Angst

by Victoria Sawyer

  I’m finding it difficult to sit still, fidgeting in my seat, playing with my hair, tapping my foot. My stomach feels slightly ill and the out of body, floating, glassy eyed feeling descends over me. I want to leave, I want to get out, I think again, my gaze constantly being drawn back to the door. On several occasions I almost feel ready to get up and leave the room, about to push up out of my desk, but just when I’m about to rise, my stomach unclenches itself for a moment and I feel better. I doodle stars and moons all over my notebook, and try to focus on the voices of the other students, looking around the circle to see what people are thinking as each student reads their assignment to the class.

  I just barely pay attention to my classmate Sarah’s story and I raise my hand to comment on how much I enjoyed it and give her some constructive criticism. Please let my turn come next! Please, please, please, I say to myself as the teacher calls out another student’s name. Immediately the sensations flood me all over again. Oh my God, I can’t sit here. Faacccck me! My chest feels like it wants to explode, my heart beating fast like an insane techno beat, but I know I have to continue sitting here no matter how hard my stomach clenches up. I cannot be sick here. I don’t want to leave. Class is almost over and if I leave now I’ll miss my turn. Finally after every other student in the class goes, it’s my turn. I feel like I’m nearing exhaustion. As my name is called, my nerves spike. Now I’m on. I begin to speak, my voice wobbly and unsure, gradually gaining some confidence as I read this piece of work I’m proud of.

  Moonlight and Stars:

  The water ripples under the clear dark night sky. I’m sitting on a beach. It’s a peninsula with water on three sides. In front of me lies the lake, deep blue with shimmers of silver sparkling on the crests of the waves. The moon hovers silently above me, the sky dusted with stars. The sand is moist and cool so I sit on a piece of dry driftwood with my little brother. We sit, side by side, against the sky and talk. I start to sing a silly song as loud as I can. We laugh and finally realize it is time to go back to the campsite across the lagoon. We get into the canoe. Peaceful and quiet, we slip across the water with the paddle making the only audible sound. In the distance is a yellow-red glow through the trees. The campfire, crackling and smoking, voices laughing and talking. The animal and insect world hums as we near the shore. A soft buzzing, a bird calls, a frog croaks, an unending backdrop of sound that fades into the scene. Everything is melting together. My brother and I are in the canoe, he is laughing as I sing. We join the campfire, with friends and family, sitting amid this happy glow, browning marshmallows and melting chocolate on graham crackers. A warm circle against the darkened night.

  The night air is brisk and our flashlights cut patches of light into the blackness. My best friend and I, in the field with the two big cement tubes. Big enough for two people to sit inside. We join the game of flashlight tag, running through the dewy grass, adventure and excitement. There are twenty or more of us playing together under the stars, amidst these old mountains. The White Mountains, so cold and large, dwarfing everything around them. We are in our own world under these bright stars and enclosed by the dim mountain tops in the distance.

  Soon the game changes and someone starts throwing crab apples. A crab apple war ensues and we run for cover, laughing and out of breath. An apple whizzes by me, clipping my shoulder. The boys are taking over now, their arms thrown back ready to huck an apple as fast and hard as they can. There are screams of excitement and bellows of pain that will be revenged all around us. We hide behind the cement tubes and decide to take a time out from this game. We lay on our backs looking up at the stars, trying to point out constellations. We talk and giggle and then lapse into silence. It is time to go back now, to our little tent. Once there we put on five sweatshirts and one with a hood, and climb into our sleeping bags to get warm. We whisper, sharing secrets until we fall asleep.

  A little camp on the lake. A small cabin with that old camp smell, musty, with uneven floors. Bare feet, bathing suits and towels are the fads here. The day of swimming and running around is over and night sets in. The adults cook lobsters, steamers and corn on the cob. The smell of hamburgers and hot dogs is thick in the air. With bellies full, my cousins and I are upstairs. We are making a haunted house in the two little bedrooms. The cool night air drifts into the rooms and is pushed around by the fans. Outside the night is dark with little pinpoints of light from the stars.

