So, I'm making this book that I'm stuck on because I can't seem to find a way to write an orgy without getting disgusted or turned on (I know, right?).
But that's not what I need right now. I actually just want to see if the first part I wrote for this story is any good. Any criticism is good, just remember that I've never been to an actual high school graduation after-party, so most of this is how I imagine it, as well as what I got from high school movies.
So, enjoy. Also, there's 7293 words in here, so it's not an easy read. Sorry about that.
The moonlight was shining through the windows as the party roared on. Music was blaring, lights were circling, and people were talking as they celebrated the end of their high school life. The moonlight, though strong and resilient, was lost by the zigzagging lights flaring from the ends of a tube. As the people danced and drank and spoke, a few people were making decisions that would affect their lives forever. Some of the effects are so subtle they were never noticed till years later; some were only groundwork for the things to come; and some were so immediate that the person wasn’t even given a 5-second warning before the kicking-out.
At table 10, noise was blaring loudly from the mouths of the people sitting. Actually, only one was doing most of the talking, and the others just responded to what he was saying, kind of like a Q-and-A. Except with less highfaluting bullshit.
“Okay, guys, listen up,” Chandler asked of four other guys. He was wearing a black coat and a blue tie with the Tasmanian Devil covering a majority of it. Drinking a Coca-Cola off a champagne goblet, he drew closer to the guys he was referring to. “I’ve got a proposal to make before I get out of this table.”
“I thought you weren’t gay,” one of the guys, Zeke, said. He had big hair, almost wig-like, and he was wearing a black-and-white coat-and-tie. His drink was an Apple Martini. “Why are you proposing to us?”
“Not like that, Zeke,” Chandler responded. “And how many times do I have to tell you to stop it with the gay jokes?”
“When they stop being funny,” Zeke said as he sipped his Martini, “I’ll stop telling them.”
“So, never?” Edward asked. He wore a Green coat with a Green tie, but with a white t-shirt inside that says “Frankie Says Relax”. His drink was a grasshopper.
“Ha-ha. Okay, let’s you and me get to the business at hand. You see, most of you have the cash to burn off. Plus, for some despicable reason I cannot yet comprehend, your parents actually like you,” Chandler said.
“Are you trying to sell us something, or get beaten up?” Edward asked.
“Sell, I believe. You see, I’m a good writer, and I’m a good film-maker. So I want to make a film, and you guys fund it.”
Chandler’s jazz hands were met with laughter and mockery from the four.
“What the hell? Are you serious?” Keith asked. The only one wearing a tuxedo, he laughed as he rubbed his hair and drank his water. He adjusted his glasses and looked at Chandler again.
“I’m not kidding, man. Who wants to fund my movie?” Chandler responded.
Silence followed.
“What’s this movie about?” Kuthberg asked. He was wearing a greasy polo and a bow tie to top it off, as well as a ridiculously large black top-hat and a faux cigar in his mouth. Drinking his water mixed with what is hopefully sugar, he continued, “I mean, just in case.”
Chan wanted to say, “Well, it’s an alien B-movie about a bunch of drunk aliens attacking the local suburban. I was thinking, we could shoot it here. It could cost less, and I could use the people we know as actors and the crew. It’s within the same length as Romero and Carpenter, and I truthfully think that you guys will love it.” He never got to finish his pitch.
Zeke stopped him at “shoot”. Putting down his drink, he interjected, and I mean interjected, “Wait, you want us to fund your dumb-ass dream project of making a schlocky horror-comedy winking at the 50s and at the 80s B-movies which, to a director with no experience, might just come out cheap and dumb?”
“No, I’m asking you to invest in a quality B-movie that you’ll probably enjoy watching.”
“Enjoy watching? With our money? No, it better be an Oscar winner, Chan. Why would we give you our money?” Kuthberg asked.
“It’s not giving; it’s investing. I’m gonna build some collateral for you to have so that you’ll get money even if it bombs, but—”
“Even if it bombs?” Edward looked at him like he was a naïve boy from the bayou. In a condescending yet idiotic tone, he says, “It will bomb. Low quality movies NEVER get picked up. You’ll probably just fill it with those things you call ‘post-modernist cinema’ and then some inside jokes and cheap effects, and then you’ll call it a movie. This won’t make shit, man. I’m not downing you, I’m just being realistic. I mean, who would distribute your movie, for example? Disney? Columbia? Fox?” Finally, Edward closed his mouth, but only to hear Chan’s response.
“Well, I was thinking Handmade Films…”
“Well, you’re screwed. Handmade Films won’t distribute B-movies. It distributes funny, entertaining, non-mediocre films. You won’t scale this wall, Chan. Not at all.”
