by N. Godwin
“You, prejudice? I don’t believe it!” Horst laughs. “Against what?!” he say in disbelief.
“Oh, I can be terribly—“
“This I’ve got to hear,” he chuckles until he sees my scowl then immediately zips his lips symbolically closed.
“It’s just that she made me angry in high school, too.”
“Too? Oh, because she was so loose? I know she had lots of boyfriends but--”
“No, her demeanor, her bad choices. She’s gone from party-girl to doormat in three years flat… Think what kind of example she’s setting for her daughter!” I say too angrily.
“What kind of example is she setting?” Horst asks.
“The way she waited on her husband hand and foot and he looked at her like she was invisible. He never even smiled up at her, let alone offer to help her with their baby or get his own stupid beer, even when she was breast feeding for pity sake! And she’s my age and she had no voice, no voice at all, just like a good, little, subservient, Muslim wife or a slave! Is that what you mean by honesty?” I say all this on a roll and end with a huge intake of breath. “And I find women with no voices dangerous and harmful and annoying. They remind me of my…”
“Of your mother?” Horst asks. “Is that what she’s like?”
I nod.
“Has she always been like that?”
“Oh, yeah”
He is thoughtful for a moment but a slow smile is spreading across his face. “And how does a subservient Muslim wife act anyhow?”
“Give me a break. You know how they treat their women.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Come on!” I say angered by his over sight. “You know how they give women no respect, how she’s just another commodity with no voice, like a dog or a goat. They don’t honor her brain, are terrified of it in fact, and they completely exploit their women’s bodies for breeding purposes only, then toss them out or replace them with a newer model when they tire of her. What nonsense!
“But the worst thing they do is teach their women to hide themselves away as if the very sight of her God-given body is a sexual curse. It’s barbaric, covering her from head to foot in hellish temperatures, just so their men don’t have to bother averting their eyes and grunting. That’s exploitation as clearly as a porno, and why the heck are you laughing at me?!”
“It’s just—just,” he laughs, “never heard you so riled about anything! Never even heard you talk this much!”
“How can you laugh about it?” I ask incredulously.
“Least you gave me honesty!” He keeps laughing.
“I just hate how men hide their disdain for half the human race under the guise of tradition or religion or ignorance. Respect my butt!”
“Come on, Jimmy-Sue,” Horst’s laughs louder. “Don’t hold back. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Stop laughing at me!” I’m getting very annoyed with him and he looks at me and suddenly gets sober.
“So, Jimmy-Sue,” he says with one last quick chuckle, “Do you think I know how to value a woman’s brain not just her body?”
“Of course, silly, or else I wouldn’t be here.”
“Do I make you feel like a second class citizen or a vessel only for bearing little loin-fruits?”
By now I am completely exasperated with him. “What the heck does that have to do with anything?”
“Because, Jimmy-Sue, my sweet friend, I am a Muslim.”
“Yeah,” I laugh. “Sure you are and I’m Glenda, the good witch of the north.” I stop laughing because he suddenly has the tender look of a friend who’s just divulged an important secret. It’s written all across his kind face.
“But you’re Bosnian!”
“Am I? See how little you know about me. Talk to me a little and you may find out some interesting things about me.”
“Well, what are you then?” I ask as I begin walking towards the bay and he follows along beside me.
“Right now, I’m just me staring at you in the moonlight.”
“But your aunt’s a heart surgeon for heaven’s sake.”
“Makes twice the money Uncle Poppy does,” he chuckles. “Maybe we should have her shackled in the kitchen instead but I kind of like the new car she bought me.”
“But your last name is Gunther!”
“Well, it is for now, anyway.”
“What does that mean?”
“Some things are hard to explain sometimes,” he says with a soft smile as his eyes dart away from mine.
“Are you, like, in a witness protection program or something?”
“If you kiss me I’ll tell you?” he says and winks.
“Are you really Muslim? I mean, you do have blue eyes, you know.”
