an in-process, open-source novel
Read. Play. Create.
Read. Play. Create.
Saturday Evening
(too tall to be Yoda)
(too tall to be Yoda)
I felt I'd just been bested at a game I didn't know had started, with rules I'd never learned. I replayed the conversation as I made my way down the dark hallway and out the front door without seeing anyone else. I hesitated on the sidewalk, then decided to head back the way I'd come that afternoon, hoping to find a closer bus stop along the walk. This edgy neighbourhood didn't invite a nighttime stroll, and I felt nervous. I heard footsteps behind me, faster than I liked. I sped my pace as Trix knocked my heart into my throat by loping up beside me.
"Hey, Mouse, what did you think?" she asked, like she hadn't just given me a heart attack. I didn't respond right away.
"You don't like me calling you Mouse?" she asked, direct. "What would you have your nickname be?"
"I don't want a nickname."
She stopped, so I stopped out of politeness. She took my shoulders in her big hands, turned me to her, and bent down fast, bringing us face-to-face. I got lost in the large pupils of her dark eyes, a little mezmerized. I couldn't look away. She spoke low, her voice deep and barely above a coaxing whisper, "Tell me your secret name."
"Sun," I answered immediately. I didn't know why. Our eyes held contact as she laughed a slow, deep, good-natured chuckle. She took my chin between her fingers and thumb, and her mouth softened into a sisterly smile. "Yes, little one, you might be giant in there somewhere," she said. She turned my face to the left, regarding my scar without trying to hide it. "How to let it out without the burn, hmm?"
I moved away. We resumed our walk.
"Why Mouse?" I asked, already feeling resigned that there was no reversal once Trix decided.
"Small as a...cute as a..." she laughed, reaching over to tickle my tummy like a toddler. I giggled in surprise. Then pouted.
"More like, quiet as a...or mousey..."
She snorted, amused. "I don't think anyone would take it that way...well, maybe as an irony. No one could describe you as mousey, Christine. You're quite lovely." She turned and swept her hand under my cheek so I looked up at her. I thought for a second she would kiss me, but her expression was quizzical, curious. "Surely you know that?"
I couldn't keep looking at her disappointment in my lack of self-admiration. I shrugged away and we walked quietly for a minute. In truth, I was feeling a little resentful at her intruding so far into my own space. Not just the constant touching. I bristled at her presumption, to just call out things that I didn't even talk about to myself, like she knew them already. Who was she to expect me to share these things openly? Why should she make it her business to know where I fell short on my personal development path? I felt afraid of looking foolish to her, but also defensive of my right to be just as I was - the combination made me petulant.
"Well, I know YOU think I'm hot. What was THAT the other night? I don't even know you, and you're coming on to me in front of my boyfriend?"
"That?" She seemed both amused and a little annoyed, almost mocking by elongating my "that."
"That's who I need to be at a nightclub, and you got my attention, little girl. Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I just am who I need to be for that. It's a trick you could learn, you know. You might be happier. Anyway, Chris is a big boy, he can handle it. And surely it didn't hurt your pride, either?"
I found myself smiling at her shyly. I didn't really like to admit how much I enjoyed being the object of an interesting person's attention. Not just sexually - being singled out, held in a special position, given shows of preference.
"So you'll play, for sure, on Friday? Right?" her sincerity felt disarming.
"I don't know the music."
She tossed me a cd from her jacket, as if that solved the problem.
"How can I practice? I don't have a guitar."
"You don't need a guitar to practice. Listen. Ready yourself."
"What are you, Yoda?"
She laughed, a genuine peel of enjoyment.
"You can use my guitar when you're here until you get one, but I think you could try my way. Listen to the music. Imagine yourself in it. Your body can follow that with what it knows so well."
"You're too tall to be Yoda."
"So you will come? I need to know."
Something in her earnest plea made me want to come through for her.
"I'll come."
She rewarded me with a huge smile - I thought her eyes would bug out of her face, she seemed so happy.
"Good. Practice every day at 1pm." Her giddiness infested what she meant to be a bossy tone. She hadn't been as sure of me as she seemed. But I had to disappoint her.
"Every day? All afternoon? Trix, I can't. I have to look for a job."
"What? Waiting tables at the Hard Rock Café?"
"Yes, or something. In the short term. Then maybe I can look around for...I don't know. Movie background music? Maybe teach?"
She looked incredulous.
"And that is the extent of your aspirations?"
I felt irritated. Where did she get off? Aspirations? A steady income would do. It should have been clear to me far sooner that the heights of excellence were not for me. I had skills - technically exceptional, actually - but I always missed the solo opportunities, got passed over for lead. When the budget got tight at the University, it was me who got cut. I saw myself as one of those Olympic skaters who come in 32nd. They are far more talented than your average figure skater, among best in country, but they will never rank.
