Yes! I finished in less than a month, considering this is 2 chapters worth of reading material. It's loooong. And yes... I'm still alive (thanks for checking, lone_fenix xP). THANKS FOR READING/REVIEWING YOU GUYS!! I SMILE AT EVERYTHING YOU HAVE TO SAY!! Here's a quickie: LOL at the choco ex-lax comment, lalalalee :D I miss you too, xpressyourself! Bout time you showed yourself! Mayagray, thanks so much for the reassuring words! 01shane01, let me know what you think about THIS airheadedness hahaha..
*Okay, if you wanna know why I was lagging, blame my beta (River.R) because she threw me a rather addicting fic called "Marshall Daniel's Boarding School for Girls" by stix04 which is on the official SoN fanfic website LOL! Hands down, the most mind-blowing and addicting fic I've ever read! I'm guilty for reading more than I should've been writing. BUT, THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING, RIVER :D
Enjoy the IDIOCY of chapter 4 (There! I said it! lol :P) 6.7.09
**Disclaimer: I don't own South of Nowhere or the characters. I don't own "The Quiet World" by Jeffrey McDaniel. I do own "Silent Crime." Also, please be forewarned that this chapter contains crude, opinionated language about religion. It is not intended to offend anyone, and the views/opinions of the characters do not necessarily reflect my own.
I took a deep breath, snuggling against my cushioned seat. I pulled the small slab of wood up from beneath my right arm rest and placed my notebook on top. Black G-2 Pilot pen in hand. My favorite type of pen.
I flipped to a blank page and put my cell on silent, noting the time.
7:57 AM.
Students continued to filter into the lecture hall… chattering, rummaging through their backpacks, setting up their laptops, thinking. Funny how the general consensus of conversations and thoughts revolved around how ridiculously early this class is. No one likes an 8 AM class. We all swear we were morning people when we had to get up at 6 AM for high school. But once you're in college, your day doesn't start until 11 AM… when you wake up.
And there were only two reasons I could think of on why we're all here at this ungodly hour on a Monday… on every Monday and Wednesday for ten consecutive weeks… same time, same hall: we either really like Personality Theory… or we had poor registration dates, and all the better and/or more interesting classes were filled by the time our registration windows opened, but we still needed the units. Desperation always follows the latter. And I would say the majority of us (if not all of us) were pretty desperate for units.
The noise tapered off a bit as Dr. Steinhaus greeted us a good Monday morning. Nothing good about it. I kept tossing and turning every hour last night, causing me to wake up feeling overly exhausted and grumpy. And to top it off, I didn't get my caffeine fix yet. I usually wake early enough to start the coffeemaker. And stopping by the café would've been a bad idea. I'm so grateful I don't work Monday mornings with that crazy hustle-and-bustle crowd demanding their caffeine elixirs.
"Let's go over the midterm stats, shall we?" He put up the bar graph slide on the projector. "Out of a possible 70 questions, the mean score was 53. The highest score was 67, the lowest 30." I scored a 60 on the midterm, which gave me a decent B. What a relief, too! I'm glad I managed to absorb some information during that overly dramatic, soap opera week I had! Not to mention, he tested us on personality structure theory, the scientific model, and… Freud.
I hate Freud.
He waddled across the stage very much like a pregnant woman would in her third trimester… with one hand on the belly. He started to feel the agony of Monday morning with the beginnings of an ulcer. He reached for his hanky… the same one he uses to wipe his glasses. Except he used it to pat his damp forehead.
"The TA's will go over the test in discussion this week. They'll also provide you with the answer keys. So I suggest you keep them, because a lot of these questions will show up again on the final… in some form or another." Dr. Steinhaus smiled in amusement. It's as if he enjoys torturing his students with tricky, ambiguous questions. But it's just the ulcer talking.
I can tell it's difficult for him to concentrate with that thing flaming up like a raging monster. He reached for his coffee mug. Tsk tsk, Dr. Steinhaus. He should hand the caffeine over to me, rather than feed the fire in his belly!
I slouched in my seat and leaned my head against the back of the chair, knowing it was going to be a long hour and twenty minutes. My eyes aimlessly wandered around the hall to the different computer screens up. Some people actually do take notes… while a good handful play Mindsweeper, view their Facebook and Myspace pages, chat on AIM, or play MMORPG's… like this guy two rows ahead of me. He was joining a raid in Stormwind with his level 62 mage. His mind was getting all into his gamer nerd lingo… thinking about replenishing mana, upping his talents, and switching his specs from Arcane/Frost to Arcane/Fire… while wishing he was at home so he could chat with his raiding party on team speak.
I rolled my eyes.
It's stupid that these people come to class at the butt crack of dawn, just to web browse or… raid virtual cities. So pointless! They might as well do that at home. But I know they do it so they don't have to feel bad about wasting their financial aid by ditching class entirely.
I tried concentrating on what the professor was saying. But it was difficult to not get sidetracked by these internet junkies and a few stragglers who were walking into class several minutes late.
"Excuse me," a girl whispered as she shimmied her way down my row, carefully stepping over my extended limbs. She plopped into the seat next to me, trying her best to quietly grab her notebook out of her gray messenger bag.
I didn't have to look to recognize who it was. I sat still and smirked slightly, seeing her sit there so smug from the corner of my eye.
"So what'd I miss?" She whispered. I could smell her vanilla scent… and the Americano off her breath, and in that moment, I kinda hated her.
"Midterm results." I mumbled back. "How's your coffee?" I enviously looked at the cup in her hand. The cup from our café.
"Oh," she placed the cup on my notebook, "this one's actually for you. I didn't know what you might like so I figured you can't go wrong with a mocha latte." My eyes lit up and my mood immediately changed.