“Dude, you haven’t seen anything like this before. They will distribute; they have to, because this B-movie is that entertaining.”
Zeke threw his hand up and put it on Chandler’s shoulders to console him. “Dude, it’s a pipe dream. Just walk away.”
But Chandler was not willing to walk away. He stared at them, all confused. “I know you guys have money, and that’s why I asked you. I thought you’d want to help me see if my dream is doable. It’s not that impossible. I wrote the script and everything, and I know, I KNOW, it’s the real deal. Come on, Zeke, come on, Ed, come on, Kuthberg, Keith. You have the money, the power; don’t you want to see if this dream can happen?”
Everyone on the table became silent. After moments of seeming meditation, Keith opens his mouth, and in a sincerely sympathetic voice, says, “I just don’t see it, Chan.”
He looks away from him and into his drink. In fact, everyone is avoiding eye contact from Chandler. “Fine,” he says. “If that’s what you all think, I won’t disturb you with this thought again.”
“Happy Graduation,” he muttered as he stood up and walked away.
He wasn’t the only one with a situation, though. Like his best friend; she’s having a bit of a problem that would traumatize her. Forever.
Bella was walking around the room, looking for her boyfriend. She asked everybody where he was; she didn’t get closer to finding him. Finally, she found him in a closet with Danielle, who was a friend of hers. As you can see, it did not end well.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Bella yelled to her boyfriend after a few moments of lost breath.
“Me,” Danielle said.
“I’m sorry, but you just don’t satisfy me, you know, sexually,” her boyfriend said.
“And then you go around fucking virgins in your free time?” Bella asked.
“Wait,” he paused, looking at Danielle, “you’re a virgin?!?”
“Not anymore,” Danielle replied.
“That explains a lot,” Bella’s boyfriend said.
Bella was looking rather…exasperated. She had the look of a woman scorned, and she reacted as a woman scorned would.
“That’s it! We are through! And you,” meaning Danielle, “you knew I was going out with him, and you still slept with him IN public!”
“Didn’t I tell you when we were 13?” she replied. “He’s who I want to lose my virginity to, so him being unsatisfied and all, I decided to push through with it.”
“But he’s in a relationship! No, screw that. He’s with me! What the hell were you thinking?”
“Sorry, Bells. I guess I like him more than I like—” she took out her finger and bopped her lightly in the nose “—you.”
Bella looked like she was going to explode. She pulled her hair a bit and called Danielle, “Skank!” before running away to the direction of the bar. After seeing her run away, her ex-boyfriend looked out and said, “Damn, I liked her.”
“Don’t worry, little boy,” Danielle said, “I’ll clear your mind.” Then she started kissing him, and he closed the door with his foot, and locked it with his ass.
You’d think the sex would stop there, but the Chan-Chan-man’s ex-girlfriend was going to give her virginity to her current boyfriend, who was as sleazy as Satan. It’s funnier than it sounds.
Cynthia was inside the girls’ locker room, which was next to the gym where the party was happening. She was sitting on a stool, tapping her foot and looking at the time. The lights above her flickered a bit, showing their age and practical uselessness in lighting up a room. Finally, Cynthia stood up as she heard some noises from the door.
A guy came in, about a little smaller than she was, who had a mop-top and was wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt. He stopped in the mouth of the locker room. “So, this is what the girls’ locker room looks like. Very clean.” He took a deep breath of the air.
“Huh,” he muttered. “Napkins.” He looked at his right and saw Cynthia waiting for him, as well as a giant trash can next to the dirty clothes hamper. This guy looked at her white dress from top to bottom and whistled like a New Yorker calling a cab. “Nice garb, Cynth. Let’s rip it off.” He then went for the shoulders immediately and started to take it off.
Cynthia stopped his hand. “Mattan, I don’t think we should do this.”
“But why not? It’s graduation, we’re dating, and we probably won’t see each other for a couple of months at least. This is the perfect time. Idealized, quick, and meaningful for at least one of us.” He starts kissing her neck. “And don’t worry, your first time will be the perfect time you’d expect.” They start kissing, passionately. Mattan’s hands went all over her clothes, touching her breasts very, very provocatively.
And then Cynthia stopped. “Ow,” she said. “My nipples hurt.”
“Don’t worry,” Mattan replied quickly. “It starts like that. Then it gets better.”
“Wait,” pushing Mattan away to an arm’s length. “How do you know that?”
“It’s what I watched from porn?”
She pushed him further away, this time the arms of Mattan away from him. “You heard this on porn? They explain sex shit when they start fucking?”
“Well, yeah. You should see one; it’ll loosen you up,” he said while trying to get his open mouth to her lips. But Cynthia moved away.
