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From my published memoir Feedback appreciated |
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Summer of ‘91- Running on the Edge of Seventeen Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Who who who The night air was moist with humidity and panting. It was a small town, summer night. The whole big gang of us; Dorian, Penelope, Ella, Tom, Ramsey, Alex, and I, were hanging out on Penelope and Ella’s front porch around midnight when the rain came sweating down from the sky. It was one of those warm, steamy, summer night skies filled with fantastical connotations. All of our senses were at their peak. Our youthful eyes could see with a keen sharpness in the night air. The fog and our hormones were a volatile combination. Tom was the first one to burst. He hopped off the porch and he whooped a primal yowl as he bounded down the street. The rest of us leaped over the hedges and chased him laughing through the streets at night. It was warm, wet, and free. Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh We sneaked into the lumber yard to check stuff out. We easily slid our slender teenage frames between the fence and gate. We climbed stacks of roof peaks like ibis. Penelope, Ella, and I performed choreographed balance beam routines along the two-by-four boards. We danced beneath a moon sized halogen lamp that shone upon us like God’s spotlight. Everyone sang all the words to Summertime Rolls by Jane’s Addiction at the top of our lungs. It was immeasurable to be alive. Alex got nervous about being on private property, so the seven of us sneaked away from the lumberyard like a gang of pixies upon the small-town streets at night. Penelope and I twirled our long wet skirts under another streetlight. We felt as licentious as Bj̈örk. We immortalized all of our moments as we gathered them into our hungry palms and squeezed them tight with holy fingers. The only moment that ever mattered was the one we existed within, around, though, and beside. We were magicians of moments like those back then. We could tap directly into immortality just by dancing in the rain. After several minutes, a cop pulled up slowly beside the seven of us. “Oh my god!” said Alex. “I’ve never been arrested before!” “Holy shit, dude!” whispered Dorian. Ramsey tossed in, “Here they come!” Penelope was all excited. “What are we going to do you guys?” she wrung her tiny, wet, hands with anticipation. “Holy cow! This is exciting!” said Ella with a giggle in her voice. She jumped up and down a little in place. Her strawberry blond curls bounced with her like slippery silken spirals. Tom just giggled to himself. Finally, I had to calm these poor children. It’s not their fault that they weren’t experts at being deviants yet. I spoke up. “Hey. Nerds. Here’s what you do. You act like you weren’t doing anything wrong. Quit freaking out. What, have none of you ever dealt with a cop before?” I asked in a snarky tone. All five emphatically exclaimed, “NO!” By that time, the cop rolled his window down slowly. He spoke to the group of us. “What are you kids up to this evening?” the polite officer asked in a concerned tone. Then, my dorky gang looked back and forth between each other like they were trying to put together an alibi with glances. They were ridiculous. I spoke up and saved them. “We’re just being kids. We’re splashing around in puddles. It’s a perfect summer rain don’t you think?” I replied nonchalantly. The police officer looked at me and grinned. “Yes, yes, it is. So, uh, I got a call about some kids messing around in the lumber yard. Did you see anything?” Dorian said, “Yeah, we saw five kids running off that way on our way down the street.” “What’s your name young man?” the officer skeptically inquired. “Uh, Dorian.” “Do you have a last name, Uh Dorian?” the cop knew he had them under his thumb. “Uh, Smith.” Then the cop went around the circle and we offered our names and residence. Well, except for me. I just kept backing slowly away to hide behind Tom. Alex got so nervous that he offered his full name, address, and parent’s names. I thought he was going to offer up a social security number, and perhaps a fine reference. “Young lady?” He didn’t let me off the hook that easy. “Hi, my name is Alice Dodgson. I live near Swegles Street with my mom.” With Gavin’s infamous violent drunk reputation around St. Johns, I couldn’t be too careful about a cop drawing a connection between me and my miscreant stepfather. The police drove away, and we skipped through the rain on a warm summer night. And the days go by Like a strand in the wind In the web that is my own The next day, all six of us met back up, and spent the afternoon playing at the city park. Afterwards, we went to the McDonald’s for dinner. We played hacky sack in front of the courthouse until lavender dusk shook her cool cloak over our bare shoulders. Ramsey wandered off into the night. Alex dropped everyone off at their respective houses. I was the last person to be dropped off. I sort of hoped I would be. After everyone else was returned safely, Alex asked me if I wanted to come with him to the park to look at constellations. Of course I did. “Thanks for taking me here, Alex!” “No problem, Bailey. I hope I can see. My damn contact lens is slipping in my eyeball.” “I love it that you can find all the constellations. The city park is perfect.” “You said you like stars. Not many, or any, girls I know are into astronomy." Within a couple blocks of the park, we saw sirens. Alex got pulled over by the cops. “Are you fucking kidding me! I’ve never been pulled over or had to talk to the police before I met you!” Alex’s voice was high pitch, and his hands were shaking. The policeman staggered slowly up to Alex’s car window. “Hey there kids.” “Uh, good evening...sir.” Alex tried to sound pleasant. I couldn’t help but let a secret smile escape. “My friend and I were going to look at constellations.” He managed to nervously sputter. “Well, you were driving a little funny back there. Park closed at dusk. Are you kids smoking any of that wacky weed tonight?” The officer wiped the inside of Alex’s red Ford Station Wagon with his mag light. Alex froze. “I, uh, my contact lens was slipping. I’m sorry, sir.” He sounded terrified. “Hm. You kids be careful. Stay out of trouble.” The officer had got what he needed from our encounter and walked away. We didn’t see the constellations that night. Alex turned the red wagon around, and then drove me home, still befuddled and astonished that he was pulled over. He had never spoken with a police officer in the line of duty in his entire life. He dealt with police two nights in a row now. We laughed about it the entire way back to my mom’s apartment. Alex pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. I begin again. