-December, 1989-
I could feel his breath against my skin, it was as real as the raindrops that made their cautious descent down the glass windows, casting small black shadows on the floor like polka dots.
I could feel his heart beating out of his chest, so strong beneath my fingertips, steady and rhythmic.
I could smell his hair, just a mere whiff sent goosebumps parading down my spine. I could hear his voice whooshing in my ears so lyrically, like the strumming of guitar strings.
"Calliope," he whispered, savoring every syllable.
Those green eyes of his were peering into mine, and I was real again. He could see every part of me, feel every part of me, know every part of me. I wanted to give myself to him, and so I did, and I enjoyed every fragment of pure liberation.
"Sweetheart," his mouth was pressed to mine; my fingers slid through his silky mane, so resemblant of liquid fire.
He was grinning at me, and I was real again. I came to life.
"Calliope."
Oh, but it was too good to be true. The sensation of his presence, the sheer pleasure of his love.
"Calliope? Calliope!"
My eyelids flew open just in time to watch my guitar clatter to the polished wooden floor beside my chair. Not that I wouldn't have heard the horrific sound that followed soon thereafter.
I cringed at my own clumsiness and quickly attempted to gather my senses. I knew it was no use, thinking of Axl almost always consumed me whole. I guess I didn't mind, but the hole he left in me grew a little bigger every time I allowed myself in too deep.
"Calliope!" a sharp voice called, and I nearly fell out of my chair. So that part of the dream was real.
"Oh crap," I whispered to myself as I dropped down onto my knees in front of my chair. I collected my Les Paul along with my radio and hurried to the closet. With a hasty glance over my shoulder, I stashed my things inside along with my other valuables.
"Calliope!" Cap snapped at me again, probably already seated at the dinner table. I was late, which would certainly earn me some repercussions.
"Coming!"
Anxiously, I took another few seconds to admire the gaggle of 'deplorable' items I'd managed to secretly procure; all seven of my t-shirts were safely folded on the ground, all of which depicted band logos. My albums were safe, all twenty-three of them.
I quickly ran my fingers over the smooth surface of Paul Stanley's face on the cover of Dynasty, before shutting the closet and nearly running to my bedroom door.
I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself, running shaky fingers through the length of my hair.
It was time to plaster on a good girl's smile.
I made certain that my posture was perfect before I approached the dinner table with my hands folded. Cap was already there as I had suspected, and greeted me with a disapproving smile. I liked to think he didn't know about my forbidden activities, but even now I know that couldn't have been the case.
One of the two housekeepers Cap employed to look after the house pulled out my chair for me, and I sat as daintily as possible before placing a cloth napkin in my lap.
"Hello," I greeted quietly, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
"Wine," Cap grunted to the other housekeeper. She startled for a brief moment before she ducked her head slightly and reached for the dusty bottle in the center of the table.
I frowned slightly at the meal before me: green salad, topped with cucumbers, thinly sliced carrot, and artichoke hearts. I must've done something to please Cap earlier that day, because I had been rewarded with sliced grapes as a side dish.
Cap eyeballed me over his steaming plate of roast chicken as the housekeeper poured us both glasses of the rich red wine.
"What, is something the matter with your dinner, darling?"
"No," I mumbled, and automatically I wanted to kick myself.
"What was that?" Cap asserted.
I gasped just slightly, clearing my throat. He never failed to intimidate me, and that only provided another reason for me to be down on myself.
"Nothing is wrong with my dinner."
Cap said nothing. I did my best to ignore the tantalizing scent of his dinner, especially once he began to eat it with gusto.
I picked up my fork and began to pick at my salad. Axl would've called it rabbit food, and then he would've taken me out for a club sandwich.
The thought of smoky bacon, cool green avacado and grilled chicken made me want to drool, so I shoved the idea out of my mind and focused on the benign and watery taste of spinach leaves.