“My father’s side, I’m afraid.”
“And where are your father and mother, Horst?”
“They are no more,” he says looking down.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly. “Boy, do I feel pretty stupid right about now,” I say groaning.
Horst smiles and nods his head up and down. “Yeah, you should,” he laughs. “Because I’m not some sensational lunatic fringe, I’m just your everyday variety, trying to honor Allah and love with the best of my ability. But, like you, old friend, I am a work in progress.”
I study his handsome face and look into his light blue eyes as if seeing him for the first time, and I wonder which of the sins he is guilty of. At twenty-one, he is still so young to have acquired many, and it is difficult imagining any sin coming from him dramatic enough to warrant God’s eternal wrath… But then, what did I know of Muslims beyond Aladdin and ayatollahs?
“You’re so beautiful when you smile, you shine like the moon,” he says.
“Ah, you’re always so nice.”
He leans down into my face. “The Muslim men I know like women and, Jimmy-Sue, I like them, too, a lot, a whole lot.”
“I know,” I tell him blushing five different shades of red, “thank goodness.”
“And I know you know I like you. But what you don’t seem to know is how much I like you.”
“I like you a lot better now, too,” I chuckle.
“Moi? The raving, misogynist, Muslim who only wants to breed?”
“You’re not ever going to let me live this one down are you?”
“You already have,” he replies.
Then it occurs to me that Horst has probably made my list for reasons beyond any mysterious sin he is harboring. God knows my connection is sucky at best, and I do get confused on a daily basis, but I know my list is meant to be more than a means to an end and is meant to be a spiritual quest for me, a cleansing of sorts as I let go of prejudice and pride along the way and understand sin lives among the best of us.
Maybe I can only reach my goal after I have faced all my demons, no matter where they take me. And I believe Horst is just a kind signpost along the way, lighting the way and pointing me onward toward something more vast.
Then I know that Horst is a lesson and he is not the one.
“Show me I’m right,” I lean my head back whispering softly to the wind. “Show me Your magic,” I say, throwing my arms open wide and spinning around in the moonlight.
A moment later there is an explosion of red, white, and blue over our heads and everyone begins to cheer as the fireworks shoot higher and higher, expanding into a massive American flag with thousands of glistening particles of light and Horst is off the list.
“Do you remember when I first moved here seven years ago?” he asks as I nod along with his nod, but don’t, in fact, have any memory of it at all. “You were the very first person to be nice to me my first day of middle school. There I was with my staccato English, and a British accent, surrounded by a mob of strangers who spoke rapid, Southern slang and didn’t like me much, and then suddenly you appeared from out of the crowd, just like an angel. I can still remember what you said to me. I remember every word of it as if it were yesterday
“What did I say?”
> “You asked me if I was lost. You said you were new to school, too, but you’d had a week’s head- start on me and knew you’re way around a bit. You said if I needed you to just tell you, and then I met Ken. It strikes me as remarkable that you two didn’t get to know each other till high school.”
“True,” I say.
“Did you know I used to follow you around high school, too, along with Ken, especially down the dark, science and math halls? You have no idea how many times I’ve stopped some jerk from messing with you.” He kicks at the memory in the sand and seems suddenly annoyed. “And to you I was little more than invisible, huh? And by the way, Jimmy-Sue, it’s a real thrill how you’ve treated me today. Just because you didn’t think it was a date didn’t mean that I felt the same!” His voice raises a decibel.
“You’re right,” I whisper back. “I don’t know you at all. I am very sorry. Cross me heart.”
“Good, because I want to kiss you right now and maybe you shouldn’t be able to read my mind when I do.”
“Uh huh.”
“Because I’m going to kiss you good and long.”
“Uh huh,” I chuckle, “now we’re going to have a conversation about you kissing me,” I laugh because Horst is always so blessedly silly, even when he doesn’t mean to be.
“I really am going to kiss you,” he says earnestly, “really and truly, long and hard. It’s like I’m supposed to kiss you tonight.”
