Chageet's Electric Dance

by Ashir, Rebecca

Later that evening, when Barbey got home from cosmetology school, her pink telephone shaped like a ballet slipper rang to the rhythm of Ludwig Van Beethoven’s “Sleeping Beauty: Adagio Pas De Action.” The romantic fairy tale music was annoying to her transitioning mood as she bumped off the high from her white powder bliss. It was Sage on the phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Barbey asked in a chafed tone. Sage was crying on the phone.

  “My parents found out that we went to Tijuana and that I have been secretly dating Parker.”

  “Oh,” Barbey responded in disappointment for Sage. She felt guilty for having acted irritated toward Sage during a distressful time. “How’d they find out?”

  Sage sniffed and took in a deep dramatic breath, “Some girl named Suzie Albers told her mother and her mother told mine! I guess her mother is acquainted with my mom from some quilting class they both take. Can you believe that?”

  “Really? That’s weird—such a coincidence because that girl Suzie Albers used to date Rave.”

  Sage let out a long choked up cry.

  “Your parents are so over protective. What’re they going to do about it?”

  “Obviously they’re not going to let me see him anymore and I’m on restriction for sneaking out and dating without their permission.”

  “You’re parents are insane.” Barbey felt agitated and stiff from the crystal, but she tried to focus on Sage. “It was bad enough that they didn’t let you date until just recently and then it was only after they met the guy.”

  “Yeah, and asked him if he was serious about marriage!”

  “You’ll never get a boyfriend that way.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So, you don’t have a choice. You should just introduce Parker to them. Maybe they’ll approve.”

  “But I really like Parker and he’s not the meet the parents type. Also I think he might think I’m annoying if I tell him that my parents have to meet his parents at the same time.”

  “I’m sure he’ll do it if he really likes you. I know Rave would meet my parents if my parents even cared in the slightest who I was dating. You know, Sage, on the bright side, you should be happy that your parents care about you. My parents could care less about who I date.”

  “Yeah, right—I’m lucky,” Sage responded sarcastically. “My parents have made it clear that I can only date for marriage and if I don’t find someone who is ‘good enough for me’ then they will set me up with ‘good’ young men until we all agree on the right guy! You should have seen that guy Ernie who they set me up with last month. The one who wore a hat shaped like a human brain.”

  “What did he call himself again?”

  “Scalped Einstein.”

  “Oh yeah,” Barbey laughed. “What a total geek!”

  Sage laughed and blew her nose loudly.

  “You liked that golfer, Mike, who they set you up with. Remember him?”

  “Of course I remember him. He was so good looking and funny, but he never asked me out again.”

  “Well, you see. Your parents have some taste at least.”

  “Easy for you to say because you can date whoever you want.”

  “You’re right. Honestly, your parents are, like, living in the Stone Ages. I guess I’m lucky to have so much freedom.”

  “My parents really aren’t so bad. It’s just that I really think Parker is so fun and cute and I’m afraid he won’t be up to their standards.

  “I don’t know why you think that. I think Parker is really nice and fun to be around. He seems like the type that everyone would love.”

  “He is so exciting and…sexy. Isn’t he?” Sage paused when she said the word, “sexy” because she was embarrassed.

  “Heck yeah, but not as sexy and exciting as Rave!”

  “Very funny,” Sage giggled. “Thanks for listening to me vent. I gotta go do my homework.”

  “Talk about geeks. You’re always doing homework. Maybe you should borrow Ernie’s brain hat.”

  “Very funny. Bye Jerk.” Sage and Barbey often called each other names in playful banter with no ill intentions.

  “Bye Madame Einstein.”

  Feeling a little down and tired, Barbey decided to take a nap before Rave came over. Usually when she lay under her white canopy, she felt soothed and peaceful, but this evening she felt restless and afraid. The fear was like an evil spirit summoned from the drugs she had taken earlier in the day. Although she was perfectly clean, she felt a seeming dirty residue slide over herself. It was as if there was a crunching evil in her veins. Her joints felt stiff like a Barbie Doll’s. When she bent her legs, her knees seemed to crunch much like Barbie’s knees with that fake masticating sound of rubber and plastic. She felt afraid and her emotions seemed mixed and overlapping. On one hand, she desperately wanted to call Kimberly and see if she could get more crystal, but on the other hand, she didn’t want to become addicted. She chose to let the effects of the drug wear off. A soothing bubble bath would be a better option, she decided.