It was so deadly quiet, I could almost hear my own unhapiness. I'd learned to live with it, but most times I couldn't help but think about what it was like to have a meal with my old friends. The laughing, the drinking, the story telling. No one could have a boring time with Steven at the table, and no one could leave without a sore face from smiling.
Maybe Axl could, be he didn't like to smile most times, unless we were alone.
"How was your day?" Cap said, throwing me out of my reverie.
"Oh, it was nothing special." I said vaguely while impaling a grape with my fork. The corners of his mouth turned up just slightly, because that was exactly what he wanted to hear.
Cap had approached the task of sucking all the flavor out of my life with an eerie ferventness. I was allowed a few hours of television a day, so long as the programs had nothing to do with music. I'd officially lost my desk job at CIA HQ. I could read, but I couldn't draw: that was far too creative and stimulating.
I could nap, but not for more than an hour at a time. Laziness is an unfavorable trait in women, Cap says. And for this very reason, once a week I was allowed outside the apartment. As long as I could be shrouded by the cover of night, as long as I stayed away from any concerts or bars, and as long as I was with my next door neighbor and her friends.
With that being said, I did not tell Cap that I had perfected yet another song on the guitar, I didn't tell him about how badly my fingers ached, how badly my back was cramping from sitting for so long.
Instead, I told him that it was nothing special. Nothing special at all, and that's what Cap liked to hear.
"Cap?" I said his name gently as I finished the last of my salad. I definitely would've still been hungry after such a meager offering, if it hadn't been for the anxiousness growing in my chest.
He set his wine glass down and swallowed.
"What is it, Callie?"
I stole my courage, and met his eyes again. "Would it be alright with you if I went out with Nina tonight? It's just a small get together across town, a few friends."
His eyes narrowed as both of his elbows came down against the table top. If I were to do that while I ate, I would be severely reprimanded.
He seemed to consider my words for the longest time, stopping only once for another bite of chicken and sip of wine. He sighed, wiping his mouth on his cloth napkin.
"You were late for dinner, Callie."
My hopes sank; I had to remind myself not to slump down in my chair.
"I'm sorry, Cap." I simply said, staring down into my empty salad bowl as the remnants of what used to be swam around in little puddles of salad dressing. I should've known he wouldn't let me, I told myself. He hated for me to go out, and only allowed me to on occasion to take a weight off his own conscience.
"But you may go- for one button."
A perverted smile had inked its way onto Cap's smooth facial features, the expression clung to his eyes and sickened me to my core.
"A... a button?"
He nodded to my shirt, and his eyes drifted down to my chest. They brightened a little as they settled on the curve of my breasts.
"One button, and you can go out with your friends tonight."
Humiliation burned in the back of my throat. It tasted bitter, like bile. My breathing was shallow as he impatiently gazed at me, I could look at him and know that he was thinking about that night, that night he took everything from me- including my innocence.
I never allowed him access to my body again, and he was sick of that.
"But... my shirt's already undone three buttons," I squeaked, but he wouldn't have that.
"One more, Calliope. It's just one more button, nothing more."
I hated myself, and I hated him too. I let my eyelids fall shut as I unbuttoned my shirt just one more notch, and sat boiling in my own embarassment.
"Beautiful," he muttered with an oily-slick smile, "just perfect."
I could feel a sob rising in my throat.
"May I please be excused?" I gasped, and as soon as he agreed I was gone. I buttoned my shirt up until it was partially obstructing my breathing, nearly slamming my bedroom door with full recollection of what hapened last time I did that.
The bruise lasted for a week. Luckily, this time, Cap was too pleased with the thought of my bare chest to punish me, or to notice.
"No tears, no crying," I reminded myself bitterly as I raced to the closet, sifting through my t-shirts for something to wear.
"I had to do it, I am not his... I am not his..." I choked on the word whore, I couldn't bring myself to utter it.
I stripped down quickly- I always did, harboring the fear that Cap had installed cameras in my bedroom. If he had, the last thing I wanted to do was give him a show.