Trix had heard me play all of one time. Of course I played well. People are always impressed at the beginning. But over time, they notice that something small is missing. If I knew what it was, I would have changed it, but I couldn't figure it out. For years I had practiced and practiced, thinking I just needed to get better. I had only recently accepted the truth - in fact, during that last fight with Ethan. And he was right for once, damn him.
Trix stopped again. I felt tense about missing the bus, so this time I kept going, She skipped sideways along the sidewalk ahead of me, surprisingly light and quick like a daddy-longlegs spider, but hard as rock to bump into. Which I did, knocking myself down. We both found this incredibly funny, especially as the bus roared by and eased my tension, missing now become certainty. We laughed together as she helped me to my feet.
Trix kept my hand, and swung our arms leisurely as we walked the remaining blocks to the bus stop. I felt calmer once I could stop and look around.
"Look," she said. She held my arms on both sides, just below the shoulder, firm in a yielding way. Normally I would feel pinned, but instead I felt secure for the first time in a long time. I was still marvelling over this and almost missed what she said next.
"...and I know you're still behind that wall," (what wall?) "but you mustn't give up. I can see your potential."
Did she say what I thought she said? Did she just name my deepest, darkest secret fear and I missed the metaphor? Relief pored through me. She knew my flaws. She believed in me anyway.
But wait a second. Being who I need her to be. In one session, she had seen my weakness and my strength, and now she was going for the easy win, playing on my fear, feeding me hope. Why? She watched my face with what looked like real concern.
"Christine?" she said, gently, carefully. "This is no big deal for you. One night on a stage to try it out, feel what that's like. Why wouldn't you do it? I don't understand you at all."
She did appear genuinely puzzled.
"I said I'll come," I said.
She sighed, and leaned forward to press her forehead against mine. We looked into each others' too-close, bleary eyes.
"Don't let me down" she whispered.
It seemed minutes passed. Finally, she raised her head and looked around.
"Um, Mouse, why are we standing at a bus stop?"
"So I can go home?"
She laughed. "I'll take you home," she said.
"Hey, Mouse, what did you think?" she asked, like she hadn't just given me a heart attack. I didn't respond right away.
"You don't like me calling you Mouse?" she asked, direct. "What would you have your nickname be?"
"I don't want a nickname."
She stopped, so I stopped out of politeness. She took my shoulders in her big hands, turned me to her, and bent down fast, bringing us face-to-face. I got lost in the large pupils of her dark eyes, a little mezmerized. I couldn't look away. She spoke low, her voice deep and barely above a coaxing whisper, "Tell me your secret name."
"Sun," I answered immediately. I didn't know why. Our eyes held contact as she laughed a slow, deep, good-natured chuckle. She took my chin between her fingers and thumb, and her mouth softened into a sisterly smile. "Yes, little one, you might be giant in there somewhere," she said. She turned my face to the left, regarding my scar without trying to hide it. "How to let it out without the burn, hmm?"
I moved away. We resumed our walk.
"Why Mouse?" I asked, already feeling resigned that there was no reversal once Trix decided.
"Small as a...cute as a..." she laughed, reaching over to tickle my tummy like a toddler. I giggled in surprise. Then pouted.
"More like, quiet as a...or mousey..."
She snorted, amused. "I don't think anyone would take it that way...well, maybe as an irony. No one could describe you as mousey, Christine. You're quite lovely." She turned and swept her hand under my cheek so I looked up at her. I thought for a second she would kiss me, but her expression was quizzical, curious. "Surely you know that?"
I couldn't keep looking at her disappointment in my lack of self-admiration. I shrugged away and we walked quietly for a minute. In truth, I was feeling a little resentful at her intruding so far into my own space. Not just the constant touching. I bristled at her presumption, to just call out things that I didn't even talk about to myself, like she knew them already. Who was she to expect me to share these things openly? Why should she make it her business to know where I fell short on my personal development path? I felt afraid of looking foolish to her, but also defensive of my right to be just as I was - the combination made me petulant.
"Well, I know YOU think I'm hot. What was THAT the other night? I don't even know you, and you're coming on to me in front of my boyfriend?"
"That?" She seemed both amused and a little annoyed, almost mocking by elongating my "that."
"That's who I need to be at a nightclub, and you got my attention, little girl. Wherever I am, whatever I'm doing, I just am who I need to be for that. It's a trick you could learn, you know. You might be happier. Anyway, Chris is a big boy, he can handle it. And surely it didn't hurt your pride, either?"