“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think that I’ve never seen porn, just because I’m Orthodox? I’ve seen a couple and, disgusting as they were, it never explained shit. How do you know what you know? Tell me the truth.”
Mattan sighs. “I’ve done this before. There, happy? Let’s get this over with.” Mattan again tries to kiss Cynthia, but she uses her forefinger to push his lips away.
“What?”
“I’ve done it before. What’s the big deal?”
“You never told me that before.”
“Well, Cynth, I assumed by your reputation that it’s an understood thing for you to lie to survive. You never actually believe my bullshit about being a virgin, did you?” His faces suddenly saddens up a bit. “You did? Aw, I thought you weren’t a sucker! Guess I was wrong.”
“Fine, how many times have you done it?”
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s do it.” Again, the forefinger to the lips.
This time, though, Mattan didn’t take any crap.
“Look, I took you to the prom. I didn’t have sex with you then. And I dated you chastely for months on end after you told me you weren’t ready to move on from Chan. Now, I expect you to give me the same Goddamn courtesy I gave you in those years and for you to have sex with me. What’s wrong, lady? The truth about me nesting you out?”
Cynthia shook her head. “You didn’t tell me the truth then. How can I trust you? How can I make love to you?”
“Make love? You’re full of Christian bullshit, Cynthia. Now,” he said, touching her arm, “let’s get on with it and do what comes—”
Cynthia took out his arm. He put it back again. “What comes—” Cynthia took out his arm. He tried to put it back. “Comes—” Cynthia pushed it away. Mattan looked like he was jonesing, the eyes the look of a hungry lion.
Putting back both of his hands to her arms, he yelled, “Look, I’m gonna fuck you hard whether you agree with me or not, and if I have to drag you there with a date drug while you’re unconscious, I will fuck yo—”
Suddenly, a stream of pepper spray attacked his eyes with speed and precision. “FUCK!” he said, letting go of Cynthia and going backwards a bit, slipping on his belt and landing on the giant trash can. Cynthia then lifted the dirty clothes hamper and dumped the entire thing to Mattan. “We’re through, you liar!” and she walked out.
Mattan dug himself up, a crumpled napkin in his mouth, some piece of cloth on his cheek, and a panty on his head. Spitting the tampon out, he looked around and said, “This may be how they came up with the meaning of ‘dumped’.”
All of a sudden, he heard a noise coming down. The sound of footsteps got louder and louder as a shadow got larger and larger. Then, he adjusted his eyes as a loss of light affected his vision suddenly to show a woman, with a load of make-up on, inspecting him intently. She was hot.
He immediately smiled, showing his teeth smeared with bright red blood (not his), raised his eyebrows, and said, “How you doin’?”
Cynthia, meanwhile, walked quickly away from the locker room and into the main party where, just for the occasion, a make-shift bar, complete with bar stools and peanuts, was built under one of two basketball rings. There, Chandler is drinking a very strong alcoholic punch, eating the peanuts as quietly as possible. His eyes were a little red, his tie was loose, and the first button of his white shirt was unbuttoned. If you listened closely, you could hear him hum “One For My Baby”. Truthfully, after a while, he wasn’t drinking anything anymore, just the ice and the air.
He was tapped on the shoulder, and he looked to see Bella, who looked only a little better than him.
“Crappy day?” she asked.
“No better than yours,” he responded.
She sat down and said, “I bet it’s no worse than finding your boyfriend sleeping with another girl.”
“Again,” he said, “I’m not gay, and my pitch for a movie was caught, killed, and cooked by my very own friends, calling it a dumb-ass pipe dream that I shouldn’t even try to do. Beat that, Bells.”
“No, Channy, I can’t.”
He looked at her. “What did I say about calling me ‘Channy’?”
“Not to?”
“And why?”
“Because it would encourage calling you ‘Channy-fanny’ and ‘Channy-wanny’.”
“There you go,” he said as he clapped his hands.
The bartender went through and asked for some orders.
“Scotch on the rocks,” said Bella, “and add a lemon twist for me and some Coke for this wimp friend of mine.”
While the bartender made the drinks, Bella asked him, “What the fuck happened that made our day end so miserably?”
“Maybe we were too selfish, you know; looking for our own interests instead of letting them tell theirs, you know. Maybe we shouldn’t have cared so much for monogamy or loyalty or help. Maybe we should’ve just let them do what they wanted to do to us, you know. Stop being rocks and start being roads.”
Bella paused before she replied, quite simply: “Bullshit.”
“I know. Sarcasm helps people cope.”
“So does alcohol,” Bella replied as she thanked the bartender and took the drinks. “Here you go, Chan.”
