Dirty Little Freaks (18 page)

But I learned a hard lesson that time. To survive meant to hide my intelligence and never let mom think I was putting on airs. A lifetime of camouflaging my intelligence was not easy to slough off, but I was starting to admit to myself this is what I want. Hush had shaken my world, maybe it was a good thing, maybe a little shaking up would allow me to land somewhere else, a little closer to going to university and living a life as normal as I could stomach it.

I hear the buzzer and look up to find Rev swaggering in, a grin on his face.

“Hey there,” he says, “got any discount dildos for sale? Maybe a return? I’m not too picky.”

“Haha, gross,” I reply and laugh. He really is a cheeky bastard, but in a sort of cute way. Fuckable. Again. The only problem is that the last time I saw him was the last time I saw Hush, the first time we had said I love you and the first time he decided to bail.

“So, I was expecting a call,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I told you to call me when that loser decided he wasn’t good enough for you,” he smirks and steps closer to me. I’m up about six inches on the raised platform behind the register, this puts us a little closer to being eye to eye. I think he’s still got ten inches or so on me, I’d forgotten how tall he is.

“Maybe I decided he wasn’t good enough for me,” I say, and smile to hide my little wince of heartache.

“That’s a good thing,” he says and leans even closer. He smells good, like decent body wash and that musky scent that rutting men seem to give off. He’s ready to fuck, but I can’t do it at work again. It’s not professional. Ha, who am I fooling, I stubbornly want to leave that memory for Hush. “We all heard about him ditching though, you and the band. That was low, you deserve better.”

I’m inclined to agree with him, but his swagger is a little too player to make me think he could be the one to give it to me. I could go for a slight improvement, though, kill a little time before I find better. I lean forward half an inch, maybe a full one, and he pounces. He puts his arms around me and draws me in, tilts my face up with a finger and kisses me. It’s a genuinely sweet kiss; it almost makes my eyes tear up with its sincerity. Maybe I have him pegged wrong, maybe he really does like me.

His hands move down my back and grab my ass. There we are, there’s the player. I know he’s thinking about Hush pounding into me, matching his rhythm, tearing me apart. And I know he wants to get there, to slide his own cock head past my tight ring and split me open, filling me with his cum as we grunt like mindless animals.

I consider it, I really do. I want to have somebody feel me, run their hands over my body and make me forget about Hush.

If only it were that easy.

I pull back a little and break our kiss. I smile up at him and say, “That was nice.”

“Yeah, it was,” he says and leans down to embrace me. Over his shoulder, in the light of a streetlamp, I swear I see
him
.

I pull away from Rev and run to the front of the store. It’s him, it’s got to be, but it doesn’t look like him, not really. I recognize the stride, those long confident footsteps that always excited me to the edge of desire just thinking about him walking towards my bed. This version of him doesn’t have a spiked mohawk sticking proudly ten inches off the top of his head, it doesn’t have a leather jacket covered in chains, or plaid skinny jeans, or knee high boots. This version has the hair slicked back into a tight ponytail, is wearing a preppy jacket and what looks like suit pants and leather loafers. I open the door and yell at him down the street. “Hush,” I call, “come back…” but he turns the corner and is gone.

Back inside Rev’s eyes show me that he knows I’m not over Hush.

“I’m sorry, I thought-” I start to apologize for being a fucking heartsick idiot, but he cuts me off.

“Like I said before, call me when you’re over him,” he tells me, running his fingers through my shaggy hair. “Don’t wait too long. Don’t wait for him, ok?”

I promise him I won’t and we spend another hour or so shooting the shit and talking about his studio work. He’s recording an album and the excitement in his voice inspires me to share my own news.

I’m going to university in the Fall. Now I just have to break it to Eva.

This is hard. I’m scared as hell and don’t know what to wear. How do I pick something that says, ‘hey I belong here, I’m not some old washed up punk ass bitch crashing your happy little party’. Fuck it, I gotta wear what feels comfortable, and today comfortable is a pair of skinny jeans, faded and ripped, with black lace tights underneath. Thrown over top is my favourite Revolting Cocks tee, it’s a little threadbare, but it gives me confidence. I know, not punk, but I’m not a one trick pony, I can branch out when need be. And who doesn’t love Beers, Steers and Queers? I mean, come on, it’s one of the best fuck songs this side of the Pacific. The beat, the lyrics, makes me want to grind my snatch against somebody’s leg until I gush.

I grab my backpack...fucking backpack, it’s like I’m living somebody else’s life. I’m not the kind of girl who carries a backpack. It brings me a little pride though, and after taking my GED and passing with a near perfect score, I feel like I need to let my geek flag fly.

I take the bus to the Skytrain and head out to Douglas College, in New Westminster. Back to my old stomping ground so to speak. I don’t know if my mom lives out here anymore, but even if she does, I doubt she’s anywhere in the vicinity of the college. She’s also like a sagging, middle aged, alcoholic vampire; she doesn’t do well in the light of day.

Almost three months have passed since Hush walked out on me. I thought I saw him a couple more times, but never could catch up with the mysterious loafer wearing figure on Granville Street, so I don’t know. I like to think it’s him, and he misses me as much as I miss him, but even if it is…why the fuck doesn’t he call?