I found myself smiling at her shyly. I didn't really like to admit how much I enjoyed being the object of an interesting person's attention. Not just sexually - being singled out, held in a special position, given shows of preference.
"So you'll play, for sure, on Friday? Right?" her sincerity felt disarming.
"I don't know the music."
She tossed me a cd from her jacket, as if that solved the problem.
"How can I practice? I don't have a guitar."
"You don't need a guitar to practice. Listen. Ready yourself."
"What are you, Yoda?"
She laughed, a genuine peel of enjoyment.
"You can use my guitar when you're here until you get one, but I think you could try my way. Listen to the music. Imagine yourself in it. Your body can follow that with what it knows so well."
"You're too tall to be Yoda."
"So you will come? I need to know."
Something in her earnest plea made me want to come through for her.
"I'll come."
She rewarded me with a huge smile - I thought her eyes would bug out of her face, she seemed so happy.
"Good. Practice every day at 1pm." Her giddiness infested what she meant to be a bossy tone. She hadn't been as sure of me as she seemed. But I had to disappoint her.
"Every day? All afternoon? Trix, I can't. I have to look for a job."
"What? Waiting tables at the Hard Rock Café?"
"Yes, or something. In the short term. Then maybe I can look around for...I don't know. Movie background music? Maybe teach?"
She looked incredulous.
"And that is the extent of your aspirations?"
I felt irritated. Where did she get off? Aspirations? A steady income would do. It should have been clear to me far sooner that the heights of excellence were not for me. I had skills - technically exceptional, actually - but I always missed the solo opportunities, got passed over for lead. When the budget got tight at the University, it was me who got cut. I saw myself as one of those Olympic skaters who come in 32nd. They are far more talented than your average figure skater, among best in country, but they will never rank.
Trix had heard me play all of one time. Of course I played well. People are always impressed at the beginning. But over time, they notice that something small is missing. If I knew what it was, I would have changed it, but I couldn't figure it out. For years I had practiced and practiced, thinking I just needed to get better. I had only recently accepted the truth - in fact, during that last fight with Ethan. And he was right for once, damn him.
Trix stopped again. I felt tense about missing the bus, so this time I kept going, She skipped sideways along the sidewalk ahead of me, surprisingly light and quick like a daddy-longlegs spider, but hard as rock to bump into. Which I did, knocking myself down. We both found this incredibly funny, especially as the bus roared by and eased my tension, missing now become certainty. We laughed together as she helped me to my feet.
Trix kept my hand, and swung our arms leisurely as we walked the remaining blocks to the bus stop. I felt calmer once I could stop and look around.
"Look," she said. She held my arms on both sides, just below the shoulder, firm in a yielding way. Normally I would feel pinned, but instead I felt secure for the first time in a long time. I was still marvelling over this and almost missed what she said next.
"...and I know you're still behind that wall," (what wall?) "but you mustn't give up. I can see your potential."
Did she say what I thought she said? Did she just name my deepest, darkest secret fear and I missed the metaphor? Relief pored through me. She knew my flaws. She believed in me anyway.
But wait a second. Being who I need her to be. In one session, she had seen my weakness and my strength, and now she was going for the easy win, playing on my fear, feeding me hope. Why? She watched my face with what looked like real concern.
"Christine?" she said, gently, carefully. "This is no big deal for you. One night on a stage to try it out, feel what that's like. Why wouldn't you do it? I don't understand you at all."
She did appear genuinely puzzled.
"I said I'll come," I said.
She sighed, and leaned forward to press her forehead against mine. We looked into each others' too-close, bleary eyes.
"Don't let me down" she whispered.
It seemed minutes passed. Finally, she raised her head and looked around.
"Um, Mouse, why are we standing at a bus stop?"
"So I can go home?"
She laughed. "I'll take you home," she said.
Preview: Whoopdazzled
I had never ridden a motorcycle before, and this weather-worn Indian didn't inspire confidence."Oh, quit making faces! She's a classic. Would you rather take the bus?" she asked. I debated telling the truth. She threw me a helmet that felt huge and awkward, crouching nimbly at my feet to fasten the band under my chin. I felt like I did when they put a hockey helmet on me to ride my tricycle - ridiculous.
"It's big for you, but it's the smallest I have. It's Trace's." I'm not sure why she thought that particular piece of information might endear the helmet to my heart.
She had to try a few times to start the bike, and did so with a bouncing vigour of certainty that the next one would take. Putter to roar, it jumped a little under her, like a living animal. She flashed me a wide smile. "Hop on!"
I clamoured up behind her, my arms flopping uncertainly. She reached around behind and grabbed my hands, wrapping them securely around her waist. With no further preamble, we spurted off into the night.