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<3 Misty93
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**Anika**
“Calm down, Honey. Just calm down and tell me what is wrong!”
There was way too much screaming coming through the phone to understand a single word that she was telling me. From what I could catch of it, some one has been through her apartment.
“Is there anything missing? Any jewelry? Any art? Anything?
“No, no, no, no, no, no,” Honey cried into the phone. No matter how much I try to console her she just cries more. “Why do these things have to happen to me, Niki? Why me?”
“I-I…” I couldn’t answer. Never in my life have I gone through the things that she’s gone through. I can’t even begin to compare the two of us, it would take all day. What am I supposed to say to someone who you know you can’t make feel any better?
“Hold on for just a second, okay Honey? I’m not hanging up, I’m just calling Ted, okay?”
She cried an okay into the phone and I dialed Ted up on three-way.
“Hello?” He answered, thank God. I just don’t know what to do to help Honey, but Ted, maybe he’d know.
“You have to get to Honey’s house right away,” I say quickly. Who knows what she might do on her own there. I explained everything to him--at least as much as I got from Honey--and he hung up with the promise to see her. The phone call only lasted a whole minute, if that. I clicked back on the other line. Honey was still there.
“I just don’t know what to do anymore,” Honey told me. Her voice was so soft now, as if she has lost all hope.
“Listen Honey. I know I’m not the greatest person to be giving out advice, or anything, but God only gives people what they can handle right? You’re a very strong, independent woman who doesn’t need help from anybody, as far as I’m concerned. This is just a small bump in the road before you can tear up that highway, okay?” I hope she understood what I was saying, because I sure was having a hard time following it.
“I guess you’re right,” she says, and I sigh in relief. “But I---” she started crying again, mid-sentence. I had no idea what the hell she was saying until she told me she had to go because Ted had finally shown up. I hear him swear pretty loud in the background right before I hear the dial tone of my house phone.
“Okay, then,” I sighed to myself. I set down the receiver and walked downstairs. Joe was in the dining room, legs crossed, reading the newspaper and drinking tea. He didn’t say anything as I approached him.
“Hey, Joe, wat’ya up to?”
“Reading, Miss.” His eyes didn’t so much as flicker from the pages between his fingers.
“Yes, I see.”
There was an awkward silence, but I was used to it. Joe was full of them. And sometimes, I guess they’re even comforting. Most people don’t get to enjoy silence in their everyday lives. But then again, most people don’t have a chauffeur/butler as their guardian.
Finally, Joe looked up. He slid his tiny glasses up his magnificently crooked nose as if to see me better, and cleared his throat. “Is there something you need Anika?”
Yes! I wanted to shout. Yes, yes, yes! But I controlled myself. I crossed and uncrossed my legs only to cross them again and the silence only grew worse. I couldn’t find the words to speak.
“Have you happened to talk to my parents in the last few days? I--my birthday is coming up and…well…I was hoping they would show up.” Before Joseph can even say a word I’m talking again. “I know I’m a little naïve to think that both of them could show up--just having one show up is pushing my luck--and when they see me I guess they never see me, but I know that it’s just because they’re always so busy. But it would be nice to have them here for the big day--they already missed most of them, and graduation to top it all off. But deep down I know that they love me and that that’s why they try to buy me off and buy me all of these materialistic things that I really don’t need, and even though I hate to admit it, I kind of love them too. In a way.“
Shit, I was rambling. A lot.
Joe looked at me in surprised with wide eyes, and eyebrows halfway up his forehead as if he were looking at me for the first time ever.
“What is with the change of heart all of a sudden? I was under the impression you felt nothing but disdain for you parents.”
Sure, that’s what I wanted you to think. That’s exactly what I want everyone to think, but deep down I’m just a little girl who feels orphaned and lonely. It’s like they don’t even exist. When I was little parents were like a fairy tale. They were something I always wanted, but never quite got. After all, money can’t buy parents.
Well, actually I guess it can. The money my dad makes off his hotel business has bought him away from me for almost eighteen years.
“You know,” I begin, unsure of how to say this. It’s not often that I talk to Joe about personal things, especially my parents. He knows how conflicted I feel about them and so he is hardly ever the one to bring them up first. “I just want to see them, okay?”
Wow, never thought I’d heard those words come out of my mouth.
“Am I stupid, Joseph? Or wrong? Am I really being naïve about this?”