"Thanks so much, Liz." I gratefully grabbed the cup and smiled at her. "You read my mind."
"Well, duh," she nudged me, "who's ever awake for an 8 AM class anyway…except for that guy?" She subtly pointed. "Wait… is he playing WoW?" We snickered to ourselves as he frantically tapped several buttons on the keyboard and mouse pad.
Dr. Steinhaus glared at us and cleared his throat.
"You... are… a lifesaver." I carefully sipped from the cup and immediately felt as if my life was being replenished with steamy, sugary goodness. Oh sweet Jesus! The hustle-and-bustle crew knows how to make the best mocha latte… hands down. No wonder they have the reputation for being the best shift.
"I know how you can repay me."
"Oh? You mean this latte's going to cost me?" I teased. "You didn't do this out of your own generosity?"
"Oh, I did!" The corner of her lips lifted. "The latte was also an excuse to come over here and talk to you… seeing as how giving you my number was too aggressive of me." I blushed. "I don't know what came over me. I usually don't do things like that."
"It wasn't too aggressive at all." I subconsciously placed my hand on her arm. Why do people tend to do that? Is it some type of sympathetic reaction? I didn't even know I did it 'til she thought about it. Good to know she didn't think I was being too aggressive. "I meant to call, really I did. But it's been a pretty hectic couple of weeks for me."
"Understandable." Liz leaned into my touch. I knew she was enjoying this.
"So, I'm afraid to ask…" I muttered from behind my cup, "how should I repay you?"
"Got any plans tonight?" She breathed out, keeping her eyes glued on Dr. Steinhaus. Liz did what was easiest for her, which was not looking into my eyes when she asked such a direct question. She brushed her jet black, side-swiped bangs aside and awaited my answer, knowing all too well that I haven't really reciprocated to her in our previous (and only two) encounters.
I sat pondering for a second, thinking how incredibly brave she'd been just to have these brief, awkward moments of exchange. I felt bad that I haven't given her much to go off of. But why not? Why not take a chance on getting to know someone like Liz?
"None." I smiled in her direction, "what'd you have in mind?"
"How do you feel about poetry and spoken word?" She asked confidently.
"I've always wanted to go to a poetry night somewhere, but never had the chance to."
"The Poetry Lounge out in Hollywood has open mic night tonight at 7. I've been trying to work on my own stuff, but I'm just going to read off a poem written by Jeffrey McDaniel. Just trying to get used to standing in front of a crowd until I'm ready to read my own work." I could tell it was something that she was so passionate about. "Wanna come? I could use the moral support."
"I'd love to." I nodded.
"Great!" She grinned in such relief.
"For those of you so eager to have a conversation more interesting than the topics at hand," Dr. Steinhaus interrupted his own lecture, "please feel free to continue it outside and stop distracting those who actually want to be here." He gawked at us with his hands on his hips, which caused others to look in our direction.
Liz sunk in her chair as I glared back at the professor, refocusing my attention on his lecture. He resumed from where he left off, and we remained quiet for the remainder of the class. I couldn't help but blush at the certain things she was thinking…
"She's coming… to open mic. Shit. What now? I didn't expect she'd say 'yes'. But it's GREAT she said 'yes'! Play it cool. No expectations. What do I wear tonight? I hope Anthony doesn't embarrass me. I'll kill him if he does. What time should I pick her up? Is that too forward? Maybe we should meet somewhere first. Should I ask her to dinner first? Where should we eat? Or am I asking for too much?"
I leaned to the right so that our shoulders would touch. Maybe it would help instill some confidence and calm her nerves a little?
Liz sighed. "It's so nice to be this close to her. She smells so nice… and she looks amazing."
I coughed a few times. Amazing? The only thing amazing about how I look is that I even look remotely alive on a Monday morning. I feel so gross right now. I brushed my teeth, pulled my hair up into a loose ponytail, and threw on my old King High hoodie. I'm glad the Febreeze scent hid the fact that I didn't even shower.
"You okay?" She mouthed.
I nodded, patting my chest and holding up the cup to suggest my beverage went down the wrong tube… because it kinda did. Her thoughts caught me in mid-sip.
After class ended, I packed up my belongings and thanked her again for the coffee. Sadly, I had to keep our conversation short because I had ten minutes to get across campus to my next class at 9:30.
"So… tonight?"
"Definitely." I flung my backpack over my shoulders, already excited to do something tonight, other than homework and listening to Aiden play Xbox. "I'll call you?"
"Uh, yeah!" Liz tried to force a smile since she was a bit uneasy about the idea, seeing as how she was convinced I had already lost her number.
"I promise! But just to be sure," I quickly ripped a blank page from my notebook and scribbled my number down, "here's my number. Now we've both been equally aggressive." She giggled and gratefully took the folded piece of paper. "I've gotta run though. My next class is in Kerkhoff Hall."
"What are you still doing here talking to me, then? Get outta here!"
"Alright," I quickly scampered up the steps to the exit, "talk to you later!"
I walked hurriedly from the far west part of campus, zigzagging my way between lines and herds of people on the walkways and through the park. The weather was brisk and gloomy out, but my fast pace started building up a sweat for me. I cut through Spalding Field and headed straight for Portola Plaza, which sat adjacent to Kerkhoff Hall. I snuck in as quietly as possible, given that I was still catching my breath.
Professor Weihmeier was already five minutes into his lecture, introducing the topic of free will and altruism when it comes to Daniel Dennett's work, when I scanned the stadium-seating lecture hall for an empty seat. His Philosophy of Freedom class has always been a popular one. It's always the first class to fill up during the first week of open registration. But from what Madison told me, half his students end up loving him and eating up everything he says, like crack cocaine to an addict. I've even heard some changed religions or even became atheists because of this man. The other half of his students end up despising him for everything that he stands for. I guess his classes aren't for the easily offended or the weak-hearted.
