— Warning —
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This chapter includes themes of violence and sexual assault.
The book is marked as mature and will include such themes.
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* chapter music *
- Alone At A Drive In Movie -
Grease (The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
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Narrator POV
With laughter, true holiday spirit, and the scent of beautifully decorated Christmas trees—Christmas went by. A joyous and sacred family time filled both Elvis's first real home and Rosalie's tiny Madison brick apartment.
They kept in touch up until the last week before Christmas arrived. Finding that family was the most important to both of them—left them agreeing to get in touch again first thing after Christmas. On the first day of the new year, 1957.
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Rosalie POV (Sal)
New Year's Eve.
«Sal, sweetheart! Are you ready?» I heard my mom calling from the hall as I leaned close to the mirror. My mouth was slightly open while applying mascara to get in the final touches of the look for tonight's New Year's Eve party in my dad's society. Weirdly enough, whenever you got close to your eye—your mouth dropped open.
«In a minute!» I shouted as I pulled back with a seductive smile to check out my own look—making sure I was presentable and confident of how I presented myself. My dad's colleagues' kids were brought along to the annual celebration, with no exceptions. A few of the other daughters my age had these ugly glares and mean girl spirit to them. I tried keeping my distance and instead talking to my dad's female colleagues—particularly Betty, who happened to be my babysitter til' I was eight. The reason for their despicable attitude was quite simple and competitive and had the tendency to sound a bit incestuous. Most of the girls ended up looking to the sons of other colleagues to find a suitable partner. They were wealthy and acceptable marriage candidates. They weren't far from stuck-up, either.
Turning the lid to leave my mascara on the sea-green shelf under my round mirror, my attention traveled to the calendar pinned on the side of my wooden closet. Almost all the days had been crossed out, leaving me with the start of January with a red circle to single out the 1st as important.
Elvis.
A smirk appeared, thinking of how many things I had to tell him. Regina and I had gotten into some wild shit. I couldn't take the honor myself; I simply enjoyed the show. But it's safe to say that my boss Roger did not appreciate Regina's carol singing, including eggs and no singing.
Over Christmas, Elvis sent my parents a Christmas card asking for their forgiveness for putting me at risk. My dad being my dad, was yet to be persuaded by Elvis. Even so, something did change his mind—a very fine gift, to be exact. A brand new white 1955 Chevrolet Bel Air had been parked outside, with the promise to go for a ride with my dad in the coming spring. It was a cheap trick with an expensive price tag—to get on his good side. Funnily enough, it actually worked, and my dad confessed that Elvis was a nice enough boy to be allowed back in our home.
Walking out of my room to meet my mom and dad; they both were standing ready by the door in their finest attire and winter coats. Tasteful amounts of perfume oozed through the hall, centered around the three of us, and I thought my mom presented the meaning of the word grace.
«Oh, darling, you look just wonderful!» My mom exclaimed in awe, cupping her cheeks with soft hands and shaking her head in disbelief. My dad gave me a broader and brighter smile than usual, which was his way of giving me a compliment.
«Thank you, mom... » I thanked her with a loving smile, moving with long and flowing sheer dress layers in what resembled wearing the deep blue night sky—complimenting my heels. Deep blue embroidered on flowers, barely noticed within the slim but loose skirt, was all part of creating the illusion of a deepening night sky with tiny sparkling silver details. Reaching them, my mom kissed me motherly on my cheek with tears in her eyes.
«You really have grown up.» She said as if just noticing and reminiscing the previous years we'd spent in this hall, getting ready to leave for another New Year's Eve. As her eyes turned reflective, I knew she both wanted to hang onto her little girl and see me blossoming into adulthood.
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Buzzing posh talking filled the high ceiling of the decked-out Town Hall's venue—resembling an elegant room made up of gold and white that missed its swaying 1800s ball gowns dancing in barely touching motions. Over-the-top fake laughter left the mouths of supportive wives while men bantered, exchanging an excessive amount of handshakes. Discussions of politics with lacking knowledge went back and forth, comparing the usual things, representing the wealth and sizes of their dicks. You know, the typical conversation held on their high horses—going, «I have this, now what do you have?». And as if needing another reason to feed their ego, they had a superstitious audience applauding them.
The chosen music was far from anything I'd like to hear, but I didn't really pay attention to it. Let's just say, it wasn't the kind you danced to, but rather heard at fine dining restaurants my boss Roger probably took his wife to. Young boys and girls nearing their turn to get married gathered in smaller groups while I stood leaning my shoulder against the wall draped in pretty organic-shaped ornaments. A glass of champagne took up my hand, with its rising bubbles and gleaming reflection coloring my hand in golden flickering lights as my hand moved to take a sip.
