Believe it or not, I am alive. And here is the fourth chapter.
After a brief period of stumbling over both my own two feet and the floor, I made it to the couch; the stumbling caused partially by the fact that I kept my reddened face parallel to the floor, but mostly from the sheer awkwardness of the moment. Not to mention the knowledge that I knew I'd react like this before I even did. Believe me, I was no stranger to awkward moments.
Anyways, I managed to make it without injuring myself and/or others with my embarrassed shuffle. Quite a feat, if you ask me. Usually something (or someone) is knocked over, things are broken, inanimate objects run into...I plopped down next to Taylor, who sat on my left. A second later, Jean took her seat to the right of me. I was fidgety, as I always am when I'm put in uncomfortable situations. I went back and forth between anxiously rubbing my knee and fiddling with a strand of my hair, each nervous habit taking place about, oh, 2 seconds apart. My eyes darted nervously to the faces of my new 'friends'. Jean folded her hands together and rested her elbows on her knees. Looking to me, she smiled and shook her head. Even though she said nothing, it meant, Relax. Nobody saw that, even though we both knew that someone did. I was naive, but I wasn't totally socially inept.
Taylor, meanwhile, remained silent, (quite a shock, I know) and was too focused in scoping out the room. Way too focused. I almost pitied the man who dared to wander within Taylor's range. There was no escape from that. It sort of reminded me of the way the lionesses stalk a herd of prey out in the savannah; sneaking surprisingly near to the unaware group before her with bold, yet careful, steps. She chooses an area to hide herself in, remaining completely out of sight while she has the perfect view. She examines them with unsurpassed patience despite the burning anxiety that gnaws at her. Then, after narrowing down her prey to the youngest or the weakest, she waits for that poor sucker to come just a little too close. And pounces with her claws out and no intentions of mercy. Jesus. That must've been her equivalent of a watering hole.
After a couple of minutes watching a tensed-up Taylor eye anything that walked past, I noticed that the red-head, Vickie, had gone. I looked around the rectangular room for her, and within a couple of seconds had spotted her wild orange hair. She was doing something...but with her back to me I couldn't tell what. I let out a deep sigh, which made Jean glance in my direction, but I pretended not to notice. Instead, I was starting to see this Korova for the first time. The walls, the floor were all black, and contrasted well with the white couches and decor. Well, if you could call it 'decor'. Several statues of women stood in the Bar. They were on their knees, arms spread out and chained to the wall behind them. Each of them were nude and they had an expression of, um..."surprise". I was never a sheltered child. I got the drift. I figured they were there purely for appearance. Their presence never bothered me, and even then did not. Yeah, yeah, yeah, boobs, so what? I'm not easily offended. All the while, as I was surveying my new surroundings, I still felt those same two blue eyes bore into the side of my head. I ignored them, or at least I acted as if I did. I doubt he believed me. "Now, now, Kate," he'd say whenever I'd playfully fib to him about something, anything. "Don't you think you ought to give me a malenky bit more credit than that? I know you too well, I'm afraid, for that to slide." It was true. I'd never managed to get anything by him, not once. Even with more important issues. Of course, I'd never seriously lied to Alex. At least not in a way that would hurt him, but rather in some attempt to protect him. And occasionally the both of us.
As I desperately tried to give him the cold shoulder (though I don't think it counts if that person remains as the main object of your thoughts in such an intense way), I looked to the other teenagers, or, as I would learn a little later on, the other Nadsats. All of them stared blankly at the wall before them. Or the floor. Or the ceiling. I looked down to their hands, where they each grasped a glass of milk. This confused me. We didn't have anything like the Milkbar back in America, so that was the first time I'd ever seen anything of the kind before. Though I said I was not a sheltered child, I'd never done anything like drugs. Sure, I had friends back in the States who were into that kind of thing, but it never really appealed to me. I just had no desire to do it. Believe me, if I had, I would've done it. My parents and I had a good relationship at that point, but I was no "Daddy's Little Princess" or any crap like that.