A few stragglers walked down the steps and took the remaining seats towards the middle of the hall when I spotted one last seat towards the back on the far right side. As I walked across the back of the hall, I noticed a certain brunette sitting to the left of my seat. Five weeks in… and I didn't even know she was in the same class.
Of all days to throw me an awkward moment….
I tried my best to shrug it off, as I took a seat and drew the correct notebook from my bag. I could tell Ashley immediately took notice. She leaned to the farthest part of her seat, pushing her neighbor's arm off the arm rest. He gave her a weird look… and so did I. She looked blatantly uncomfortable and I couldn't tell why. I know we made out and all… and, according to my friends, we were having a good time. But we managed to have a civilized conversation the first time we met. So… was it really that unbearable to be near me?
Maybe she was also embarrassed about that night. There was nothing certain about this girl. There was nothing clear. Nothing I could read. She didn't even have a pen or notebook or anything on her… except the purse under her seat. Ashley just sat there with her arms crossed as she continued to listen to Professor Weihmeier.
Strange girl.
I decided to ignore her, feeling slightly offended that she didn't even acknowledge me the way human beings do… you know? Like a 'hello' or a smile… or something. As Dr. Evil would say, "throw me a freakin' bone!"
"Let's go back to what Dennett discussed in chapter one about taking responsibility for decisions that were not really 'free' to begin with." Professor Weihmeier paced across the front of the hall. "In other words… If we truly have free will, what compels us to accept responsibility for decisions that are not ours, when we obviously had no control or free will to manipulate these decisions in the first place? For example, why do we blame ourselves for the inevitable, for things out of our control?" He rolled his blue sleeves, looking across the room for volunteers. "Anyone care to take a wild guess?" Uh oh… "How about you… in the green?" Professor Weihmeier pointed in my direction. I knew he meant me, but I looked around hoping I was wrong. "Yeah you." He smiled, finding amusement in torturing those who walked in late.
"Uh," I took a second to think about the material and formulate an answer from my own logic. After all, this topic hits quite close to home. "Perhaps we blame ourselves for a situation we have no control over because there is no concrete answer that we can readily comprehend?"
"Interesting theory!" He grabbed his chin in contemplation after pushing up the bridge of his glasses. "What's your name?"
"Spencer." Gosh, it was so nerve-wrecking to be called out in front of hundreds of students, all whose thoughts ranged from… "I really don't wanna be here." "I'd hate to be THAT girl." "What is she wearing?!" "Wow, she's kinda cute!" "Did I forget to unplug my curling iron?" "What a suck up!" "Professor Weihmeier's such a DILF! I'd do him." "I can't believe my roommate ate my chips! I'm going to kill him!" …And so on and so forth. Times like this when I wish I could scream 'SHUT THE FUCK UP!' …But they have special places for people who randomly scream obscenities in a "quiet" lecture hall.
"Care to elaborate, Spencer?" He paced again, taking slower steps across the platform.
"Well," I tried to stray away from sounding so morbid, "for example, death."
"Hmm, what about it?" He continued to pace, looking at his loafers in contemplation as if he was trying to connect the dots in his head.
"There's no answer to why people actually… die." I swear it made much more sense in my head.
"Sure there is!" He cocked his head towards me, making me feel so… small and stupid. "It's biological. Our bodies age, grow weary, and eventually some vital organ is no longer capable of carrying out its basic function. Thus, we die. We evolve. We change."
"Professor, if I can interject...." She spoke.
"Ah, Miss Davies," he took his glasses off and squinted at her, "what a pleasant surprise." You didn't have to be a genius to figure out he was bitterly sarcastic. But I could tell there was some feuding history between the two that just continued to brew. Professor Weihmeier placed his hands on his hips. "Didn't you already take this class?"
"You must be mistaking me for someone else, sir." Ashley sat up with confidence. "Or perhaps you're referring to your Moral and Ethics class from last spring, which I thoroughly enjoyed by the way." She smirked, but I couldn't tell if she was returning the sarcasm. I looked at Professor Weihmeier, and if this was a cartoon, we'd all be seeing steam spewing from his ears right about now. His thoughts flashed back to the numerous occasions Ashley would argue against his statements, the ways she stood up for her own formulated beliefs, the confidence she exuded while implying that she was far more knowledgeable than a man of his stature, and the countless times he'd asked her to leave his classes.
"Very well." He glared at her sardonically. "Feel free to grace us with your… opinion." He stressed that word, refusing to ask her to share her knowledge because he refuses to believe she has any.
"Thank you." Ashley nodded. "What Spencer here is trying to explain is… we feel compelled to blame ourselves because we are frustrated in not knowing the answer to something as inevitable as death."
"Hmm…" The professor was searching for words to combat her argument, but she continued…
"And if you want to direct free will towards something as 'concrete' as biological and scientific theory, then I would pick Newton over Darwin: 'to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.'"
"I don't mean to insult your intelligence—"
"I'm sure you don't."
"But your use of Newton's third law only substantiates my rebuttal against Spencer's theory about death."
"On the contrary, sir," wow, this just became a spectator sport, "I think her observations are brilliant. She has stepped outside the limitations of what's obvious to you people." I have? "Spencer is referring to death as the 'action,' not the 'reaction.'" I am? "To say death is the 'cause,' it is unbeknownst to us what the 'effect' is or will be." She paused to let the rest of us soak in that information. "The effect of something as certain as death, of which we have no control of, is what perplexes us into frustration. And that is why we take responsibility for our 'reactions' to things… even when the decisions of our 'actions' were never free to begin with."
