I stepped into the warm ambiance of Xavier's home. The soft smell of sugar cookies wafted from the kitchen, leaving tendrils of lingering warmth hanging heavy in the air. Loud music greeted me at the door, enticing my limbs to dance. Xavier's voice carried into the living room from the kitchen, just slightly off key. The whole situation made me feel weird. It wasn't that I hated the happy scenario, it was just that I was new to the whole lighthearted milieu.
"Xavier?" I stepped around the corner of the half wall, a small fraction of my mind wondering if he was replaced by a an alien. The strong smell of sugar cookies and wine curled under my nose, both welcoming and shunning. This was Xavier's happiness, not mine. Yet I couldn't help feeling envious of his carefree attitude.
What met me in the kitchen was definitely a sight to see. The eighth wonder of the world- Xavier being fun. A huge plate piled high with cinnamon sugar covered cookies sat in the middle of the table. A bottle of aged wine was right next to it, its silky red interior beckoning. Music filled the entire room from a radio. Xavier was bent over, reaching inside the oven for yet another batch of sugar cookies. He set them on a cooling rack, and turned around, glass in hand.
"Ehi, è Chrissy! Vuoi un po 'di vino?"
"I don't speak Italian, Xavier." He just laughed and grabbed another glass from a cupboard. While he was distracted, I lifted the wine bottle and glanced at its contents.
"Have some wine," he said. His breath smelled slightly acidic and floral. "It's oak barrel aged Cabernet Sauvignon wine. Imported from Francia to Italía." Xavier mixed both languages together, giving me the hint that he had been drinking for a while.
"This is 35 percent alcohol." I put it down and fixed him with a disapproving stare. “How many glasses of this have you had?”
Xavier ignored my question entirely. "Here." He handed me the glass that was filled halfway with a beautiful red liquid. The wine swirled with the slightest touch, leaving behind a light red tint on the glass. When I rose it to my nose, I could smell rose petals, earth, and wood. “Merry Christmas,” Xavier cheered over the music, lifting his glass. I just stood there, baffled.
“It’s Christmas?”
“Tomorrow is Christmas. Today is Christmas Eve.” He rose his glass even higher, the wine dangerously close to spilling. “Merry Christmas!” he shouted again.
“But where are the decorations, the Christmas music, the festive foods? Where’s the tree with Christmas ornaments and the cookies shaped like stars and gingerbread men? Why aren’t there Santa’s and Christmas choirs?” My eyes were searching, seeking for any hint of festivity. There weren't any whatsoever. "... Where’s the Christmas I always dreamed of?"
Xavier looked at me with pity as he lowered his glass. “Things aren’t like they were.” He picked up the huge plate of cookies. “But I made cinnamon sugar covered cookies!” The cookies no longer felt inviting, but a failing attempt of restoring the past. I set the glass of wine down slowly, gingerly, on the table. Rather than scurrying off to the bedroom, I took a seat in the living room, closing my eyes and imagining a real Christmas.
They’re just legends, Chrissy, I told myself. You should have known not to get your hopes up. My head rolled against the leather. Legends.
Xavier walked over, as much as a person that has been drinking for a while can walk. He took a seat next to me and sighed. Xavier had abandoned the wine, but the music still blared loudly. “You owe me a drink together," he said bluntly. A few seconds passed with Xavier dancing on the couch while I pondered about Christmas. The silence wrapped around us, tightening until I could hardly breathe. “You got the wrong tattoo, Chris." Xavier’s voice sounded both lively and tired.
"What?" So many things caught me off guard with that one sentence. One: the fact he even mentioned my tattoo. Two: That he would tell me that it's wrong. And three: The fact he called me "Chris." Seriously, when did he shorten my already shortened nickname?
"I said-" Xavier began loudly, showing that he was a little bit more than just drunk. "- That you got the wrong tattoo!"
I bit back a laugh, no longer thinking about how life could be. "And why is that?"
"Because you are not a rose." Xavier enunciated each word, pronouncing every letter. He reached over and grabbed my arm, tracing the tip of his index finger over the edges of the rose.
"What am I then?" The curiosity I felt didn't let me move my arm away, and instead I just stared into the brown of his eyes.
Xavier scrunched his eyebrows together in thought, then he smiled. "A lily of the valley." He began to trace his fingers in slight curves and soft edges. I could almost see the flowers he drew.
"How?" I smiled. This version of Xavier, as temporary as it may be, was easier to get along with. He wasn't as wound up, positive effects of the alcohol.
"Because. You look all innocent and sweet and shit, but its just an..." Xavier leaned closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. "... illusion." His Italian accent made it difficult for me to not laugh.