“To the worst graduation we ever had,” Chandler said, lifting his drink for a toast. “May this be the lowest point we can get into our lives, and may the bastards who wronged us rot alive while they listen to Vanilla Ice rap.”
“Hear, hear!” Bella said, and added, “Also, that my boyfriend gets AIDS from sleeping around, but I don’t get infected.”
“Hear, hear!” Chandler replied. “Let’s drink.”
The Scotch was finished in less than a minute. Then, Chandler threw the glass at the bartender and said, “Two shots of tequila, motherfucker!”
Bella laughed maniacally, saying, “You said ‘motherfucker’.” They both laughed maniacally, Chandler banging his fist in the table while Bella held on the table to keep herself from falling. The bartender came back with water. “I’m cutting you off,” was his response to the questions of why.
“Oh, you pussy!” Bella yelled, and they laughed again.
After a while, they settled down and drank the water.
“You know,” Chandler said, “I wish the world was more like ‘Ebony and Ivory’, you know. Like, living harmoniously together instead of being prideful and shit like that. Thinking about how others feel and not downing their spirits by being blunt and stupid. That’s the shit I’d go for.”
“Well, I do agree. I mean, why can’t we give peace a chance? To try and get rid of the perspective that happiness is a warm gun and just get people to come together and do something, you know. Something good. We shouldn’t let it be; instead, we should twist and shout until an event happens for us, not just for no one. We’ve got to get that into our lives, into our lives,” Bella slurred.
“OK, Bells, you can’t hold your liquor well. You just quoted a lot of Beatles songs, and I’m talking about Paul McCartney and Stevie Wonder. I mean, what’s wrong with you? I’m just saying that McCartney was right in saying, ‘We learn to live when we learn to give each other what we need to survive together alive’. I mean, I’m not asking much. Just some funding to make a couple of rubber alien suits and some film and an editing machine. But the thing is, my friends don’t like me. They despise my guts. They want to live inside their suburban mansions drinking their Cokes and watching porn and jerking off while their friend, who could actually help them feel alive, they don’t help because they’re too busy buying Kleenex and chlorox to clean up the mess that they made.
“But then again, maybe they’re intimidated by who I am. Maybe they’re just jealous that I’m doing a lot of better things than they are, and that I have the best chance to change the world even with the least amount of money. Or maybe they’ve been jerking off too much and need some water to keep themselves thinking. Damn roaches.”
Bella shook her head. “You complain a lot, Chan. Look, if you can’t stand their bullshit, then don’t. Prove the motherfuckers wrong. I mean, you’re going to Oxford this year. You got a scholarship and all the nine yards, including a month’s worth of intern work given to you 2 months before the start of school. You hit the A-game. Just use what they did as wood for a fire, a strong fire to encompass everything and all. They fuck you, you plan your revenge. And then maybe one of them would be dead already so that you can show it in their graves. If nothing, just show them you could do it better. And if you’re not satisfied, sucker-punch them in front of their wives.”
Chandler smiled. “Nice.” Then, he looked at her and she looked like an angel. A drunken angel, but an angel still. Her face glowed with the lights behind her, showing an immaculate radiance that penetrated his deepest soul and emotions. He thought about it, and remembered that he wanted to tell her that he loved her, that he’s had a crush on her since they met on the auditorium in their first year of high school, that he became her friend because the love was real enough to want only her presence, her intelligence, her companionship, her love. All the alcohol in the world couldn’t keep him drunk once he got this thought, and he suddenly sobered up, and tried to tell Bella his feelings for her.
He coughed. “So, Bells, what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Well, I’m gonna be in your bon voyage party, remember?”
“Right, right.” He drank a shot of sugar water. “So, after that, you want to see that art exhibit down at the mall, you know, before I leave?”
“Chan, you know I have to leave for my African volunteer work. I pushed it back to attend your bon voyage party, but I have to go first thing afterwards.”
“Right.” He stopped for a minute, and then tried again. “So, Bells, how long have we been friends?”
“For about,” she counted with her head, “four years. Wow, it’s only been that long? I feel like I’ve known you longer.”
“Yeah, four years. So, in those four years, we got to know each other really well, right?”
“Where are you going with this, Chan?”
He stopped. He was thinking of what to do: reveal his crush on her that’s grown into a love and probably alienate her forever, or just stop, and talk about other things.
“Well, I’m just wondering that since I’ll be gone for at least 4 years in London and you for a longer while in Africa, if our friendship won’t suffer at that time since we’ll be far apart.”
“Oh, Chan,” she said, laughing. “You’re my best friend. I don’t think we could ever break apart from each other, even if you and me don’t see each other for a long while. We’re connected, and our memories will keep our friendship alive.”
