Ana is real though. She stands at the back door, filling the frame with her beauty like an oil painting. In my dream she's cut her hair a little shorter and wears it loose, held back from her eyes with a headband I somehow know I bought her, and she's ravishing in a simple cardigan and mom jeans. I want to rip them off her and give her another baby.
I snort awake for a moment. Jason, what the hell is the matter with you?
Sleep pulls me back. Half the guys on the bus are probably having dreams about fucking their girlfriends or the cheerleader squad. I'm dreaming about eating cinnamon buns Ana baked just for me. She probably doesn't know how to cook, but that doesn't matter. I like the Pillsbury kind. I'm a man of simple tastes.
That's my dream.
I want to go home. With her.
As the bulls pulls up to let us off, I rise, my sleep only halfway satisfying. As I stand up, I feel like I'm walking through a door from a warm place into the cold outside, where the snow wants to swallow me and chill me to the bone.
Once I'm off the bus, Aheahe and Akele quickly fall in around me, along with a cluster of the other guys.
"We're going to the Deerhead," Akele announces.
Part of me wants to break off and head home, but I end up walking with them in silence, hands in my pockets, head down, hood up. It's me, Akele, Aheahe, Izzy, Cheesy, and a couple of the other guys, all offensive players.
When we walk into the bar, the bartender looks up, horrified.
"Not again," he moans.
"It was away game," Akele says.
"Oh thank God. Just get drunk and get out."
Honestly, the bar fight didn't make much of a difference for the decor. The big stuffed deer head is back in place, and you could probably hit some of the furniture in here with a freight train and it wouldn't hurt it. As if summoned by the thought, a big train rumbles right past outside.
I don't know who built a bar next to train tracks—or maybe train tracks next to a bar; this place has been here so long that Edgar Allan Poe supposedly frequented it a few times—but it was an exceptionally bad idea.
After we get our drinks, all cheap beers, we sit down in one corner of the bar, huddled together like there's a play coming up. I sink back against the ever-greasy-feeling booth seat and nurse my drink, without really tasting it. I don't get much of a buzz.
"We're still 5–2," Akele says.
Cheesy fidgets in his seat, swigging a giant twenty-ouncer of Foster's in between stuffing mozzarella sticks in his mouth. He'll go through about fifty of them before the night is over. Hence the name.
A few more people show up, then some more players. They give us nods and we nod back. A few cheerleaders arrive, and the place starts to fill up. The music and the sound of voices gets louder, and the dancing starts. After a while, you'd forget we lost.
I sit in the corner, on my third beer, wondering what I'm doing here. I'm so excited to see Ana again that I can barely think. The alcohol is nothing compared to the high I felt when I saw her at the game. She's more addicting than any drug.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I'll never lose the image of her I carry from a few nights ago when she was spread-eagled on her bed, naked and sweating and panting and pleading with me to fuck her. Just the thought makes my cock want to rip through my pants. I shift awkwardly in my seat, swirling half a beer around in its bottle. I'm not walking up to get another with a stiffy.
God, I can't wait. It feels like my skin is going to burst.
Ana
Morning comes. I wake before the sun even rises. That gives me plenty of time to get ready. When I told Dee I was going to date Jason, she insisted I buy all sorts of things. I scrub my face and brush my face, and smear lotion on my skin, though I am not sure why I need it. All the scrubs and cleanses take me an hour.
I apply the perfume I chose last, dabbing a little behind my ears and around my neck. Despite all that, I pull on a hoodie and jeans, though I pick the tightest jeans I own, worn and molded to my body from frequent wear. I still have to almost jump up and down to pull them over my butt.
It's his hoodie I put on, letting the long hem fall down to my knees. I slip on my sunglasses, open my window, and climb out onto the porch roof. There I pause, crouched on all fours, and listen. There is no sound but birds and cars on the street. It is Sunday morning, and the town is still sleeping.
Once I'm over the fence and walking down the sidewalk, I text Jason and let him know I'm on my way. It takes me ten minutes to reach the quad at a leisurely pace, but by then I am so anxious that I tremble as I walk.
Jason is sitting on the grass, leaning nonchalantly up against a brick wall. He looks over and rises slowly, then walks toward me as if we are merely passing each other by.
He falls in beside me, hands tucked in his pockets.
"Good morning, Princess."
I smirk under my hood. "You're so reserved this morning."
"If I tackle you onto the grass and kiss you until you forget your name, someone might notice. I like the look, by the way. Very Unabomber."
"Unawhat?"
"Never mind. The hoodie and sunglasses. My hoodie, I believe."
"Yes. I kept it."
"Maybe I want it back."
"You just want an excuse to take it off me."
"Could be. You wearing anything under it?"
"Of course. It's chilly this morning."
"So what's under there?"
"A blouse. A bra."
"What color bra?"
I look at him side-eyed. "Black."
"Lace?"
"Yes."
"Oh fuck that's sexy. Tell me you're wearing a thong."
"I don't own any thongs."
"You need some. You have an ass made for thongs."
I snort. "Did you invite me out to do something, or tell me about my rump all day?"
