more to come
I remember the way it used to be when I was carefree. It was many years ago, during the summer, and I was just hitting that age where you begin to understand yourself. I was a new-found lesbian and it felt like being born again. I met a group of five lesbians almost as soon as I came out, and they immediately took a liking to me. They were older than me, around seventeen or eighteen, and they all resembled men. They had short hair and dressed in over-sized clothing, though not a single one of them ever did successfully get away with hiding their breasts under their white beaters and t-shirts. Angie, the girl that became my best friend, had her own apartment that her parents paid for and we spent most of our time there. She wanted to be Eminem and therefore wore baggy parachute pants with red stripes down the side and frequently dirty danced to “Superman” with the other girls in her living room. Alcohol was involved. You can imagine how intriguing this would be for a fifteen year old. It was even more so because I knew that I was the most beautiful of all of them. I was never conceited about this, but they made sure I knew it. I was actually quite innocent, being a few years younger than them and perhaps that’s what made them love me, in addition to my differences. I was girlish with long dark wavy locks and green eyes with an excitement in them that you did not often see. I displayed my swelling breasts proudly under my tight shirts for anyone within sight. I do not know what excited me so much about these women, but they struck a chord in me that was so warm, so familiar. Over time, they introduced me to their lifestyle and it began to stick with me. We spent drunken night after night dancing to hip-hop with words that you couldn’t even make out while passing a blunt around, with the occasional, “Shit!” as someone burned themselves. In all honesty, it was wonderful. I had not a worry in the world.
Things can’t stay innocent forever, though. We had spent almost every night partying, living off of our parents’ money. Alcohol and weed had gotten old the way everything does. A few of the girls had been having sex for quite some time and even that got old. Everything changed with a knock on the door. It was a rather hard knock and we were especially surprised because it was 1:30 and nobody ever showed up at Angie’s unless it was one of us. We were leaning against her ugly lime green couch, sharing a spliff, playing strip poker the way we sometimes did when the summer boredom was extremely bad. Angie was in her bra, so I was told to answer the door. I sighed and mumbled, annoyed, as the joint was on me and Angie was holding her shirt over her chest when she could have easily put it on. I passed the joint to Shannon and stumbled up to the door, tripping over Angie’s beer.
“Dammit, Lacey!”
I yanked the doorknob forcefully, ignoring the peephole, which made the person outside flinch. I saw this flinch before my eyes even focused. I regretted it as soon as they did.
I was faced with the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. And she looked angry.
“Listen, I just moved in downstairs from you a couple of days ago and I haven’t been able to sleep because of your constant pounding music and noise. It’s two o’clock and I have work at nine, so could you please turn the music down?”
She raised her eyebrows after this. I stood there, staring at her, brain dead. I could not think of any words. There was a pair of the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen staring me back in the face, completely pissed off. She was beautiful. I was still a virgin by all means and my hormones had recently started raging. They were a continuous burning fire that I could not relieve because I had no attraction to the only five lesbians I knew.
She stuck her neck out, signaling that she was waiting for an answer. I was still staring at her messy blonde ponytail and her tiny silver nose ring. I was still noticing the way her simplicity made everything about her so mesmerizing. I was still thinking of her.
And then, then after all of this, the only thing I could think of to say?
“I think it’s only one thirty.”
She narrowed her eyes and I instantly regretted my choice of words. I gathered them again as fast as I could.
“I’m sorry, it’s late, won’t happen again. Welcome to the… neighborhood.”
And how dumb was that; me referring to an apartment complex as a neighborhood and I didn’t even live there! But she laughed then. She smiled.
“Who’s that, Lace?!”
It was Angie in the other room. I ignored her again.
“What was your name?” I held out my hand.
She said, “Jen.”
“Jen,” I repeated it, testing the sound of it on my tongue. “Jen, I’m Lacey. Nice to meet you.”
And that was the very first time I touched her hand.
Things can’t stay innocent forever, though. We had spent almost every night partying, living off of our parents’ money. Alcohol and weed had gotten old the way everything does. A few of the girls had been having sex for quite some time and even that got old. Everything changed with a knock on the door. It was a rather hard knock and we were especially surprised because it was 1:30 and nobody ever showed up at Angie’s unless it was one of us. We were leaning against her ugly lime green couch, sharing a spliff, playing strip poker the way we sometimes did when the summer boredom was extremely bad. Angie was in her bra, so I was told to answer the door. I sighed and mumbled, annoyed, as the joint was on me and Angie was holding her shirt over her chest when she could have easily put it on. I passed the joint to Shannon and stumbled up to the door, tripping over Angie’s beer.
“Dammit, Lacey!”
I yanked the doorknob forcefully, ignoring the peephole, which made the person outside flinch. I saw this flinch before my eyes even focused. I regretted it as soon as they did.
I was faced with the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. And she looked angry.
“Listen, I just moved in downstairs from you a couple of days ago and I haven’t been able to sleep because of your constant pounding music and noise. It’s two o’clock and I have work at nine, so could you please turn the music down?”
She raised her eyebrows after this. I stood there, staring at her, brain dead. I could not think of any words. There was a pair of the deepest blue eyes I had ever seen staring me back in the face, completely pissed off. She was beautiful. I was still a virgin by all means and my hormones had recently started raging. They were a continuous burning fire that I could not relieve because I had no attraction to the only five lesbians I knew.
She stuck her neck out, signaling that she was waiting for an answer. I was still staring at her messy blonde ponytail and her tiny silver nose ring. I was still noticing the way her simplicity made everything about her so mesmerizing. I was still thinking of her.
And then, then after all of this, the only thing I could think of to say?
“I think it’s only one thirty.”
She narrowed her eyes and I instantly regretted my choice of words. I gathered them again as fast as I could.
“I’m sorry, it’s late, won’t happen again. Welcome to the… neighborhood.”
And how dumb was that; me referring to an apartment complex as a neighborhood and I didn’t even live there! But she laughed then. She smiled.
“Who’s that, Lace?!”
It was Angie in the other room. I ignored her again.
“What was your name?” I held out my hand.
She said, “Jen.”
“Jen,” I repeated it, testing the sound of it on my tongue. “Jen, I’m Lacey. Nice to meet you.”
And that was the very first time I touched her hand.