I tossed aside my button-down polo and cashmere skirt, sighing with immediate relief as I slipped into a pair of jeans and a Motley Crue t-shirt. I peered across the room at my pair of converse, put I knew I could never sneak those past Cap.
I packed my Les Paul in it's case, and threw the shoes inside as well, before I began the tedious process that was un-bricking my window.
Yes, Cap was that neurotic. He bricked up my window.
It took some time, but eventually I was able to get it open just wide enough to let my guitar case tumble down, cushioned by a pile of trash. I shut the window again and put all the bricks back in place, hurriedly slipping into my long coat to cover up the clothes I was wearing. Jon's coat.
I went back to Cap with a plastered on smile and a superficial good-bye. He planted an awkward kiss on my lips just before I could escape him, and all during the ride down to the first floor I scrubbed my mouth with the back of my coat sleeve.
Nina was a perfect person. She got the attention of every male without ever trying, she had freedoms I could only dream of. Truthfully, she was the typical college female, but my own existence was so very atrocious I couldn't see through my own desires.
I folded my coat neatly next to the pile of trash, slipping my guitar case over my shoulders. I was sure to be cold, maybe for a little while, but I didn't care. Cap said a lady shouldn't go out in the winter without a coat for fear of getting sick, so I did just the opposite. What did being a lady have to do with pneumonia anyhow?
I strutted down the street with a small smile on my face, my breath fogged and stretched toward the sky in grey wispy tendrils before dissipating completely. Remnants of snow huddled in street corners, black from car exhaust. The night sky was cloudy and grey, the air smelled slightly of garbage. I loved it, anything was better than the generic smell of fabric softner that seemed to cling to every surface in my apartment.
I reached my destination, a shady street corner, shrouded by knotted trees, most likely soaked with urine. I sat down on a bench, I got out my trusty old guitar.
I didn't need to look at my fingers as they expertly began to play Patience, and even if I'd wanted to I couldn't have. No matter how many times I heard that song, the sense of wonder that accompanied the lyrics never left me. I could play it day in and day out, I could never tire of it.
It was Axl's ode to me, or so I liked to think.
A few dollars were tossed into my guitar case, and I smiled. Money meant more band merchandise.
I need you, oh, this time...
"Hey, Jimi Hendrix!"
I opened my eyes and spotted Nina, hanging out of her car window. Her full red lips were curled up into a comical smile, her long brown hair was blowing in the icy wind.
"Get over here before you freeze to death, and die a misunderstood genius, huh?"
I rolled my eyes before returning my guitar to it's case. I would count the money later, and then I would head to the record store to see what I could afford.
I crossed the street and got into her beaten-up old Duster, grinning all the while. She was smiling right back at me as she tossed a perfect lock of hair over her shoulder, and pulled onto the road.
"You ready to throw down college style, little Callie?"
I was having heart fluxuations.
"Yep," I simply agreed, watching as she re-applied her lipstick while simultaneously fighting city traffic. Her lipstick was already perfect and she knew it, but part of being a desirable female was having irrational insecurities.
"Oh come on, bitch! You gotta be better than that! Locked up in that apartment with your creepy old foster-dad, you gotta be happy to be getting some fresh air, right?"
I noticed the way her sweater clung tightly to her chest, I noticed how exposed her midsection was. There was no doubt in my mind that she wasn't leaving this party alone.
"I told 'creepy foster-dad' that I'd be back before midnight, is that gonna work out?"
Her face froze for a second, and she broke her eye contact with me to focus on the road.
"Oh, uh-huh," she said in that vague tone of voice she always used when she was lying.
She pulled into a residential neighborhood, an upscale one at that. The house she parked in front of was large, but apart from that nothing about it was upscale. Strobe lights pulsed from the windows, the music was so loud it was causing her car to vibrate.
The front lawn was decorated with discarded solo cups, toilet paper, and the occasional used condom- at the time, I thought they were balloons.