"I have to admit, I think about your ass a lot."
"I'm sure you do."
He smirks. "So, whatever shall we do today?"
"You had best think of something. I am growing bored with you."
"Liar. Let's get some breakfast."
"What sort of breakfast?"
"I know a place. This way."
We walk away from campus, up Academy Street, until we are almost out of town. I tug my hood down when a municipal bus pulls up. Jason pays the fare for us both, and we take seats in the back row. They're narrow, and my hip bumps up against him as we sit together.
He slips his arms around me, and my head falls on his shoulder. I breathe in his scent from the source.
"I don't know anything about you," he says.
"Then you should ask me."
"What's it like? Your home. This is our stop, by the way."
We exit from the rear door of the bus and walk together at an easy pace. We are outside of town now, and there is open space, and greenery. A goose walks out in front of us and glares at us as if she owns the sidewalk. Jason skirts around her, pushing me behind him as if she will bite me.
He takes my hand as we cross the road. It means nothing to me at first. I hold hands with all my friends—which means Dee, really—when we cross, but this is different. His grip is sure, possessive. I find myself staying close, and I thread my fingers through his and squeeze.
When we arrive at the restaurant, Jason gets us a booth in the corner, and we sit together.
"Buffet," he tells the waitress. "For two."
"Buffet?" I ask.
"Load up." He nods.
The food is in trays set up in another room. I am expected to serve myself. It feels awkward, and I keep looking at him, expecting to commit some faux pas, but no one pays me any mind, except Jason.
By the time we're done, my plate is so heavy with food that I have to carry it with both hands. We sit together again.
"Even at the castle, people don't sit at their own tables," I explain. "There are benches and people sit where they please, where there is room. There is a pub in the old town outside the castl
e walls with trestle tables and a shelf on the wall with keyed boxes. Patrons bring their own stein for beer and lock it up on the shelves for when they come back."
"What's the castle like? Is it really a castle?"
"It's three hundred years old, but my ancestors began building it a hundred years before that. The Old Keep is smaller and at the foot of the mountain. It is bigger than this building, but not by much, and it is square. The New Keep is on the mountain slope. It is more what you would think of as a castle. It has five towers and a curtain wall thirty feet high, but it is more of a palace than a castle."
"Wow, must be really posh."
I shake my head. "No. It's cold and drafty. The walls are stone with tapestries to hold in the heat from hearths in winter, and it is hot in the summer when the sun heats the stones."
"Wow, your castle isn't air conditioned?"
"No, but it is beautiful. The interior of the island had a limestone quarry before it flooded. The walls are bright white and catch the sunlight on bright days until they glow. It looks like magic."
"I saw pictures of it," he confesses. "I was curious. You make it sound way more interesting. I'd like to see it someday."
I stick my fork in something Jason called "SOS," and scoop it onto a piece of toasted bread. It's a little too salty for my taste but reminds me of the fish stews I used to eat at home.
"You like it?"
"Yes. Why is it called SOS?"
"My dad used to call it that. He was in the Army. Stands for 'shit on a shingle.'"
I look down at my plate with wide eyes.
"It's just a name, honey. Eat up."
There is so much, I can barely finish half. Do Americans eat like this every day? I would not know. I only see people eat in the cafeteria, and the food in the cafeteria is barely edible.
"Do we have to go now that we're done?"
"Nah, they'll let us sit here all day if we want."
"Oh. What is your home like? Do you have a house?"
"Eh, had. I grew up in a trailer park."
I blink a few times.
"You don't know what that is, do you?" Jason sighs.
I shake my head.
"Trailers. Ah, they call them mobile homes now, but they're trailers, like the big trucks pull, you know?"
"You lived in one of those?" I ask, astonished. "Why?"
"Not like one of those, no, but it's the same idea. It's a long rectangle thing with wheels, and you can pull it with a truck. They make them in a factory. It had windows and carpet and all that, like a regular house, and we lived in one because it was cheap."
"Cheap?"
"Dad was a pipe fitter." He shrugs. "Mom didn't work; she took care of me and my little sister."
My chest tightens. He refers to them in the past tense. I should say something, but what?
Before I can answer in my own question, he cuts me off.
"So we had our lovely home. A doublewide."
I poke my food. "There is nothing, I…."
"What?"
"I… it seems like you are unhappy with where you grew up."
"Well, we can't all be born in castles."
I turn in my seat so I can face him. "Jason, listen to me. I do not care where you were born. If you were born in a trailer or a castle, it matters nothing to me. You are who you are."
"I've heard that a lot," he sighs. "Maybe it doesn't matter to you, but it matters when—"
He cuts himself off, and shakes his head.
"When what?"
He slips his arm around me. "Ana, there's stuff in my life I just don't want to talk about. Let's do something fun, huh?"
I nod. "Yes. I would like fun."
"Good, come on. Have you ever been to a mall?"
"No?"
"Holy God, you've been here for what, over two years now and you've never been to the mall? Come on!"
Jason pays the bill and leaves money on the table. I blink a few times at that. Why is he giving the waitress extra money? No one does that where I come from. I wonder if I should ask him, but hold my tongue.
