Maybe that had something to do with her blunt way of speaking. Or maybe it was because they dressed like extras from Little House on the Prairie.
Her mother hardly broke from espousing the value of virtue in a young lady. Particularly in regard to their servitude of men, who, according to the Good Book, were vastly superior in every way. Women were, after all, put here to help them. A woman’s way of dress was meant to reflect all that and they were to be demure, quiet, and respectful.
Edie bought into that until she was about fourteen and met Billy Charlie. It was her first year at youth camp and they had traveled to a campground outside Tulsa. They stayed in little cabins, ten to a house, and participated in the usual macaroni art, prayer groups, and bonfires. It was supposed to be all about Jesus, but after hearing some of her friends say they’d gotten felt up the summer before, she wondered.
Sometimes, she and Billy Charlie, who was three years older, would slip away from the main group so that they could explore the trails and woods of the adjoining nature preserve. One night while they roamed, Billy Charlie asked if he could kiss her. She said she was game, since she had never been kissed before and had the usual curiosity as to what it was like.
“We’re just friends, Billy. Why would you wanna kiss me?”
“I like you. And I think I might be gay.”
Edie laughed. “Again, why do you wanna kiss me?”
“That’s all you’re gonna say about it? No, ‘You’re going to hell’ or ‘Oh, my God, I’ll pray for you’?”
“Nope. You are what you are. Besides, I kinda thought you might be. I saw how you were lookin’ at that counselor, Todd.”
“Oh.” Billy flushed and grinned, grabbing her and squeezing her to his chest.
“I still love ya.”
“So, will you?”
“What, kiss you? If it’ll help you sort it out, but I’m pretty sure you already know. Maybe you’re just a little scared.”
He had been her best friend ever since.
Billy Charlie was one of those people who was just kind of always around. If he wasn’t with Edie, he was with Randall. He didn’t know Billy Charlie was gay, but he didn’t need to know. Edie never told a soul.
5
Low slung clouds clotted over a crescent moon. Racing east, they cloaked the back alley in reaching shadows, making her rush to load the trash into the bin and return to the church.
Randall hung around his office until after ten. She finally got up the nerve to lie and tell him that Billy was coming to pick her up and that he could go on home if he wanted.
The time dragged on and as it neared the end of her shift, she began to doubt whether he bought the lie.
She overheard him talking to someone on the phone. Whoever was on the other end helped him to make up his mind, because he scrambled to close his office up and rushed toward the door.
“Edie?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll be expecting you home by one.”
“Fine,” she lied again, knowing full well that she would be later and shuddering a little at what the consequences for that might be.
“And stay away from that boy.”
Edie took the opportunity to use the ladies’ room and changed clothes and applied makeup during the last hour she was supposed to be working. Saint Edie ripped the church off for ten whole dollars.
The Hanson place was only about two blocks from the church, so she wouldn’t be completely melted by the time she got there. The black miniskirt she borrowed from a girl in her Psychology class helped, as did putting her hair into a loose bun. She wore a white cotton button up and her white sneakers. It wasn’t fit for the catwalk, but it was a drastic improvement over her normal attire.
And it made her feel good.
She even painted her nails with some quick-dry red polish she picked up at the discount store. Still, she was anxious about going to a party where she knew absolutely no one and more so because this one was at Skylar’s house.
Her stomach quivered as she approached the old place. There was a black wrought iron fence that ran around the entire yard and there was a small gate you entered through. The two-story house itself was adorned with wrought iron of the same pattern, reminding her of something from a vampire novel.
Her heart leaped as she saw him moving toward her in the darkness, a guitar slung over his bare back.
“Glad to see you made it. Do you want something to drink? I can show you around. You’ll have to stick around to hear me play again later. Wanna go sit on the porch?”
His mouth seemed to be having difficulty keeping up with his brain and the way he shifted from one subject to another before she could answer made her wonder if he was high.
“Did you take something?”
“No!”
“I think you’re high.”
“Look, sometimes I get hyper when I get nervous and this party has me wound tight, but I’m definitely not high.”
Before she could say anything else, he was bouncing from person to person in the crowd reminding her of that little silver ball in a pinball machine. She thought she might see a neon sign above his head flash “TILT”.
Left alone, she felt awkward and unwelcome. She made a deal with herself that if he did not return to at least say something to her in the next half hour, that she would go home.
The redheaded girl, whose name was Arlene, finally came to her rescue and took her on a tour.
“You’ll have to navigate the cardboard jungle. We haven’t gotten through everything yet.”
“It’s fine. This place is so creepy.”
“I know, isn’t it sick?”
The railing on the stairway was iron, of course, but intricate carved wood trim lined the top and bottom of every wall. Aside from the grime and dust, the place wasn’t in bad shape.
“Yeah, it is. Are you all planning on staying here, too?”
Arlene smiled knowingly. “We’re like family. None of us really has anybody else, so we stick together.”
“I see.”
“We all got our own rooms, if that’s what you’re wanting to know.” Arlene smiled.
Edie tried to hide her guilt by asking about the cleanup. “Hey, I can help you guys clean this place up if you need me.”