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked with a maple syrup grin. “I hope so.” I added with my cherry on top. “Bailey?” he asked. I bit the corner of my lower lip as if to hold it in place and not let it be sovereign. I could not trust my lips lack of inhibitions. I was locked inside his sky-blue eyes. His hair was the color of corn silk, and whimsically twirled like a babe’s soft curls. His hands were as delicate as angel wings as they unhurriedly caressed the side of my face. He leaned in gradually as if we could manipulate this moment and make it endless. I felt the power of his aura sucking on my sun-tanned skin. It felt like a tingle. Nose to nose, we paused. Then we both slowly lowered our lids and each of our mouths timidly found the other. It was a long, tender, beautiful kiss. It was everything a first kiss could be. It was finally something romantic. It was a boy my age, and my race. We shared friends, and then we shared magic. Said to my friend, baby Nothin' else mattered The next day was Alex’s graduation. I hung out with Trent that morning. We had remained friends since fifth grade. I discovered that Trent wasn’t his biggest fan, but he never tried to talk me out of him. We spent every second of the next day together with our friends. At the end of the day, Alex drove everyone but me home. He drove me way out in the country by the airport. We put the back seat down in the little red Ford Pinto station wagon. We lay blankets, and a sleeping bag down. Then we watched the airplanes zoom over our heads for about ten seconds before we were flesh to flesh again. We were nearly naked when I saw the headlights bounce slowly down the two-track road where we were parked. I pulled my pink and white tuul lingerie dress down quickly. Alex was scrambling to zip his shorts when the officer made it to the car. There was no way to make this situation look better than anything other than what it was. The cop told us to get out of there. “No more humping in fields behind the airport.” The cop warned us. It became our new motto. The first three nights Alex and I hung out we were approached by the police. It was a sign. This relationship was significant. Gods and Goddesses would not let me miss this one. He was no more than a baby then. I fell in love. Alex fell madly in love, too. I believed I finally had what I always yearned for. I believed from the core of my heart that Alex really, truly, loved me with all the passion his loins had to spread out upon me. Our romance rapidly became an avalanche of hormones. We were enraptured. I wrote more poems about that boy than any other subject. He touched my heart so gently. He was proud to have me as his sexy, rebel, girlfriend. To him, I was the most passionate and powerful thing he ever met. We spent every night in the same hidden away spot in the country. It was a field behind a ninety-degree corner. There was a trail that led beyond a tree line where we could park the car behind it and be hidden from the road. We possessed the entire star frosted sky laid out before us. We would lay sleeping bags down in the back of his Ford Pinto Wagon. They were my clouds that took me to a new heaven. I was everything he ever fantasized his last girlfriend should be. I did things to that young man that he didn’t even know he was missing out on. I redefined what sex could be for him. He was the first man that I ever felt that I was being made love to by. He touched every part of me as if it were his honor to be invited. We indulged one another’s flesh for hours every night. Such was a privilege of youth. He reveled in each curve of my flesh. His favorite color was the color of my eyes. I was the most unique person he had ever met. I was proud of my hard-core alternative, intellectual, poet boy. Not since Kai had I felt love that pure and innocent. Not since Kai had I had a love that was real because it was genuinely reciprocated. Well he seemed broken hearted. Something within him There was no fear between Alex and me. There was only trust. There was no awkward. There was only pure expression through youthful passion. We were attracted to one another on a molecular level. He was the first man to take in all of me, and then still keep me. He really, truly, wanted me. He liked me enough to write poetry to me and make me gifts. He took me out to eat and bought all my cigarettes. We went on dates. He actually thought I was beautiful, too. He told me all the time what he thought was exquisite about me. He gave me the nickname, “Unbelievable”. He was a cynical little cuss, except when it came to me. Everything that was ‘me’ excelled every other woman’s attempt to be a passable female. I could not have been more twisted around his existence, and I breathed the long sighs of a lover in bliss. But the moment that I first laid Eyes on him all alone One fine, hot, summer day in June, Dorian looked over at Alex and said, “Let’s go to the Ledges. Alex, you’re driving.” So it was. Dorian, Penelope, me, Alex, Ramsey and Tom took a trip to Fitzgerald Park in Grand Ledge to play on the ledges along the river, and in the park. We sang along loudly with my The Violent Femmes Violent Femmes cassette tape the entire ride. We sang it like it was our anthem. Blister In the Sun was our battle cry. We grabbed some food from town to eat later. The exact moment that Alex parked the car, we six freaks exploded from it, and then we tangled ourselves into the deep, lush, forest. We avoided every trail. Tom led us to a private pond located behind the park. I was pretty sure he that he didn’t know it was there. After slipping through the broken fence, we were in an alcove of a shale pond. Penelope and I stripped down to our ivory bums and plunged our free and uninhibited selves into the cold, clean, water. It felt like what alive should feel like. It felt like youth, and it felt unlimited, because that’s how perfect that moment was. “Yeah, for us these are the days, and you know, you’re my girl; such a classic girl, such a classic girrrrl!” Penelope and I sang to each other and to the trees. We dove beneath a summer baptism. After a picnic dinner, the boys whipped stones that skipped like bullfrogs across the Grand River. The park closed at