Drowning Lessons

MTV babbled nonsense to our disinterest; only Rosie seemed to care about the subliminal messaging and could decipher the language our generation dumbed down to create.

Remember though, children are the future… what a laugh.

“… where are the guys?” My sister yawned, closing her cell phone. Everyone seemed to grunt or shrug. I, however, had no response to offer, verbal or physical. As I rested upon the lounge chair, a dull toothache twisted roughly in my cranium at the shock of sharp sounds. I was just coming off the fresh wrench of a duet between a fast-lipped bull dog and a howling lab rat testing makeup and sticky hairspray over computer-generated beats. I winced at the poorly juxtaposition of what the duo considered a chorus.

“Oh my god, I love this song,” Rosie announced. Go figure.

Minutes passed before anything coherent was said. None of us really had anything to say to each other. Sine time proved the natural occurrence of girls couldn’t be happier with other girls, we were trapped in an awkward, social paradox. Sure, sometimes we had our spurts of gossip or of frivolous matters, such as clothes or hair, but the girls surrounding me had no interest in anything abstract or symbolic. Discussing Freud’s philosophy of the Unconscious would be mere gibberish, so the world decided girls could rely on the universal “Girl Talk” as a fail safe. See, Girl Talk works for few subjects. The fact of the matter is, Girl Talk functions properly when there are boys to be the subject of said talk. That’s the only reason it’s named that; when a sex is discriminated, the topic of discussion must therefore be consumed with them. The boys weren’t around for fresh material. Our Fountain of Gab ran dry.

I stared at the flashing images on the screen, forcing myself to find interest in the “reality” TV show. It was hopeless. I could feel myself losing IQ points by the second. The scratchy irritation of a cough squeezed my breathing shut. It was all I could do to gather enough spit and swallow, the moisture rolling over the suppressed choke.

God, I’m thirsty.

Immediately following my silent prayer, the door to the next room opened and voices were heard. Pretending to pick at my nails as if it were no interest to me, my eyes jumped from one girl to the next: Ashley and Erica sprawled out in the bed straightened like deer grazing in a meadow then snapping to alert at the sound of a twig breaking; Nicole lying on her stomach on the other bed, her hand propping up her head, glanced at the adjoining door and slid the hair that had fallen onto her face behind her ear; and Rosie tore herself away from the soap opera to adjust her top, pulling it lower onto her chest. Pathetic, are we not?

Seconds went by of each of us holding our breaths, sucking in our guts so when the boys walked in at first glance, we all looked remotely attractive. The boys’ voices chattering in the next room were bodiless torture, taunting us in the reality of how dependent we were on them for fun.

“Hello?” Ashley called out, the noise of the TV fading in our thoughts.

“Yeah?” One of them answered. Then Matt and Brian strolled through the door and stood against the wall. They were always like this, deathly afraid of girls. It amused us, but neither of them were really a concern.

Rosie got on her knees and leaned to look inside the empty entrance Matt and Brian had emerged from. “Where’s Corey and Ray?”

“Present,” Ray said as he strutted in behind Corey.

“What’s that?” All the females cocked their heads.

Ray looked down at the weight in his arms. A blue jacket, Brian’s jacket, was settled over the top. “Oh this?… Corey, do you mind doing the honors?”

Corey broke his focus on the TV and gripped the edges of the material. “Ladies and -uh-” He scanned the other guys. They knew what was going on. “… never mind… ta-dah!” And like a magician revealing the tiger in the cage had disappeared, he ripped away the jacket. The girls, even I, gazed at the wonderment that appeared before our eyes. I sat up in my chair, my mind spinning.

Ray was cradling a good-sized cardboard box, but the magic didn’t stop there, no. Inside the box was an assortment of glass bottles wearing colored caps: Blue, red, green, white, black. I didn’t know what they were specifically but I had a tingling in my tongue that told me I would become better acquainted with each of them later.

Nicole crawled towards the edge of the bed, dipping her head to get a better look inside. “Ray… where did you get all this?”

“I know a guy,” he said simply. He then turned to the rest of us, a devilish smile slithering to his lips. “So… who wants to have some fun?” He lightly shook the box, the bottles clinking like bells at Christmas.