"Well spoken… for an opinion." He put his glasses on and proceeded to walk across the stage. I could tell he completely disagreed with her, but chose to be the bigger person and walk away from any havoc he desired to toss her way. "And what about fate?" The professor was now asking the general audience. "Can fate and free will coexist? If our very thoughts, actions, and 'reactions,'" he pointed in Ashley's direction as he surveyed his students, "are predetermined, do we have free will?" An eager student sitting on the other side of the hall raised her hand. "'Yes?"
"I think we were placed on this earth by some higher power, like God, to do his bidding and to live happy, peaceful lives. I believe he also challenges us and molds us into who we are supposed to become. So, in a sense, fate exists. But he also gives us free will… within the boundaries of his laws, such as the Ten Commandments… to help mold us into who we choose to become."
"What about criminals?" Professor Weihmeier liked trapping his students in their own words. I suppose it's his way of feeling superior to us all. If Freud were alive, he'd say Weihmeier acts like a dominant asshole to compensate for his… shortcomings. "Did God put them on this earth only for them to fail?" He asked so condescendingly.
"Those people are just faithless. They don't open themselves up to God. So it's their fate to go to hell when they die." She said in absolute.
"Pffffft," Ashley scoffed.
"Miss Davies," he jeered, "a penny for your thoughts?"
"I'll give you twenty dollars worth of my thoughts, Dan. She's completely contradicting herself!" I'm getting why he'd felt disrespected before. "Faith, religion, belief in a higher being," she stood up. Is she usually this dramatic? "…is all bullshit." Whoa! Okay, she just offended most of us.
"Miss Davies—"
"People believe in higher powers to disassociate themselves from having to take any actual responsibility for the choices they make and the people they become. When people actually do well for themselves, they praise themselves for accomplishments. But when shit hits the fan…"
"Miss Davies, I already warned you about the cussing."
"…when things don't go according to how we want them to, we blame it on that higher power. It's kinda like a double standard against your god. Pretty damn selfish, if you ask me." And this debate just became psychologically theological... if that makes any sense.
"Professor," I raised my hand. He acknowledged me as Ashley sat down. "I have my faith. I do believe in God and the fact that we all have some type of purpose in life, but she's right: people tend to put the blame on him, rather than owning up and dealing with the ramifications of their actions. Bottom line is we have free will. Whether things are predetermined or not, no one knows. But right now, in this moment, we have free will."
That's it! That's all it took to leave the professor stumped! We made some valid points, all of which he couldn't really argue. It's interesting that someone I barely know but kinda do (in a superficial, lustful kinda way) and I teamed up against Weihmeier… and won! That is, until…
"So stick that in your pipe and smoke it!" Some gasped, including myself. But most bursted into laughter. Why? Why couldn't she just quit while we were ahead?
"Davies, out!" He repeatedly motioned to the door. "GET OUT OF MY CLASS!"
"Where's your sense of humor?" She stood with a big grin on her face.
"Get out!"
"Same Dan, different day." She huffed, grabbing her belongings and carefully stepping in front of me to leave the hall. Students still roared in laughter, applauding and condoning her rebellious behavior. "I'm here all week, people." The thin heals of her stilettos struck the concrete steps as she made her fashionably early exit.
I don't know what made me do it. I couldn't even comprehend what just took place here. So I don't know how I got my limbs to function. But the next thing I knew, I was tiptoeing my way up the steps in my pursuit.
I walked out and noticed her drop her purse at a nearby table before fishing out her cigarettes. She sat up on the tabletop with her feet on the bench as she fumbled with her lighter. My feet pulled me in her direction.
"Hey." I mumbled, not sure what the hell I was doing ditching the rest of lecture to talk to her. She looked at me incredulously.
"Can... I help you?" Ashley grumbled, continuing to shake and flick the lighter with what little fuel there was left in it. She's so… quiet. It's frustrating, damn it!
"Why can't I read—" …Shit! I stopped myself, trying desperately to recover from my stupidity.
"Why can't you read?" Oh god! Think of something fast! "Beats me! How the hell did you get into college then?"
"I mean…" Words! Where are my words today?! "Why can't I read… Dennett's book the way you do?" Lame. Ugh… that'll have to suffice.
"You seem to have your bases covered." She finally got her lighter to work. I watched carefully as the white paper burned and the tobacco fumed. "You were able to withstand Weihmeier's abusive arguments."
"Me? I barely said anything." I giggled. "I think you spoke for the both of us in there." I felt kinda stupid because I was laughing and she barely blinked. She just sat there calmly smoking her cigarette and watching people pass by. I immediately stopped. "Well, thanks… for that." Awkward!
"Dan's an asshole. He had it coming."
"Does he kick you out during every class?"
"Pretty much. I can't remember the last time I actually sat through his entire lecture." She flicked the ashes off. "I have something to say for every word he speaks. I like giving that man grief. He thinks he knows everything. I'm not saying I do, but I've learned things from different people in different places to know he doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Like what places?"
"Tibet, for one." She took another drag from the cigarette in her hand. "Lived there for a couple of years. The Dalai Lama has more wisdom than that man's tiny little brain can muster up." So she lived in Tuscany and Tibet?
"Impressive!" I spoke my thoughts. "Do you know the Dalai Lama personally?"
"Yeah." She shrugged as if it were no big deal. Then her piercing eyes looked up at me. "Listen, I don't mean to be so… blunt, but are you sick or something?"
"WHAT?!" I half barked, half scoffed. I've officially relinquished my crown as the Queen of Awkwardness/Randomness. "What do you mean?!"