“Right.”
Bella planted a peck on his cheek, and said, “Don’t be sad; you’re the best guy I’ve ever been with, and I never even dated you. As far as I’m concerned, our friendship will be eternal.”
“Thanks, Bella,” Chandler said, trying to re-assure himself a bit.
Chandler looked to his right, and saw Cynthia, walking fast and looking pissed off. She passed through them, Chandler first, with speed of lightning. He thought a greeting would do her good.
“Hey, Cynth. How you doin’?”
She stopped. Then, she slowly turned and walked to him. “How am I doing? I just learned that my boyfriend is not a nerd, but a douchebag who slept with a harem of women before me, and while he said that, he tried to seduce my virginity from me, and then I dump him to a trash can and that made my pepper spray bottle empty. You tell me how I’m doing, Chan. Tell me.”
“It seems you’re doing as crappily as me and Bells here. And sorry about Mattan. I wanted to tell you, but then Keith told me not to meddle, so I didn’t.”
“Wa-wait,” Cynthia said, putting her hands up. “You knew about his sleeping-around thing?”
“Well, yeah. He’s my friend, and he used my basement to lose his virginity with Hit Girl over there, so I definitely knew that he was no nerd or virgin. The douchebag thing is right on the money, however.”
“How good is he?” Bella asked.
“Either he’s very good, or Hit Girl just liked to agree a lot.”
“OK, stop,” Cynthia said. “Let’s keep our perspective here. You knew he was sleeping around, and you didn’t give me a heads-up, not even a yell or a message?”
“I thought that was kinda corny, and when I saw you in prom, I thought you already slept together, so…” Chandler shrugged.
Cynthia just circled a bit, mouth agape, looking at the ceiling, and said to him, “Damn it.”
“Hey, don’t worry. I think we get one big mistake a year. Thankfully, for you, it’s being in a relationship with the wrong guy. Worst-case scenario, you end up like Layla Maloni there, pregnant on her graduation.” He was pointing to Layla Maloni, who slept with Teddy Castellucci and got herself pregnant the first strike. Right now, she may be in the third-trimester, and instead of sitting like a regular pregnant chick, she was dancing to “YMCA”.
“You don’t have a kid in your stomach, and you can start fresh in college. Come on, Cynth, just cry it out,” Chan said, holding out his arms for Cynthia to come in to. She did. They hugged, Chandler patting her in the back, and Cynthia just letting out a few whimpers.
Bella looked uncomfortable.
Chan saw that look in her face, and started to withdraw Cynthia away from his grasp. “OK, OK.” Chandler held her by the arms. “So, are you good, Cynth?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I’d suggest you follow your father now and wait for the right guy, OK?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Now go boogie in the floor. This song is your jam, remember.” It was a Beatles song.
“Yeah, sure.” She walked away, but stopped just for a few moments, and without facing Chandler, she said, “Thanks, Chan.”
Chandler looks at Bella, who has a neutral smile on, and he mouths to her, Wow.
He drinks his water. A silence followed. Bella tries to break it by a question, fairly simple: “Why did she do that to you?”
“Oh, right, I haven’t told you yet. I actually was the one who broke up with her.”
Bella looks at him in amazement. “Yeah, I know that’s plain bullshit, Chan. You’re messing with me now.”
“I’m serious, Bells,” he replied. “She was too needy, and being with her is like being on a conceited roller coaster ride. Plus, for a Christian, she lied A LOT. Like, the smallest things she’d lie on. ‘Where’s my belt?’ ‘I don’t know, honey; look at your drawer again,’ instead of ‘I threw it away so you’d wear the Louis Vuitton belt I bought you.’ Just that.”
“OK,” Bella said. “But why did you agree to the rumor she spread around that she broke up with you?”
“It was a quid pro quo thing. In exchange for that, she spread around that I wasn’t a virgin anymore and talk good sex talk about me. Thanks to that, my reputation to the ladies has gone up high.”
“I knew you didn’t know the Kama Sutra page by page!”
Chandler smiled a smug smile, and held out his hands.
Suddenly, a yell came out from the dance floor. Chan and Bella looked at the direction, and saw Layla Maloni’s water breaking. Teddy Castellucci looked at her and said, “Oh, jitterbugs, we’re having a baby! Bob, Marley, help her out to my car, quick!” Bob and Marley carried Layla quickly out of the room, Teddy right behind. Just before getting out, Teddy turned to the people in the gym, raised his arms in triumph, and yelled, “I’m gonna be a father!”
The singer, stopping the music soon enough to hear what Teddy said, yelled to his mike, “Congratulations, Ted. Good luck to you and your bastard child.”