A few of the other daughters my age had come rushing in a row, desperately asking about Elvis earlier tonight. Since the «Wood» articles, the press interviewing me, and the piece that was written about him and his fans had been featured in the paper, all of Madison town knew of my connection to him. When they understood that I in no way, shape, or form had any intel about his whereabouts or knew of a hotel he was staying at, they eventually left me alone—leaving me with their classic mean stares.
Somewhere in the venue—I knew Wendell found himself talking to his friends from school. They were all sons of my dad's colleagues positioned at Madison City Town Hall. Not surprisingly, Wendell had a few years back let me in on his future plans of following in his dad's footsteps—as most did.
Finding Betty and my mother in the crowd, I pushed my leaning frame off the wall and made my way gracefully over the floor—dodging old swaying couples and wandering groups of people. A laugh from the entrance then sent a shiver down my spine. Stopping in my tracks just a few feet from my mom, I turned and caught Wendell's eye—spotting me simultaneously. While I got the feel of creeping anxiety, he seemed unbothered as he shook his head, laughing with his lads. All dressed to impress both their fathers and their daughters.
He looked older than when I first broke up with him—as if he had been in a hurry to go from a boy to a man, dressed in beige pants and a shirt in an unflattering shade of mouse grey, all put together with blue, white, and red striped suspenders. The only thing breaking his immersion was his complete lack of ability to grow a beard. His chin was as bare as he had been since the day I met him.
Thinking of me once upon a time being in love with him, seemed so far-fetched now. Yes, he was objectively handsome, but looking at him, I remembered just how insensitive he could be. He denied every little thing he had done that wasn't completely nice. He was insecure and yelled for no reason when you didn't right away agree with his opinions. And it wasn't the attractive version where you fought for what you believed in; it was the voice of a little boy arguing to get a lolly in the candy shop—tugging at his Mama's arm, just a lot more aggressive.
Leaving him to be, I turned to my mom and Betty. Naturally, jumping into their conversation about our plans for renovating the Summer Mansion garage next year. With more and more members joining in on our discussion, I'm in the middle of ten eager middle-aged women that would gladly visit our mansion during next year's summer. All of them had voices more overbearing than the others, getting increasingly more excited by the minute—leaving me in the dust as the wives got high on the domestic talk.
With it being half past ten, overwhelmed by the many vocalized opinions of the newest fridge on the market, having the possibility of making ice cubes—I had the urge to get some air.
Excusing myself to walk out of the ballroom felt like taking upon the walk of eternity to get myself out of there. All because of the presence of my ex-boyfriend. I kept my head down, walking past Wendell's group out of the tall, broad entrance doors leading to the halls. It was enough to know he was here, to get the want to run away—but I kept my cool, avoiding both him and the others I had gone to school with for years. The hall had long stretched walls of hung-up old photos. The old mayors in them had enormous mustaches, grey hair, and uniforms, proudly carrying medals for God knows what. I had to ask myself why there had to be close to no lamps on—feeling as though a threatening cast shadow could move on its own at any point.
Barely getting past the doors, as my eyes landed on the way out to the foyer, I faintly heard him excuse himself to his friends, and it caused me to lean forward in my strides as I went farther to reach the way out of here. As the foyer swallowed me whole, I wondered if this was how Alice in Wonderland felt when she shrunk down to see the oversized world around her. The echo of my heels hitting the polished tiled floor reflected my heels before each step collided.
I hadn't given much thought to Wendell before getting here, but now it consumed me. Eyeing the door, feeling like a flying arrow going for the bullseye, the doorman opened the heavy thirteen-foot-high doors, with me darting down the carefully made stone stairs. Upon reaching the bottom of the scattered snow-filled steps, my eyes rose from my high heels to the empty pavement stretching toward the parking lot. Snow had been shoveled aside to reveal a mudded-down ground from several rounds of frozen and melted snow. Winter rarely liked to be stable with its temperatures; and with nighttime, it had frozen over again.
The biting coldness got a hold of my bare arms and feet, only slid into a pair of sheer pantyhose. Lifting thin folds of my new years eve attire, matching the sky above, I turned my head with a breath of air leaving my lungs to create a small cloud at my lips. Wendell had followed my every step, only stopping at the end of the stairs. Between us laid about fifteen feet. Why couldn't he just leave me be? The farther I got from my relationship with him, the saner I got—seeing his true colors. How could I have possibly thought of spending my life with him?
Facing him with my entire body, I let go of my dress. «Go back inside Wendell,» I said with a steady voice, with strength built up from the bottom of my lungs—found from the need to distance myself from him and the life I thought we'd have. A grin with a malicious expression to him covered his face, and I turned to leave him, striding quickly over the dark and wet pavement—hoping to reach the car and get home, wanting nothing else but to get away.