“Thanks. We probably need all the help we can get.”
The music from outside rumbled through the house, a muffled yet bizarrely enchanting sound. Arlene was yelling at someone from an open window. “In here,” she yelled back before turning to Edie. “I’m gonna go back to the party. You’re welcome to look around upstairs if you want.”
“All right,” Edie replied, curious to see the rest of the house and not anxious to return to the crowd.
She found her way to the end of the main hallway, past the bedrooms and a small parlor, and into a library that was empty of any books save a large box at the center of the room. Jutting out of the top of the box was a stack of haphazardly thrown in books which she could just make out the corner of. Lifting the flap of cardboard that concealed the title of the top book, she saw the gilded letters that read, “Lolita.”
Just as she was about to pilfer the contents of the box, she heard the door creak behind her. She stood straight and turned to meet who she had thought would be Arlene and found herself face to face with Skylar instead.
“Did you inherit these from your aunt, too?” she asked, nervous now that they were alone.
“Nah, just like to read. Don’t you?” He was circling her and consuming her with his gaze. “Or do you have other hobbies? Other thrills?”
The words sounded solicitous like he was implying and probing all at once. “What do you mean by that?”
“I mean, you were in your backyard naked, just waiting for some poor lonely boy to find you.”
Skylar slipped his finger into her collar, needling out a loose strand of hair. The closeness of his touch raised gooseflesh on the nape of her neck. He brought the strand around between her breasts where he
twirled it between his fingers before setting it free.
“I don’t know any boys that are poor or lonely.”
“Too bad. Boys like that might take certain liberties with you. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
“Depends.”
“Oh? On what, sweet Edie?” He moved behind her once more, sliding his hands onto her hips and spinning her around to face him. Sinking his face into the crook of her neck, he whispered, “The boy?”
She was limp under the magic he cast and stood there beneath him, breathless.
“What if the boy had dark secrets that might keep you from him?” he murmured onto her skin.
“I can keep secrets,” she squeaked.
He was pressed against her, the warmth from his earlier efforts in the heat of the August evening still damp upon his chest.
“And you’d be willing to wade into the deep waters with him, knowing these secrets?”
“I’ve found I’m a fairly good swimmer.”
“You’re too good for him, then,” he said, removing himself from her and leaving her cast aside.
“You don’t know anything about me. Don’t accuse me of being naive.” Anger replaced the desire in her heart, feeling like she was being made a fool.
His eyes met hers with a deep, cold fire. “No, you’re no such thing, are you? Even having been born and bred in this ant hill, you’ve some awareness.”
“Of course, I do. Stop talking to me like I’m a child.”
“But you are still a girl, aren’t you? In certain ways?”
His meaning was not lost on her and though she felt her virtue to be none of his concern, she could not find the words to reprimand him as blood rushed into her cheeks, giving her away.
Skylar slipped up to her and said, “Can I kiss you?”
When no protest came, his lips met her in the softest, sweetest glance. When she returned the sentiment by kissing him back more firmly, Skylar’s hands found her behind and pulled her into him.
“I wanted to do this earlier,” he said, breathless. “When I saw you, spread out under the sky in your underthings, I wanted you then.”
“Sky,” she both pleaded and protested as her mind told her to stop, but her body drove them forward as she ran her hands down his thighs.
“Say it again,” he nuzzled her neck as his hands explored her breasts through the thin cotton, running his hands down her sides and pulling her shirttail loose. “Say my name.”
The door flew open, ripping them from the spell. The blond girl, trembling and wild-eyed, darted around as if searching for someplace to hide. Black streaks of mascara marred her ivory skin and the stark red of a fresh wound was evident at the corner of her mouth.
A tall, lanky man raged through the door after her, grabbing at the air as he tried to make contact. Rix ducked behind her as Skylar cut him off.
“Where is she?” he bellowed.
“He’s looking for you,” Rix said, shoving Edie forward.
“Jimmy, stop this, now. Stop before somebody gets hurt. Let’s go for a walk.”
“There you are, you whore. Wait till dear old dad gets wind of this. I bet he doesn’t even know you’re here.”
“Leave her be, Jimmy. You’ve caused enough trouble around here these past couple days, now get out.”
“Fuck you, Skylar. She’s coming with me.”
“She doesn’t want to, just let it go.”
Jimmy paid Skylar no mind, shoving him out of the way before coming at Edie and Rix. His eyes bloodshot, he smelled of whiskey or bourbon, and lumbered toward them with intent.
If you had told her that Jimmy would walk up and slap her, unprovoked, she would not have believed you. But that’s exactly what happened.
The moment Jimmy’s hand made contact with her cheek, Skylar’s face changed and there was a darkness that came over the blue of his eyes like a shutter.
Jimmy, aware of something she was not, turned white and ran out of the room down the hall with Skylar after him.
A sudden drop in her blood pressure left her heart in her stomach as she tried to arrange herself and assess the damage to Rix’s face. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay. Jimmy’s pissed off and three sheets to the wind, too.”
“What about Skylar?”
She burst out laughing in a way that made Edie uneasy.
