So It Starts

Chapter 1




It started like this…

It was really hot, hot and dry. Grass turned gray and brittle, the earth was lifeless, and no one moved. Everything was still. There was no sound, there was no wind, only endless heat. Sometimes it felt as if the heat wasn’t coming from the sun, but from within.

I blame the heat.

It’s a good excuse. It was all the fault of that long dry spell. When people are deprived of water that long, it masses with their head. You might be thinking “turn on the faucet, go to the pool, turn on the air-conditioning, it’s easy as that”. But it’s not, not here. Here, the faucets empty hot brown instead of cool clearness. Here, there are no pools, except for those people with more money than worry, and there’s only one family who’s allowed that luxury. The same goes for the air-conditioning.

That summer was miserable. I slept nude those hot nights, and still somehow managed to sweat. The ceiling fan was never turned off in my room, the two windows were always open. The hot air coming from the fan played with my hair. I rarely slept. I just shifted from one position to another. Stretched out to my best ability so no body part touched the other. Pressed myself against the wall because it was slightly cooler than everything else. Nothing ever really helped.

The days weren’t much better than the nights. I wore clothes, of course, and the heat seemed worst then, especially under the dresses I always wore. The dresses used to belong to my grandmother, now they were mine. I still spent most of my time lying on something, trying to find a comfortable position. I only ever moved to search for a cooler spot, or to get something to drink. Drinking water had to be bought here. Individually packed pieces of necessity, and they rang up high. We spent the majority of our money on water, not that there was ever all that much money to begin with. It was my mother and me. The little house we lived in used to also be my grandmother’s.

Mama parked in front of the store. It wasn’t the best parking job, not that she cared, Lou would never give her a ticket. He liked her, and he was also the sheriff. The store was small, not your typical wallmart or k-mart of whatever other mart there is in this country. It was a small thing, with a few shelves with things people needed, never things they wanted. For things you wanted you had to get in your car and drive thirty miles to the larger city. Not many people could afford or cared to afford that drive.

Mama was wearing that outfit that made her look trashy. I told her so. She laughed, called me puritan and smacked me on the butt. But everyone was looking trashy these days; they weren’t doing to look “sexy” or anything, it was just the heat, and shorts up to your ears were needed. I don’t like saying the word sexy, not even to think it. You might laugh, but it really is strange coming from someone’s mouth. And it never feels right, never seems appropriate.

Mindy was there. She was my best friend, my only friend. She wore one of those short jean skirts, the kind that rest right under your butt. And she wore this shirt, so low you could see what kind of bra she was wearing. I think she was sexy that day…and trashy. I told her so. My face screwed up after saying sexy. She laughed. But she didn’t smack my butt.

When we were driving into the town, there was a dead possum in the middle of the road. It wasn’t bloodied, so I didn’t think anyone had run over it, but it was still horrible to see. Its eyes were open, starring at those who passed by it. I drew up my nose and inhaled deeply. I smelled nothing. I wondered if that was what death smelled like…nothing? I leaned my face out the window, stared back at it till my head could turn no more.

If that possum wasn’t there that day, would it have changed anything?

There weren’t many people at the store that day. Mindy was going to come home with us. She never liked staying at her house much. Her mama yelled a lot, and although Mindy didn’t have a Daddy, there were always men at her house. Sometimes Mindy even called them such, it seemed wrong to me, especially when I saw them smile at her – like they were inviting her and sometimes she smiled back. When I watched her smile at them, I always cried. I remember how she would run to me, hug me, try to figure out what was wrong with me, and those awful men would look uncomfortable – I could never express my anger and sorrow for her. I don’t go to her house anymore.

We were paying for the water and chocolate frosting (I had made a cake) when they walked in. They were Mary and Lucas Hammond. Mary used to be called Krystal, spelled with a K, and she used to be like everyone else in this town. But then she married some big shot millionaire and changed her name to Mary. I guess she thought it was classier or something. She used to be really beautiful, she still was, I guess. I thought she was very nice.

Then there was Lucas. He wasn’t nice at all. He was her son.

I didn’t like him.

No one knew what they were doing there that day. They never shopped there, at that small store full of necessities. Now that I think about it, no one could ever figure out why Mrs. Hammond ever stayed in the town where people knew who she used to be.

Maybe if they had never shown up, things would have turned out differently that day.

Mrs. Hammond wasn’t dressed trashy that day. She had on this suite that was white, but had a slight lavender hue to it. I really liked that color.

Mrs. Hammond was talking to Lucas, but you could tell he wasn’t listening. He always looked like he wasn’t listening. She turned in our direction, and her hair seemed to shine like the sun. When she saw us, she neither smiled nor frowned, but there was something in her expression that showed that she disapproved somehow. She approached us, all glide-y ( I know that’s not a real word, but it fits), and asked us how we were.

She was always very polite.

Her son wasn’t.

He just stared.

Mama had a way of talking to Mrs. Hammond. She used to know her when she was still Krystal, and laughs behind her back sometimes for acting fancy. So when Mama talks to her, she does it kind of rude. I don’t like this very much because Mrs. Hammond always tries to be nice.