  We string up sheets and blankets on walls and over beams. I hide behind the door while others are under the bed, ready to grab feet. Someone is behind the curtain at the window pretending to be a ghost. One of my cousins sits near the fan speaking into it “booooooo.” Another is under the sheet on the bed, ready to sit up and scream. We discuss with total seriousness who will pretend to be dead and who will jump out first. The lights are out and we scare ourselves into our own little ghost stories. The stairs creak, the adults are coming. The screaming starts, flowing into the night air with laughter.

  Everyone around the room is silent, watching me as I read, and I feel my stomach clench. Not NOW! I can hear my voice, lyrical with the rhythm of the writing. Calm down Victoria, you can do this. It’s almost over. I take a breath and continue reading aloud.

  Hide and seek tag in the backyard. The four of us, my best friend and I, and our brothers. Running, getting out of breath, thinking of life and death, safe and caught. It’s slightly cold and my breath makes wisps in the air. We hide together under the stars in the long grass. The wind blows and the tall grass bends, blowing its fall fragrance into our noses. Leaves fall from trees, creating a carpet of yellow-gold and red-orange. The leaves crackle under my feet giving away our crouching position to the boys. We run, as if our lives depend on it. The swing set is safety. If only I can make it there. I push myself, running as fast as I can, out of breath, heart racing, and finally the metal is under my fingertips. Safe. Exhilaration. I won’t have to be “it.” It is as if all of life were this little game to be safe. A breath, in and out, satisfaction. The street lamp burns at the street’s edge, casting a dim light on our game. Jack o’ lanterns burn on the porches nearby. Above us are the stars. Small and sparkling, looking down on our childish play. We are alone in the world. Nothing else matters. We are innocent, we are happy, we are together.

  Here I am looking up at the stars, lying on my back. His form is so warm next to me. The stars are so bright that I feel small. The air is cold and the ground even colder. Finally we go inside and here we are laughing and playing cards. A candle burns and incense smokes while clouds of grey-blue float through the room. Music plays and rewinds, ticking off minutes on the clock. Comfort and familiarity are here with me. Finally when my eyes have closed one too many times, we blow out the candle and go to bed, to sleep. I dream of lingering thoughts, of flowing water, of memories and of stars and laughter on a dark night.

  Finally I’m done. Deep breath, in and out and then my classmates start raising their hands, making suggestions and comments about my work. I feel my face turn red hot to be the center of attention, the center of criticism, but overall I’m happy to hear their suggestions. And then class is over, people are packing up their bags, flying out the door and I sag back into my chair, glad that the ordeal is over, that I can leave and relax and rest for a short amount of time. Just a short amount of time, until something else comes up.

  November 24, 1996 Fifth Grade

  A straight jacket on wheels

  “Selena and Jason, sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g,” squeal the girls in the seat behind me. I just stare straight ahead at the textured brown plastic seat in front of me, gripping my backpack in my lap. I don’t want to be noticed or picked out for teasing by the girls behind me. They are terrors. Picking on everyone, finding flaws, exploiting them for their laughter and giggles. Last week it was Jessica’s ‘mustache’ and the week before it was Sean’s stinky feet and before that Sarah’s clothes because they looked like “poor” people clothes. I know my time is limited. Soon enough they wi
ll pounce.

  It’s Thursday and I am headed to school on the bus. I live in a small town and my bus ride to school is through the woods on back roads. The trip is 30 minutes long. I hate the bus. Every moment is a fight for calm, knowing that the kids around me will crucify me if I embarrass myself in any way. Some days I’m able to forget my fear, talking with a friend, or playing a game with someone to pass the time. Other days are straight up torture.

  Suddenly the bus shudders and smoke erupts from the hood. The driver pulls over and everyone is jabbering and chatting, wondering what is going on. I groan inside. A breakdown? This is the last thing I need. My heart starts to thud and I wonder how long this will last. Terror, where terror should not normally be as I realize what is happening, as I realize I am trapped. Please let it be a quick fix. Please get us out of here. I stare out the window at the forest beyond the bus. Deep and dark. There are no houses in sight right now. Just woods and the road, snaking its way up a steep hill toward our school. We’re still at least 15 minutes out.