To be honest, I don’t remember much of anything that occurred that night. I was told later on that I had had a “Bad Buzz.” I knew vaguely of what that meant. My only impression came from what I had seen in movies: Two guy friends, one down in the dumps and weeping about his problems. The water works comes and he sobs, “I love you, man!” So I nodded absentmindedly at the cliché. I was sixteen, therefore the universe couldn’t touch me. However, the memory was a different story.

My chest expended a cackle upon falling off the bed once again, landing sideways and jamming my elbow. Nothing hurt. I contemplated on whether or not it would be the same if I tumbled down the flight of stairs only a few doors away. Snap. Crackle. Pop. The idea made me laugh harder.

My eyes traced the edge I had fallen from; only a few nameless faces poked their heads over out of curiosity and smiled.

“You alright?” One of them asked.

My amusement had dwindled to a relentless giggle. “… snap-crackle-pop!”

They each raised a brow and disappeared from sight.

“It’s happened; Jane has lost her mind-”

“Again.”

“Ray, how could you give her that much so fast?”

The beige ceiling above became a fixed focus as my eyes glazed over, concentration on trying to comprehend all that was being said.

“It really wasn’t that much. She said, ‘Please,’ and I handed her a drink.”

“Please?” I whispered, my lips wrinkling to something like a smile.

“Jane’s fine-” His Aryan features leaned into view. “You’re fine, right?”

My hand raised above me, and my fingers crumpled into a claw. “A-O-Kay, Cousin Ray Ray.”

His face eased into a worried smile. “Okay… maybe we won’t give you anymore.”

He didn’t have to say what he was cutting me off from. The sudden shock of joy plunging to the pit of my stomach and my tongue shriveling to a sponge told me everything.

“G-no!” I threw my arms in front of me and tried sitting up. A series of huffs and grunts was a sign I wasn’t getting anywhere.

Safe thing to assume about the Intoxicated: When they’re on their backs, they resemble turtles. In order to get up, you must roll onto your stomach and push up from there. It took me several tries to realize this, one involving me succeeding halfway and falling back and dragging the corner sheets of the nicely made bed with me.

As I grunted landing on my stomach, my nose grazed the carpet, lightly scratching. My hands, palms down, slid to my sides and pushed. Trembling, my muscles struggled to take my weight, so (like a cheater) I tucked my knee underneath me, and my push up transformed into a crawl. My elbows locked into place with every advance, as did my wrists when they crossed over each other, occasionally pinching the fatty skin below my pinky. My focus was locked onto the wall ahead of me, the only thing in the room that seemed to bob the least.

Don’t crawl into the wall. My head will not touch the wall.

Somehow after scratching and forcing a useless grip against the smooth surface, I managed to climb to my feet, twisting my torso and falling on to the bed of people. Good thing none of them were in the way or made sure not to be. The floral comforter smothered my breathing, the hot air suffocating.

“… I-I-” A sigh heaved from me, giving up the thought. “More.” My voice eeked out like a pitiful whine.

“What?” One of them inquired. The black created a faceless audience, waiting in the dark for the next part of my act. My mind ran low on creative juices. Their silence whispered to me. Hissing. They still wanted to take it all away from me. Getting up and convincing them wasn’t an option; it was a necessity.

“Jane, you okay?”

In my head a groan wanted out, but a laugh replaced it. My neck turned slightly, the lamps’ glow meeting me with shocking beauty. A tear came to my right eye that witnessed it then. Their voices ruined the moment, and I blinked. The beauty becoming a dull entity. I shook my head to rid myself of the happening and licked my lips.

I need something to drink.

This time around I had better luck with the push up, the bounce of the mattress helping me greatly. My back bent back like string cheese as my neck clicked erect. Faces met mine, sloshing my brain. I had to press my fingers to my temple. When that did nothing, the sharp daggers protruding from my fingertips dragged an apathetic pain till they ran off my face. I wonder if I left a color darker then these rosy cheeks.

My throat stole a gulp. “I-do-don’t-don’t… cut-me-off.” My lips gave special attention to the pronunciation of each word. I thought over their simplicity, and I laughed again.

I’m still drowning.