A chill grew at my neck, making all the tiny hair stand up as I heard footsteps—going fast and unregular. Looking past my shoulder, I walked as fast as my heels could hold me, but to my demise, Wendell had the advantage of not needing to balance on sticks. He had laid behind him what had been left of distance between us, as I could see the color of his eyes even in the dark of the night. Close and reaching for me, he got a hold of my wrist. «What are you doing?» I called out. Scrunching his grip around me, feeling as though he tried to stop my bloodstream, he made it impossible to withdraw my hand.
«You listen to me.» He said as I twisted my arm, trying to wiggle out of his painful touch, only for it to sting as my skin didn't follow my movement. «Listen!» He roared with droopy eyes looking into mine. His free hand pointed his finger at me, almost touching my nose. He had gone mad, and I couldn't bare to spend another second talking to him. Forcibly turning my face to look away, his firm hand grabbed hold of my cheeks with a pressing thumb on one side and two fingers on the other. My cheeks would turn a scattered red pattern caused by his severe pressure—burying his fingers into my cheeks with the seeming intention of breaking through.
Forcing me to look at him, his disgusting alcohol-scented breath gets in my face. Fear rushed through my body a million times worse than when I last saw him barging through the doors of the Madison Next Newspaper. All the days I'd gone to, and back from work circled my mind, whispering and chanting that Wendell could show up at any given time. He hadn't, but he could've—he wasn't as done with me as I was with him. What had him not willing to let go? I had humiliated him. Maybe he, too, didn't know how to conjure up a new life when our path had steered off course. While I tried to figure it out, he'd gone off the deep end.
His hair was no longer in its perfect slicked-back shape but flared with strands clinging to his sweat-covered forehead as I spoke up. «Let me go, Wendell.» I tried to scream through squeezed cheeks, spit reaching his face as I put my all into each word to get them out.
«You want me to let you go, ha? Is that right?» He asked, violently tugging at my face, moving his facial features to compliment his voice—while leaning in, forehead to forehead. I could feel my eyes start to sting of coming emotion while I saw nothing in his—gone with the beverages he had indulged himself with tonight. Trying to oppose him, he, to my surprise, pushed me away only with the force of his fingers on my cheeks. Not comparable to anything I'd felt before—my eyes watered.
Trembling backward, I got my balance back, preparing to run with the flight risk at high drive, only for him to reach forward to wrap locks of my hair in his clenching fists—making me wince in pain; as I heard his breath being drawn as if building up to something. «Wendell, stop! You have to stop!» I shouted, breaking the way my lungs kept holding onto the words I wanted to utter.
With blood leaving his fingers in his tight grasp, he pulled my hair down, getting his lips close to my temple. «You goddamn gotta know that you do not order me around, missy.» His scent felt invading while his other hand gripped my chin to constrain me. The sour taste in my mouth arrived as my stomach told me it couldn't take Wendell's possession of me. The worst wasn't the way he had my body hurting; it was that he touched me at all. Withholding to let my hair go, I felt numb inside and outwards as he no longer held me down but pulled my head back up to face him. Closing my eyes, the dam that held me back couldn't stand for it anymore. The wetness overcame my cheeks as I was in shambles, unable to move when he pushed himself onto me. His mouth was on mine, and it was then I managed to react, trying to wiggle myself out of his everything.
The cries I let out as he did release me physically hurt—as the sound of it traveled through me, hearing how distraught I was. «You know, you're good for nothing.» His voice penetrated my mind. And so it would feel like in the next coming moments—as I understood what would occur. He didn't need much power to have my legs give after. Swinging his fist to the top of my cheekbones and eye, the cold ground captured me—as I clung my hands to my wounded face, watching him through blurry eyes, walking away.
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Author's note:
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If something like what happened in this chapter ever happens to you, I encourage you to seek out help. Sexual violence is a crime and it is not your fault at any point. I hope you reach out to your close ones and talk to them.
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This was all but a pleasure to write. Writing this during the summer and editing it again this weekend felt quite heavy. I already knew how detested he was by you as readers, thinking back to posting the first chapters with Wendell and your reaction to him. Now, however, you know what I've hated him for—for doing this to Sal.
Next chapter we'll head into the year of 1957—and what is a new year without the promise of new beginnings?
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I ended up adding a soundtrack this chapter. Wasn't planning to, but it was a last minute call. Edited the chapter to it and it added something to the chapter for me, so I shared it with you.
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(Chapter 23/64)
This chapter is slightly edited with Grammarly.
New chapters every week (Tuesdays)
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