by Jade Alters
“Thanks,” I murmur as he passes the letter to me. Mom and Dad materialize over my shoulder as I break the seal. If my heart is beating at all now, it’s at the pace of a hummingbird’s, too fast to track. I unfold the piece of paper.
My eyes scan the first line. First, we’d like to thank you for applying to the City College of San Francisco. The contents of my rib cage empty into my stomach. I already know. If I got in, the first thing they’d do is congratulate me. I only need one more word to know what the whole Goddamned thing says. Unfortunately. I read no further. I slam the letter flat on the dinner table before I crush it inside the locking joints of my agonized knuckles.
“What, honey? What did it say?” Mom asks.
“Mom.”
“Honey…” Jason and Dad murmur at the same time. I’m not mad at her, but I can sense my rage seeking direction. It’s only a matter of time before it settles on her. Mom should, after all, know what it said by how tight of a crumple I’ve reduced it to.
“What…the fuck do you think it said, Mom?” I growl. Then the anger takes a left turn, and another, and another, until it’s pointed right back at me. “I’m so-sorry… I didn’t mean…” Mom surprises me by grabbing my clenched fist. She unravels my death grip, then flattens out the rejection letter on the table.
“I want to know why. You’re a smart girl. You’re a good girl. How do they expect anyone to make a living without a college education?” Mom rants. I know it should make me feel better, but it only does the inverse. She’s let down. I let her down. All my morning runs amount to nothing in the face of what I’ve already done. That’s why. Because of Diandre and Miles. Because of that gym… They deserved to burn! They all deserved to burn! Even me!
“Cece, stop!” Jason’s cry breaks me from my trance. I unclench my eyes and my fists. Our combined kitchen-living-room is drenched in smoke. I can hardly see the coughing silhouettes of my parents and Jason through the gray screen. The candles on what’s left of my cake are lit now, with flames birthday candles have no business housing. A picture of the four of us singes off the wall. Fire dances out from under my melted shoes, along the carpet under the dining room table. Suddenly, I feel arms around me.
“Cecilia, you’re in control. It’s alright,” I hear my Mother’s voice in my ear. “It’s alright. You can do it. You’re in control,” she hums in my ear while she holds onto me with the strength of a woman double her slender build. Dad and Jason ferry water from the sink to the flames with every Tupperware container they can find. They splash the picture. They douse the carpet. Jason opens every window and plugs in the fans. There’s no alarm, since we’ve long got tired of the deafening beep of smoke detectors.
“I’m sorry Mom, but I’m not… I’m really not,” I whimper to her while the smoke funnels out the windows.
“Cece,” Dad calls out, though he can hardly see me. Everyone, however, hears me rush up the stairs. They hear the door to my room slam, then lock. It’s the last they’ll see or hear of me until my birthday is over.
Leave it to Jason to foil a foolproof plan. I almost got away with it. It’s eleven o’clock when I hear the rap on my door.
“Forget it,” I answer instantly.
“Forget why I drove seven hours?” Jason’s muffled rumble comes through the door. “I want to have a drink with my sister. I’m betting you could use one right about now.”
“I could use a day off from trying to function in this God-forsaken city,” I counter.
“How do you know God forsook the bars? You haven’t been to them yet,” Jason tries our old reliable lifeline, humor. I admit it makes a small part of me, in some distant cavern inside, laugh. On the outside, I keep my straight face pointed at the spinning ceiling fan. I have no intention of moving. Not until he adds, “Come on… You’re going to make me admit this? Fine… I haven’t taken a single girl out to drink since I started grad school. My game is dead. I…could use a coach.”
“You...know you have to pay a coach, right?” I sniffle back.
“Well, come on then, you golddigger. I bet I could learn a thing or two before your birthday’s over.” I can hear the smile in his voice. He jumps at how soon after I click my door open. My eyes are still a little bloodshot, but I manage a smile for him.
“Lesson one. Get your date her jacket,” I say.