sunset. We lugged our tired and refreshed bodies back to the station wagon. Later that evening on the long car ride back to St. Johns, Penelope and I sang along with every note from my Cowboy Junkies, Trinity Sessions cassette tape. There comes a time in life when you’re barely old enough to be held accountable, but still childlike enough to be impervious to everything. The best part was, we actually knew it. Stars were always dazzling, the moonlight was always tepid, and music was the doorway to our souls. On the edge of seventeen A couple of weeks after graduation, Alex left to make his annual summer pilgrimage to his mother’s home in Atlanta, Georgia. We made blood oaths that we would write letters every day, and that the distance could only reinforce our commitment. I promised to take care of his pet rat, Kubota, for him. I counted the days until I knew he would return. He sent me a cassette tape that had The Sundays Reading Writing, & Arithmetic on one side, and Smashing Pumpkins Gish on the other, and a postcard with a picture from the movie A Clockwork Orange on it. I stole angels, and pictures of angels to send him. I called him my Angel. He was my bright spot in a strange, morose, existence. He was something worth living for again. He made me feel valid. It was easy to regress to my actual age again. It was just me and my gang of friends in St. Johns for most of the summer. We drank cheap wine in the cemetery. We came up with elaborate schemes to steal bazaar items from the corner markets. We rode our bikes from one side of town to the other every day. Ramsey was homeless that summer, but it became kind of adventure for us to find secret forts for him to live in. Alex and I talked almost every day. I was a typical sixteen-year-old in love; with a red mohawk, a silver nose ring, and a pleasant disposition mixed together. By July, Noel got a hold of my phone number in St. Johns. She called to tell me about her new apartment, and her roommates, and how great everything was going for her. I was glad she had her own life. “So, wassup wit you girlfriend? You out there in white-boy country.” she joked. Ironically, she was from a town even smaller, and whiter, than St. Johns. “Oh my gosh, I’m so in love. I’ve been hanging out with the same folks I did before. I got to know Alex, and now we’re in the maddest, deepest, most unbelievably perfect love.” “I’ll bet he’s white, too. You better not being dating some redneck white boy!” Noel had, and even I had for a while, become quite racist towards white people after our cultural immersion within the minority community. White people were the enemy. They explore and exploit. “So what if I am. I love him. He’ll be back at the end of August. He’s going to Eastern Michigan in the fall. So, I guess I’m going to try and find a way to live in Ypsilanti if that’s where he is. I mean I don’t know anyone, and I can’t live with him in the dorms. But I’ll find a way. Love will find a way.” I had enough time to build up some self-esteem and confidence since Noel and I last talked. “Girl, when are you coming out here to Lansing to see me? I miss you! Shit’s not the same without you. It’s a beautiful apartment by the Community College. It has French doors! I’m thinking about taking some classes. You don’t even have to stay the night. I’ll have my boyfriend, Dante, pick you up at your crib, drive you back here to my new crib, and then bring you back to your mom’s crib tonight.” Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh She sounded so convincing. Or, at least I wanted her to. She gradually worked her spell on my better judgment. I agreed to come to Lansing, but for just a few hours. She swore on her own grave that her boyfriend Dante was going to drive me home before my mom came home from work at nine that evening. I eventually found a meeting place in the small, ultra-white, Catholic farming town in nineteen-ninety-one for a car full of black gang banger’s in a nineteen-seventies black Impala, blaring ghetto rap music, very, very loudly. Culture clash doesn’t even begin to describe this experience I created. Big Ron and Dante came to St. John's. (Damn it, Noel.) Big Ron was being cool though. We went to Goff grocery store for drinks and snacks before we left town. The effect on the room was like a movie director’s dream. Every jaw dropped simultaneously, and then like dominoes, as we walked into the grocery store. Every cashier stopped their order. Every cart stopped moving. Every bagger stopped bagging. People were freezing in their tracks as we walked through the tiny rural food market. Dante and Noel seemed a little embarrassed, but Big Ron and I thought the culture shock was amusing so we played it up. He greeted every person he walked by. He tipped his hat to the butcher. I lapped it up. I hated those people. It was about time they were forced to interact with someone from a different race. I didn’t want to see Big Ron. Noel knew that. She said they had stuff to do so we wouldn’t be hanging out with them. Dante was going to bring me home later. I was on a magnificent speed binge at the time. I was very addicted to ephedrine and didn’t care. I was eating Primatene Tablets that I stole from the pharmacy and ate them like they were fucking Tic-Tac’s. It was great! I was up for days. I never ate, and constantly vibrated while I talked, and wrote, incessantly. J ust like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh The comedown came when I realized I had left my whole bottle of little white pills in my purse back in Tom’s bedroom. The devastation came at about eight o’clock that evening when I passed out into coma deep sleep whilst in mid-sentence. I hadn’t slept in days. My body seized the moment and made up for long lost incapacitation. The consequence of my vulnerable condition came at about twelve-thirty that night. Just my luck, Noel left with her friends while I was passed out. She ran into Big Ron, and told him I was back at her house, passed out, alone in a bed. This six-foot four, two hundred and fifty-pound, psychopathic fucktard and I were not on good terms after he heard about my white boyfriend. The bed was a thin mattress on the floor covered with thin sheets. I woke up to him humping his bloated gut against my naked ass. I looked around frantically. “Aw, Bailey” he moaned. “Just …stay... quiet… AH! YES! Bitch, yes.” He pulled his slimy member from my vaginal cavity, and then gave my ass a good smack. “Get you shit on. We is going out.” The room was dark. The house was silent. He