“Jimmy’s not gonna hurt him. He’ll calm down in a minute.” She rubbed her lip with her thumb and then put her face out the door. “Oh, shit.”
She ran into the hallway screaming, “Skylar! Don’t kill him. Stop.”
Rix’s tiny frame was on top of the two brawling bodies, smacking both of them in turn. “Knock it off!”
Edie ventured out of the library and headed toward the back door. She heard them swearing at each other and the sick thud of fists against flesh. Unable to tear her eyes from the carnage, she froze.
Skylar was a beast. The tendons in his arms raised along working muscles that writhed beneath his olive skin. A sheen of sweat across his shoulders highlighted the broadness of his back and rather than frightened, she was enthralled watching him.
Rix was thrown off the brawl like a bullrider being thrown off the bull. She landed against the wall before crumpling to the floor.
Edie didn’t think Skylar would stop. She yelled at him, but he didn’t seem to be able to hear. Or wouldn’t hear. There was a moment when she contemplated calling the police, but the last thing Skylar needed was for the sheriff to show up.
“Stop!” Edie demanded. “He’s down, Skylar. Stop.” And then, realizing the brutality of what he was doing to Jimmy, feeling an undeserved pang of guilt and compassion for the guy, she started to cry. “What’s wrong with you?”
Skylar’s head finally began to clear as the storm of rage passed from him and he saw the state she was in. She could honestly say that she was unaccustomed to that level of violence and when it was over, she stood trembling while Skylar helped Jimmy to his feet and the two of them shook hands as if it’d never happened.
She debated with herself whether she shook from fear or desire.
6
She left without saying goodbye.
Only her pride was injured, her emotions left jagged from the unexpected violence and her own, equally unexpected reaction to it. Tiny fires burned at the ends of every synaptic connection that existed within her, electrifying her.
The night air hummed. Blue sparks against the horizon were shrouded in ever-blooming billows, beautiful monstrosities advancing from the west.
And the thoughts she had about Sky burned in her mind.
On the one hand, she couldn’t help but be flattered. He took up for her in a way that made her feel safe, although she couldn’t lie to herself and say that it had not scared her just a little.
And she was angry. Who did he think he was? She was perfectly capable of defending herself. And yet, there was something primal about the way he handled the situation. She felt terrible for being so turned on by it, but she was.
She needed a cold shower. She’d go home and back to what she knew, dull banality.
There was no way her father would allow her to keep seeing Skylar, especially when word got out about the party. It was only a matter of time till the ever-watchful Mrs. Wheeler got hold of some tidbit of information to pass along to Randall.
The town lurched along that way, a slothful beast fattened on the whisperings of imaginative do-gooders.
The low growl of an engine moved through the sidewalk, vibrating the bottoms of her feet. A long, dark truck cruised beside her as she turned her face away from the street.
She had a halfhearted inclination to run, but when she saw the blotched blue paint of the door panel, she almost stopped breathing and couldn’t have run anywhere if she tried.
The door slammed and she caught sight of him jogging up alongside her. He outpaced her and then walked backwards in front of her.
She felt like stars were raining sparks against her skin,
so charged was the air between them.
“Wanna ride?” The rush of wind that accompanied him brought the scent of rain and electricity with it.
“I’m fine,” she said, straightening her skirt and making a futile attempt to act casual about it.
“Really? I thought you might be angry.” The corner of his mouth upturned the slightest though he looked at her darkly from behind lowered lashes.
“Why would I be mad?”
“’Cause I had to teach Jimmy a lesson? Isn’t that it?”
“I have to go home, that’s all.” That was true enough, wasn’t it? She’d already stayed out later than she was ever allowed to, unless she was with Billy. It wasn’t that at all. It’s because you would have, you would have spread yourself out for him right there if the blond hadn’t interrupted. Just like you did this afternoon.
“You didn’t like watching me fight over you?” he asked, feigning his disappointment. He knew she had been turned on by it, in some sick way, and he intended to press her about it.
“I don’t like to see people get hurt, no.”
“Kinda seemed like you might have liked it,” he said, slowing his pace. “I saw the way you were looking at me. Don’t you like what you see?”
“Not particularly,” she lied, knowing the truth would feed his already plump ego.
“What?” Skylar clutched his chest in mock despair, as if she had stabbed his heart. “You’re too good for me.”
“No, I didn’t mean that. I just meant that, well, why would you ask me such a thing?”
“Well, go on and tell me what you find so repulsive? Is it because I’m a heathen? Rough and long-haired? You think I’m a hippie?”
“Good Lord, Skylar! Stop it.”
“No, let’s have it. What’s wrong with me?” He grabbed her hand and put her palm to his face. “Am I hideous?” he asked, moving her hand to his muscular chest. “Do you think I’m an unfeeling brute? That I’m only after one thing? I mean, maybe when I was younger, but growing up as I did, you come to want more.”
She had no way of knowing what other girls thought of him, but she thought the easy self-assurance he possessed extraordinarily attractive. And he knew her heart and the rhythm of it so soon, nearly as soon as she had first looked at him.
The Color of My Native Sky Page 3