It was then that Vickie made her way back over to the couch. Jean looked up at her and Taylor, with much reluctancy, abandoned her man hunt, sticking her hand out angrily as if waiting for Vickie to hand her something. Vickie rolled her eyes in disgust at the blonde, roughly shoving the glass into her outstretched hand. "Thank you," Taylor said curtly, clearly unhappy with the interruption that had been made in her evening prowl. Vickie turned away with an aggravated look on her face, and handed another frosty glass to Jean. With a polite nod and a smile, she accepted. Then it was my turn. Vickie turned her ivy eyes to meet mine and offered up a gleaming glass. I only hesitated a moment before taking it. As I pressed my lips against the chilled glass, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smile.
* * * * * * *
I hurried down the empty sidewalk towards the apartment building. Or my...home. I hadn't gotten used to that just yet. I could faintly hear the acceleration of a car over my frenzied thoughts, and I vaguely registered the fact that it was Taylor and the other two. When we had left the Korova, we thought it'd be best to keep this experience hush-hush. From the family, at least. I didn't think they'd necessarily approve. Neither did the others. So, for both my sake and the sake of my parents content, peaceful sleep at night, they dropped me off at the end of my street to foot it home in case my parents might happen to see. I didn't mind the walk. The apartment we lived in was in a nicer part of town, where any real kind of trouble rarely occurred. Well, unless you count the occasional scandal, affair, or scuffle between spouses. You know, typical bored housewife gossip trash. Not only did I feel much more secure in this neck of the woods, but it gave me time to get my story straight. I only hoped it would hold up against two prying parents.
An hour and a half later, I was in bed. After an hour and a half fending off upset Mom and Dad and shooing my curious older sister out of my room, I was in bed. She was just as suspicious as they had been, only she wasn't accusing. She just wanted the juicy details. I stared at her in disbelief, and then shut the door in her face. I'd hoped for sleep, but it didn't seem to be coming anytime soon. I stared off at the ceiling. Much like the kids in the Milkbar did. Eyes dim and glazed over, the lids drooping slightly. Conscious, but only in the fact that their eyes remained open. The Milkbar...Various memories of the earlier evening came flooding back. I remember my first few sips. It tasted no different from ordinary milk (excuse me, moloko), nor did it smell oddly. For the first few minutes, I didn't feel any effect. Then slowly but surely, it began to set in. I find that no matter how I try to frame my words, I cannot describe accurately to you what it was like. But I can tell you one thing; from the first moment the drugs, the veshches in that beautifully concocted beverage made their way into my system, I was hooked. I'd be back again for more. There was no doubt in my mind. But that was not the only reason.
Like I said before, I usually sneer at the expression "love at first sight". I will stand by this. I didn't fall for Alex the first time our eyes met that night. You could call it more of a strangely compelling interest, unique and unlike anything you'd felt before, complete with the forceful drive to satisfy said interest. I never said it wasn't complicated. You try summing that up in a more concise way. He didn't stay there much longer after I'd gotten my first taste of the Milkbar's special moloko. I imagine I would've been more dismayed at his exit if I were sober, though I did take notice. Now it's true that when he left, the room was spinning, the words painted across the wall were dancing and a bevy of zebras that came in each and every shade of color under the sun were trotting past. But I was sure that when he passed by, he looked directly at me--his icy eyes still maintaining their power over my breathing rate and train of thought--and nodded his farewell. To me. The same smile on his face. His three companions glanced in my direction as well, one head turning after the other. I'm pretty sure I laughed about the way that looked, probably because of the altered state I was in. But I might've done that anyway. That night, as I lay in bed, I became more sure that that did happen, and it was not merely the wondrous workings of the moloko. With a frustrated sigh, I rolled over and forced my eyes shut, only to see his. As stubborn as I am, I continued to lay there and wait for sleep to eventually overtake and subdue my racing thoughts. It felt as if I'd only has them closed them for a few moments when I happened to glance over at the red glow of my clock. 6:31 a.m. Morning. I hid under my pillow.