John Fitzgerald, seeing no crowd response, held out his goblet and yelled, “Hear, hear! For Teddy’s kid!” Everyone yelled along with this white-tuxedo wearing guy. “Hear, hear!”
Teddy was literally near tears. Barely able to speak, he tried to say “Thanks,” but the crowd couldn’t hear it. Then Bob appeared and tapped him in the shoulder. “Bye!” Teddy yelled.
“Bye!” the crowd yelled in response.
John shook his head, and walked on to the makeshift bar where Chandler was sitting. He put his arms around Chan and Bella, and said, “Teddy’s a lucky guy. Just finished with high school, a child coming in, lower-middle class family, no job prospects whatsoever. Yeah, this is really the days of our lives.”
“Dude, what do you want?” Chandler asked.
“Nothing, just messing around.”
John then went to Bella and said, “You want to dance, little lady?”
“Not with a condescending bastard like you,” she replied. Bella stood up and said to Chandler, “I can’t stand this Irish prick. See you later.” After that remark, she walked out, making Chan and John look at her in awe.
“What a girl,” Chandler said. “Too bad I probably won’t see her again.”
“You didn’t tell her about the crush thing, did you?” he said suddenly. “Seriously, dude, tell her about it, tell her how you feel. Give her every reason to accept this thing for real. And remember that the thing or two that she gets from you will the difference that it makes.”
“Hey, you didn’t throw out the Billy Joel album I gave you,” Chan said, raising his hand for a high-five.
“Of course not. I heard Angela Hiritachi was hot over Billy Joel, so I kept the album. Guy has the ability to rhyme shit with kit like it was nothing.”
“Oh, dude, I’ll miss you a lot.” Chandler tapped him in the shoulder, then used him to hold himself up. “Yet, there’s so many people I wished I got to befriend. There’s Alyssa, the organizing girl who always helped me with my essay-editing.”
“Yeah, boy, has she got a crush on you.”
“You don’t say… And not just Alyssa, man. There’s Danielle, and Lark, and Andrew; and Linda, Princess Grace herself.”
“Yeah, boy.” He sat down next to him. “Why is Linda called Princess Grace, anyways?”
“Cause she’s graceful and kind and she dresses modestly, and because nobody has touched any part of her nether-yaya yet except for her gynecologist.”
“Yeah, isn’t she too young for that?”
“Based on her boob size? Nope.”
A very shallow conversation, but necessary for survival. John and Chan have been friends since John moved in the neighbourhood in the Third Grade. Ever since then, they were best friends, though neither one wants to admit or talk about it.
The reason for this conversation is simple: Chan is going away, and John can’t follow him. It’s been unstated between them that both would willingly take a bullet for the other if it would guarantee a life for each other. But John’s dad, an ambassador with lots of influence and little cash, was re-assigned to South Korea, because of a power play gone wrong.
You see, Chandler got accepted at Oxford when it was an election year in Great Britain. So John convinced his dad to back a candidate for Prime Minister in exchange for a position in his cabinet. It was a gruelling race, one that John’s father’s candidate almost won. The thing is, though, John’s father didn’t know that his candidate was a sex addict, and that his opponent used that to his advantage by setting him up to meet with a prostitute he knows. The pictures and the testimony went viral worldwide, and this candidate, although going on like nothing happened, lost the election the moment the Queen herself reprimanded his ungodly attitude.
John’s father lost his power play and a lot of his credibility and his reputation, but he was a valuable asset for the government, opposing party or not. So, they re-assigned him to South Korea, someplace where his talents can be used while punishing him by keeping him far from home.
They go first thing in the morning.
They sat quietly for a while. Chandler breathed heavily while John just waited for his drink while eating the peanuts. Chandler saw him and wondered why he was eating the peanuts. “Dude,” he said, “you know you have to pay for that.”
“Chan, my boy, this,” gesturing the entire bowl, “is complementary.”
“Hey, whatever you say.”
After that, Chandler coughed a bit and then stood up. He held his hand up for a high-five handshake. “See you soon, John.”
He met Chan’s hand. “You can count on it, boy.”
Chandler then walked away as John kept eating the peanuts while waiting for his drink. He looked in the distance, then he shook his head and ate the peanuts in peace. The bartender came in with his drink, saw the bowl empty, slammed John’s drink in the table, and said to him, “You’re gonna pay for that, right?”
“Like I said, boy,” he went, putting $200 in his apron, and waving his hands, “this—is—complementary.”
“Whatever you say,” the bartender said, walking away from John. John drank his drink while looking crazily in the bartender’s direction, a deranged look that got him to call security.
