Brenton
itumeleng kganyago
Shea
Always Eighteen
AhmedStars in my head: Part One; Chapter 8
December 27th 2007 13:53
SHARNEE’S BOOK
I’m looking forward to the party. It’s good to branch out, have some fun, a bit of a drink.
Why do people have such a problem with me drinking? Doesn’t affect them.
It affects me. And I control it. What shits me is how everyone reckons I do it to be cool. I do it cos I want to.
I don’t do things if I don’t want to. I don’t want to smoke. Don’t want to take pot.
All those with a problem with my drinking, raise your hand.
Now; shove it up your arse.
I’m looking forward to the party. It’s good to branch out, have some fun, a bit of a drink.
Why do people have such a problem with me drinking? Doesn’t affect them.
It affects me. And I control it. What shits me is how everyone reckons I do it to be cool. I do it cos I want to.
I don’t do things if I don’t want to. I don’t want to smoke. Don’t want to take pot.
All those with a problem with my drinking, raise your hand.
Now; shove it up your arse.
Faith sat at the table, scribbling in answers to algebra questions. The phone rang.
“Hello, Faith Detorris speaking.”
“Faith, it’s me.” She closed her eyes to the sound of Mikes voice. “I wanted to talk to you.”
“Michael I…”
“Hang on. I just wanted to apologize. For whatever I did today. I didn’t mean it. I love you Faith. I really admire you. I think you’re beautiful, I love your hair, I love your white skin. I want to touch you. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Woah. Thank you. I… shit, thanks. You… You did nothing. I just didn’t feel right. I’m so sorry I ran off. I just needed time by myself.”
“Sure. Sure, that’s fine. Hey, I’ve got your bra at my house. You kind of left it at the water tower.”
“Oh. Um, OK.”
“I’ll give you it next time I see you.”
“Sounds good. See ya.”
“See ya”
“*CLICK*”
***
“You filthy foolish scumbag!”
“Ugh” Michael rolled over slightly and opened his eyes slowly. His Gran towered over him, staring down at him angrily.
“Ugh? Mor- morning Gran.” WHUMP! A large puffy pillow belted his head. He moaned and pulled himself up.
“Well? What have you to say for yourself?”
“It was an accident?” he guessed.
WHUMP!
“I’m sorry?”
WHUMP!
“LOOK JUST TELL ME WHAT I’VE DONE FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!”
WHUMP!
WHUMP!
WHUMP!
WHUMP!
WHUMP!
“Arrrrg!”
“Do not presume to speak to your Grandmother in such a fashion. You should know very well what you’ve done.” And with that she held up Faiths bra.
“Oh, shit.”
WHUMP!
This was it. The end. Enter, the apocalypse. This spelt the end of Faith, the end of girls forever. His Gran was fuming with silent rage. She would destroy him. Decimate him. He would be made a priest or worse- a Gelding. Unless…
WHUMP!
“Speak, fool!”
“I, it’s… It doesn’t belong to a girl”
“Oh really? Who then does bestow the honor of wearing such silky laundry?”
“Err, it’s mine.”
And for the first time in his life, and possibly in the universe, his Gran was speechless. He continued.
“Er, when I ah, met Faith, the girl that is, I ah, no, she ah, she said I was a, to much of a, ah, manly man, so I uh, she ah, wanted me to be less of a manly man so I uh, tried to discover my feminine side?”
“Oh. I see,” said his Gran, in a tone that indicated she clearly didn’t. “So… to what extent do you plan on carrying this… experimentation to?”
“Whaddaya mean?”
His Gran proceeded to have a large coughing fit, then looked at Michael, as though she had coughed a very obvious question she expected answered.
“Do you… do you plan on experimenting with homosexual relations?”
Michael choked on his tongue.
“Er, no.”
