Dating : The Mysterious Outsiders: Part 1

The summer of 2016 was the hottest summer to date. It was an election year. “Work” by Rhianna and Drake was the №1 song. “Captain America: Civil War” was the movie everyone was talking about. And the “Stranger Things” premiere was right around the corner. There was a carefree aroma in the breeze of summer 16. It brought with it a joy that hasn’t been matched since. It was as if the world stood on the tip of Mount Kilimanjaro, and we could all see the beauty that was before us. Yet, in reality, we were just waiting for the strongest gust of wind to send us back into demise. We were young and naive then, unsure of the cruelty that lies right beneath the surface of humanity.

See, my entire life, I’d been an outsider. It was the start of summer-16 where that all changed. I started working out, and people noticed. I wasn’t the chubby kid, full of teenage angst that I used to be. I freed myself from the prison of low self-esteem. With the outward change, came a new group of friends. One of these new friends was the towns social-star and local douchey rich kid, James Ratchford. If you knew him, cool everyone did. If James knew you, you were in. When he became my friend, he put me at a place most guys in my town dreamed to be in. Somehow he managed to place this backward, desolate, isolated town of washed-up dreams, and fulfilled nightmares, into the palm of my hands. I finally became the cool kid.

That summer I got my license. That piece of 3×2 plastic became my ticket to freedom. Gone were the days of asking for rides, or even worse, asking my parents to take me somewhere. I ditched that old bike I used to ride, it made me show up both late and sweaty to every social event anyway. The world became my jungle, and the open road its path to discovery. While my friendship with James permitted me to explore this jungle to its absolute depths.

These two factors made it the most social summer to date. Movies, parties, bonfires, and kickbacks were what filled my summer calendar. And with senior year of high school in the far recesses of my mind, I was free to fulfill my 16-year-old fantasy.

A bonfire in June was when I finally saw her again. She would come around to hang out with the few people she knew from my side of town, but nothing more. She brought with her a level of intrigue that perused my mind all summer. Her demeanor possessed a heavenly aura that could not be mistaken. At every party, James would tell me to go talk to her, but I could never work up the courage to do so. However, this night was different. From across the fire pit, we locked gazes. Her brown eyes seemed to see deeper into my person, as if, for the first time, my outward appearance didn’t matter. The orange hew of the fire pit illuminated the sweet touch of her strawberry blond hair against the dark backdrop of the humid summer night. She smiled at me, and for a moment, the world stopped.

She stood up and began walking over, revealing long, slim legs that even the most successful models would wish for. She stood just a bit shorter than my own 5’10 » frame and had a gate that commanded all to attention in her vicinity. In my mind, she was an angel, and I was her unruly subject shying away from her divine judgment. Everyone’s eyes peered over in her direction as she took long strides towards me. I had to think of something to say, and fast.

Just as she neared the bench where I was sitting, a large crack of thunder rang out, and a summer monsoon ensued. The rain saved me from the mounting pressures of coming up with something to say that both intrigued her, and kept up my “cool guy” persona. The storm sent all of us, somewhere around 60 to 70 people, scrambling inside the old abandon farmhouse that was a few hundred feet away.

The farmhouse echoed a sentiment of a time long before the industrial boom of the early 20th century. No one had lived there in 100 years. Its placement was far off of MainStreet, hidden behind a grove of ancient oak trees, and guarded by a flimsy fence that fell a few years ago. The solitude of the house’s existence invited high school kids from all walks of life into its warm embrace. All of them, just looking for some privacy in our all too public lives. You had the religious kids that found god in between these walls. You had the stoners that would come here to smoke in peace. You had the band kids that would visit the house to have sex with the flute players. You had the athletes who would bone their girlfriends on the filthy couches. I guess they couldn’t find anywhere else to go. And then you had folks like me. The ones who would often just come here to think. Finding peace in detaching themselves from reality now and then, simply, to remind themselves how to dream in a town that forced people to forget they could. Yet, tonight I wasn’t doing any thinking, in that sense. I was in this abandoned farmhouse with the girl of my dreams somewhere close by. I had to find her.

I scanned the room and saw James. His white t-shirt was soaked through because of the rain, but it now showcased his skinny frame underneath. I remember he used to tell me how insecure he was about his body. Tonight, he was drunk, so I take it he had a little more confidence than usual.

“Hey, James!” I yelled over the loud voices of others. “Did you see the girl that was walking up to me right before it started raining?”

“I haven’t seen her,” James grumbled back. “She was one of the first ones in here. But I did see the way you were looking at her all-night bro! She’s a dime.”

“I wasn’t looking at her all night, what are you saying?” I responded in a nervous tone.