"Explain?" I asked, my voice cracking with the threat of laughter.
"There isn't much to it, Chris." Again with the short version of my nickname. "You trick people into thinking your innocent, then next thing you know, bam!" Xavier almost knocked me out with his hands. "You're killing them."
"I'm not killing anyone," I told him matter-of-factly.
Xavier leaned in close again, his eyes darkening. "Not yet you're not. No one has touched you yet."
"What do you mean? No one is going to touch me."
"Don't think physically, Chris. Think here," he tapped his index finger to my temple. "And here," he placed his finger over the spot where my heart is. My smile vanished. For a drunk man, he was even wiser than before.
"No one will touch me," I repeated, my words harder. Xavier leaned his head back and laughed as I pushed him away and stomped off. Immature, but necessary.
"'When you find a doorway, are you in or are you out? You have to stand up before you fall down. You need to get lost before you get found.'" Xavier sang out, his words slurred. It wasn’t part of what came out of the song on the radio, but another.
As I continued to tread towards the room, Xavier’s sing-song words muffled and faded.
“Don’t let him get to you,” I breathed, trying desperately to rein in my anger. An unfamiliar feeling welled up inside my stomach, bubbling. It clawed at my insides, angry and new. It made me want to both laugh and cry. I wanted to punch someone desperately, and I wanted a hug from that person all same. The feeling tormented while it soothed; it was the relief and anger of a worried mother.
There was nothing for me to do but hug both my arms around my chest and press myself against the closed window. The feeling shook my body, numbed my thoughts to nothing. The polite honks of cars while men excused themselves was muffled with the thick plastic of the window. I could see everything, yet I was locked away from them.
My fist twitched to hit the window, but I was too exhausted to try. Instead I just closed my eyes and let the tears roll down. When I opened them again, a pair of hazel-green eyes stared back at me, filled with disgust. Crow’s feet lined the outside corners of the eyes, and laugh lines dug deep into the skin. Clumpy black hair drooped around the paper like skin that covered this familiar face.
You are so weak, my mothers’ voice spoke to me. I thought I raised you better than this.
“You did.” My whispers fogged the plastic window.
Then what’s with this crying? Have you already forgotten to show no mercy, no vulnerability? Crying won’t change what happened, nor will it make anything better. It just proves that you can’t handle reality.
I didn‘t know how to answer, and just sputtered out the first thing that came to mind. “Showing no mercy is for when in the threat of danger-”
Men are danger, Christalia. Have you forgiven what they have done to me? To us?
“No,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “No,” I said again, stronger.
You have grown to like him.
I was confused at first, but then I realized she spoke of Xavier. I shook my head desperately, wanting nothing more than to convince my mother I didn’t. This boy is nothing, Christalia, compared to what you can do. Do not fall for the ancient ways of the women.
“What?”
Are you selfish enough to throw everything away for a man? Answer me, Christalia.
“I would never.” My voice was weak, and my throat felt swollen.
I want what’s best for you, Christalia, not just everyone else. Listen to me, and listen very closely.
I crept closer to the window, the trails from the tears drying stiff on my skin. I held myself stark, like I would when I was in raining with my mother. I know I am too late, but do not fall in love, Christalia.
“I don’t love anyone but you, Mami.”
It is evident in your eyes. My mothers pale eyes sparked with sadness, as if she could see beyond what is here. You love him.
“No! You’re wrong!” My mother was always so wise, and knows everything. How could she believe that I fell for someone? I would never, could never, betray her like that. “I hate him. I despise him,” I bit out between bitter, angry tears.
My mother ignored my desperate attempt to prove myself to her. It is the one thing that breaks the strongest of people, people destined for greatness. The transparent image of my mother smiled. People like you.
“I won’t fail you again, Mami. I swear.”
The smile vanished from her face as quick as it came. I don’t have long, Christalia.
“I won’t fail, I won’t fail, I won’t fail.” I squeezed my eyes shut, repeating to myself the same word over and over, my own mantra. When I opened them again, the image I saw was a reflection of my face. “I won’t fail.”
Ideas and plans flowed in my thoughts as I peeled off the gauze from my injured hand. I didn’t focus on the skin, which was an array of colors, crusted with dried blood between my fingers. Instead, I ignored the pain of stretching my fingers and wrote on a small pad I kept hidden in my backpack. The pencil scratched and engraved words, numbers, and lines. I wrote furiously until alternating hands wasn’t an option and my neck ached from being bent down.