threw a towel at my head. I used it to wipe my genitals off. I was getting my clothes back on, but not because he told me to. After I was dressed, he grabbed me tightly by the wrist and thrust a little baggy full of crack rocks down the front of my pants behind my panties. “You hold this. Give it back when I tells you.” What a terrifying night, already. I didn’t need a gypsy woman to tell me that it wouldn’t get any better, either. Big Ron and some other guy drove with me around town all night until just before dawn while he sold crack, Then he took me back to an apartment complex on the west side of Lansing. We were way out on the edge of town behind Meier's. I didn’t know anyone out there on that side of town. There were two girls who stayed there in the apartment they took me to. There wasn’t any furniture in the living room. There weren’t even beds in the bedroom. Big Ron pulled me into the bathroom. He closed the door behind us and locked it on the handle. He moved himself against me until I couldn’t back up any farther. The bathroom was only few feet wide. He put his hands in my underwear and crept his fingers forward until he reached my clitoris. I was trying to wiggle away but he had me pressed against the sink in the tiny bathroom. I couldn’t get away from him. The more I squirmed, the more it seemed to turn him on. It was like he thought I was just playing hard to get for his benefit. He scratched my clitoris for about thirty seconds. Then he pulled down my shorts to just past my ass. He grabbed me by my hips and twisted me around. He bent me over the sink and humped on me really quickly while making low moaning noises. There was no getting away. This guy was the size of a professional football player. I was five feet, four inches, of Not Doing A Damn Thing About It. I went today. Maybe I will go again tomorrow It took a couple more hours, but I finally walked my way back towards downtown until I made it to Noel’s apartment. I tried to fight with her about it, but somehow it was my fault in the end. Noel couldn’t get a hold of Dante. I should have been home twelve hours ago. I went in her room to get some sleep again so I could figure anything out. I hadn’t eaten since I left St. John's. I passed out cold again. I woke up to a random stranger ejaculating on me. Some other guy had sex with me when I tried to take a nap. I was in physical agony. At this point, I had not had food, water, sleep, or speed in over 24 hours. I had been raped three separate times already. I freaked out. I was breaking down mentally, but that was not was a survivor does. I had to escape this place if I was going to live. Noel was supposed to get me home yesterday. I locked the door to the bathroom and took a scalding hot shower. When I was done, no one else was there in Noel’s apartment again. I remembered that Dorian had got a place that summer with a couple of other guys in his band. I had only been there one time. The house was only a few blocks away. I hated Dorian. Dorian hated me. We were still friends though. I grabbed my stuff and snuck out without word or a note. I scrambled to Dorian’s then called my mom from his house. I was embarrassed as all hell. He was actually cool to me though, for once. My mom came out to Lansing to get me and drove me home to St. John's. The whole way back she explained to me in baritone why I was an idiot for having anything to do with Noel. Stupid choices deserve stupid consequences. Why was I so stupid? And the music there it was hauntingly familiar. Everyone found out, but I didn’t want to talk about this adventure. Noel never even called to find out if I was alright. Penelope just didn’t know what to do. So we decided that we would pretend it didn’t happen. We went about our mischievous girly ways in St. John's. We were elvish thieves. Ramsey finally got hired at Burger King. Lollapalooza was this amazing concert happening that summer with all these amazing alternative bands. Jane’s Addiction would be headlining! I was thrilled to find out that Detroit was one of the stops on the tour. Everyone was dying to get there. Alex begged me not to go. He said that it wouldn’t be fair for me to see my first concert without him. Lollapalooza wouldn’t be in Georgia until after he left, and he was already missing the Michigan show, too. I reluctantly agreed not to see my first concert without him. Even though it was Jane’s Addiction’s Farewell tour. The evening of the Lollapalooza; Tom, Trent, and I, mourned the music we were not hearing. We were missing out on a moment in musical history. The worst thing was- we felt it. Penelope, Dorian, and Ella caught a ride at the last minute. They bought tickets from a scalper on the side of the road on the way there and got twelfth row from the stage at Pine Knob Amphitheater. The things we do for love. And I see you doing what I try to do for me With the words from a poet And the voice from a choir And a melody, nothing else mattered It was mid-July. Penelope, Ramsey, Dorian, Tom, and I were all sitting around in Tom’s room smoking cigarettes and listening to Fleetwood Mac. It was a hot, muggy, summer night. “Ugh.” sighed Penelope. “Bailey, you want to go for a bike ride with me?” “Sure.” I said easily. “We’ll be back in a little bit.” Penelope told the boys before giving Dorian a kiss on the top of his head. We climbed out Tom’s bedroom window to avoid making noise in the rest of the house. It was after eleven at night. His parents and little sister would be safe in bed. Penelope used the time to just girl talk for a bit. We decided to check out the cemetery in town. Across the street from the cemetery was a modest little flower shoppe filled with hundreds of tiny statues and flowers. We were very curious youths. We crept up slowly on our bicycles. We laid them behind some hedges near the door. Then we slipped into the shadows and began to look for cracks inside. In typical innocuous St. John's fashion, the door wasn’t even locked. We were shivering with tension. There were a few houses across the street. The houses looked dark beyond their windows. A bright light over a driveway across the street gave off just enough residual light that we could see inside the tiny shoppe. Inside was beautiful. Roses overflowed. Tulips, lilies, crocuses, daffodils, permeated every pour of every one of our sense. The colors were explosive. The scent was hypnotizing. Every petal felt like God’s satin. Crickets wrote concertos to these gifts of nature in the cool moonlight. My fingertips buzzed. There