Heads shook at me. “No, you’ve had too much.”

Lungs clenching, I blurted a, “No.” That wasn’t enough. “I’ll poove et to you…”

“Here we go…”

I scooted back, hitting the wall I climbed. This shouldn’t be this hard. I had the sudden urge to smack myself, to shock my senses to function properly.

“Well?” They expected something; after all I offered it. Why not toss them a routine? So I found independence from the wall, wobbling slightly. My arms stretched out from my sides, and I brought my feet close together. “What is she doing?”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

The trick was to keep it heel-toe-heel-toe.

“Jane?”

Their constant questioning rattled my concentration, but I went on ahead and took a step just to commit.

“Sub-sub-sobriety test.” I expelled a breathy, high pitched droll.

“What?”

“Sobriety test, sobriety test.” Taking deliberate steps in my version of a straight line, I alternated touching each pointer finger to my nose. By the time I made it all the way to the TV, they were pleased and mimicking the fairy princess after a five mile run I created so well in my vocal chords.

My arms lowered and my footing stumbled to a stop. “Sobriety test…”

They howled more and a hand slapped my back. “This girl deserves a drink.”

And that was all I wanted to hear.

That doesn’t sound like a bad night at all but quite pleasant in fact. Did I fail to mention that was the start of the night? Once again I don’t remember much. All I can say is that I’m glad only a few witnessed it.

Mmm, mmm.

A moan rumbled in my throat as I tipped the glass back and the rest of the liquid dribbled past my lips. It didn’t have a taste; none of it did when I got here. I held it away from me and examined the drops clinging to the sides and gathering at the bottom.

“… the glass isn’t half empty, not half full… what do you have to say about this?” Coherence only surfaced in whispers. The answer I was looking for became obvious, prompting a smirk.

“What’d you say?” I looked down and saw Rosie at my feet. With hair knotting in her face, she was slumped on all fours.

Bending over I patted her on the head, messing up her hair more. “Good doggy,” I said loud enough for everyone to hear. I moved to stand straight and laughed in the process. “Such a good lil’ bi-” A hiccup put everything to an abrupt stop. My stomach whined. A surge broke through the tension.

“Jane?”

A wave pumped ferociously in my gut and rose to my chest. I looked around, wide eyed; no one noticed with their own glasses in front of them. Rosie tugged at my pant leg, aggravating a sensation that demanded me to be perfectly still. In my frozen state, she shook me harder and slurred confusion. The wave rushed up my neck and licked at my tonsils. “Oh shit-” My hand flew to cover my mouth. I ripped my leg from Rosie’s grasp and raced to the bathroom, dropping my glass along the way. The movement tempted the rush to go further. Luckily it was unoccupied. I threw myself into the darkness and fell to my knees in front of the toilet. Just as my hand came away, acid polluted the water. The sickening gurgle the it made hitting the surface sent me forcing my eyes tightly shut.

A soothing touch rubbed my back. “Are you okay?”

My arm flung around my side, knocking them away. “Do I fu-fucking look okay?” And more spilled out. I couldn’t control the spasm and jerk of my stomach but once the tears seeped from my closed lids, the burn finally felt good, needed.

Gags turned into heaving and heaving turned into coughs, forcing more out. My body had given up everything, but my mind urged it all to be gone: The booze, Corey and Ray’s cigar smoke, the nibbles of food I’d eaten, the mess of emotions bearing down on me, and the flaws. I kept coughing till my brain felt as if it were crammed into the single vein bulging from my forehead and preparing to explode. A sharp intake sliced through my throat, and I slumped back onto the cool tile to absorb every pound my heart made against my ribcage.

“Fuck,” I panted, rubbing my sweaty hands over my face. I blinked wildly through the tears and saw I had a small audience waiting in the door way.

Even in darkness the spotlight shines bright.

My gaze drifted down to Matt sitting with his back to the tub. He must have been the one with the stupid question. I again did a once over all their faces: They shared the same worried brows and disappointed frowns. My mind switched to the night before where their eyes were bright and their lips struggling to hide rows of teeth. I wanted that now. My cheeks burned more than my scolded taste buds. I couldn’t help it; I had to cry more.

Matt scooted closer. “What’s wrong?”