Eva just about fell off her chair when I told her I was going to school, I seriously thought I’d killed her, but she got over it. She’s been so damn mopey since the break up, and I honestly don’t know how to shake her out of it. She’s tried to get me to go out a few times, but much to my surprise, it’s not that appealing anymore. I don’t want to admit I’m finally growing the fuck up or anything, but I want to take things seriously now. I’ll be twenty-three in a few months and the thought of blinking and being ten years older without ever having tried to live my dreams terrifies me. So here I am, thinking I’m people, getting my learning on.

My first class is English. I think I’m a shoe in, I speak English really well. Yeah, the lady in the registrar’s office didn’t think it was funny either. I’m just trying a few subjects out, but somehow I think I’d like Sociology or History. I don’t know what the fuck I’ll do with a Bachelor’s degree in either, but at the very least I’ll be able to feel superior when I hand you your burger order.

After that, it’s Sociology. Tomorrow I have three classes, Biology, Math and a Creative Writing course. I’m taking the full course load, Jag’s letting me work on the weekends and I have enough saved up to pay for the term without taking out loans. I know I’m better off than most people my age, in terms of money, but I still have the continual anxious gnawing in the pit of my stomach that I’ll never have enough. It comes from growing up super poor.

I don’t feel out of place at all, but I still find a spot in the back of the lecture hall, just in case I need to bolt, I guess. I don’t know why I’d have to bolt, but I like to plot my escape routes in any case.

Class is good, the next one even better. I head home feeling my confidence building. I think I’m going to do pretty well in this place.

As soon as I walk through the door, I know something’s wrong. I can’t put my finger on it at first, but something feels different. Eva isn’t around, but the place looks like something is out of place. I hear her key in the lock and wait until she comes in. She’s got two huge pieces of luggage with her, obviously empty and obviously very expensive.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask.

“We need to talk,” she says and my heart sinks. Those four little words have never ended well for anyone hearing them.

“About what?” I ask.

“I can’t keep doing this, going through the motions,” she says, “after everything that happened I can’t fake it any more.”

“What do you mean fake it?” I reply. “I thought you were doing really well.”

“I’m not,” she admits, “it’s all too much, I’ve started really thinking about what I’m doing with my life. I’ve been drifting for so many years, I always thought it was all for fun, but now I’m not so sure. I need to find my path.”

“I totally get that,” I say, “I mean, look at me going to school and all.” I laugh and grab her hand. “You need to do what it takes to feel right again, I support you in this.”

“I really wanted a future with him,” she says suddenly. “I wanted to be with him forever, it’s the first time I’ve ever thought about that, you know. I thought about settling down and having a baby and everything. He said he wanted it too, but you know…”

I shudder at the thought, I can’t imagine wanting a baby, but I know Eva might be longing for a family of her own. She’s been wild for the ten years I’ve known her; I suppose it could only go on for so long. “I understand,” I tell her, “it’s not something I can imagine wanting, but I can see the appeal.”

She sighs and looks forlorn. “I’m going to stay with my aunt in Dublin for a few months, I’ve signed up for an art course and I’m going to try my best to avoid the clubs. One night stands have started exhausting me, I don’t know how I can keep going on.”

“Oh wow, fuck. That’s a long ways away from me,” I say and feel panic rising. She’s my best friend…my only friend. The person I can jump into bed with a four in the morning when I need to work something out in my head. She’s my go-to when I can’t tell if somebody is a loser or worth fucking.

“Don’t worry, I’ll call you all the time,” she says, “I’m sure you’ll get sick of it. We can text too, so I don’t bug you during class.”

“Send me a four leaf clover,” I tell her, “Or at least some good Irish bud.”

She laughs and says, “Promise you’re not mad at me, ok?”

I give her a hug and say, “How could I ever be? You’re my best friend and, well, you know…I love you.”

“I love you too,” she says and giggles. “I never thought I’d hear you tossing around the love thing so easily, I’m impressed. I didn’t think they taught that kind of thing at college.”

“Haha, you’d better write down the date, I don’t know if I’ll say it again any time soon.”

“Will do,” she replies, “and don’t worry about the place, ok? Dad said he’ll keep covering the rent until we figure out what to do. It’s his tax shelter or something.”

Fuck, I hadn’t even thought about that. “Thank
God
for your parents or I’d be out on my ass in the cold,” I say, “I hadn’t even thought about a place to live.”

“They adore you, they would never get rid of you. You’re like that sad faced lost puppy who followed me home and never left. You’re pretty much one of the family now,” she tells me.

“Oh thanks, I didn’t realize I was that pathetic,” I reply, but I’m not offended. I was pretty fucking pathetic back then.

“You know you were so cute, but had these big scared eyes. I’m so proud of you though, that you’ve finally decided that you’ll show the world you’re a smart girl! It was painful, watching you try and fake it all these years,” she laughs. “My parents are proud of you too, my dad keeps asking when I’m going to figure my shit out, so in a way you’ve given me the push I needed.” She looks down, a shadow of sadness moves across her face. I rub her arm with nothing to add. She finally looks up and chirps, “You wanna help me pack?”

“Sure, I guess. I’m wearing what you don’t take though, I’ll warn you now.”

“I would expect no less,” she says and picks up one of the suitcases. I take the other one and we spend the afternoon stuffing them full of the things she will need for her trip. She isn’t leaving for a few days, but I know Eva will probably unpack and repack her things a thousand times before then.