We sit on a bench outside and wait for another bus. This one takes us up a ramp and onto the highway. I glance to my left and gasp.
It's huge.
"Is that the mall? It's bigger than the castle!"
"Yeah, that's the mall," Jason says, leaning against my back as I stare.
"It's so big. What's in there?"
"I'll show you. Just wait."
The bus stops, and we dismount again, among a small crowd of people. It's a long, brisk walk to the mall, and it's even bigger than I thought it was. The walls are as high as the castle's, and the doors are like gates. I take Jason's hand as we walk inside, and he holds mine firmly.
The ceiling lofts high overhead, and the hallway is broad enough for twenty people to walk abreast.
"Don't stare," Jason laughs.
"How can I not?"
"Are you really impressed by this?"
"Yes! Look at the fountain!"
I slip his hand and run forward. I stop at the edge. Water rises in spouts high overhead, and falls back into the basin.
"There's no fish," I sigh, slightly disappointed.
"What? Fish?"
"No fish in the water. It should have fish. I like fish."
"You like fish." He smirks. "Okay, good to know."
"Why are there coins?"
He shrugs. "People throw them in and make wishes."
I dig in my pocket and find a few stray coins, and clasp them in my hands. "Wish first?"
"Yeah."
Jason looks at me strangely. I press the coins against my palms and think. What would I wish for?
My throat tightens.
I almost wish I wasn't a princess. No, that would be foolish. I wish I could stay with Jason forever. No, this is our first date. I shouldn't let myself fall for him. I must keep my head, no matter what my heart, and other things, want me to do.
No.
I wish for Jason to be happy, I tell myself, and throw in a coin. I wish for Dee to be happy. I wish for Jason's roommates to be happy. I throw in one coin for each of them, and then one coin with no wish at all. Perhaps it will help the others along, give them more power.
Jason takes my arm.
"Come on. Let's go look at stuff we can't afford."
There are so many stores, so many things. When I stop to stare into a toy store, Jason stops with me. Then he tugs my arm and guides me inside.
"I was just looking."
"Hey, everybody loves this stuff. Who cares how old you are?"
The store sells building blocks. All sorts of things can be made of them. Castles and pirate ships and other stranger things, things from movies and from outer space. Some are displayed in glass cases, and I stare at them in wonder, awed by their complexity.
Jason picks up a box from the shelf, a construction set that assembles into a castle, and pulls me along to the checkout counter. He reaches for his wallet, and I grasp his wrist.
"No," I chide him.
I open my purse and hand over my credit card. When Jason sees it, his eyes widen a little.
"You have one of those black cards? I didn't know they were real."
When I take it back, I turn it in my fingers, studying it. "Mother gave it to me for emergencies."
"Emergencies," Jason says. "This is an emergency."
The clerk puts the package in a bag, and Jason takes it.
"I should carry it," I say.
"No way. Come on, let's look around some more."
There is so much here. Every few feet is a new store. I stop at one of the clothing boutiques and stare in through the window, heavy with longing.
"Go in," Jason urges.
"I don't know…."
"What's wrong?"
"I have never chosen my own clothes before. I have always worn what was given to me."
"This place is a little high-end, but I don't think it matters. Come on, let's look around."
Jason leads me inside. I feel overwhelmed at first. So many choices. When I finally begged Mother to let me wear jeans, she had to approve them first and I was given a supply. The ones in here are cut so low they barely cover anything, and the legs are so skinny they must be as tight as leggings.
"I'll wait while you try them on."
I look at him. "I can try them on?"
He sighs. "Yes, Princess. Come on, the dressing room is over here. Grab some things."
I fold some clothes over my arm as we walk toward these dressing rooms, choosing almost at random. I see one top in particular that brings a smile to my face, and snatch it while Jason is distracted.
Once we arrive, he sits on a bench outside.
"Go in there and change, and then come out and show me."
I lock myself inside and slip out of my clothes. I pull on a pair of jeans so tight they look like they are painted on, and the t-shirt I saw that I liked.
Then I walk out to see Jason's reaction. He looks up, and his mouth falls open slightly before he closes it. I stand before him in skintight black jeans that barely cover my nether regions, and a shirt that comes down too short, exposing my belly button.
The chest reads, in bright, shiny letters, YOU CAN'T AFFORD ME.
I grin. "How do I look?"
"Just let me keep looking for a minute."
I stick my tongue out in defiance and almost bounce back into the dressing room, then put on another outfit. I cycle through them.
The last is a halter top that leaves my neck and shoulders exposed and covers my back with only thin strings tying it to my body.
"I don't think I can wear this in public," I mumble.
Jason just stares at me.
"Holy shit," he says.
I turn beet-red and rush back into the dressing room, where I change back into my original outfit.
When I emerge, I carry all the clothes to the clerk and buy them.
Jason takes the bags with a small sigh, but waves me away when I try to carry them myself.
We continue working through the mall.
I spot a store that sells underwear. My face reddens just from looking at the mannequins. They're quite lewd, and they all have such ridiculous big breasts. I eye the store, my stomach fluttering.
BENCHED Page 33