I sat looking at the messy handwriting on the paper and smiled. The plan described me in its entirety. Reckless and efficient, I knew it wouldn’t fail. It couldn’t; the option to fail didn’t exist this time.
~*~*~
Xavier didn’t notice once that I locked myself up in the room he assigned me for the entire day. He didn’t have a care in the world thanks to his wine, and I wondered it that was how he was before. Buoyant and ignorant, believing with every thing he had that everything was better. Then I began comparing our lives. Xavier lived in a warm house, went out, had fun. I lived in a fifteen by fifteen cell with two other people, both in Arizona and Cuba. Never was I allowed near a door that led outside.
We’re believed to be too stupid to fight back, yet we’re feared. The thought brought a twitch to my lips that tried to form a smile. I could feel the same burn that signaled tears, but I forced the disgusted image of my mother while she whispered, It just proves that you can’t handle reality.
Strong winds whistled and blew maple leaves against the window, and rain assaulted the ground with anger. Cracks of white lightening striped the sky, bursts of light flicking once across everything. My back was pressed tightly against the side of the bed that wasn’t facing the door. I held myself strong against the want to cry, the need to let everything go. But I couldn’t, I wouldn’t. Instead, I just stared unblinking at the wall. Not once did I flinch against the bursts of lightening, or cringe at the loud claps of thunder. Xavier continued to party in the kitchen, though the alcohol was beginning to leave his system. The music was lower, and the cling of kitchenware slowed.
We were just a few hours away from Christmas. The sunset wasn’t visible through the thick blanket of thunderclouds, but the natural light of the sun faded more and more, leaving me with just the shadows and lightening. The rain picked up speed and anger a while ago, huge bullets assaulting the window. I couldn’t even hear the music from the living room. Hell, I couldn’t hear my breathing, couldn’t see what was two inches in front of my face.
Ever so slowly, I stood from my hiding spot. The carpet tickled the sides of my feet as I crept quietly towards the door and pulled it open. Dull light washed the hallway as I kept myself pressed against a wall. Trying to keep Xavier oblivious to what I was doing, I dropped to my knees and crawled as quickly as possible behind the couch. Xavier was focused on the flickering TV while I opened the door and slipped out into the apartment building hallway. The rain was diluted here, and all I could hear was it pounding on windows and walls in the distance.
My feelings hid behind the image of my mother, which I kept constant in my mind. Though the corridor was completely abandoned, I could still hear the buzz of conversations behind doors. They didn’t sound festive whatsoever. Some were the complete opposite. Usually, I would feel anger, frustration to their ignorance towards the holiday that was celebrated so much before. But now, I was numb. How else could you explain what I was about to do?
The elevator doors opened and accepted me in. The air was heavy with humidity, and I closed my eyes. I imagined what should be happening, not what is. I could hear the merry ringing of Christmas bells, see twinkling decorations in the shapes of snowmen and reindeer that lined lawns with fake snow. Spicy cinnamon and the sharp tang of pine trees filled the air around me in this make-believe world. If I reached up, I would probably feel the soft edges of mistletoe. If I tried to run my fingers along the wall next to me, the rough points of holly leaves would caress my fingertips.
The only thing that pulled me away from my perfect little word was the small ding, distant and out of tune. The music died away, the cinnamon spice, pine trees, mistletoe and holly fading to nothing. All that was left around me was the sterile walls, the empty corners and dull steel of the elevator doors.
The doors opened and I stepped out. The lobby was almost dark, save for a few light bulbs that flickered in competition with the lightening. Rain ferociously battled with the windows, which held up strong and steady. A secretary sat behind a huge cherry wood desk. I headed towards the doors and had my hand on the handle when he spoke up.
“Not so smart to go out there.” I turned towards the man and stared at him with no expression. “It’s a level two hurricane. City officials said to stay in unless you’re in an emergency. Is this an emergency?” I nodded my head, just to get this over with. “There’s an umbrella over there. Take it.” The secretary turned back to his papers.
Ignoring his advice, I stepped out. The rain was hard and unforgiving. Wind whipped branches at me and almost knocked me down flat. I felt so useless, a rag doll fighting to stay supported on her floppy legs. In just a few seconds, I was already soaked through and through, my shirt nothing more than a second skin.
As pointless as it was to keep going, I walked, fighting desperately against the wind and rain. My skin began to numb at the attack of the fierce rain, and I couldn’t see where I was going. The only reason I did was because of the lightening strikes. I didn’t see a branch flying towards me soon enough, and before I could dodge it, the branch smacked the side of my arm. It stung, and I bit my lip against the pain. Still, I continued to march across abandoned roads, through whirlwinds of leaves and pellets of rain.