I wasn’t really listening, but I knew what was being said. Fake nice words, veiled in insults. I saw Mindy smiling at Lucas. I thought of the discovery channel. You know when some apes stick out their chest, puff up to show off their strength, or to threaten another ape in a fight, that’s what Mindy was doing. But I don’t think she was doing it for those reasons. I saw Luke looking at her, his eyes were kind of half closed and he was leaning forward, almost like he was going to fall into her cleavage.

I giggled when I thought of this.

Mrs. Hammond heard me and smiled this really nice smile at me. She reached out and tucked some hair behind my ear, like Mama does all the time. She asked me how I was. I don’t know why, but I have this real bad problem. I’m really bad with people. Mama tells me it’s just that I’m shy, but I still wish I could speak above a whisper. I didn’t say anything, just kind of ducked my hand and held tighter to the paper back in my hands. She just smiled again. Since I could remember, Mrs. Hammond had always been very nice to me. She even gave me a doll once when I was seven years old.

Mrs. Hammond turned towards Lucas, I think she was going to ask him something but then she saw Mindy. I could just see her taking in what Mindy was wearing and the heavy make-up she had on, and concluding one thought with a frown forming – trash. Mindy saw the thought clearly too, because all of a sudden she didn’t seem so confident and her chest wasn’t so puffed up anymore. I glanced at Lucas, but then he was looking at me, and I quickly turned my eyes away.

“So, why are you here? Slumming it with the common folk?” Mama lips had taken on a mean twist.

Mrs. Hammond gave a little laugh, but it was nervous. “Of course not Amber, I’m just here to get a few things.”

“Well you should find everything you want here.” Mindy had regained some of her confidence back and she was inching towards Lucas. When he saw this, he moved away from her, and Mindy seemed to completely deflate. You see, Mindy and Lucas had been having sex, and Mindy wanted to be the “one” for Lucas. But Lucas is a complete and utter bastard, who didn’t deserve her, or that pretty black car he drove, or the praise of everyone around him for winning a few stupid football games, or that gleaming blond hair he got from Mrs. Hammond, or the good looks, or all the girls that loved him! He didn’t deserve any of those things!

I didn’t like Lucas.

“What’s the frosting for?” I didn’t even like his voice. It was too deep and too hoarse. And I certainly didn’t like when someone put their hand in my bag and took out whatever they pleased! He held up the frosting like it was a bug specimen that needed to be studied.

“Baby made a cake.” Mama said with pride. Baby wasn’t my real name, but everyone called me that. I never asked why everyone continued to call me that, even into my teens; I think it might have had something to do with the fact that I never quite grew out of my childish looks. Or it could have been something completely different. My real name is Elaina.

“Maybe you can save me a slice? How about it Baby?” His voice had gotten even deeper, and now he was leaning towards me like he had been leaning towards Mindy. I squared my shoulders and clutched the paper back. I wanted to look mean. I don’t think it worked out.

“I don’t think she will.” Mama laughed. “That bottom lip sure looks angry.” She reached out, took my chin and gave me a smacking kiss on the lips. She did that whenever she thought I was pouting, which seemed to be a lot. But it still made me smile every time she did it.

“I think we should leave. Baby needs to get back to her cake.” Mindy said looking angry. Lucas put back my frosting and had the audacity to put an arm around me!

He leaned forward, because he was close to a foot taller than me, “I would really love a slice” and squeezed my shoulder real hard. My face got squashed against his chest; it felt uncomfortable because his chest was hard and hot and slightly sweaty from the heat. He smelled good though, but I think that was only because he knew to put on the right amount of expensive cologne. It’s not as if HE smelled good, just his cologne.

I tried to push away but he wouldn’t let go of me. Mama and Mrs. Hammond were talking again, and they seemed not to be in a hurry. Finally I stopped because I was getting really hot from all my struggling. He started stroking my arm. Then his hand somehow ended up under my sleeve and he not only stroked, but squeezed my arm too. Soon the squeezes started to hurt, like he was trying to leave a bruise. I looked up at him, but he had on this smile; one of those fake/pleasant ones. He was watching our mothers talk, and slowly moving me in front of him. I was scared, but I knew he wouldn’t do anything in front of people.

I turned to look at Mindy to ask her for help, but she was turned away from us, looking at toothpaste. I think she wanted to show Lucas how completely unaffected she was by him. She wanted him to think she had forgotten about him. He didn’t care either way.

Now I was in front of him. He eased up on my arm, but didn’t let go. He slowly nudged me closer to him until I was only a few inched away. And then… nothing. We stood like that for a few minutes, all of us quiet except for Mama and Mrs. Hammond. Finally they finished. Mama was a little red in the face; she always is after she finishes talking to Mrs. Hammond, I don’t know why she continues to talk to someone that makes her that unhappy.

“Come on Baby, Mindy. Let’s go.” And just like that we left.

The possum was still there, but now its guts were hanging out of its belly.


Author’s Note
One of these days I will write something that is going somewhere, but right now all I can give are these inconstant starters. I’m doing a first-person narrative, a first for me, and I really want to capture the naïveté and innocence of this young woman. I suppose all the young women I write about resemble each other…I’m sorry, but I’m kind of set on my idea of femininity.