"Well, I can't really remember the last time I was sick. I mean, I can pretty much say I've never been sick before. But when I met you at the coffee shop, I started coughing after I left." Ashley brushed her red bangs aside, showing her rather confused expression. "Maybe it was the hodge-podge of a latte you made me? I don't know."
"I think that's the funniest thing I've heard all week," I belched in laughter. "What makes you think I got you sick?"
"The Dubliner?" Oh… we are now treading on an uncertain topic.
"What about it?" I could feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment. I felt so vulnerable. Of course I wanted to find out what she thought of that night… but perhaps in a subtle manner. Oh please be subtle. Please be subtle!
"You had your tongue down my throat." My face slumped. Okay… not as subtle as I was begging for. And still no expression on her face. What's wrong with this girl?!
"I think there was equal tongue-age of sorts… and it wasn't just my tongue doing the… tonguing!" I think when I'm done here, I'm going to consult the dictionary to expand my vocabulary.
"That's not the point." She began to play with the cuff of her skinny jeans before taking one last drag and flicking the cigarette away. "After I left, I came down with the fever!"
"Oh god! I hope you don't get me sick!" I took a few steps back. "I still don't see the correlation between our… touching and you getting sick. It's probably just a coincidence because I feel fine!"
"You're… different." Ashley stared at the remains of her cigarette, the smoke still dissipating from the shortened end. I'm not sure if she meant that in a good way or a bad way. "I've kissed a ton of people," bragging much? "…but no one's ever made me feel… sick like that." Okay, I guess she meant it in a bad way.
"Grrrrreat pep talk, Ash." I nodded with what dignity I had left. "I get the hint. So… I'm gonna… go now. Nice… knowing you." Whatever. That was the dumbest shit I've ever been blamed for. I'm partly bitter that she bruised my ego, but kinda laughing at the same time at how ridiculous that was. Dumbest shit, I tell you.
I managed to make it to all my other classes without interruptions. When I got home in the afternoon, I did a little homework to pass the time until Liz called and I got ready. I really wish Madison was around to critique my choice in clothing for tonight. But the only time I really see her is on the weekends. She works the weekdays at MAC and goes to class at night. By the time she gets home, I've already crashed. And sometimes she stays at Aiden's. So I had the place to myself.
I rummaged through Madison's closet and decided to borrow her black leggings to pair with my teal tunic. But in order to keep it from looking like I tried too hard, I wore flats. After all, I don't even know if Liz considers it a date… or just an opportunity to hang out. Regardless, I was in desperate need of a pick-me-upper and, at this point, I'd take what I can get.
I quickly brushed on my earthy-toned make-up when the doorbell rang simultaneously. The great thing about having a roommate who works at MAC is all the free samples and discounted make-up she gives me. I opened the door and immediately raised a brow to a decked out Liz.
"Hey!" She smiled, her eyes quickly looking me up and down. "You look sooo gorgeous!"
"Hey," I blushed as my smile spread across my face. Her smoldering eyes, boldly outlined in eyeliner, glistened from behind her side-swept bangs. I, too, looked her up and down, taking in every little detail. Her dark, skinny jeans were neatly tucked into her black boots.
"How was the rest of your day?" She gave her black peacoat a tug and I noticed a simple, silver star necklace resting neatly over a plain white v-neck shirt.
"It was good!" I nodded, trying to act as normal as possible despite being distracted with her hotness. "How was yours?"
"It was alright. But I'm pretty sure this'll be the highlight of my day." Oh really?
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, (because I'll be spending it with you) the theme is Echoes of Silence. So people will be reading their most passionate, profound poetry or spoken word, and some people play music and what not… all encompassing the theme of the night in some way."
"Sounds exciting!" I leaned against the doorframe.
"Ready to go?" She placed her hands in her pockets and bobbed her head towards the direction of her car.
"Yeah." I grabbed my clutch and locked the door before following her out. This was so a date!
It was a pleasant ride to The Poetry Lounge. We chatted for a bit, mostly about the basic info. Liz has two sisters, one younger and one older. Her parents separated when she was five. She and her sisters grew up with their mom. Their dad would occasionally meet with them, but his love was mostly expressed through small amounts of child support. She told me how she never thought she'd go to college, must less a place like UCLA, because she grew up with nothing. Her mom would work two jobs just to put food on the table. So of course, education was not the main priority. But once her older sister finished high school, she picked up extra jobs to put Liz through college. That's when she decided to major in political science and do something fulfilling like giving back to the people.
Once we pulled into a small back lot, we were just about done skimming through songs on her iPod and talking about how we both love Muse and The Fray. She suggested going to a concert sometime, and I could tell she's definitely someone I can get along with.
We walked into this dimly-lit corridor which displayed various autographed pictures and memorabilia ranging from Beau Sia, Saul Williams, Douglas A. Martin, and the founder of slam poetry, Marc Smith. The actual lounge looked like it was a café in the mornings, a restaurant on some days, and a dance club on other nights. It was a very open, yet comfy atmosphere. Dark curtains surrounding the windowless bottom floor were illuminated with blue and black lighting, gracing parts of the brick walls. The moonlight subtly hinted through the windows on the second floor balcony, and the only thing that was bright was the spotlight on stage where various instruments and microphones were set up. It definitely set the mood.
Liz pulled a chair for me before taking off her coat and placing it on the neighboring chair. I could tell she was nervous, both for being on a date and for having to be on stage later. But she tried her best to show me a good time.
"Can I get you something to drink?" She calmly spoke into my ear just to get a whiff of my hair. "Mmmm…"
"Vodka cran?"
"Hey Liz!" She turned her attention to a tall, lanky guy with ruffled brown hair and thick-framed glasses. His perfectly white teeth shone from underneath his clean-cut beard. "How are you?" Liz smiled at the familiar man and greeted him with a hug.