  I begin to feel sick. Who knows how long we’ll be stuck here? I look out the window, telling myself if only this bus would start moving I’d feel better. My thoughts begin to crash over me like roaring tidal waves, there is no escape, there is no bathroom, there is no getting off the bus and saying “Bye, I’m walking home.” I am nine years old and the bus driver is responsible for me. To panic now, to feel sick, to feel my stomach clench into a ball, to have to go to the bathroom would be like societal suicide.

  There would be no avoiding the jeers and laughter from the kids surrounding me, comments of “eeww” and “gross” and eternal teasing and nicknames. So I sit, fidgeting, as heat radiates from my body and my head hurts. I know my stomach will relax if only this damn heap of yellow metal will start moving again. But it doesn’t. One of the younger kids has to go to the bathroom. They take him into the woods. I desperately don’t want that to happen to me and suddenly I have to go, really badly. The bigger kids at the back of the bus are laughing and trying not to peek out the window, talking about the “little baby” who had to go to the bathroom and take his pants down right outside the bus. The girls behind me giggle and I hear one of them shriek,

  “I see his penis. Gross!!”

  I sink lower in my seat, my face beat red, my heart pounding, my thoughts a rush. There is no escape. No safety route out. The bus is a hellhole, a strait-jacket on wheels, holding me inside its brown seats and rectangular windows. My mind starts screaming. I just want to get out! I just want to feel safe and in control!

  February 19, 2005

  Let me ink you

  I’ve got on a tight white low cut v-neck t-shirt and white jeans. And so does everyone else. The crowd is going wild cause they just turned off the lights and turned on the black lights and suddenly everyone around me is glowing. I look down at my shirt, it’s florescent white with spots, probably detergent. The music bumps and then the tempo increases to a hectic pace and now everyone is jumping around, throwing markers at each other ‘cause apparently it’s graffiti time.

  The crowd’s excited, surging, grabbing for markers, playing with glow in the dark necklaces and glow sticks that are being tossed at them. I’m still sort of on edge so I’m focused on my drink for the moment as I stand to the side with Hannah, Celeste, Kayla, and Amy. It’s like we’re jaded old timers already cause we’re not in the middle of this shit-show going crazy. We’re just calmly waiting, with our drinks, for the frenzy to die down so we can get our own markers.

  I hear a girl squealing and look around to see her friends attacking her shirt with markers, writing shit all over her, and one guy is drawing a huge penis snaking over her shoulder. I pull Hannah in.

  “Look at that, fucking hilarious,” I say as she finally grabs us a highlighter from a person walking by.

  “We need more markers. I gotta go find some,” she says with an uplifting smile. I know she’s worried about me ‘cause I’ve been in a bitchy mood all week and she’s desperate to cheer me up. Kayla and Celeste and their friend Amy are trying to grab markers too, turned away from me, hassling others nearby. And I’m just drinking, leaning against the wall. Long sip after long sip. Sure and steady wins the fucking drunk race.

  Hannah’s back and she pops open a pink marker and enthusiastically motions for me to turn around so she can write something on my back. It tickles through the thin cloth and I laugh, unable to stop myself even though I’d like to keep my black mood snug around me for as long as I can.

  “What are you writing?” I ask her as I feel the pressure of the pen lift from my shirt. I pull the cotton over my shoulder a bit to see if I can see it, but it just looks like pink to me.

  “I wrote Snatch in huge fucking letters!” she says with a hoot, handing a marker to me so I can write something on her.

  “I’ll write Snatch on you too,” I say with a grin as she turns around and I get really artistic making bubble letters with little flames coming off them.

  The music is having some kind of identity crisis for the moment as the DJ mixes hip hop and rave techno music and finally he makes the switch to hip hop and Hannah and I start dancing. I guess I don’t need to be a total bitch just ‘cause the guy I like pretty much obliterated my feelings and crushed my confidence last time I saw him. Hopefully I don’t see him again. And he could be here, Andy is after all.

  Kayla and Celeste finally have markers and are writing on a giggling Hannah. Finally Kayla comes up to me.

  “Darling Victoria, let me ink you, you betch,” she says with an evil smile as she scoots down to write something on my stomach.