Painstakingly he thought about this. I scratched my forearm nervously. Tucked a looses strand of hair behind my ear. Stared down at my feet to see if I could see my toes wiggling through my fluffy purple slippers. God, why am I acting like this--like Honey, something? I’m not the nervous type at all. I’m Niki Roselyn: sharp tongued and determined. Nothing holds me back. But whenever I think about my parents, whenever I see them, I go back to that day when I did my first dance audition. I turn into that little girl and all of a sudden my strength is gone.
“No,” he simply said with a tone of finality. I thought he was going to slide his glasses back down and read his newspaper again--he wasn’t one to talk much about my parents either--but he didn’t. He just stared at me peculiarly. I wasn’t sure if I should stand there, sit down, or walk away. We’ve never done this before.
“No, Anika, you are not naïve. It is only natural for a girl to want to see her parents, but last time I talked to your parents was a month ago and that was to tell me that they wired over more money for you. I expect they know how special your birthday is to you and that is why they sent the money--for preparations--but I do not know if they will be present at the part. I’m sorry Anika.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say, but I hardly even hear myself. I only hear the beating of my hear in my ears. I only feel the tears begin to form in the corners of my eyes. One slipped away from the others and ran down my cheek. I didn’t even care.
“As soon as the morning approaches, I will phone them,” he told me, but his words were no consolation. Even if my parents did answer the phone--which is unlikely in itself--they definitely would not agree to take a plane all the way back to the Twin Cities just to see me. They’d say something like, “Birthdays happen everyday,” or “Niki can handle herself, she’s a big girl,” or my favorite, “I’m busy that day but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
“No, no,” I say. “Don’t even bother, okay? I uh--I changed my mind, so just forget about it.”
“Anika--”
Before he could even say anything to change my mind I said, “I’m going out in a while so let Sara know I won’t be home for dinner.”
He looked surprised at the quick turn of subjects, but I didn’t skip a beat. “Don’t bother to leave the light on; I won’t be coming home tonight.” At least, that was what I was planning on happening. I began to leave, but hesitated.
“And Joseph? Please forget about what I said earlier. It’s nothing, really.” I was gone before he could even open his mouth to speak. He has a knack for changing my mind. I won’t let that happen. If one thing is for sure, I really don’t need my parents coming to my party only to ruin in with their business. I want a good eighteenth birthday and looking at them only make me sad.
When I looked at the clock it was 8:15, which meant I had a little less than an hour to get ready for my date. Damn, I thought. It usually take me a lot longer than that. I really have to boogie.
I hopped into the shower and put my clothes on without even drying myself off with a towel. I quickly blow-dried my hair and mussed it up with some mousse. Make up comes easily for me--I once gave myself and entire makeover driving to Forest Lake to pick up Honey--so it was expertly done in seven minutes.
When I realized I had nothing else to do, I had looked at the clock again. Yes! With ten minutes to spare.
Putting on my black and red Jimmy Choos to match my skin-tight red dress, I threw on a shawl, slid on my purse, and grabbed my house keys. This was going to be an over-nighter.
*****
Her name is Natalie Song and she’s an amazing kisser. That’s what first attracted me to her. And once we were apart from each other long enough to breathe, I started to notice other things as well, like her smile, and the way her eyes change colors throughout the day, from dark chocolate, to golden brown and amber. The first time I heard her laugh--in a little café in the downtown area--it was like magic. I knew I was in love from that moment.
But how do you tell someone you’ve only known for two days that you love them? How does someone even react to something like that?
Once I saw her outside, waiting for me, ten minutes early, I knew I couldn’t survive this date with the kind of secret I was keeping. Could she see it in my face when I waved to her? Could she taste it when our lips met? Could she smell it on my perfume? I felt so obvious. Like I was practically screaming to her, “I LOVE YOU!” in big bold letters.
I feel ridiculous I thought. I’ve been hanging around Honey too much lately.
She took me to a really nice restaurant in downtown Minneapolis. I never heard of it before and I can’t even begin to pronounce it, but it smelled amazing when we pulled up into the valet parking lot.
“You look really beautiful,” I say softly when we get out of her car and I can see her entire body. God, did she have a nice body. I can see the two of us dancing together and becoming something great. Something special and unforgettable together.
Natalie was wearing a great fitting black dress that swooped around the knees and down to the feet. I could tell it was designer. This girl was made for me. Beautiful, excellent kisser, and a good sense of fashion to top it all off. Wow.
She stopped to observe me for a second. I tried not to flinch self-consciously, but her gaze was so penetrating I had no choice but to look away. I felt like every second I spent with her the closer she was to figuring me out.