“Trust me, everyone here can see it, don’t play dumb now. You are just like the rest of us.” He turned his back to me and started talking to some girl that he wouldn’t remember tomorrow. He was a great example of human depravity while it was still living. It disgusted me.

He acted like he knew me. Yet, he’d never even talked to me before I had earned credence to be at these parties. He had always been in the in-crowd. He wasn’t the definition of cool or attractive either, but he had money. And that money is what made him cool and attractive. His dad was an investor who struck rich on the stock market right after the economic recession of 08. He was a lucky day trader and nighttime drunk. Since he was at Mickey Street Bar every night, he often left James to his own devices. For James, that was alcohol and women. I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. These two items filled every hole he seemed to have in his cold, callus, insecure, drunk heart. If I could guess, he was probably the father of four kids by now, and he was only 18. Every weekend he had a new girl on his arm — summer 16 was no different, and honestly, I was jealous.

I continued scanning the claustrophobic room looking for her sweet strawberry blond hair. My soul was telling me I had to find her. Just as I started to drift into sadness over my lost opportunity, I saw a glimpse of her. The shadow of her blondish hair was headed up the wooden staircase, alone. I needed to go up and talk to her. If not now, it was never going to happen. Her gaze and smile, back at the fire pit, put me in a trance, and its only escape came in the form of a conversation with her. In that moment, she unknowingly held the lock and key to the destiny of my soul.

I began pushing past the conglomerate of people, but ran into James’ ex-girlfriend, Danielle.

“Hey, how are you? I didn’t know you were here?” Danielle said.

She was drunk, and I didn’t have the patience, nor the time, to deal with her unruliness. The girl id dreamed about was walking away, and the girl I wanted to forget about was standing in my way.

“Yeah, I’ve been here a while,” I responded. “Sorry, I can’t really talk right now. I got to go talk to someone upstairs.”

I tried sliding past her, but she grabbed my arm and looked me in the eyes. It was the same gaze my mystery girl gave me outside, just before it started raining.

“She must have not heard me. Or maybe she heard me and just didn’t care,” I thought.

“Ohhh you know I miss hanging out with you. Although, I don’t miss James,” She sputtered in-between sips or her natty light beer. “I think if I didn’t date James, life would be better.…why didn’t we date?”

I couldn’t believe she was asking me this question. She knew how I felt about her the entire time she was with James. She knew that before James was in picture it used to just be her and I. We used to be close. I mean she was my first love. And now she was standing in the way of my second chance at it.

“Danielle, not now. I got to go.”

Desponded, she slid to the left and let me pass.

I reached the top floor, and immediately noticed the blinding darkness that enveloped this area. Downstairs, people were talking, laughing, and joking with one another. On this floor, the loudest thing was the foreboding nature of the silence. The brightest thing was the darkness, both physical and spiritual. Something was watching me; I just couldn’t hear or see it.

I crept along the dark hallway. I was walking blind. I used the wall to feel my way along the corridor, and each step felt like an act of faith. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed an open door about two thirds down the hallway.

“She had to be there,” I thought.

I pushed the door open and saw her sitting there in all her splendor. In the darkness, she was glowing. There was, again, a heavenly aura about her — something, reportedly, told me that she didn’t belong here.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I am who you want me to be in your heart, and all you think of me to be in your mind,” she responded. Her tone of voice was cloaked in wisdom. She had an old soul. It was as if she knew something I could never fathom, and she understood life in a way far beyond her years. She piqued my curiosity. I had to know more about her.

“Could I, at least, get your name?” I shuddered back, relatively annoyed but interested.

“I’ll tell you, if you sit down,” she answered.

I sat on the seat directly adjacent to her. And on the nightstand next to me there was a lamp. I turned the small nob, and miraculously it worked. The tiny top floor room was filled with a warm orange light from a bulb much older than me.

I turned my focus back to her, waiting for her answer to my looming question.

“My name is Jacquelin. I am from across town. I live in the trailer parks…” she trailed off.

She was almost embarrassed by this admittance. Maybe she thought that as soon as I heard that she was from the trailer-park east of MainStreet, I wouldn’t want to be seen with her. Yet, in fact, it made her presence here even more intriguing to me. Especially with the history of the great divide in this town.

The divide from East to West in this town was a deep one. Westside born townspeople loved to keep those who lived on the east side in the trailer park. They built stores on that side of town. They built movie theaters, fast food places, and everything in-between. All built under the guides of progression. Yet, they never maintained any of it. They never funded that side of the city anyway. It didn’t matter to them. Though people in the parks struggled with poverty, everything, aside from fast food, was expansive. And thus, the wealthier west, routinely took advantage of the struggling east. It was a game to watch people from the east grovel in their own poverty. And to be from the east side, in my town, and say it publicly, was to wear a scarlet letter, opening you up to continued shame. You were permanently at the bottom of the towns casts system. Solely because of your poverty. Yet, Jacquelin, a complete stranger short of some mutual friends, felt the freedom to tell me.