I look up at the fireworks and smile. “Could you hurry it along because I want to get to the top of the dune and watch the fireworks?”
“Are you daring me or just messing with me?”
“Neither,” I tease, poking him in his ribs as I dance around him, leading us further up the dune as he tries to catch me in my orbit. “You’ve got to admit though, you having a crush on me is pretty funny; it being absolutely futile and all.”
Horst steps in and catches my shoulders in his grasp as he stops me from spinning around him. He looks angry but his words are soft. “Because I know that one day, Jimmy-Sue, you’re going to be receptive toward someone who is honest and kind. And I plan on being here when you are.”
I can’t help it and just start laughing. This day has been completely nuts anyway, and now shy, Horst, the Boy Scout from somewhere mysterious wants to make out?
“Oh, not you, too!” I groan but can’t stop laughing.
I watch in surprise as he gallantly grabs me by my shoulders and leans his head down and tries to kiss me. In doing so he steps down hard on my foot and I cry out in pain. He breaks off his pitiful attempt, apologizing profusely while I laugh. He tried to grab me around my waist and leans his face down over mine, and in his quest to find my lips, pokes his nose in my eye, hard, and I cry out again, and laugh even harder.
A moment later, I feel his mouth sweep against mine and his tongue licking across my lips and my teeth. I stop laughing as he tilts my head back and thrust his tongue down my throat. There is a terrible sting to his tongue and touch and his taste chokes me, and he is so clumsy that his fingers get tangled in my hair. We both jerk back quickly and lose our balance, and we cry out as we tumble backward down the tall dune. His face and shoulder hit mine as we tumble and bump and bounce until we land soundly halfway down in the forgiving, soft, white sand. I groan as his body lands on top of mine with a sudden thud and many stings.
“Crap!” he moans moving off me quickly. “This is not how it was supposed to be!”
I sit up slowly and dust myself off, wiping off my lips and face, spitting out sand. “So, that’s what the excitement is all about? It figures!”
“Are you trying to tell me you’ve never been kissed before?” Horst asks so incredulously I have to laugh.
“Apparently, neither have you.”
“I never wanted to kiss anybody else,” he says. “Wow, kissing virgins! In my father’s country you’d have to marry me now.”
“Tell me something, Horst,” I say. “Am I emitting some kind pheromones today? Do I have slap my butt and kiss me written across my forehead?”
He nods. “Yeah, definitely the scent. You smell like warm cinnamon buns.”
“What is it with you guys? Why can’t we all just be friends and have fun?”
“You, fun? Ha! That’s a good one.”
The sarcasm in his voice surprises me. “Tell me honestly, Horst, am I too serious all the time? Have I forgotten how to have fun?”
“Did you ever know how to have fun in the first place? No! Now, don’t get mad. It’s just you have an amazing sense of humor but all you think about is working yourself into exhaustion. You’re like one of those odd Christian women who hide themselves away from the world.”
“A nun?”
“Yeah! That’s it. You’re like a nun.”
“I hide myself away? I do? Me? Oh my God, I do!” I ball up a handful of sand and feel, oddly, close to tears. “I am so blind,” I say and fold my legs into me, resting my chin on top of my knees. “And I know you’re supposed to help nudge me out, and I thank you for that--”
“I am?” he asks in earnest as I nod at him. “You know,” he says moving closer and sits down beside me in the sand, “when my mom died and I was told I had to move away from my country—well, when I used to feel sad and confused, I would think of this one crazy scene from my new world to make myself laugh. It worked every time.”
“What?” I tug on his sleeve.
“Fat jiggly butts in tight polyester pants!” I look at Horst and begin to laugh. “See? It’s easy! Just think of the funniest thing you can imagine and then laugh.” And I do. “So, what are you thinking about?” he asks.
“I was thinking--” I break off and laugh again. “I was thinking about you, trying to kiss me!”
“Hey!”
“What a disaster,” I chuckle. “You were hysterical!”
