The Long Dark Teatime in the Soul
Destiny Islands Tavern. You'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, but that's where she took us that evening. The little tart. She was, what, fourteen, and she could already fake her way into any adult establishment on the archipelago. I guess that's what happens when you're overdeveloped. She probably thought she looked about twenty, and with the labels on the pills she took every night, I'm not surprised. Better partying through chemistry, you know. Kairi was such a little snake.
I could smell the whiskey through her nose. Alas, not her tongue. That part of her was too busy making idle chitchat with all the boys in the room. All the smelly, ratty old college boys. Frat boys. To a one of them, they wore the dirties and sleaziest tee shirts they could dig up in their little dorm closets, the dirtiest and sleaziest of haircuts they could get from their roommates to save a bit of booze money, and the dirtiest and sleaziest of smiles they could throw around to entice young meat into their stale, beer-smelling arms. I hated the lot of them, but Kairi didn't. Figures.
She knew most of them by name. Near the door, blueberry tart dripping out of the sticky fingers of his left hand and strawberry blonde tart draped under his right arm, was Frankie, former high school blitzballer and current academic probation all-star. The blob of unthinking, unfeeling, inebriated flesh adorning about two of the barstools was Kenny. A rat-faced fellow whose eyes never left Kairi's shirt from the moment she waltzed through the front door slunk around one of the pool tables, batting his own cue around and completely missing this week's girlfriend's cue to stop staring. A row of utterly sloshed self-proclaimed gentlemen serenaded Kairi from the bench near the window, insisting—with little argument from anyone—that they've never had a music lesson. The poor bartender could hardly concentrate on pouring another frat boy his gin and tonic with Kairi making eyes at him. He was never her catch of the day, but she knew how to work him a little to get herself a discount.
This time, though, the barkeep lost concentration entirely and dropped his shotglass on the floor. Kairi laughed her faux innocent guffaw and strutted up to the bar between two male patrons.
"Who's going to buy me a drink?" she asked everyone in earshot. About twelve pairs of ears perked up. A part of me winced.
This is not good for me.
A tall guy in greased back hair, a red vest, and pants that would have made John Travolta cry was the first to toss his wallet onto the counter. "It's all on me tonight, babe," he said with about as much bravado as Susan Lucci had on her first dozen trips to the Emmys. He was a new one; neither I nor Kairi had seen him in the bar before, though even from several feet away, I could tell he smelled like he'd never been out of the bar before.
"My, my, my." Kairi's words nearly drooled out of her mouth. Instinctively, she reached her hand out to paw her first catch, though she ended up stroking the back of the wrong guy.
Idiot.
"I'm over here, Toots," Grease Hair said. "This here is just my associate. Say hello, Mortimer."
"Hey," cried the guy getting his back massaged. "My name's…."
"Your name's Mortimer tonight, bub," said Grease Hair, making a large and threatening fist.
Is that the arm she's going to wake up in tomorrow? That thing could strangle her in her sleep without even realizing it.
"Pleased to meet you, Mortimer," said Kairi. "And you, Mister Tall, Dark, and Handsome."
I hate it when Kairi makes that sickening little half gurgle, half growl noise, but she does it whenever she falls madly in lust with a new boy. Which is to say, she does it all the time. And it hurt me.
The pain. The pain! I can't….
"Shut up!" Kairi said. "I mean, what is your name, cutie?"
"Fonzie," slurred Grease Hair.
Liar. And my name's Potsie.
"Ooh, Fonzie!" said Kairi. "I love unique names. Your parents must have been so creative."
What a bimbo! There couldn't have been a thought in that girl's head. Well, there was one. Just one. That one was obvious to everyone who watched her slither up to her prey and wrap herself into his lap. The little tramp even thought she could score points by rubbing her nose against the drunken lout's half-beard. Classy.
It hurts.
"Yeah, they were creative, all right," said Fonzie. "They were creative. They created my opportunity to get beer. I mean, they created my beer. My car. My car. Yeah, they drunk my car. I'm car. Drunk, babe. Did I mention my dad owns a dealership?"
Kairi purred, "You sound like you're just my type."
"Really?"
"You'll sound more like my type the less you talk." Kairi actually began biting the guy on the nose.
Ouch! Make it stop!
Fonzie fumbled with hand in his pocket for a moment, mumbling something that started out unintelligible but eventually turn into, "Can I buy you a drink?" Kairi rubbed her nose against his cheek again and whispered into his ear that he already bought her one.
My chest!
A couple of the other guys decided they'd had enough of the Kairi and Fonzie show, so they challenged the two to a round of cutthroat at the pool tables. Each time Fonzie made a shot, Kairi would give him a kiss, and each time he missed a shot, she'd give a kiss to everyone else in the game. What she got out of that sort of display, I'll never know, but she didn't hesitate to join the game. That meant walking over to the side of the bar where all the cigarette smoke gathered, of course. What's a game of pool without a thin haze to cloud your eyes and a muddle of Dutch courage to cloud your judgment? I don't which was worse.
It burns! It burns!
Every time Kairi sank a shot, she had to… Burn burn burn burn… while chugging half a cup of beer. Each… burn fire hot chest burn pain she had to pour a new glass for everyone at the… too much too much must stop and they'd all chug. It was the sort of game that Jim Bel… make it stop now I've had enough it burns… invented after a late night conversation with a pot-addled Alyssa Milano. I could almost see Kairi transforming into… too much it burns… my eyes. Yes, she had sunk that low. But it didn't surprise…
Stop. This is enough, Kairi. I want out. I can't live like this anymore.
"Who what?"
You heard me. I want out.
"You aren't going anywhere but home with Fon…."
This is not a threat. This is a declaration. I'm coming out now.
"No, you…!"
Riiiiiip! The bar fell silent. Kairi sank back against the pool table. Her neck snapped back, her mouth lolled slightly open, and she slumped to the floor. All eyes remained on her, but one by one, the expressions of the male patrons of the bar went from infatuation to fascination to concern to confusion to horror.
I came out.
I exited my prison through a hole I tore in her chest. For the first time since The World That Never Was, my face saw real air. Real light. Both were filtered through smoke and the stale aroma of fermented drink, but even cheap beer could be like perfume to someone who hadn't taken a breath of her own in so long. Maybe the bar was not the ideal place for me to emerge once again into the world, but it was my opportunity. It was my gateway. It was, at worst, my purgatory.
My escape. I wheezed a few times as I pulled myself to my feet, stretching out my old, stained dress. It was a little tattered now, and it had long ago lost its angelic white color to the countless pollutants Kairi dumped inside her body with little to no regard for who else had to share it, but it was mine. I was happy to be wearing it rather than Kairi's skin.
All of the boys inched away from me. I don't know if they were angry that I'd taken their little strumpet away from them, and I don't know if they were just frightened to see me emerge from my cocoon and spread my wings to the world in such an admittedly blunt fashion. I needed out, and I didn't care what Kairi's brand of boy had to say about it.
And I had my own male companionship to seek. Roxas, I'm coming for you.