were a plethora of trinkets and tiny statues to rook. I grabbed a couple of golden angel statues to send to Alex in Atlanta. Penelope and I noticed the real prize at the same time. The cash register was on the counter. We could hear the angels softly singing hallelujah around it. “Didn’t you used to work with a cash register when you were in New York?” Penelope asked with a devious smile in her green eyes. “Why yes. Yes I did.” Was my sinister reply. I tiptoed behind the small glass counter and micro-examined my surroundings. Nothing. No movement. Absolute silence all around. I looked at the keyboard. I saw a key. I turned it. Then I saw a No Sale key. I pushed it and the drawer popped open. Penelope and I jumped out of our skin and back in again. We scooped the cash out of the drawer. We shut it as quietly as possible. Then we turned the key to off. We grabbed our bags filled with the miscellaneous booty we snatched. We silently pulled our bikes from behind the hedges. We dragged them through the shadows until we were past the little shoppe. Then we hightailed it out of there as fast as we possible could back to Tom’s bedroom. Every shadow felt like it was out to snatch us. Our guilt made our bodies move faster as time move slower. We threw our bikes down in the gravel driveway and leaped up like terrified gazelles through his bedroom window. We kicked everyone out of the bedroom and told them to stand silently in the kitchen like confused mice. Penelope and I unloaded all the of the money we took. It came to ninety-eight dollars. We divided it equally, and then pinky swore to never tell anyone what we had done. Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh With a little extra change in my pocket I decide it was time to have some fun. I called up Warren to see if he wanted to come out to St. John's to get me. He brought Ash with him, of course. We bought some Seagram’s and Seven-Up. We drove through the country smoking weed and drinking gin until we came to East Lansing. I blew some money on pinball and pool. I had Warren buy a couple of packs of cigarettes for me. I ran into my old friend Luigi. He wanted to sell me five hits of acid for fifteen dollars. That was a good deal, especially because I was going to sell them for four a piece. In St. John's I could charge five and get away with it easily. After a healthy serving of greasy fries and black coffee from Theios, Warren and Ash dropped me off to my humble abode. They were good dudes. Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh When I got back to St. John's I went over to Tom’s house. Everyone was out of town except for us. I decided he and I should do acid together. It would be his first time tripping on acid, and my second. We each ate our blotter hit, then made a plan for the night. Tom had heard that vitamin C extends your acid trip. His parents had a large bottle of chewable vitamin C tablets that we proceeded to munch away on. We rode our bikes to the video store to rent movies, and then we got snacks from Goff grocery store. We rented the animated cult-classic, Wizards, and the ever creepy The Serpent and the Rainbow. Tom’s entire family was home. So we sat in Tom’s living room and watched our movie with his dad; twelve-year-old sister, and Tom’s extremely pregnant stepmother, while he and I tripped our faces off of our bodies. We laughed hysterically at everything, then suddenly stopped- entranced by a scene of silence. We must have looked insane. There is no way they couldn’t have known. At the time, I really didn’t think they would know as long as we didn’t tell them that we were tripping. Even if his dad found out we were on LSD I don’t think it would have offended him. We were teenagers. We weren’t delinquents. His dad was a hippie, so he knew we were just going to watch cartoons, laugh, and listen to music. And that would be about it. I was a good friend. His dad trusted me enough to keep Tom safe. After watching movies in fit of joy with Tom’s family, he and I went back to his room and spent the next few hours in mind-bending deep discussions and debates. They were dazzling hours of spiritual enlightenment. The clouds never expect it when it rains But the sea changes colors But the sea does not change It was into August. Summer was closing down. Gavin would be out of jail soon and I still didn’t have an exit strategy. People in my life were changing towards me. I think Dorian was rubbing off on Penelope. She was spending a lot more time with him and was a lot more judgmental of me. Ella was always busy with someone else or working at her new job. Ramsey finally had a job, but still no place to live. Tom was trying to find more ways to hang out at Dorian’s in Lansing, but he was also deciding how he was going to approach his adult life. He was considering the Navy. Things were feeling weird with me and Alex, too. Something was off there. I wasn’t getting letters anymore. He wasn’t ever home when I called. The phone rang Friday morning. It was Noel. “Hey girl! How you been?” she asked excitedly. “I’m alright. What’s up?” I was waiting to see what she wanted. “I wanted to know if it was time for me to come rescue you from that white trash hell hole you live in.” She said casually. “It didn’t work out so well for me last time. I fucking hate Big Ron. You know this. Why do you-?” but she cut me off. “Look. That shit was not my fault. I broke up with Dante. Big Ron, he don’t be comin' around here no more anyway. None of those people are even around here. Just come over. We’ll have dinner then I’ll take you home.” “You will take me home after dinner?” “Yes! Damn! I just said I would! Get your shit ready! Is your damn mom there?” “No. She’s at work until six-thirty tonight. I don’t even want her to know I’m gone. She’ll kill me if she finds out I saw you.” “Don’t worry about it. Don’t I always take care of you?” she asked coyly. “Well, not…” I was about to respond. “Shut up and get ready. I’m coming to that fucking hell hole. You better be ready to leave when I get there.” Noel sounded like she missed something from me. “I miss you, too, hun. Things are getting pretty wack out here.” And so with the slow graceful flow of age I went forth with an age old desire to please On the edge of seventeen She didn’t actually have her own car to come and get me. Noel came with another guy that I had met once. His name was Charles. I met him through Noel, of course. It was one of the single serving boyfriends I made when I lived at Crossroads. The one time we hung out he