“Thanks,” she said. There was a slight blush to her milky cheeks. “So do you.” She smiled contagiously and wrapped her arm in mine. It didn’t bother me in the least. Matter of fact, I welcomed her touch. It was different and affectionate. It made me feel like I’m someone who matters, and not just a living mass who takes up oxygen. Natalie makes me feel like I belong.
“Come. let’s go,” she told me and brought me into the restaurant.
From the outside the geometrically rectangular building seemed like your average ordinary, formal restaurant, but on the inside it was lively and hot as hell. Everyone was talking at the same time so that you can’t even hear the classical music playing somewhere in the background. The theme was white and black. Black walls and carpet and ceilings with crystal chandeliers, white marble table tops and counters and chairs. In the back was an entire kitchen and grill set-up for customers who would like to see their food prepared. On the side was a small stage with small stools and a piano, but no band. Paintings of famous stars who have visited are masterfully arranged on one wall and landscape scenery on another. It was absolutely amazing. Why haven’t I heard about this place before?
It seemed like every table was full except one, and that’s the table--right next to a window with a view of the back of the restaurant--that we were ushered to. Immediately we were given a menu and sparkling water (I forgot my fake ID in my other purse) and minutes after a waitress dressed in black pumps, a black pencil skirt, and long sleeved white shirt and tie asked us what we would like to eat.
Natalie knew right away what she wanted without even looking at the menu once which means that she’s a regular in this place. I wondered how many women she has taken here in the past and tried not to let it bother me, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it to the point that I was scratching myself every other minute. By the time our meals were served I imagined that my hair looked like a mess, and not a professional one either. I was bugging the hell out of myself but I couldn’t put a damper on my nervousness no matter how much I tried.
“Is something wrong?” Natalie asked. Her brown eyes were the color of melted milk chocolate and cream. “You look…I don’t know…frightened or something.”
“No I--” I paused. What could I say that would make her believe I’m all right? I didn’t want to give her the wrong impression. I really like this girl. So I gave her the truth. “I’m just really nervous,” I said hesitantly. “I’ve never been on a date before.” With a women I wanted to finish, but didn’t. I’ve been on all sorts of dates before, but they were with guys.
Don’t get me wrong, I love men. I especially love what’s between their legs, but that’s as far as a relationship with them can go for me. Their great sex buddies. That’s all. It’s women who really understand me, and though we share the same anatomical reproductive organs--well, there’s ways to get around that. It’s women who make me feel like I’m something more than just an object to be bought, used, and thrown away.
With men, sex is just sex--but sometimes it can be a fling, a booty-call, or some other obscene reference that makes me feel just as dirty and objectified. With women, however--well, we tend to give a piece of ourselves whenever we’re intimate with someone. Sex is much more than sex to us. It’s romance. It’s life. It’s our souls. It’s something precious that we like to cherish because once it’s given away, there’s no way to get it back.
“There’s no need to be nervous,” she told me, putting a hand across the table to overlap mine. Her voice was like a Siren’s. I now know how the lonely sailor feels. “I don’t bite.” She had a seductive curve to her rouge lips.
I took my hand away gently and put it in my lap, smiling so I didn’t offend her. I don’t want her to think that I don’t like her. I really do want to hold her hand, really I do, but--I don’t know. I’ve been acting strange tonight.
Maybe it’s because my parents are still lurking somewhere in the back of my mind no matter how much I try to lock them up in my subconscious. I still haven’t told them I’m a lesbian yet--they just wouldn’t understand--and I don’t know if I ever could or should. What will they do when they find out? Throw a fit? Refuse to let me go to New York? Fire Joseph for not telling them about me? I could only imagine the possibilities. When my parents get mad, they get mad.
“Yes.” I say, a little less shakily. “I know, I’m being silly.”
“Here is your dinner,” said the same waitress from before. She placed down an amazing looking golden chicken with golden sauce and herbs poured over it with a side of vegetables and cheese bread.
Natalie ordered some kind of clear soup that looked more like a broth than anything and a side of vegetables like me. Both of us cared about our figures as aspiring dancers. Our bodies are our instruments.
Dinner was eaten with quiet talking between us two. We talked about everything from the weather to our hopes and dreams. I told her how I want to travel to New York and maybe California at the end of summer to find a real dancing job in a big city. I told her how I want people to know my name where ever my feet may hit the pavement.
She is the first person, besides Joe, who knows what I plan on doing. When I told her, I couldn’t believe what I had done; I haven’t even told Honey or Ted what I’m going to yet, but it did feel good to tell someone without them freaking out on me, like I know my friends would. Natalie just listened and smiled and encouraged me to follow my dream. She told me it was something special that I should hold on to, and I believed her.