It had to be below freezing, it was December and the sun was down but there was no shortage of scantily clad women. I smiled for a second- they reminded me of the females that would come and go during my time with my old friends. They loved promiscuity, especially Steven.
"Come on!" She yipped excitedly, turning off the car and leaving her keys in her seat.
Cautiously, I slipped out of the car and watched her bound up the walk to the front door. I was extremely wary of people, and stupidly I'd forgotten to be nervous until the moment we arrived.
It was a dream of mine to attend college. That was what normal people did, they educated themselves further so that they could attain jobs in the real world. I was plenty educated, but I was far from status quo.
I followed after her quietly, I kept my hands down and my eyes glued to the concrete. I must've looked so terribly awkward, but in hindsight it was partially Nina's fault for abandoning me so early into the process.
"Oh, um, excuse me," I apologized after squeezing past a couple blocking the entrance, they were so engrossed in swallowing each other they hardly noticed me.
I nearly peed my pants when I saw what was inside that fraternity house. There were bodies grinding up against bodies to the beat of the music, there were girls clamoring over each other (some were kissing) on the couch, all while some creep watched and rubbed at his crotch. There were guys crawling around everywhere, people tossing small round balls into solo cups, and then drinking from those solo cups. I couldn't hear my own thoughts.
"Well that's unsanitary," I said under my breath, watching as a black-haired girl nearly choked on one of those small white balls.
And of couse, here I was in my Motley Crue shirt, and Nina was nowhere to be found.
"Oh hey Callie, glad you could make it!" A wavy-haired girl stumbled up to me, and it took me a good few seconds to remember her.
"Nadine, what happened to you!" I gasped. Her clothes were in a disarray, her pupils were the size of golf balls.
"I got laid man, just ask... ask Lina when she gets back!" She burped, and stumbled past me into the kitchen for another drink. I watched her as she went, caught in a quandary.
"Laid?" I muttered in confusion, and decided I'd have a drink too.
The kitchen wasn't quite as full to my relief, but upon opening the cabinets I realized there were no cups inside. There was actually nothing inside those glossy wooden cabinets, streaked with unidentifyable stains and scratches.
I turned on my heel to leave, and I almost ran flat into someone's chest.
"Looking for one of these?" A man was holding a solo cup out to me.
I met two hazel eyes ( a little lighter than Duff's), a bright smile, and a head full of teased-out hair. His collar was popped dramatically, he stunk of alcohol.
"Oh, um, thanks..." I muttered. My own naivety was sickening as I took a halfhearted sip, but immediately recognized the taste of vodka and decided it was best not to drink anymore.
"You know, I love women of color." The man slurred, running a hair through his disgruntled mane.
"Oh... okay?"
"Say girlie, you ever been with a white person?"
I almost told him I'd been presented no other options, but at that moment I spotted Nina over his shoulder, in the other room.
"Um, excuse me," I said quietly, shoving the cup back into his hands before moving around him and toward Nina.
She was on the couch beside the homosexually drunk females, but they weren't paying her any mind. Instead she was being fondled by half a dozen frat boys, stopping occasionally so that they could pour more alcohol down her throat.
I watched with awe, feeling very scared, very inexperienced, and very alone.
I couldn't breathe through the clouds of smoke, alcohol fumes, and sexual tension. I could feel myself beginning to panic.
"Hey you!" said the man from the kitchen, and I ignored him. I raced for the front doors, trying to prevent the inevitable reality that I would be crying soon.
When I burst through the front door again, I understood why the women were wearing nothing but halter tops. The cold air felt so good, it allowed me to quickly regain my composure.
I looked back over my shoulder at the house, breathing heavily. There was no way I was going back in there, so I got my feet under me and went back to Nina's Duster. I was glad she'd left the keys on the front seat.
I got inside, blasted the heat, and reclined my chair completely. Nina wasn't coming out of that house, not on her own two feet, so I settled in for the night.