"Anthony!" Ah, so this is Anthony. He had that sociopolitical rebelliousness about him, not just by his thoughts, but also by the Che silhouette on his green shirt and makeshift patches sewn into his olive green jacket stating 'Marxist Bolshevik' and 'In Hegel We Trust.' "I want you to meet someone." She turned towards me. "This is Spencer." Liz introduced me in a way that unknowingly implied that she'd spoken to him about me before. The way they act with one another spells 'best friends.' We shook hands.
"Nice to meet you, Spencer." I nodded with a simple smile. "You a big fan of spoken word too?"
"I'm a spoken word virgin." I lightened the mood, which effectively made them laugh. "But I think it'll be a profound and enjoyable experience."
"Oh, you're in for a treat tonight! Both Liz and I will be performing." He patted her on the shoulder.
"Yeah, after I have a few drinks just to calm my nerves." I could practically hear her knees knocking together.
"You'll do fine." I reassured her, briefly squeezing her hand resting on the back of her chair. The touch had successfully distracted her from stage fright as she stared deep into my eyes. "Just pretend you're the only one in the room."
"What if I pretended you were the only one in the room?"
"You could do that, too." Oops.
"Do what?" She raised a brow.
"Umm…"
"Hey stranger!" Thank god! This blonde, curly-haired man with an average frame wrapped his arm around Liz's shoulders, beer bottle in the other hand.
"Hey Sebastian!" She quickly hugged him before turning to the petite, long dark-haired, brown-skinned girl behind him. "Kader! Oh my gosh! It's been too long you guys." They all smiled and greeted one another. "Welcome back to the scene!"
From reading thoughts, it's apparent that Sebastian and Kader are a couple. They share the same passion for political and poetic literature. Probably not as strong as Anthony's. They'd never be the forefront of a rally or political movement. But they seem to come and go, just to enjoy a few works from time to time.
"Anthony said you were performing." Kader grinned.
"Are we going to hear your new masterpiece?" Sebastian wiggled his eyebrows. He was referring to some poem she'd been working on. Something… passionate and… lovey dovey.
"N-no." Liz interrupted him before he could speak again. "I'm reading Jeffrey McDaniel tonight. Still working on the other stuff." She tried desperately to think of a way to change the subject. Why's she nervous? It's not like I know what they're talking about… as far as she knows.
"Hi!" My eyes panned to Kader who waved at me from where she was standing.
"Oh, Kader, Sebastian," Liz pointed, "this is Spencer." "Ugh! I'm such an idiot."
"Spencer." Sebastian repeated in order to commit my name to memory.
"Nice to meet you!" They both shook my hand and we shared friendly glances for a split second.
"I'm… gonna go to the bar… to grab a few drinks."
"Okay," Sebastian nodded, "we'll be on the balcony enjoying the night from there."
"Nice meeting you, Spencer." I waved, barely hearing Kader's soft voice. And they went their separate ways. I fiddled with my hands, pretending to occupy myself in thought as I waited patiently for Liz. I'm sure she was pounding down shots, the way her nerves were going haywire.
"Vodka cran for the pretty lady." Liz set the drink in front of me, holding a vodka tonic in her other hand. "Ah, much better! Hehehehe…" Hmm… guess she was starting to feel the shots she took with Anthony.
"Thanks." I stirred the straw and took a small sip. Stiff drinks here!
"Those are my friends who used to come here all the time. They haven't been around much though." Liz sipped her drink. "But I'm glad they came." I tried to show enthusiasm for something I had already known.
For the most part, my date with Liz was going very well. She was acting and feeling completely normal… or as normal as you would feel taking someone out on a date. In the past, reading people's minds has proved to be a lifesaver, saving me countless hours of drama, heartache, lies, deceit, and feelings of betrayal and sheer stupidity. I've had my fair share of creepy, conniving, and tumultuous dates… ranging from guys and girls who just wanted to get in my pants, girls who just wanted to experiment with me and never felt it was necessary to disclose that they were already in a hetero relationship, sexist men, gay men who were too scared to come out of the closet and wanted to use me as proof of being straight, ex-cons, guys and girls with extremely weird fetishes, people who fantasized about bondage and black leather of all types… and the list goes on and on.
With Liz, her intentions seemed pretty genuine. Yet, I still had my guard up. I've learned from my mistakes. Melinda seemed the same way when we started dating, but she turned out to be a treacherous bitch. Wish I could see the future instead.
Once the lounge had filled to capacity, which was a matter of minutes from when we arrived, Anthony stepped onto the small stage and began the night. He didn't introduce himself. He just went right into it.
"They say that truth hurts,
But they don't tell you what it means.
To them, it means keep being naïve and don't let reality intervene,
But let ignorance wipe you clean.
And then they say to be unique,
Yet they strip you of a voice and don't let you speak.
Just another body without an identity.
They cracked you open and made you so weak.
After that, they whisper in your ear to believe in yourself,
But what they're really telling you is you're all alone.
They'll judge you and label you as a stereotype of your own.
You're your own shelter; they say you have no home.
Lies, lies! Society spells lies
That create false hope to your own demise.
You trip, you fall, you bleed, you cry
Over society's lies, so elusive, so fruitless, so dry.
Media, media out to blind,
Blind you from a million crimes
That happened a million times.
It's a monster let loose; it can't be confined.
But I'm not talking about the crimes on the tele,
On the radio, online.
Not about the drugs, the blood, the violence.
Few figure out that the biggest crime
Is ignorance and silence.
People know, but they don't tell, they don't show.
They don't share the power of knowledge, don't let humanity grow.