“Oh.” His Gran gave a weak smile. “Well. That at least is a relief. Uh… yes, well. Hmmm. Yes. Well then, um, if you ever need to talk… no, stuff it! You can talk to your friends. OK. Yes. Hmmm, well. I’ll, see you later. Bye.”
She left his room, leaving Faiths bra draped over a cupboard. Michael sat on his bed and picked up a yo-yo and spun it in relief.
‘Nice Save,’ the yo-yo seemed to say.
***
Faith and Michael walked across the road, bags heavy with books, returning wearily from school.
“How far away is your house?” asked Michael.
“Round the corner an down the road.”
“Kay.” They continued down the road and turned at the corner. A series of quite large houses stood block by block in a line.
“Your house this big?”
“Round about”
They passed two more houses before Faith turned to the door of one and unlocked the door with a key from her pocket.
The door creaked open and sunlight filled the room. Mike took off his shoes and put them on the ground, along with his bag. Faith kicked off hers, walked down her hallway and opened the door to her room.
Her room was very white. A large corkboard with various pictures hung over her bed. A bookshelf full of books sat to one side of her room. A small cupboard with a digital clock, and an inactive lava lamp on the top. Michael moved up to the board to examine the pictures.
There were various animals, horses, polar bears and dolphins. Various articles from magazines among quotes. Plenty of photos of friends and relatives.
In the middle was a photo of Lola, dressed in a singlet and tight pants. It made a sort of sadness leak into Mike, right into his guts. This was how she always would be. They would grow old, have kids, jobs, lives and homes. Lola would always be the same fifteen year old memory. Just below the photo lay a poem.
Hey Faith,
This is just a poem I wrote a while ago when my uncle died. I thought I might like to show it to you.
It’s so sad!!! 
So let them come to my grave
Let them speak their words of love
Below the souls, crush they below
I lay not there but above
I touch your skin with breath
In hopeful wind I try
To seep in your soul
So do not cry
Let them speak their words of love
Below the souls, crush they below
I lay not there but above
I touch your skin with breath
In hopeful wind I try
To seep in your soul
So do not cry
Do not cry at my grave
Laugh for my love
Don’t search for my body below
Invite my spirit above
Do not stand over my ashes, tears at your eyes.
Do not love me as a memory
Love me as my spirit above
And
Remember me. – By Lola Banks.
“It’s good eh?” Michael turned to see Faith looking at him.
“Yeah”
“You know the funeral is on tomorrow”
“Is it?”
“Yeah. It should have been on earlier but someone screwed up.”
Michael was silent, then sat on her bed. Faith sat beside him and held his hand.
“I love you Michael.” Michael gave a small smile. He kissed her mouth, his kiss becoming more passionate, pushing her down, down into the bed. The electricity returned.
Suddenly Faith pulled away, out from under him.
“What is it?” he asked, sitting up. He tried to hide his annoyance but failed. It was like hiding a steak in a pitbull impound.
“Nothing. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. It’s fine, I don’t mind.”
“Bullshit y’don’t mind. I can tell. You think I’m frigid.”
“I don’t!”
“Michael. Don’t lie to me. You can’t lie for shit.”
Michael was silent.
“Course you think I’m frigid. Most people do. I’m just… something happened, right? In grade eight.”
“Faith, I…”
“Shh. You should probably hear this. There was this guy right? Doesn’t matter who, just a guy. We went out a bit. And he took me to his house one day, into his room. He kissed me, and I was nervous but like, going with it. And he, started … did other stuff… I told him to stop and he wouldn’t listen…”
“Did he fucking rape you?!”
“No! Like hell I’d let that happen. But he did other stuff. And the whole time I was horrified…”
“You should have stopped him.”
“I tried. Look, don’t fricking judge me on this orrite. I probably shouldn’t have told you that. But it was important, for you to know. I just, I’m not quite ready for anything. It scares me, sorta. I love you. I know you won’t hurt me. But I just can’t… not yet anyway. I need to do this slowly.”
“OK.” And the way he said it made it all so perfect again.
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