutters. She leans against the counter. I remove the bacon from the pan and lay it on top of my open sandwich. “I’m not from here either.” There is a large enough pause for me to say something but I don’t. If she wants to talk about it, she can. I am kind of afraid of her talking about her suicide attempt. Ever since the receptionist at Dr. Monahan’s office told me that I have been on edge about seeing Tiger Lily again.
“I am originally from Oklahoma, Nebraska,” she continues. “Not much to do in that town.”
I take a sideways glance at her. It might have been the way her head was tilted back or the lighting, but I saw it. There was a discoloration on her neck. I haven’t noticed it before because her erratic hair was always in the way. But her hair was completely out of the way. It was thin line that extended from perpendicular to her ear to over the bones in the middle of her neck. “Oh my God,” I mutter under my breath.
Her eyes dart towards me. “What’s up?” I try to look away as fast as I could but she noticed. The girl looked like she had been struck across the mouth. “Right. I should go. Yeah, sorry to impose and all that.” Her body slips away. I grab her wrist.
“Stop trying to leave me. Something is wrong. Do you… like, do you want to talk about it?” This question has worked wonders on my friends. I only need to say it once and they will gush. Their mouth will open and won’t stay close. Ryan was a little more reluctant than others. He closes people off like a magician. People might be wondering how I became so cold and distant. Well, look no further than my best friend. I can read him, so he doesn’t need to talk. But still, I would like the guy to actually tell me what is making him moody than making me hunt. I think, and this is the therapy talking, I am clamming up and acting up because I want him to react. It is sad that I am doing all of this for his attention, right?
Her hair whips side to side in her ponytail. “No. No, Spencer, I don’t want to talk about it.” Her body tries to keep moving away from me. I keep a firm grip on her.
“Well, you don’t have to go because of that. Stay. I’ll make you a sandwich or whatever you want.”
“You really don’t have anyone else, do you?” The gypsy girl gives me a lopsided grin. “I’ll take a salad, if you don’t mind.” She hops into the living room, jumping over the back of the couch.
I stick my sandwich in the microwave so it stays warm while I fix her a salad. I just rip up lettuce, chop tomatoes, toss in some stale toast, slice carrots, and throw it all into a bowl for her. I bring out her salad and Ranch dressing then dash back into the kitchen to get my sandwich and fries. When I come back into the living room she is sitting on the floor. Her legs were folded into a pretzel shape with the bowl of salad sitting on her lap. “Hey, Tiger Lily, can I ask why you are called that?” I sit down on the edge of the couch.
Her body scoots closer to me. She angles half her body to me and the other half to the television screen. “Well, it is my middle name. Sort of.” She sets the fork down in the bowl. “My full name is Abernathy Lily Utivich. But when I left good ol’ Nebraska I also left Abernathy Lily Utivich.” A soft wash of sadness sweeps across her face. “So I ditched that name for Tiger Lily Utivich. Couldn’t forget my Jewish roots.” She pushes back a few stray strands of hair. “Yeah, sorry, off track. Anyway, I stole it from Peter Pan. And it works pretty well for my real job, tattooing.”
Just like I thought. Score one for Spencer Smith. But minus a point for not guessing she is a tattoo artist. I would have never been able to tell, though, since she doesn’t have any visible tattoos.
“That is pretty cool. I used to love that movie as a kid. Tiger Lily was my second favorite character. She was cute.”
“Who was your first favorite?”
“Peter Pan, of course.” I sink lower into the couch. I pick up my sandwich and take a big bite out of it. Time slowly passes. “Man, I forgot how awesome this show is.”
“Right?! Same here until I saw it on your TV. Good taste, gorgeous.” She leans back against the bottom of the couch. “Best friends forever?” Her head tilts back in my direction.
I already have a best friend forever even though I secretly wish his death almost every time I see him. I wonder how he is doing in LA. He hasn’t called yet. Fuck, no one has called me yet. It has me slightly anxious and wound up because this means they don’t need me. I have written each of the guys a letter but haven’t bothered to send them. What is the point?
“Yeah, sure. Best friends forever, Tiger Lily.”