pressured me into impersonal rushed sex in a hotel room. Obviously, he was a hopeless romantic and a gentleman I could trust. I wasn’t comfortable, but it was too late to change horses, even if that horse had the potential to be sexually unpredictable. Everyone was cool to me the entire way from St. John's to Lansing. We played the Guy cassette tape all the way to Lansing. Noel and I sang every note. Charles and his friend dropped us off at Noel’s. He said he had some business to do but it was good to see me. He gave me his number again. He was a very tall, handsome, young man. His skin was mocha, and he stared at me with Egyptian eyes. He was physically gorgeous. He drove a gold Maxima with gold rims. He always gave me the creeps though. There was something dehumanizing in his stare. Something manipulative masquerading as kindness. Noel and I made spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread for dinner. Several people dropped by. Other white Vice Lord gang-banger girls were her new day-to-day best friends. I didn’t click with any of them. No one could figure out why I was there. I noticed that I didn’t fit in to her world anymore. I couldn’t talk with the ghetto accent naturally anymore. I wasn’t a Vice Lord. I wasn’t black anymore. What’s more, is that I didn’t aspire to be. Noel didn’t seem concerned about getting me back on time. It was getting late. It was nearly six o’clock. I would have normally checked in for dinner by then. I told her to get me back to St. Johns immediately. Lucky me, she got a hold of Charles again. I called my mother and told her that I was so sorry, and that I finally found a way back. I let my furious mother know that I would be home that very evening. I was practically on my way. Charles and his friend picked me up from Noel’s apartment about an hour later. First, we stopped at the Quality Dairy on Saginaw and Larch to buy Seagram’s gin and orange juice. Then we went through the Burger King drive-through for cups of ice. He filled up my glass and told me to drink up; it was for the car ride home. Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh Then they told me we have to stop at some guy’s house first. I wasn’t happy about it, but there wasn’t much I could do either. We drove into an area with newer, big, houses that I had never been to before. The gold Maxima pulled up to a two-story house with a garage and a curved driveway. The man who answered the door owned the house. He was white. The white dude seemed a little nervous around Charles and his friend. Everyone sat down in the living room for a moment. It was tastefully decorated. There was a nice, white leather sectional couch that everyone sat around. There was a glass coffee table with gold legs above a white, shaggy, rug. Charles refilled my glass with more gin and orange juice. Then he handed me a poorly twisted pinner joint. I lit it, took a papery hit, then passed it back to him. “No, that’s just for you. I rolled that for you to smoke by yourself.” Charles sweetly responded. Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh I didn’t even know you could smoke joints without handing it to someone else. I had never seen it done before. After I was done with the joint, the white guy gave us a tour of the house. He was a little dude. He had reddish brown hair and a shaggy beard. He didn’t speak in ghetto lingo. He did, however, seemed to know an awful lot more about crack than I did. He took us to the upstairs of his new house. He showed us his bedroom, his office, his master bath. My head was spinning. I was having trouble walking. Charles’ friend insisted I just needed more to drink. I had cotton mouth from the joint and I was really thirsty. The tour ended in the basement of his condo. “Here is the laundry room. Over here is the pantry. There is the guest bed.” The white guy pointed out. “This is a smooth crib, yo.” Remarked Charles. He was holding me upright by my arm. “I have to throw up. Now.” Was my personal comment. “There is the trash can.” The white guy pointed to a large black trash can by the washer and dryer. I threw up in the large black trash can until I couldn’t stand up. There was a fold out bed. I was told to lie down for a bit until I felt better. Fade to black... Then I was bouncing up and down. Someone, not Charles though, was penetrating me so hard that my whole body bounced up off the mattress. I kept vomiting all over myself. The combination of getting too stoned, alcohol poisoning, and slamming my little body up and down was more than this sixteen-year-old could handle. The vomit was in my hair. It was in my ears and ran down my neck. Pasta, and chunks of ground beef were stuck to my face and neck. The tomato sauce and gin burned my throat as I repeatedly vomited, then choked on vomit, then vomited back up the choked-on vomit. My shirt was pulled over my head, so my arms were locked above me. I felt someone pull my legs all the way out of my shorts. They weren’t very good at it. My body just wouldn’t work for me though. I was wide awake, but I could not force my body to move at all. I was trying to tell my arms and legs to take me away, but they wouldn’t budge. The pain and nausea in my stomach was unbearable. I was finally able to pull my shirt back over my face, but I couldn’t see clearly because of the hair in my eyes. Hair was pasted to my face with vomit. Then another man walked up to the bed. He grabbed me by putting one hand on my shoulder then the other hand on my hip. Then, he flipped me from my back to my stomach. He spread my legs open. He put his fingers between my legs until he found a hole. He put his hand in my vagina and poked around with his boney fingers for a bit. Then he got behind me on the bed on his knees. As he scooted his way toward me, he pushed my legs further apart. Then he grabbed my hips and slammed my body against his. He was so drunk. I could tell by the way he would fall over on top of me, bite my ear, then get back up and sloppily thrust himself at me some more. He smacked me hard on my legs. I screamed out in pain. He smacked me again, this time even harder. The more I screamed the harder his dick would get. A harder dick hurt me more inside, but it also meant he would be that much closer to orgasm and would leave me alone. Then there are three guys. Two of them are bouncing on the end of the bed. The bouncing makes me want to throw up more, but my stomach cavity is officially dry. I wretched and dry heaved. My entire body wrenched so hard that the guy fucking me was