I was nearing my destination. Just a few more feet, and I was safe. Why I always came back, I don’t know. There was just something so universal about it, about the park. It’s so natural, clean. I couldn’t say that it felt like home, because I didn’t have a home. It just felt safe.
As I continued walking, the ground shook with thunder. Through the constant lightening, the image of a tree toppling to the ground flickered, ripping roots from the soil as if in slow motion. Somewhere else, another tree cracked in half, the sound almost louder than thunder. The constant destruction didn’t phase me, I’ve seen worse. Instead, I just sat on the trunk of the fallen tree, draping my feet over the pulled roots.
“She won’t know,” I told the tree, tickling the roots with the soles of my feet. “The clouds are covering me, she can’t see me.” I choked on the rain, coughing and sputtering. The acidic taste in my throat brought tears to my eyes. “She can’t hear me, its okay.” I tilted my head up, feeling the rain numb my skin to nothing. With that numbness, everything faded. The rain, the wind, the thunder. I stayed like that for a while until I wanted to feel again. When I lowered my face, everything came back. When I tilted it up, the world disappeared. Out here, like this, I could control everything. If I wanted to feel, I could. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t. It was that simple.
Soon though, it got to the point that lifting my face to the sky wasn’t enough. As long as I waited for the numbness to come over me, it didn’t. The rain just hurt. The wind knocked me over. Thunder made my ears buzz. Lightening rose the hair on the back of my neck.
I kept my head up and screamed. Sobbed. “Fuck! I’m not made of steel, damn it!” I punched the dead tree, though it hurt my hand more than anything else. “I just don’t want to feel anything! Why is that so hard to manage? Why?” What’s the point of being out here if the rain didn’t do its job, like its supposed to? It was supposed to numb everything. To the point that I couldn’t feel the wind, or the rumbling shake of thunder. To the point that emotions dispersed to nothing. To the point that I wasn’t even there anymore, but in some other universe where everything is perfect, where I was free to feel nothing but blithe.
But, no. That can’t happen because men are fucking selfish imbeciles and try to run from their problems. So here I was, tearing through my hair and lashing out at the park because of men. Here I was, still crying hysterically, still whimpering with the need to be comforted. Though when everything that surrounds you is your enemy, comfort is like a dream. Something you give yourself, or just don’t have. It’s never given to you, you never just find it like twenty dollars on the ground. It’s not a hug given to you from a loved one with care. It’s something that after time and time again of being let down, you learn to deal with not having.
My scalp hurt from the intense rain, and my arms itched with moisture. Another crackle of breaking twigs set an alarm off in my head, and I stood ready, and poised. I looked in front of me, as much as I could see, and there came a figure. Strong and determined, not a single fault in his steps. The wind couldn’t compete with his strength, and changed directions, pushing his forward. It took me a while to realize who he was, since his hair looked like matted coal than brown.
“What are you doing here?” My voice, though I screamed, sounded weak against the wind and rain. I tried to blink away the hair that fell against my eyes, but to no avail.
“Trying to keep you from getting killed!” As he drew nearer, the rage was visible in his eyes. His face glowed with anger, and a web of veins popped on his forehead.
“I’m not going to get killed. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Are you sure? Because if you did, you wouldn’t be out here!” He threw his arms out, gesturing to the hurricane.
“What do you care, Xavier?” My temperament was rising with his.
“Because, if you get killed out here, which is incredibly likely, I’m going to have to deal with answering questions.” He stepped closer, as if to threaten. “About how a fucking girl ended up in the park, during a hurricane when she should be in a facility!”
“But they can’t link my supposed death to you-”
“You’re so damn stupid! You’re wearing my clothes! Need me to spell it out for you?” He took a deep breath to calm himself. The veins still webbed his forehead. “Why did you even come out here?”
I said the first thing that came to mind. “I wanted to clear my head.”
“Of what? Your skin?”
“I got a plan-”
Xavier sighed in irritation. He walked in a semi circle around the fallen tree, rubbing his fingers to his forehead.
“When are you going to get the point that you aren’t going to ‘fix’ anything? I mean honestly, what the hell do you think you can accomplish by being a little conceited brat? Nothing. You know why? Because you are just a kid, no one will listen to you-”
“Stop.” It was a single word. Not much, but it was all I could think of to make him shut up. He didn’t listen.
“-or take you seriously. You think you have authority over thirty and forty year olds?” Xavier scoffed, pressing his knuckles against the rough bark of the tree. He leaned his body forward, a cruel smile spread neatly across his face. “You’re a baby.”