Flashing Lights and Shadows
Cece, Valencia Street, San Francisco
“Valencia, please,” I tell our cab driver as Jason closes my door for me. Well, he’s got one thing right already. If there’s not too much traffic, we’ll get there before midnight and he’ll have two points on his scorecard.
“Ah, a date with destiny?” our driver hums back to me in a thick oriental drawl. He knows as well as I do what lines Valencia Street, practically wall-to-wall. Bars. Tons of them. Frothing fountains of alcohol for the thirsty wayfarer - like a shelf-stocking-dropout-turned-human-candle. Jason plops on the other side of the back seat and slams the door. The car rolls away the next second.
“A date with Jose, Jack, Morgan and maybe a few others,” I sniffle and tease the driver to take my mind off the fact that it’s all over now. If City College won’t even take me in… I shake my head to rattle the tears back down wherever they welled up from. That part of the night is over. This part is for pouring as much poison my body can handle on top of it all, to douse the fire. Right, alcohol’s going to put it out.
“Oho! I like this one!” the driver laughs as he swings the turn off our street. I turn to Jason to lift my eyebrows.
“See? He likes this one. Take notes. How long did that take me? Thirty seconds?” I taunt him.
“Yeah, well…” Jason leans in to whisper, so our driver won’t hear, “you’ve got the right equipment… Did that shirt come like that, or did you try to rip it off like the hulk?”
I snort and instinctively bunch up the fabric around my breasts to cover them a little more. But that’s my Mom acting through my arms. That’s not me. I shake off the instinct and give my boobs a little shoulder-shaking rustle. The shirt settles back around the edges of my muscular breasts. The inner lining of my bra is just out of sight. Jason shakes his head and averts his eyes. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got to work with, then.”
I catch the driver glimpsing at us in the rearview mirror more than once, particularly my cleavage, as I turn Jason towards me. At least I did something right today. I tilt my head and squint at him up and down. His collared shirt and khakis aren’t horrible. He does have the shirt buttoned up too high, and that hair!
“Hey sis, you forgetting I’m a few cup sizes smaller than you?” Jason asks as I undo the neck button and the one just underneath it. I chuckle at both what he said and the goofy, repeating peach graphic on his shirt. That’s good, plenty of girls like goofy. I find myself being one of them on occasion.
“Hey bro’, are you forgetting that you’re going out to try and pick up ladies? If you’re going to button all the way to the top, you might as well wear a tie. If you go out to the bar in a tie, you might as well wear a fake wedding ring and stamp the word unstable on your forehead.”
“Are you getting this out of a rulebook somewhere?” Jason laughs, at the same time as our driver.
“Am I not right?” I ask him through the mirror. The man flushes, realizing I’ve seen him ogle my breasts about ten times already. From the shame in his face, I suspect he’s got a daughter himself.
“You never go out to drink with a tie on, not alone. In a group, it seems like a business party after a successful deal,” the driver says.
“Damn, touché,” I commend him as I ruffle Jason’s hair into a formless mop.
“You two are going to turn me into some sort of lady-killing monster if you don’t slow down,” he warns as he tenses up. To be fair, I am pulling at his knots a little rough.
“Now…this. You know, Jace, if you’re going to grow it out, you’ve got to do something with it,” I scold him. I lick both my index fingers and proceed t
o comb the blonde mess into two vaguely styled wings.
“Why would I waste money on hair products when you’re just going to redo it with spit?” Jason laughs right up until I yank his two handfuls of hair away from one another. I fix a bit of each behind his ears, and presto - one decent-looking grad student is born.
“Sure, I’ll just bottle you up some of it to go. Make sure not to mention that to a girl before the third date,” I play along, then slap him hard in the chest. “Get your own damn styling gel!” The two of us crack up, along with our driver, for a few more seconds. Then the man announces:
“Valencia Street. Time certainly flies. Will I see you two later?”
“You might, but I’m not so sure we’ll see you,” I chuckle. Not after I put my lips to Jose, Jack and Morgan, at least.
“Not if you handle the night right,” the man smiles. Afterward, a silence settles in the car while I test my brother. He fails in his lack of action, and I slap his chest again.