turned on by it and he penetrated me even harder and faster. “Oh she be lovin' this shit! I’m gonna fuck this little bitches’ brains out! Watch me smack the white off her ass!” The smack hurt enough that a guttural noise came out of me. “Ooo! She a freak!” Next, they are both jumping on the bed, peeing on me, and laughing about something called a “golden shower”. One guy was standing next to me with his cock in my mouth. He fucked the back of my throat as hard as he could until my gag reflex made him cum so hard, I was suffocating and choking on his semen. Fade to black... There is someone penetrating me again. This time I’m lying on my back though. This is a compassionate position, face to face. I thought maybe it was Charles. I couldn’t see anything through my hair in my eyes. “Charles?” I asked. “Who is Charles?” asked whoever was penetrating me at that point. I noticed he was white. I responded by passing out again after I started heaving violently several more times. He rolled me over, probably to keep me from choking. My face was shoved into my own bile. Fade to black… Well then suddenly There was no one left standing In the hall In a flood of tears That no one really ever heard fall at all When I woke up, the house was silent. Sunlight made its way into the basement through tiny, Michigan basement, sized windows. The smell was so bad, my stomach immediately began to wretch, and dry heave again. My hair was drenched in bodily fluids. My shirt had been pulled up over my face. My arms were left out of my shirt. I pulled it the rest of the way over my head and slowly sat up. I tried to wipe up my face with my t shirt. Oh I went searching for an answer, Up the stairs and down the hall Gingerly, I tiptoed up out of the basement. There was a note on the table that said to eat whatever I wanted in the fridge. Someone would be home to see me later. ‘Wow. How benevolent.’ I thought. I had no idea who that would be. I did not know where I was. I did not know anything other than I smelled, I hurt, things were crusted all over me, and I was very sore. First order of business was to drink a gigantic glass of ice-cold water. Second order, I drank most of a pitcher of orange juice. The night was coming back to me like tiny pieces of glass working their way out of my skin. Next, I went all the way upstairs and took an exceptionally scalding shower. I used all of his expensive bath products. I explored the upstairs bedroom. I kept pawing through his personal belongings until I eventually found a phone. I took a long deep breath, and I called my mom. I told her every single thing that actually happened since Noel called me the day before. I can’t say that she was okay with how my visit with Noel worked out. At least she wasn’t an idiot, and she was willing to help me out. She told me to look around and see if I could find any mail. I found a piece of mail with an address on it, but neither one of us knew where that street in Haslett was. She told me to call 911 so that they could trace the call and find me. I gave the operator my address. While I waited for the police car to arrive, I found a black rosary and large chunk of purple quartz amethyst. I decided it was an acceptable consolation prize and shoved it into a bag. The cops found me quickly. Haslett police sent a squad car to the house I was at. I was allowed to ride in the front of the car. The officer didn’t ask me what happened, or what I was doing there. There was no sympathy for this devil. I waited, ashamed of myself, for my mom and Aunt Ellen to come pick me up from the police station in Haslett. Alex could never find out what had just happened to me. Not to find an answer Just to hear the call Of a night bird singing Come away, come away While I waited, a report had come in about a fifteen-year-old boy who washed up on the shore in Lake Lansing. The police thought it might be a boating accident because he had so many marks all over his body. My mom took us to McDonald’s before we left town. My mom told Aunt Ellen the Cliff Notes version from that night on their way to pick me up. It was quite humiliating. “You know, it’s awful that that happened to you, but it’s hard to feel sorry for you when you keep putting yourself in a situation everyone has told you would happen.” My mother tried to console me. The part that shook me the most was that no one, not my family, not the police, or any of my friends when I got home, seemed offended that I had been raped several times over during the past forty-eight hours. It was just taken for granted that if I hung with Noel, horrible, horrible, things should happen to me. So if I was choosing to be around her, I was also choosing to be violated at anyone’s will. Why should anyone feel sorry for me if I was putting myself in situations where I knew getting gang raped was a possibility? In order to add insult to injury, Penelope, Dorian, and Ella stole my cigarettes, my last three hits of LSD, and all of the speed from my purse while I was gone. I called them out for it. There were no apologies. Penelope admitted it. “So what, it’s too late to get it back now. We found your purse here. Dorian found the drugs and said we should do them, so we did.” Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh I called up Trent. I got a few bucks off my mom. We went to the Roadhouse Saloon on M-21 and played pool for a while. We couldn’t drink alcohol, so we ordered pitchers of root beer. I chain smoked Camel Filter cigarettes and focused on alignment. I was too ashamed to tell Trent about the gang rape. I told him that the visit didn’t work out well for me. I won’t let anyone think about me like that. It makes people uncomfortable to acknowledge that there are monsters that prey on people. They either rationalize the event for us both, or they responded with a dramatic overreaction so that I could be sure they were offended. I never told Alex about either trip to Noel’s. If my best friends and family didn’t understand, Alex’s naive sheltered perspective most certainly would not either. A few days later, my mom found out that Gavin was getting early release. Like that, she kicked me out and I was homeless again. I moved back into my grandparent’s house because it was the only place I could go. At least for as long as my grandpa could stand me under his roof. I was bad for his health. My situation could only be temporary. To make matters even worse, Alex was suddenly being distant, cold, and wasn’t saying, “I love you” anymore when we talked on the phone. The mail from him stopped coming over two weeks ago. Whenever I felt lonely, I would often go to my Aunt Bell’s because she had five children and a daycare in her home; not to mention kid’s friends, cousins, or other random parents, so there was always company to talk to. I could also blend in and be one of the kids for a while. I longed for a family. It was never the same between my cousins and me after I ran away, especially with Duane and Allan. We were childhood enthusiast and cohorts our entire lives. After I ran away, I returned with scars on my back where once there was only innocent skin. We were different. My innocence was lost, but not theirs. Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh After a few hours of family time, I still couldn’t shake the foreboding I had regarding Alex. I knew it was over. I was trying to keep my reaction buried until the final cut actually happened. I knew just what I thought I should do to make myself feel better. “Aunt Bell, can I use the phone?” I asked pleasantly. “Sure thing, Sugar. Who are you calling?” “My friend Hunter lives a few blocks from here. I thought I’d see him for a couple of hours. We haven’t seen each other in quite a while. I’d like to see if he has any new music I can borrow for a bit.” That was my plan. I was going to feel better about myself by finding a man who would validate me. It was textbook Daddy-Issue, but it worked. Hunter was happy to hear from me. He invited me over. Conveniently, both his parents were at work. So, it looked like we had the place to ourselves for a while. He led me downstairs to the finished basement. It was complete with shag carpeting, a couch big enough for two people to lie side by side, and an entertainment center. He played the movie Repo Man on the VCR. He pointed out all the cool references, cameos, and the soundtrack music while we laughed and laughed. The adrenaline was good. It was nice to be on it again. He put his hand on mine while we sat on the couch. Magically, the pain fell away from that part of my body. I reclaimed it again. Like the moon pulls the sea back to her bosom, he slowly crawled across the shoreline of the couch. He placed his hand softly on my neck, closed his eyes, and locked his mouth upon mine. Inevitably, our frames fell against each other. As I had hoped, he fit into my empty spaces. My flesh was throbbing with more than desire. This was a necessary passion. Every place he fumbled for felt wonderful again. I tried to replace the cold in my blood with the heat of a young man’s lust. Before I left, I scribbled some Primus lyrics onto his bedroom wall with a sharpie marker. I returned his The Dead Milkmen Bucky Fellini cassette. He loaned me a new tape that had Primus Frizzle Fry on one side, and Taj Mahal on the other. We kissed goodbye. We promised to visit again soon, but never set a date. I walked back to my Aunt Bell’s house and waited for my grandmother to pick me up. We stopped at Arby’s for dinner on the way home and finished it off with large Jamocha shakes. My grandmother’s way of filling voids was much less complicated. Well I hear you in the morning. And I hear you at nightfall. My grandparents went to visit their mothers in St. Johns on the same day that Alex returned from Atlanta. As soon as I got to town, I called Tom. He said that Alex was already at his house, and that Alex, Penelope, Dorian, and Ray were over at Tom’s hanging out. I ran. I ran all the way across St. Johns, and I didn’t stop until I made it to Tom’s bedroom window. When I came inside, I ran to Alex. All I could think was that no matter how stupid, and unfortunate the rest of my life was, I had Alex. Alex said he was on my side. I threw my arms around him and kissed him, but he wouldn’t kiss me back. He didn’t want to hold my hand. He was keeping away from me. The rest of the group acted like nothing was wrong. I was with the five people who I believed cared about me like real friends. They didn’t though. I’m not sure what happened. It seemed that once again, things got icky for Bailey and no one wanted to get any on themselves. Sometime to be near you Is to be unable to hear you. He drove all of us to the city park to play on the swings. For some reason, everyone just stopped talking to me. I sang “Should I stay, or should I go now?” by The Clash as I sat swinging alone. My long black rosary flew back and forth off from my chest. My grandparents had already left town, so Alex offered to drive me back to Lansing. At the beginning of the summer, he would drop everyone off at their houses, and then it was just me and Alex alone in his car. At the end of the summer, after he dropped everyone off, it was me who was alone in Alex’s car. Alex was all alone, too; in his car beside me. Conversation was cold as the seat the entire drive to Lansing. He waited until he dropped me off at my grandma’s before he officially dumped me and drove away. I cried for decades. My love, I'm a few years older than you. The next day, I called my best friend Trent. Trent had always disliked Alex anyway. He reassured me that for an ex-boyfriend, Alex was indeed every foul word I used to describe him. My hero-buddy took me out for our traditional good time. Usually we would hit up a bar in St. Johns to play pool, and drink root beers. This time was bigger than that, so we went all the way out to the edge. We drove out to East Lansing in our most hard-core outfits. We went into Pinball Pete’s and played pool until our arms were sore. Then we walked across the street to Bilbo’s Tavern. We requested order after order of Hobbit sticks with Dill Sauce. Then we put in the rest of the quarters we had left into the jukebox. We sang along loudly to Nine Inch Nails and Jane’s Addiction songs, and guzzled root beer, until well past midnight. We got that whole damn hick town out of our systems for a little while. Trent was a magnificent friend. That night, we rode home along the edge of the planet. The blood moon was closer, and more enormous, than we had ever seen it before. It was the brightest color of blood oranges. The Moon, she sat down right next to us. She was bigger than a sun, bigger than anything, as she rested on the midnight horizon. Trent and I shared that moment. It was a moment that wouldn't be lost in memory, or old age. It was our moment and it was immortal. With that, for a brief moment, Trent and I were immortal, too. Just like the white winged dove Sings a song Sounds like she's singing Oh baby oh said oh |
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