Why? Because society suppresses with fear, keeps you near,
Tells you lies that seem sincere.
Whatever it takes to keep you quiet and keep you dumb,
Keep you numb.
Turn a blind eye to the silent crime
Or speak and become someone.
So shut up if you like society's storm,
If you like to conform,
If you like being one in a crowd,
If you don't speak out against the so-called norm.
Shut up if you don't embrace your identity,
If you want to be identified by the plenty.
Five, ten, twenty – people who don't know you,
But tell you who you are, what you can say, what you can do.
Shut up if you like being a puppet, a mime,
If you like the lies that society uses to blind.
Shut up if you'll be happy like this,
If you think pure ignorance is bliss.
But if you don't want to be controlled,
If you don't like to be told,
If you don't like to be sold,
Speak up and let your identity unfold.
Open your eyes and make the choice.
Step into the light and use your voice.
Be bold and brave
For you have been saved.
Don't be a victim of society's game.
Don't think you're all the same.
Don't think you're sane
With a smile of happiness, but a head of pain.
Speak up. Speak the truth.
Don't let it go. Embrace your youth.
No matter what society tells you to do
To yourself be true; don't be anyone else but you.
Listen to your heart within
Because nonconforming is what's in.
Identify and use your voice. Let it shine.
Don't be a victim… of the silent crime."
People snapped their fingers. Some applauded. Others cheered, especially Sebastian and Kader. Anthony solemnly left the stage, adding to the dramatic and powerful feel of his words. They were intense. I felt his voice so hypnotic and moving. It kinda gave me this silent courage, very much like it did for Liz who was to perform soon. I could see why they have fun at these events. So poignant… and kind of an aphrodisiac, if I may say so myself.
He walked off to the bar and glad-handed a group of his friends and admirers on the way. Performers continued to grace the stage with their words and presence. Some burst into song. Some recited as they strummed guitars, struck triangles, danced their fingers across the piano. I heard ice cubes clanking in a glass. I looked over at Liz who had just finished her drink… and I stopped paying attention to my surroundings and to the performers on stage. She sat there complacent with her arms crossed over the table. She looked at me, memorizing my face for inspiration to the words she was going to recite. I smiled with my eyes and she bowed her head with a grin. It didn't occur to me that we were carrying on this long, drawn out conversation without even using words. I nudged her playfully and she threw her hair to the side with a quick turn of her face. She bit her bottom lip, her eyes scanning from mine, down to my lips, and back to my eyes. I leaned into her and placed my hand on her arm. My fingertips brushed against her goosebumps, and I started to feel her cool skin warm to my touch.
She wanted to lose herself in this moment. And in a way, she did. Her mind was at ease, her body nestled against mine, and her breathing steady. As much as I wanted to lose myself in her, I couldn't. I started to think of the events from earlier today… and at the possibility that touching her might get her sick, the way it did for Ashley. Yeah, it's a stupid and ridiculous idea, but what if she's right? What if I'm… contagious? I don't even know what sickness I have, but Ashley got me questioning myself. I tried to shake it off. It's stupid really. She's completely crazy! And here I am, with someone who's… not.
Yup, I don't need crazy in my life.
I felt her gently squeeze my hand, effectively bringing me out of my daze. I smiled up at her as she stood and proceeded to the stage. The snaps and claps faded as another performer stepped down. I watched her closely, her stare directed at the steps. And I listened as she gave herself final words of encouragement. She took a deep breath and marched up to the mic, never slowing her pace or hesitating. It was all continuous movement and I could've sworn she looked like she'd done this plenty of times before. Staring at me the whole time, she spoke:
"In an effort to get people to look
Into each other's eyes more,
The government has decided to allot
Each person exactly one hundred
And sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it
To my ear without saying hello.
In the restaurant I point
At chicken noodle soup. I am
Adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long-
Distance lover and proudly say:
I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn't respond, I know
She's used up all her words,
So I slowly whisper I love you,
Thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
And listen to each other breathe.
--The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel"
Not once did she stutter. She let out a short sigh of relief before leaving the stage with great applause, her eyes still lost in mine.
Did I mention spoken word is such an aphrodisiac?
After the night was over, we walked down Hollywood and Highland a few times, holding hands and enjoying each other's presence. We exchanged stories and learned more about one another. What seemed like five minutes was actually four hours. We couldn't help but have such a great time with one another.
It was almost 2 AM when she walked me to my door. I didn't want the night to end, but I knew I'd hate myself in the morning if I didn't get at least a few hours of sleep. I have work on Tuesdays.
"I had a lot of fun tonight." She hesitantly released my hand and dug her own into her pockets.
"Me too." I responded sincerely. "I'd love to go to another night at the lounge."
"Yeah," Liz's face lit up, "there's a themed night every Monday night. On Friday's, they replace all the furniture with plush pillows and have hookah night with open mic."
"You did amazing tonight." I nodded. "Next time, you should read your own work." I fidgeted with my keys.
"I'm working on it." The corners of her lips curled subtly. "So, now what? She's going inside. Do I try and kiss her? No, it's too soon." Even I started to get nervous. She was pretty much on point with what I was thinking too.
I lunged out and hugged her tightly. I felt her arms wrap around me as well.
"Call me." I left it at that.
"Mmhmm."
We pulled back and she had such longing in her eyes. I held onto the doorknob, bracing my weight against the door as she leaned in. But she quickly restrained herself, stepping back to my surprise.
"Okay, goodnight." She let out. I was a bit confused. Maybe I am contagious. "I'm such a freakin' idiot!"
"Goodnight." I gave her one last warm smile before turning to the door and letting myself in. When I shut the door behind me, she was already gone.
