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Suggested Listening: "R U Mine" - Arctic Monkeys

Take Your Time

~Satisfaction~

Halle left me a voicemail, saying, "Life's a bitch; then, you die. Let's get our kicks in while we can, shall we? Grab your boy after work and get him to swing by my house in his hot ride. We have shenanigans to partake in."

So, I called Matt, and the first thing he said after I explained was: "We're not planning on getting arrested tonight, are we?"

It's been a long time since Halle and I went partying together.

Full disclosure; I told him: "No promises."

He laughed.

Tonight is going to be fantastic.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"So, is there any particular reason why we're making this epic journey to a bar on the far side of the city instead of, say, going to any of the other twenty bars that are closer to where we live?"

"Because, my endearingly clueless Matt, there are schemes afoot."

"What Halle means is: she's trying to set me up with the lead singer of the freaky band we're going to see tonight."

"Oh, live a little, Naomi. And they're not freaky; they're just a little… different."

"Yeah, sure. The band's name is Beyond Birthday – whatever that means; they wear blood-red contacts; they sing creepy songs about Wara Ningyo and eyes that allow someone to see when other people are going to die; and the lead singer is famous for pouring strawberry jam on himself, and then licking it off his fingers while cackling during concert. Different is an understatement."

Matt cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Are you sure that's the best guy to set Naomi up with?"

"Positive!" Halle chirped. "What do you think, Mello-Jell-O-apple-of-my-eye? You're being awfully quiet. If I didn't know you better, I would say you're planning how to kill us all in our sleep."

I turned around in my seat and gave her a sweet, yet chilling, grin. "Do you know me that well – really?" She snorted and rolled her eyes. As I settled back to facing forward, I snapped a piece of chocolate off of the bar I had in my hand. After I'd swallowed, I said, "It's up to Naomi. Either she likes him, or she doesn't."

"Thank you!" Naomi exclaimed.

"But that's the thing!" Halle interjected. "She doesn't know what she wants! She finally has gotten out of a relationship with that abusive, controlling loser, Raye, (who, by the way, was the person that stopped her from coming to the party to say goodbye to L and Light because he's a jealous d-bag), and now she's like a precious fledgling that's just left the nest. She needs guidance (me), and someone who will let her be her own freaky self without judgement (that guy). Despite his quirks, he's a really sweet guy; you'll see."

I could see in the rear-view mirror that Naomi was staring at Halle, abashed. "You've only had one five-second conversation with him at the end of their last gig. And in case you forgot, that was after we witnessed him signing some girl's stomach with the same strawberry jam he'd poured on himself. I don't even like jam."

"I can just tell, okay. I have a feeling for these things. Exhibit A: these two."

Matt and I waved at them through the mirror.

Naomi groaned. "You have an addiction to butting into other peoples' lives, you know that?"

"My life's a shambles, okay?" Halle pouted at her. "Please let me fix yours."

As they continued to argue, I spoke to Matt in a low tone: "As soon as we reach the bar, we're going to ditch them, get some drinks, and then I'm gonna school you on the dance floor."

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh, really? You seem pretty sure of yourself."

I ran my tongue along the top of my chocolate bar before flicking it on one of my canines. "Just try and stop me from getting that sweet ass of yours all to myself."

Keeping his eyes on the road, red began to bloom all the way from the base of his neck to his hairline. He swallowed audibly, his Adam's apple bobbing.

I smiled.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

"So, how do you actually know this guy?" I asked Halle, leaning in close, as we waited for our drinks. It was too loud for anyone else to hear us. The band hadn't started their set yet, but it would probably be soon by the level of anticipation in the room.

"He was at the support group for suicidal teens that I went to back in junior high. His best friend committed suicide, and he felt so strongly that he should have done something about it, that he felt that he was the one that should be dead, not his friend. He worked past those issues, just like I worked past mine." Halle smiled, watching as Naomi laughed about something with Matt. "I don't trust my best friends to just anybody. Benjamin Barkley's a good guy."

At that moment, the band happened to get up on the stage, and the lights illuminated the lead singer's appearance. The guy was wearing more black leather, chains, and mesh than I have contained in my entire closet – and that's saying something. Not to mention, the red contacts were a little too noticeable for comfort under the intense lighting.

I snorted. "That guy's name is Benjamin Barkley." Not a question; just a more than a little incredulous statement.