Chandler looked on as John was dragged away by cops. The entire room looked as they heard John yell in his Irish accent a lot of sailor talk: “You crazy motherfuckers! Get your fingers off me, you apish cunts! You won’t be able to even buy condoms by the time I’m done with your fat-jacked asses. Get your hands off me!” Around this time, he threw a glass to one of the security guards’ head, and tried to run. The guards just took him by the foot and dragged him out. By then, he sounded desperate. “Let go of me, you cuntless pricks! Stop dragging me; that’s a human rights violation. You douchebags! You’ll pay for this. Get off me, you evil assholes. I’m a son of an ambassador; I have immunity. I say to you: DIIIIIIIEEEEEE—” One of the guards punched him with the edge of a baton. That made him unconscious long enough to throw out the school. After he was thrown out, everyone went back to their businesses.
Apparently, he doesn’t process grief well.
Chandler went around the room, nothing to do, until he found Bella sitting down, talking with Alyssa. Knowing who they both were, he went in to try and join the conversation.
“Hey, Bells. Hey, Narc. How’re you doin’?”
“Chandler,” Alyssa said, “I’ve told you countless times to stop calling me ‘Narc’. Why do you keep calling me that?”
“Mostly out of truth. Also, you’re not quirky enough to be an Ally, although I would like to call you as such. And finally, just to prepare you for a future in law enforcement.”
Alyssa looked at him for a while, then went to Bella and said, “See, I told you he was annoying. Why do you put up with that?”
“First, because he doesn’t call me ‘Narc’.”
“Because you’re not,” Chandler said.
“Also, because it’s good to be friends with a smart guy you never had sex with yet.”
“Are you implying that we may have sex in the future?”
“If pigs flied and the Berlin Wall went down, then maybe that could happen.”
“If pigs flied, we’d be having sex on some horrendous kind of crap. And when the Berlin Wall comes down, not if, then I’ll be in East Berlin fixing up whatever the Communists broke in the process of their stay.”
“There’s also his hatred of Communism.”
“Plus, I’m just naturally charming.”
Alyssa looked at them both. She stood up, and then walked out, muttering “Assholes” as she walked away.
Chandler looked at her curiously. “Was it me?”
“But of course. And be—” Bella stopped mid-sentence. She saw something in the dance floor where she was looking out. Lark and Linda. They were dancing a slow dance, eyes looking at each other, locked in a love-filled illusion, as “Moon River” played. His hands were just above her butt, and she was holding on his shoulders. Not really formal ballroom, but since nobody saw them, nobody cared. They were so close to each other that their noses were rubbing each other already.
“Look, Chan, I forgot about Lark and Linda. Unbelievable. What do you think is happening?”
“I don’t know, but they look close to a kiss,” Chan said.
“Wanna bet?”
“5 big ones,” he said, putting a five on the table.
“You’re on,” she said, as she put her five on the table.
Lark and Linda continued to dance as the song played on. Lark looked on to her eyes and said, “You look beautiful, Linda.”
“Thanks, Lark.”
“I’m serious. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, but I know the truth now: you are who I want to spend the rest of my life with, and my death, and my afterlife. I just realized it looking at you, with Audrey Hepburn singing a song to us. You’re who I want, and I love you for it.”
Linda suddenly looked up from Lark’s chest. “Wait, you just said you loved me.”
They both stopped, and for a minute, their eyes grew wide with the realization. But Lark looked in Linda’s eyes, and his heart melted into a smile, as he said, “I meant it. I love you.”
Then Lark slowly moved in for a kiss. Linda didn’t know what to do; she loved him too, but she didn’t know if she wanted a kiss. But his body heat flaming up her heart, she went up and forward, and started kissing him. They kissed on, embracing themselves in a passionate heat as their arms wrapped each other together.
Lark slowly moved out of the kiss, and he said, “Damn.”
“I know,” Linda replied.
“So, what now?”
“Now,” Linda continued, playing her fingers in his chest, “we see where we go off. I don’t actually believe your bullshit, but I got a feeling that this may just be the beginning.”
Lark pushed her a bit with his hands holding her arms. “Lady, I’ve never bullshitted about my relationship before, and I’ll tell you this: no matter what, no matter where, no matter how, I will always—ALWAYS—love you. Hell be damned! People be damned! I love you, no matter what, and that’s what matters to me.”
Linda was looking for a tell, a sign that he was lying. There was none. It wasn’t just sincerity in his face; it was relief. It’s as if he was holding back his emotions all this time. Either he believed his lie, or he was telling the truth. She didn’t care, though; she just kissed him.
And, of course, they were locked in a passionate embrace, kissing like there was no tomorrow.