“You wait that long with a girl and she’s going to think you expect her to pay for the cab. Bad impression, Jace. God, you’re bad at this,” I laugh. “Pay the man.” Jason makes a face more like a cringe than a smile, but he does pay up. We stroll from the car to our first stop on one of the most epic bar crawl strips in the city.
Blondie’s Bar
The adventure begins on the outdoor patio of Blondie’s. The bartender immediately laughs at the sight of my brother, who painted their bathroom floor with vomit on his twenty-first. As soon as he hears it’s mine, he brings me a complimentary fishbowl full of God-knows-what. All I know is it’s the same shade of blue as my eyes, it reeks of alcohol and it’s free.
“If you came here to learn, you should really have brought a better teacher!” the bartender laughs as we head for the door out to the cool summer evening.
“Actually, I’m the teacher tonight,” I wink back at him as we pass through the door. The second the cool night air hits my skin, my muscles uncoil. I give my neck a good crack on the way to give my brother a look. “See? Keep it short and simple, then walk away. Make it clever if you can, but don’t try too hard. No one remembers what you say in a rant or ramble. But you leave them with a simple answer like that, with no way to tell exactly what you meant, and it’ll stick out in their minds.”
“You’re trying to pick up Kevin?” Jason wonders aloud as he sips his rum and coke. We plop down at the first black iron table we come across.
“No, I’m using Kevin as a demonstration. Notice where we’re sitting,” I instruct. With each sip of my fishbowl, I become a more animated teacher. Every gulp of his own drink makes Jason a more malleable student. “We’re in sight of the bar. My back is to him. He can stare as much as he wants without fear of me looking back. But if I turn my head every once in a while, he can get a glimpse of my profile. I’m letting him stew in what I said to him, what I possibly could have meant.”
“Devious,” Jason mumbles, though I can see he’s impressed.
“Effective,” I correct him. “I’ll bet you it’s not fifteen minutes before he comes over here himself to bring me another drink, without me asking. By then, you’ve got to have your own fish on the line. Go!”
“G-g-go? Right now?” Jason stammers while I rock in my chair, laughing at him. All of the fancy education I wish I had rushes right out of him.
“Yes, now! You wanted a coach. What kind of coach would I be if I didn’t have you practice what I teach you?” The scrape of Jason’s chair legs, at least, catches the attention of every pretty girl out on the patio. He straightens up, takes a deep breath and walks stiffly to his first target for the night. All I can do not to laugh is put my lips around the straw of my drink, which tastes a whole lot better than my first sip, all of a sudden.
“I truly hope you enjoy your evening,” Jason tries with one girl, who looks more terrified than charmed. He about-faces and marches back to me for a disapproving head shake.
I kick back and listen to my brother stumble through pickup after awkward pickup. They get better as he buys each one a drink and takes big pulls from his own. I watch for the click of his realization of how big a financial commitment this is. It does wonders for his delivery.
“Hey there,” he says to one girl, finally almost smooth. “Noticed your glass was empty, which gave me an excuse to bring you a present.” He puts a glass on the table and slides it towards her. The girl’s friends set to chattering even as Jason turns around. “Enjoy. Let me know how you like it,” he leaves them with. I give him a prideful smirk well before he gets back to the table. “How’d I do?”
“Perfect, so long as you turn your head every once in a while so she gets the view of your face, not just your back,” I tell him. I find the words fall out more fluidly than I meant them to. I suspect that’s because this is around the time I slurp the last slushy remnants of my fishbowl up my straw. It’s also the time that Kevin the bartender comes to fulfill my prophecy.
“Here, a screwdriver. Classic birthday drink. Goes down easy, and here’s some water,” Kevin tells me. He lays the platter of drinks before me with no implication of payment.
“I’ll be damned,” Jason mutters to himself. I brush fingers with Kevin on my way to the drinks, and he holds on to me just for a second.
“Thanks,” I murmur in the sexiest whisper I can.