He lets me laugh and tease him and pretends he’s mad. “So,” he says as I stop laughing. “You wanna try that kiss again?”
“There’s not much point to it.”
“Remember, I’m here to show you how to broaden your horizons. Besides I’m pretty sure you could use the practice, too, so close your eyes and let’s give it a go again.”
“Oh, alright,” I concede for some unknown reason, sitting up and leaning forward on my hands and knees. I close my eyes tight and pucker in his direction but the wind keeps blowing my dress up around my shoulders, and even though I know my swimsuit is on underneath other people may not realize that and think I’m being vulgar, so I keep struggling with the wind and my dress. Where are Horst’s lips anyway? What’s taking him so long? I open my eyes and feel momentarily foolish when I realize he is scowling down at me.
“Could you at least try to enjoy it?” he asks.
“Should I think of fat butts?”
“No, please,” he says. “Could you, would you, think about—me?”
What You Should Know
“Haven’t found one decent home yet,” Ken says as he deletes another name off our list and scrolls down, his fingers furiously typing on his laptop. “We can’t hand Cecile and Kelly over to just anyone who’s willing to take all three of them. Look at this list of losers!”
“How many names do we have left?” I ask with a frown.
“Three, then we go right back to square one. Dude, if I could just find that access code to those files it’d be killer. What a lame society we’re inheriting,” Ken scoffs then spins around, adding the final celery to his shrimp salad and giving a quick stir. A moment later he spins back to his keyboard.
“Right,” Genie scoffs over our shoulders, “everyone is just dying to adopt a pregnant, black, twelve year old and her toddler. Reality check! I’m a friggin’ prize compared to Kelly, Over Anxious Disorder and all.”
“No, Genie, you have the Hyperactive Sexual Disorder brought on by your over anxious need of masculine approval,” I correct her.
“Then who’s got the Over Anxious Disorder?”
“Robert,” Ken an
d I say looking over at Robert badgering Hobie and cracking his knuckles incessantly.
I feel a tiny hand tug on my skirt and I shush them. “Hey, sweet girl, big kiss for Jimmy-Sue,” I say picking up Cecile for a warm snuggle. “You took a long nap today.” I laugh as she points toward the ice cream freezer. “Can you ask for ice cream?” I try again. “Please say ice cream, Cecile, just for me.” Cecile just stares at me and smiles big and bright.
It’s too calm for a Tuesday at 5:00 p.m. because the dreaded Sargasso seaweed is back on the beach and locals hate the stinking stuff even worse than tourists. It’s been the incredibly slow kind of rainy week that’s enough to depress someone trying to pay the dental bills for Robert’s five cavities and Kelly’s three, make the quarterly insurance payment, be certain everyone eats three meals a day, and sleeps in an air conditioned dorm. It’s the calm kind of week where my paycheck will go right back into community funds and I’ll just hold my breath until we pass go again, hopefully by next week.
Even though they have the day off, Hobie and Robert are sitting at the bar playing Hobie’s Game Boy. Hobie is playing and Robert is staring over his shoulder second-guessing his every move. Tony is seated over behind them arguing at the top of his lungs with Alan about God’s limitations in modern day society because Tony has yet to catch on to the subtlety of debate. Behind them, Mandy and John are playing a game of backgammon. John has his hands over his ears because Mandy is chattering endlessly about some local band going mega-star and how even MTV is in town for their concert and wouldn’t he please convince me to let her and Genie go with Tony, Robert, and Hobie.
Genie is still pouting in the kitchen because she simply hates kitchen duty since there are no guys she wants to flirt with in the kitchen because all of the dudes are impervious to her. Kelly and Andrea are working the floor of the near deserted café. I smile at Kelly wondering how long she’ll be able to work the floor because in the past few weeks she’s really started to show. She waves her ten dollar tip at me proudly as Andrea begins arguing angrily with Sandy. My eyes follow Sandy as she splinters off and makes a beeline straight to Eunice’s table.