"He never thought it sounded quite right either." She giggled. "He goes by BB. The name, Beyond Birthday, has to do with how he lives with the fact that Alex will never reach another birthday again, while Ben continues to grow older. Once you know about that, a lot of the band's lyrics start to make sense, too."

I coughed into my fist. "Well, at least you're not trying to set Naomi up with a serial killer."

"I don't know what would give her that impression, anyway." Halle frowned. "I feel it more as a past-life-vibe kind of thing."

The bartender slid me my beer, and I took a healthy swig. "I don't think you should tell Naomi that joke."

She nodded. "Yeah. That might be counterproductive to my goals." Just then, she received her hard lemonade, and after she took a drink, it seemed to focus her attention on what I was imbibing. "Chocolate and beer? Didn't you learn your lesson in high school? You're going to ruin that pretty upholstery in Matt's baby tonight."

I gave her a shit-eating grin. "I sure have learned my lesson, and I'm wiser and stronger for it. I've got washboard abs and a stomach made of steel. No way am I puking tonight."

"Famous last words." Halle sighed. "Matt's gonna kill you."

I set the empty mug down on the bar. "I'm done drinking, anyway. Time to dance."

Without preamble, the lights dimmed low and a haunting, classical piano melody filled the room. The hum of conversation died out. Then, the bass kicked in, followed a few bars later by the wail of the electric guitar. Some of the people that had already drank a lot more than we had hooted and hollered, but everyone left their tables or the bar to flood the dance floor in front of the stage.

I found Matt amongst the crush of bodies and pressed myself close, sliding my hands into his back pockets. I gave his ass a squeeze.

"Mission accomplished." I smirked.

Despite himself, he laughed with abandon, throwing his head back. "You're such a pervert."

I felt his hands slide along my ribs, and I couldn't control the shivers that followed. "And you enable me."

We began to sway back and forth together; we were completely out of sync with the music, but we didn't care. I liked this feeling. I liked how we could just be ourselves in a crowd of strangers, and nobody fucking cared. Granted, a few people were already three sheets to the wind, and therefore, too drunk to care. I wasn't complaining. As I listened to Benjamin Barkley's voice (I still couldn't get over that name), so gravelly and self-assured, I thought, yeah, this is different. But I found myself relaxing more than I had just in situations I was used to.

"That was something from our new EP, Hungry Ghosts," the singer announced as the song finished. "Enjoy this next song; it sure doesn't enjoy you. Here's 'Miss Anne Thropy'."

Somewhere during the first play through of the chorus, Halle came over and slung her arms around our shoulders. "Are you guys stuck together? Do I need to get the Jaws of Life up in here?"

Matt withdrew his hands, much to my disappointment. "No assistance needed." Then, to me: "I don't feel very educated. What happened to you schooling me?"

"I was trying to ease you into a false sense of comfort." Before he could blink, I grabbed his hand, gently spun him around, tilted him back, and laid one on him. The people close by around us laughed and clapped.

Halle shook her head. "You guys sure know how to make three feel like a crowd. I'm gonna find Naomi-kins; see how she's holding up."

We both watched her go, me with a self-satisfied smirk plastered on my face, and Matt looking dazed and dishevelled.

In the interlude before the next song began, BB spoke to the audience: "So, after that song about distrust for humanity, I'm going to talk about how much I love people." This earned a few chuckles. "No, I really do. The thing about people is, we all criticize each other for being different, when every single one of us is unique in our own way. We are all truly our own special, fucked-up snowflakes. Take any one of us for example.

"I've been called a freak ever since my grade-school years because of my obsession with the macabre. Greg, here, can only whistle backwards. Meanwhile, Frank still sleeps with a nightlight – chill, Frank, this is a place of non-judgement. And Dave, of course, will be a male version of a crazy, old cat-lady in the later years of his life. And you know what? Some people hate us for it. But some people love it, too. This next song is about how you can't please everyone."

Nudging Matt with my elbow I asked, "Do you want to actually dance now?"

Matt eyed me suspiciously. "For reals?"

"For reals." I nodded solemnly.

"Good enough."

We danced together for the next two songs, after which Naomi and Halle found us. Then, we all danced together (well, as much as we were able to between laughing and yelling over the music to be heard) until the set was over.

It was like my insides were pumped full of helium; that's how light I felt.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

[Dated during the first semester of Grade Eight.]

I was told to write angry letters by my counsellor. She said it would, "Empty my tank." I'm not a fucking car, running on the fumes of my anger, but whatever. I'll try it just to show her it doesn't work.