“Well…what brings you all the way to the west side of MainStreet?” I asked. “It can’t be just for the stupid bonfire full of non-important people.”

“I came to…”

The thunder rattled, again, shaking the house to its very core. It startled us both, cutting her off at the precipice of our discussion.

“It’s not long until one of these rainstorms blows this old place over,” I thought. Nervously, I locked eyes with her, and chuckled. Her eyes had a funny way of seeing my soul. It scared me. “Who would have thought that a flood would happen the same night they planned this bonfire,” I joked.

“hah yea…I am not a fan of rain,” she said. “The trailer I stay in leaks, so each time it rains a piece of my house gets washed away.”

A solemn mood filled the room. And following it, a pregnant pause of thought. I had never thought about the people in the trailer park during a rainstorm. Not even a storm gave them a break from their constant reminders of poverty. They were the forgotten heartbeat to our lifeless city.

I broke, the now, awkward silence, “What were saying before, something about why you came to the bonfire today?”

“I came to tell you about your friend James and this girl Danielle.”

I was shocked, did she know something about these people that I didn’t? Did James sleep with her? My assumptions ran rampant. I could have killed him at that moment. My bushy eyebrows furrowed in frustration. What she was saying made no sense, “Wait what, what do you know about them?”

“James and his family didn’t get their money the way you think they did. It’s a deeper, darker, and more horrifying story,” she whispered. “And Danielle isn’t innocent either.”

“What do you mean?” My mind was already flush with confusion. This girl from the east side didn’t know a thing about the people I spent time with. There was absolutely no way she knew anything about James’ family history, and she definitely didn’t know about Danielle. I was feeling a bit of guilt by association. “Did she know my secret too?” I thought.

“Well, what does that have to do with me?” I asked, in a standoffish, insecure tone. She had a way of bringing that out of me.

“I’ve been watching you, and I see you’re not like the rest of them that follow him around. You don’t fit in with them, and I’m desperate for help. He and his family are at the core of something so evil in this town, and its time to make it right.”

I grew more confused than ever. My thoughts raced, “was it really that easy to see I didn’t fit in? Maybe my foolproof persona wasn’t all too foolproof, to begin with.”

I leaned forward, both confused and uncertain, and whispered, “Go on, tell me more.”

At that moment, a loud creak of the floorboard in the hallway gave each of us a good scare. Something was out there.

Panic-filled, Jacquelin looked at me and asked, “Did anyone follow you up here?”

“No, I was alone the entire time!”

“Did you tell anyone you were up here?”

“I mean, yea, I told Danielle. She was drunk through, and not paying attention, so I doubt it would be her.”

I got up and crept towards the door to see if anything was out there. Peering into the dark hallway, I saw nothing.

“It was probably just this old house. You know it creaks and moans, this thing has been here for forever.”

“No, I’ve got to go!”

“Wait why? We just started talking!”

“This was dumb. This isn’t the time or place. I’m sorry!”

I walked back over to where I was sitting. And tried to calm her down, “Don’t apologize. Just sit down, and finish what you were saying!”

“No, I have said too much as it is!” As she said this, she grabbed a piece of paper out of her back pocket, and pen from the nightstand next to her seat. On that paper, she scribbled: meet me at Beans and Coco, two blocks off of MainStreet. I’ll tell you more there.

I nodded my head in agreement. She got up from her seat and gave me a kiss on the cheek before walking out. Her lips were soft and warm against my clammy and nervous face. A bomb burst in the pit of my stomach, and my heart raced with excitement. She turned and walked out, stopping in the doorway to wink at me, before disappearing into the dark hallway. At that moment, in some twisted and backward way, I’d fallen in love; I also needed to know the secrets she held. I got up, crumpled the piece of paper she gave me into my pocket, and stood there for a few moments. I thought to myself, “No one is who they initially claim to be.” I walked out of the room, back into the party downstairs, except, now with a newfound awareness.

A note from the writer:

Thank you for reading part one to this short story series that will be taking place on my page over the next few weeks. If you like what you read, give it a clap. It helps me a lot. The writing process, in this work, has taken a long time, and it’s gone through many revisions, and still, it’s far from perfect. I am trying though. Writing is a difficult skill, but it is one I am committed to working on every day. So, part two will be coming out sometime in the future, make sure to follow me so you don’t miss it. I appreciate each and every one of you who reads what I write, your support speaks volumes to me, and often uplifts me on the most difficult days. You all matter to me in indescribable ways. All I can say is thank you. As always, spread love and be love. God bless. — Ian K.