My head jerked back and forth having a hundred and ten things to say, to scream, to weep. I could have told him everything right there; my conscience was begging for it, but my intoxication wouldn’t allow it.

“Why are you crying?”

Out of the long list, I blubbered, “I-I’m sa-so fat.” The words sounded stupid but true.

A small gasp from above and Ashley knelt down beside Matt. “You are not fat.”

“What do you call th-this then?” My fingers curled under the bottom hem of my shirt and lifted to reveal a pale bulge of skin. In my disgust I grabbed and tugged at it, considering if I pulled hard enough it could be ripped away like a Velcro strap. So tempting.

“Jane, now listen to me.” The demand in his voice obligated me to look up. “You’re a beautiful girl.”

I swallowed back the putrid taste to reply. “Well, ‘He’ di-didn’t think so.”
“He” pertained to the ex from before in the nastiest of break ups. This little episode was the event of a bandage being torn from the skin. Yes, I had someone new to love, but I had vomited that information up along with the supposedly long forgotten past. There was no holding back now.

“Well, then, he’s an idiot if he didn’t see that,” Matt reassured me, unsure of who I was talking about.

My eyes lowered in their swimming hopelessness. Nothing he had to say would help. My focus locked onto the faint, brown lines littering my arm. “… I sh-should have died.”

“Jane, don’t say that,” a third person snapped.

Another jolt in my stomach had me jumping to hug the toilet bowl and avoiding the contents already in it. “And hail to dee porslin god!” I exclaimed with hearty laughter, throwing my head back. My smile gritted, more tears came, and I slumped back sobbing. “Matt, ge-get me smore Bailey’s!”

“I don’t think that’s-”

My head whipped in his direction. “I don’t care what you think. Get me a-a god damn dr-drink!”

He sat back, surprised, and looked to the others for help. The sting of salt water and runny eyeliner didn’t deter me from their crossed arms and rapidly shaking heads.

“Please.” I shifted to face them, my nose draining mucus. “I just want a drink. Please get me a drink.” My eyes were red, puffy, and trembling. The two in the doorway disappeared and only Matt was left, staring. “… and the show never ends…” My arm flung up, and my wrist swayed back and forth as my fingers went lazily along like a maestro leading a melody. I was desperate for a moment for me and my thoughts. Even more I wanted my- “Where’s my Bailey’s?”

“You don’t need anymore-”

“Where’s Erica? I want Erica.” I had sudden desire to have my big sister by my side, comforting me, watching over me like only she could.

“Oh…” A lump formed in my throat. Even she had deserted me. Did anyone want me? More tremors tore through me, and my nails dragged down my face. As hard as I dug them, it didn’t hurt. Oh how I wanted it to hurt. “… Steve- Ca-can I have him?”

“Who?” And then I remembered how unimportant I am. No one knew anything about me. I buried my face in my hands and fallen hair. The feel aggravated me so much that I let the black hole of locked away emotions take me, just swallow me whole. I heard a sigh, and one arm slipped underneath my legs and the other slid around my back. With a small grunt, I was lifted in the air. My shame kept my eyes covered, and a random song kept my mind and ears elsewhere and not on all the horrible things they could be saying about me. Just when I thought I could no longer take the impact on my stomach of him carrying me, he stopped and my body was brought away from his chest. The warmth he gave off left me immediately. The fetal position I felt so comfortable in at the time snuggled into the fluff the bed had to offer. My eyes squinted open; I’m alone in this bed.

“Make sure she’s not on her back.”

“She isn’t; she’s on her side.”

I scrambled to sit up. “Where’s my Billy’s?”

“Here you go.” Ashley squeezed past Matt and Ray with a glass. The light brown liquid splashed up the sides. Below the wet spider legs, my eyes lit up and I reached for the glass with both hands. I took a large gulp and grimaced at the taste. Rage consumed me when I detected the source of the odd flavor. My hold tightened on it, and a growl rumbled deep inside me.

“… this is fucking water!” I screeched, throwing the glassful of lies across the room. Everyone ducked out of the way as it smashed against the wall with the bang of a cymbal. The liquid stained and wrinkled the paper as shards of glass glittered the floor.