I felt my way through the pitch-black living room and into the hallway towards my bedroom. I nearly had a heart attack when Madison's door swung open. I saw Aiden standing there in his penguin-patterned boxers with the dim bedroom light shining against his skin. I could hear Madison's light snoring echoing from behind.
"Do you mind?" I grumbled as quietly as possible, referring to his indecent and sudden appearance. Aiden and I aren't the best of friends in our little group. So it does catch me off guard when I see my co-worker slash roommate's boyfriend in the partial nude.
"Sorry." He hid behind the door. Oh, I know that look. He has a favor to ask me. "Hey, where'd you come from?" Aiden smiled smugly, noticing I was dressed to impress… and slightly glowing.
"Hung out with Liz." I opened my bedroom door next to me and tossed my clutch on my desk.
"Liz, huh?" His smile widened. "What about that Ashley chick?"
"Enough with the small talk," I crossed my arms, "what do you want?"
"What? I can't just have a casual conversation—" He noticed my 'do you know who you're talking to?' look. "Okay, you read my mind." Aiden surrenders nonchalantly, knowing his antics never work against me. "I left my econ book at the café. You mind getting it for me?"
"Why can't you get it yourself?" I retorted.
"Well, number one, I'm not dressed." He looked down at himself. "And number two, I'm trying to download notes from my professor's website so I can start cramming right now."
"Start cramming?"
"Yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck in guilt, "I totally forgot I have a midterm today for econ. It just hit me in the middle of the night." That's what happens when you ditch classes to hang out and party hard with someone like Eddie. "And I left my book at the café. So, to save me time, can you please please please get it for me so I can start reviewing notes. I'll owe you one! Anything you want is yours. I'll… work one of your shifts for you!" I sighed, rolling my eyes.
"No need to work my shifts, Aid." I grabbed my keys and turned to walk back down the dark hallway. "But I'll take you up on your offer someday."
"And please don't tell Madison." He whispered loudly. I exhaled overdramatically, as if he was asking me to move mountains.
I walked the twenty minutes to the café, momentarily dreading the fact that I'd have to be here in a few hours. I went through the back, unlocking the door quickly and running up to Charles' office to turn the alarm off. Even though it wasn't wrong to be in there after hours, I refused to turn the light on. I used my cell phone as my source of light, checking inside the cubby. But his book was nowhere to be found.
I knew he wouldn't leave it in Charles' office, but I ruffled through the desk and cabinets anyway. I even searched the entire floor downstairs. Nothing. I browsed through the bathroom and the storage room. Still nothing.
When I decided to give up, I peaked out into the "employee lounge" and noticed the book on one of the tables. Of all places to leave the book… where no one else ventures. I walked onto the roof, the chilling wind hitting my face as I shrugged into the warmth of my coat. I slowly approached the table when I noticed the lights go out from across the street. The Pit, another dive bar across the street known for its free karaoke, closed down for the night as the remaining customers stumbled out into the street. Three guys, in their drunken stupor, zigzagged down the left side of the street, singing random songs at all the wrong notes. They didn't seem to have any connection with the other two standing in front of the entrance.
I ducked behind the ledge, letting out my inner stalker… all because I noticed Ashley was one of the two remaining. The other appeared to be a slutty blonde, draping herself all over the brunette with her boob just a few centimeters from being exposed to the world. But Ashley remained unmoved to the immature girl who was shamelessly throwing herself at her. The brunette leaned up against the bar window, lighting a cigarette and ignoring the girl who was giggling and groping her. I rolled my eyes at the kind of lifestyle she lives… and she had the nerve to judge me and say I got her "sick." Please. I know a walking STD when I see one.
The blonde squinted through smiling eyes, taking Ashley's face in her hands. She mumbled something to her, something probably dirty and tempting because I could read that this girl had nothing but feisty intentions. The brunette shook her head side to side, cigarette dangling from her lips. She carefully pulled the blonde's hands down from her face, her eyes gazing down the street as a yellow cab stopped in front. Ashley escorted her to the waiting cab, offering a handful of cash to the driver and giving him directions. She blew the blonde a kiss and slowly shut the door.
The cab pulled away and Ashley proceeded to walk down the opposite end of the street. I stealthily stood from where I was hiding, reaching out for Aiden's book. I hugged the book to my chest and turned to go back inside.
Then I heard the worst sound ever.
And this all happened within a matter of milliseconds:
My glances shot to the street as I watched an Oldsmobile careen out of control, running a red light and speeding beyond the limit. I dropped the book the second Ashley stepped off the sidewalk.
She didn't even try to run, not like there was enough time to anyway. She just dropped her hands to her sides and braced herself for the impact. I could hear the ugly thud of her hitting the front bumper, her body smashing against the windshield, propelling her over the hood and onto the cold pavement. She lay there… lifeless.
Tires screeched as the car swerved a few more yards into a streetlight. I was frozen in place as the light shook upon impact and came crashing down moments later. The car had come to a stop.
No one was around. No one saw it. No one heard what I heard.
My hand shook as I held my phone. I stared at it, knowing I had to call 911. And as much as you think you know what you have to do in these types of situations, your reasoning escapes you when it all happens… and it happens so fast. I couldn't fathom what I just witnessed.
I finally felt blood rush to my shaking fingers as I dialed 911.
Just then, I watched in disbelief… my mind forced to process more of the impossible.
Ashley slowly sat up, her eyes pinned on the vehicle that was now steaming from the hood. She pushed herself off the ground and brushed herself off as she moved towards the car. She appeared to be completely unscathed and uninjured. The blood rushed away from my fingers and I found myself chillingly still as Ashley broke the driver's window and reached in to check if he was alive.
What… the fuck… just happened?