“I said stop, Xavier.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. I couldn’t bring myself to look anywhere and just closed my eyes.
“You need to be taken care of. You need someone to tell you how to do things because you don’t have to full knowledge to do it yourself.” His words got louder and his face contorted with both anger and satisfaction.
My response came easy. I didn’t even have to say anything. I didn’t have to think anything. Just tightened my hand into a fist, raised it, pulled back. I opened my eyes just in time to see my fist connecting neatly next to his lip, sending dots of water mixed with blood. My hand throbbed from the pain of hitting someone after so long in biting rain.
“You know what, Xavier? I’m done with people underestimating me. I’m through with people saying that I’m too young, that I’m not good enough, that I cant do this or do that.” I straightened my posture, lifted my chin. “I’m going to prove you and everybody else wrong. Because I’m an adult. I’ve been through things that should only exist in horror movies or books.”
“Really, you’re an adult.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. Xavier rolled his eyes.
I was about to respond when in the blink of an eye, literally in the blink of an eye, Xavier was over the log and pushing me to the ground. My head ricocheted off the ground and I hit my forehead on Xavier’s cheek. His body was heavy over mine and I could barely breathe. Xavier’s scent was intoxicating, like spearmint, cinnamon sugar, and mens’ shampoo.
“Get off me, Xavier!” That was when I realized the situation. I was in physical contact with a man. It felt too much like being in the operation room, and memories flooded back. Me, screaming for help, banging on the windows. Me, being pulled away and under. Violated, inferior, worthless. My screaming became frantic, and I pounded against Xavier’s shoulders.
“Calm down, calm down. You were about to get hit by a tree branch.” Xavier stood up and flicked his wet hair away from his eyes. I stayed were I was, unable to move, to react. The pounding rain hurt even worse, and a headache began to bloom on the side of my head that faced the unrelenting rain. My body shook with tremors even stronger than the wind. When Xavier looked down at me, he sighed again. “Get up,” he barked, as merciless as the rain. As unforgiving as every other man. I didn't move though, I couldn't. Without another word he scooped me up in his arms. I fought against him, but somewhere along the way I realized It was pointless. I could train to fight, I could learn how to use even the most powerful of guns and weapons, but I was still no match for a man.
Xavier walked over fallen trees and branches, dodging park benches that were ripped from the ground, dirt and all. He tripped only a few times. I just laid limp in his arms, barely there and barely not. It got to the point that I didn’t realize when we reached his apartment building, when he stepped into the elevator, when he opened the door to his apartment. I did, though, know when he set me down on his precious leather couch and walked away. I stood and looked down at the pool of water I was dripping onto the carpet.
Xavier came back with a thick quilt. He draped it over my shoulder, adjusting it and pressing it against my wet clothing. It was one of those moments that I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. Instead of trying to decipher it, I just stared at the ground. I studied its texture, the way little curls of almost invisible yarn were twirled together, and how they poked up from the roped strands. The wind still whistled and rain beat against the windows. I looked out the window and longed to be out there again. The fact that I could control the feelings felt liberating. Like I had control over myself. I still shook and stared blankly at the twirls of ivory beneath my wet shoes. My eyes traveled to the clock next to a window, little nervous tingles slipping down my spine. It was well beyond twelve, signaling another day.
“Will you hold still?” His flashed with anger once again.
“W-what’s wrong w-with y-you?” My teeth chattered together. Fiercely, I pulled the quilt free from his grip and walked away. On the way to the bedroom Xavier assigned to me, the quilt got caught under my feet. My feet tangled themselves around the quilt and brought me down to my knees. Without stopping or looking back, I gathered all the grace possible and stalked into the room.
“Pathetic.” Xavier’s single word followed me into the room.
Pathetic, my mother’s voice rung in my head.
I peeled off the clothing that stuck to me like a second skin and wore the only thing that has ever truly been mine- my training clothes. They allowed free movement and were lightweight. As I did, my thoughts traveled back to Xavier’s last word. Pathetic. That’s all I ever was to everyone. Pathetic. Worthless.
But not anymore. I will not fall behind their words, I’m not weak. I’m not stupid.
I. Am. Not. Pathetic.
~*~*~
Imagine a place you can always escape to
An island off the coast of nowhere
A new destination of your own creation,
just waiting 'til you choose to go there
Blue tree tops and velvet skies,
You're, ready to blow your mind
Ooh...
This is a place where your mind can escape
All the problems today and go far, far away
This is a time with no history
Welcome to mystery
-Welcome to Mystery, Plain White T's
~*~*~