“You need anything, I’m your man,” Kevin answers. Damn, he’s good. I almost don’t notice his fingers sliding up over my wrist. At this point, Jason’s a little too drunk to catch it either. The only sober one amongst us, however, doesn’t miss a thing. His hand slides right back down mine. He almost flinches away with the realization: “Damn, you’re hot!” Most girls would take it as a compliment. I, however, recognize it as a warning sign.
“Yeah, I’m not feeling great, actually…Jason,” I shoot him a glance. He knows by the look in my eyes as well as the heat waves rising from my skin. “I think I might need to go.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “How much do we owe you?”
“We? Not a thing. It’s the lady’s birthday. You, however, owe me fifteen,” Kevin tells him. Jason slaps a twenty in the man’s hand and comes around the table to get me.
“Jace, no. I can go by myself. What about your girl over there?” I try to brush him off. I turn and try to beat him to the door, but he follows.
“Forget about the girl. The girl was just a ploy to get your mind off the letter. I’m here for you, idiot,” Jason whispers behind me. I keep my head down and shuffle through crowds to the front door of Blondie’s. I burst out into the night and immediately double over. Jason is right there at my side, though he knows well that he might get a few hairs singed off.
“Dammit… Jace… You might have trouble getting a girl…” I heave in and hold each breath for a few seconds to tame the heat, “but…this is why…you won’t have any trouble…keeping one…”
“Take it easy, breathe,” Jason hums, even in his half-drunken stupor. “And…thanks.”
“Yeah…” I mumble into the ground. A hard push off my thighs gets me upright again, though my shoulders still bob with each breath.
“Do we need to get you down an alley?” Jason asks.
“No… I think I’m fine.” I wave him off. It takes a while, but the aftershocks of Kevin’s touch work their way out in a thin puff of smog from around my neck. It’s been too long since someone slid their skin along mine like that. Since I felt goosebumps from desire - not for any one particular thing - just a connection. I force my shoulders to stop, and smile at my brother. “A bar crawl requires at least two stops. Something good has to come out of my birthday.” Jason checks his watch, but doesn’t have the heart to tell me what I already know. My birthday ended twenty minutes ago.
“Alright,” he smiles.
Hidden Corner, San Franciso
Our journey stretches well beyond the constraints of my birthday, and well beyond two stops. Once I get Kevin out of my system, I decide to sit back as a spectator to t
he pickup game. At each bar, my brother manages to poach a number. I’m in stitches over how fast the student becomes a master. It helps, too, that Jason keeps a steady IV of alcohol flowing into both of us.
At the Beehive, he dances with a blonde who’s almost as smashed as we are. At Zeitgeist, an admittedly cute petite ginger kisses him for his efforts. We know we’ve wandered out on a weird fringe when we stumble into Etcetera Wine Bar. There’s live music and cheap tapas, but it takes about six plates of them to get my seal of approval. I can tell how much I’ve changed by the difference in reaction from Kevin to the bartender at Etcetera. This guy looks more frightened than attracted.
“Hey, Jace… We should bounce,” I say to my brother. His head lifts like the bud of a drooping plant in a lazy wind. “Before I do something to lengthen my criminal record.”
“Alrigh, alrigh,” Jason slurs.
That’s what brings us stumbling out into the night. We turn down one of the countless sidestreet grids between main roads. I’m not even sure why; perhaps pure instinct. I know I have to call our cab driver, but I can’t seem to remember that my phone is in my pocket. What I need is to get my balance. Then I’ll be fine. So I trudge over to the nearest wall, just to grab onto it. Jason follows behind me. We pass through something on the way, but I’m self-aware enough to realize it probably just seems that way since I’m hammered. Still, something about it seems so real… I turn back to confirm or deny the truth.
Sure enough, there’s a clear layer of ripples between us and Valencia Street. It’s like a sort of liquid curtain, hanging freely in the air. I reach out to see if I can touch it. My fingers pass through without so much as a difference in temperature. They appear blurry on the other side, like they’re above water, and I’m under it.