After I got to thinking about it, watching the lazy clouds swirl in the night sky, the people in the party weren't what I was afraid of anymore. No, what was waiting for me back at the apartment was far worse than any party could ever be.
****
I awoke to the sound of the car's battery dying. The car's heater must've failed hours before that, because my teeth were chattering with cold and my muscles were stiff.
I let out a rusty yawn and peered at the sky. Pinkish-orange beams of light were stretching over the horizon, the birds were just beginning to sing and the streets were empty- the calm before the storm of busy adults rushing to work.
I looked over expecting to see Nina passed out in the driver's seat, but all I found was worn old leather and a pack of gum.
I got out of the car, rolling my shoulders as I made my way up the walk to the house. As alive with people as it was the night before was about as dead as it was now; unconscious bodies draped over furniture, even more red cups, discarded cigarette butts. No one moved, and some of the bodies were so still I couldn't tell if they were still breathing.
"Nina?" I whispered hoarsely, tip-toeing around the cups and bodies cautiously.
Eventually, I found Nina.
I shielded my eyes at the sight of her bare breasts, her body littered with love marks and cigarette butts, her face frozen, her lips barely moving with each breath she took. The worst part was that she was alone.
"Nina? Nina!" I kneeled down beside her, shaking her shoulders in the hopes that she would open her eyes.
"Nina?"
The tiniest groan slipped from her lips, and after a significant amount of shaking she finally opened her eyes.
"Callie! My head, it hurts so bad-"
She turned her head and vomitted all over the floor, I had to turn away to keep from losing what little I had to eat the night before.
"Okay, alright," I said anxiously, looking around for a blanket to cover her with.
"We've gotta get you back to campus." I stood and went to the couch, but all I could find was a dirty blanket that was most likely used by the drunk homosexuals the night before, as a part of their sex games. I took it anyway and wrapped it around Nina's body, before hauling her up out off of the floor.
She walked like an old woman with a broken leg, even more so when we reached the yard.
"My.. dorm... is two... blocks... that way," she choked, I could tell she was swallowing down more vomit.
"Yeah, we'll go that way," I groaned, mentally slapping myself in the face for agreeing to this night. When Nina said 'college party,' I should've known it was no good for me. But of course, what basis of comparison did I have?
After a whole lot of struggle I got Nina into her dorm room. The most difficult part was warding off the men, who were immediately excited when they saw there was nothing but a blanket protecting Nina's body from their hungry eyes.
Her roommates Lina and Nadine were there when I arrived, passed out and thrown lazily across their beds. I plopped Nina down in hers, which she nestled into and was asleep in minutes. Her bed looked so appealing to me, the minimal rest I'd gotten her car definitely wasn't sufficient.
There was no way I could get home without her, I didn't wanna walk three miles. So I took a seat on the chair in the corner, and sleep hit me like a sack of potatoes.
****
"I'm thirsty!" Nina was whining.
I was pretty sure she was still half-drunk, forcing me to drag her halfway across campus so that she could get an iced latte. Anyone who wants cold coffee in the winter time must be inebriated.
"So drink your latte," I offered, helping her to sit down on one of the benches parallel to the sidewalk. As she drank I looked around the campus, and tried to think about what it would be like to attend her school. Every day, like a normal teenager.
"I think they took a video of me last night," Nina burped; a worried crease had found a home between her eyebrows. "It's... it's not good."
She got her feet beneath her, sighing. "I'm gonna go pee behind that tree over there." She set her coffee down and stumbled toward the grass.
"Wait, Nina! That's probably not a good-"
My sentence hung in the brisk December air, never to be finished. All of a sudden I felt like I had a thick blob of peanut butter in my mouth, thick and stickier than glue. My blood ran cold, my heart skipped a beat.
As I watched his red strands of hair fluttering in the wind, I felt nauseous.
My mind is playing tricks on me, I reasoned.
"Calliope," he said into the wind.
~fin~