  “Flex those abs so I have something to write on,” she teases and I do and she writes something very quickly so I can’t catch it. I see a huge F and some scroll letters after it.

  “What the hell did you write, you slut,” I say with a grin, worried for a second, cause she’s probably inked me with something completely wild…but whatev, I’m gonna wear that shit with pride.

  She pulls up and grins at me again, her little sideways sly smile and I yank up my shirt to try to read what she wrote. It says…Fuck me now.

  “Are you trying to say something, Kay?” I ask with a grin and she smiles.

  “You need to get laid honey, pure and simple.” I laugh and she starts dancing with me as a particularly thumping part of the song blares.

  “I fucking love this song, unce, unce,” she says, hand swishing over her head with the beat like she’s slapping someone’s ass. Kayla cracks me the fuck up. How can I stay cranky with these girls around? So I’m dancing now too and then decide I need to write on her. She hands me a marker with an uplifted eyebrow and I give her an “I don’t know what I’m gonna write on you” shrug and then a small evil smile and make her turn around so I can write on her back.

  I decide to draw a huge liquor bottle with the words drink me on it. And then nearby I draw some pills with the words eat me near them, and then I add some crazy swirls behind the pills and bottle. I guess I’m feeling a little like we’re down the rabbit hole tonight at this freaked party.

  “Oh my God, that’s awesome, draw that shit on me! You should be a tattoo artist,” says Celeste with a grin and I turn and give her some biz-art as well.

  And that’s when I see him. I turn around and he’s there behind me in the crowd. My heart soars and then crashes and burns as I remember the truth. He doesn’t want me. But he looks so good, his white t-shirt tight against his chest and arms and very white against his olive skin. It has blue, yellow and green highlighter glowing all over it, words, drawings and more. The thing that stands out the most to me in that quick glance are the words, I’m a slut in huge block letters on his chest with a pair of small crude tits drawn nearby. I don’t think he’s seen me yet cause he’s talking with his brother, but it appears that Andy has seen Hannah and keeps glancing at her out of the corner of his eye with a crooked smile. And Hannah keeps smiling back. Those two crazy kids. Now if only Jared wasn’t the person who crushed
my feelings, everything would be perfect.

  Andy and Hannah are in some kind of undefined relationship, but he seems pretty happy to see her and is now giving her a peck on the lips. Jared doesn’t look my way and I continue to dance with Kayla, although I feel pretty ridiculous. I’m not really sure what his problem is with me. He said he wants me, he admitted it, but he doesn’t want to “be” with me or sleep with me. What the hell does that mean? How can I wrap my head around that shit and somehow still act like a normal human being when he’s around? I feel like absolute hell…am I not attractive enough, am I too weird or something, or am I just…I don’t know, some kind of slut or a turn off? I don’t get it. I’ve acted pretty damn normal around him…ah well...all except for running away at the frat when he tried to sleep with me in a one night stand. Oh yeah…that. And he always seems to be around. It’s driving me insane.

  My cheeks are burning now because I feel so embarrassed and I can tell Hannah has noticed cause she seems concerned, suddenly frowning in my direction, probably remembering how pissy I’ve been all week about this particular person standing next to her. I smile very tightly at her and guzzle more of my drink. It keeps my hands busy and my mouth and also of course it’s necessary to calm the fear frenzy that is always building inside me against my will.

  Andy eventually starts to look at me too because Hannah is giving me little smiles to try to cheer me up. She mouths, SMILE, and I nod and roll my eyes back at her. Andy leans in and is talking to her now and keeps looking in my direction and she keeps grinning in a naughty, I’m betraying you, kind of way. Shit, is she telling him? That fucking bitch, she probably is. I drink a few more sips and realize it’s time for more and quickly ditch the group and make my way through drunken idiots who are weaving their arms around like fools with glow in the dark beads and necklaces wrapped around them, rubbing against one another. These people are on drugs, and I’m not joking. Weird fucks! I fill my cup and watch Jared’s back. He’s so hot. He’s so…awesome. I’m so fucking smitten with him and he doesn’t want me. My heart feels heavy. God I’m a loser.