You know what really makes me angry? When people laugh at me.

I don't care if it's indulgent, pitying, cruel, or just because they're shit-for-brains. If I mess up, and someone laughs because they think they can do better, laughing just makes them look stupid. It's like they forget that I get better grades than them in every other subject. Matt says it's because I get better grades than them in almost every subject that they laugh at me when I don't do as well. It makes no sense. I think they're just stupid.

Foods class makes me angry, too. Just because my mom is a chef does not mean that I would be good at cooking. Yes, I know how to follow a recipe; my reading skills have been tested at above the university level, thank you very much. My problem is the stuff that is left out of the recipe. Or, when people don't tell me when a burner's hot and I leave my finished salad on the stovetop because there isn't any other counter space.

How is that my fault?

All writing my anger down is doing is making me feel more angry.

I think when I go to school tomorrow, I'll leave a note on Ms. Walsh's desk saying:

'Your idea of help makes me need therapy.'

Let's see how she likes it when her best doesn't measure up. Maybe she'll stop harping on about how I need to stop being such a perfectionist.

Inferiority complex, my ass.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

While the band packed their equipment up, Halle brought Naomi over to chat them up. Naomi had groaned when Halle had cajoled her into it, but her protests weren't as passionate as they had been at the start of the night. From what I saw of their performance, they were very talented musically. Their style wasn't what you would normally hear on popular radio stations, but that didn't make it bad. Maybe it was just what Halle had told me about the guy coupled with how what he said had struck a chord with me – he didn't seem that bad. It was still up to Naomi, though. I couldn't fault her if she just wanted to stay single for a while if her last relationship had been as bad as Halle had made it out to be.

"I'm gonna have a smoke and warm the car up," Matt told me. "Are you gonna stay in here?"

"Yeah. Might as well keep an eye on these two in case they get into any trouble." I rolled my eyes, and Matt smiled. I asked, "Do you really need to warm the car up? It wasn't that cold when we got here."

"It started snowing after we got in." He pointed to the window, and I could see that it was indeed piling up out there.

I frowned. "It's only November."

He laughed. "It starts snowing in November every year."

"Just because that's what usually happens doesn't mean that's what has to happen." My frown deepened into a scowl.

"I'll make sure to send the universe a memo." He gave me a wink as he fished his cigarettes out of his jeans' pocket. "Try not to miss me too much."

I swung around on my barstool as I sent a dry remark his way over my shoulder: "Try not to get lost in the blizzard."

The sudden blast of cold air as the door opened let me know that he had left the building. I sat at the bar for a time, sleepily leaning my head in my cupped hand as I made swirling designs on the counter with a black-polished fingernail. Finally, I could no longer ignore the constant reminder that I am human and must relieve my bladder at regular intervals, and decided to brave the no-doubt disgusting public washroom. I picked the wrong moment to stand; just at that moment, a man that had more than a few too many staggered in my direction and clipped my shoulder in just the right way to slam me against the counter.

"Watch it, fag," he growled as he went on his weaving way.

Annoyed though I was, I was more annoyed by my overwhelming need to piss. "Walk much, Neanderthal?" I said under my breath as I continued on, favouring my hip.

Of course, I never made it to the bathroom.

He wheeled around in a surprising display of coordination and roared, "What did you call me?"

I sighed and turned to face him. "You just called me a name, and you're upset when I return the favour?"

"I wasn't calling you a name. You're a fag; that's what you are." He sneered.

I shook my head. "I'm not going to argue semantics with you." When I turned to walk away, he grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me back around.

"Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you!"

My temper was a physical, black flood rising in me, and he had just pulled the plug. I looked down at the hand on my shoulder like it was something foul, and I grabbed a hold of it and bent it back with my full strength until he yelped.

"This conversation is over," I said in my most low, dangerous tone. "If you continue to harass me, I'll have to assume it's because you have a crush on me. Wouldn't that make you a fag, too?"

With that, I turned on my heel and left him behind, red-faced and gulping like a fish. Everything else forgotten, I stormed my way outside, wanting only to get in the car and go back to Matt's place for the night. I saw Matt leaning against the building further on down the sidewalk.

When he looked up and caught sight of me, his expression caught me off guard. At first he was smiling, but it quickly dissolved into the darkest rage. There were thunderclouds in his eyes.

In a few short strides, he closed the distance between us. He shoved me out of the way. So fast I could barely believe it, Matt's fist connected with the drunk's jaw.