Chandler smiled as he took the 10 clumped around in the table. Then he went close to Bella’s ear, and in a weirdly seductive, yet sarcastic tone, he said, “Bella, never forget that love triumphs over all.” After that, he walked away.
Bella looked back to him and said, “I would be the first one to buy that T-shirt if that ever came true!” Then she sat and looked at her drink, while the party quieted down around her. The music became slower, less pumping, and more “lovey-dovey”. She sat there thinking, wishing, wanting something to happen. Then she drank her glass dry, threw it at the wall, and walked away to the door, into the hallways of the school, and near the darkness.
Meanwhile, Chandler was just outside the school grounds, rubbing his hands together to keep them from freezing. As he walked in the grassy slopes, he saw a shadow below a tree, in the distance to the school barriers. The shadow was tall, athletic-looking, and definitely feminine. He walked forward to that shadow and touched its shoulder. The head turned and looked back at him, then showed relief after looking at Chan’s face.
“Chandler O’Leary. You surprised me. How are you?”
“I’m pretty good, Mikaela Fitzgerald, the only person who calls me by my FULL name. How ‘bout you? How you doin’?”
“I’m doing fine, Chandler O’Le—”
“Please, Mikaela; call me Chandler.”
“All right, ‘Chandler’ (actually doing the hand gesture), I’m doing fine. I’m just here reminiscing and looking back at all that happened to me the past few years.”
“Right, you’re going to Korea tomorrow. Why don’t you just go back to London and do your college work there? You got accepted at Oxford too.”
“I know. But leaving my Dad to a bunch of Koreans he has no idea how to communicate to is just plain spite, and I have nothing but love for my dad. So I’m coming with him and Mom and John and Miggy and studying a bit there.”
“Oh, no! Miggy’s coming?”
“They approved his visa a week ago.”
“Wow, damn dog’s going to do Korean dogs now?”
“We had him neutered, Chandler, just so that he won’t breed like crazy in that country. Plus, it’ll keep our servants in London from going crazy with Miggy’s weird antics.”
“Yeah, sure. Good idea.” he replied, nodding along.
“Well, Chandler, if it doesn’t offend you too much, I’d like to be alone.”
“No, no offense at all,” he said, putting his hands up and moving backwards. “I just wanted to say goodbye, that’s all.”
Mikaela looked at him, then moved forward and started kissing him. After the shock and the plate-like shape of his eyes, he reciprocated and started kissing her passionately as well. A while passed by, them just making out under the tree. They were leaning already to its stem and bark as they kissed on. Then Chandler opened his eyes and said, pushing Mikaela away a bit, “You know, let’s think about this. I don’t even have a condom.”
“Then I’ll have your baby in Korea. I can name him ‘Rain’. It’s great because it’s a uni-sex name.” Then, she tried to keep kissing him.
He pushed her away. “No. I’m friends with your brother.”
She looked in his eyes, seeing the pure guilt seeping through. “You really do care about John, don’t you?”
“Well, yeah. He’s my best friend.”
“Huh,” she said. She walked a step away from the tree while Chan stood himself up straight and dusted himself of the bark and leaves.
“I’m sorry, Mikaela. I want to do, passionately so. But it just wouldn’t be right. If it’s any consolation, you are a brilliant kisser.”
Feeling that any other move at that point would be a faux pas, she just held out her hand and said, “Well, I hope that you enjoyed that. And I’ll see you, maybe someday, when everything is good between us.”
“Maybe,” Chan said, shaking her hand.
“And just so you know,” she said while looking back with only her left eye, “the kissing was only the tip of the iceberg.” When she walked away, Chan mouthed Wow in amazement while she disappeared in the fog.
Then Chandler stood there, not knowing what to do, just waiting for a signal to do something. He saw the fog part just enough to show a glimmer of the moon, brightly shining to his face, and making his eyes lighten up. Then he held the bark of the tree with his left hand, his left arm, and he felt the heat that transpired just a few moments before. Just out of reflex, he started singing a song, a song he was taught when he was a kid.
Blue moon
You saw me standing alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
Chandler took his hand off the bark and walked a few steps forward, never taking his eyes off the moon, never stopping from singing the next verse.
Blue moon
You know just what I was there for
You heard me saying a prayer for
Someone I really could care for
Chandler then smiled at the moon, and walked back, away from the trees, away from the fog, away from the moon, and into the unquiet darkness ahead, singing the song he knew.
And then there suddenly appeared before me
The only one my arms will ever hold
I heard somebody whisper “Please adore me”
And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold
Blue moon
Now I’m no longer alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own
…
©Copyright 2014. Owned by Yerwap C. Falne. All Rights Reserved.