  The bath helped to placate her mood and after having a tall glass of ice tea with a refreshing splash of mint oil, she felt invigorated in anticipation of Rave’s upcoming visit. She was going to do herself up cool like a well oiled and groomed harem girl. She massaged cool mint oil all over her body and deep into her pores to give her tan skin an extra vitalizing glow. After wiping the excess off with a cloth, she draped herself in a frosty white sun dress with her Hermes lace up sandals. She drew the sides of her hair back with an icy row of cubic zirconium stones attached to a thin silver headband and let the rest of her hair fall at her waist, straight and shiny.

  By the time she finished her makeup, it was already twenty minutes after seven and Rave was supposed to arrive at seven. Barbey’s heart fiddled against her ribs—so galvanized that Rave was coming over. She hadn’t seen or spoken with him for a few days and the anticipation of seeing him made her body and mind a tingle. She tried to picture him in her mind with his dark straight hair, bangs furtively hanging over his brows, lining the lids of his dark arcane eyes. Her mind was charged with the melodic lullaby of his voice—the way in which the stutter and flux of his words drifted forth like water gently, yet assuredly over pebbles in a stream.

  The pink slipper rang to its fairytale rhythm. It was Sage. “I’m sooooo bored,” she complained. “My parents won’t let me go anywhere because I’m on restriction.”

  “It’s Thursday night. You wouldn’t go anywhere even if you weren’t on restriction.”

  “I know, but you know how it is. When you can’t do something, you want to do it.”

  “Actually, I’m surprised because I thought you always wanted to do the right thing.”

  “Whatever,” she retorted. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m waiting for Rave. He’s supposed to come over tonight to hang out, but he’s already, like, forty-five minutes late.”

  “Really? That’s weird. Maybe he got held up at work? What kind of job does he have?”

  “He works at an Italian restaurant or something. I think. He dropped out of school.”

  “Is he going to return or just find a career?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think he knows what he wants to do, but I think he wants to be rich.”

  “Yeah, well, who doesn’t?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t, like, really care about having a lot of money. My parents’ money didn’t seem to help them to be all that wonderful. They don’t seem, like, particularly happy either.”

  “Imagine how unhappy they’d be if they didn’t have money.”

  “Yeah, well, like you said, ‘Whatever.’”

  “Maybe you should call Rave and see why he’s late.”

  “I don’t want to seem needy or desperate.”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t want to have to wait around for him all night either.”

  “You’re right. I’m going to give him a call. You know what? I just realized he never even gave me his number.”


  “I have it,” Sage responded proudly.

  “That’s right. I forgot that he lives in the garage with Parker at Parker’s house.”

  “It’s not really a garage. It’s more like a little guest house.”

  “You don’t think he stood me up. Do you?”

  “No way. Rave is totally whipped over you.”

  Barbey hung up the phone and dialed Parker’s house. “Mrs. Pennington?”

  “Yes,” The voice on the line was breathy and sultry.

  “This is Barbey Bardot—Parker’s and Rave’s friend. Is Rave there?”

  She sighed long and husky and then responded in a slight southern accent, “I don’t think so, but hold on while I check.”

  She was gone a long time and Barbey could hear what sounded like an older woman arguing on another phone line with someone about not getting a lane at the bowling alley and how “awful bad” her feet hurt with her corns rubbing against her shoes. The woman kept coughing and hacking between sentences.

  “Still there,” Mrs. Pennington asked returning to the phone.

  “Yes.” Her tough demeanor made Barbey uncomfortable, but she found her voice sexy and intriguing.

  “Looks like the boys left for the night.”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “There’s a party at Gary’s tonight. I assume Parker is the disk jockey,” she paused and sighed. “Do you have Gary’s address?” She sounded irritated. The older woman must have hung up the phone because the background sounds were suddenly still and quiet.

  “No.” Barbey was perplexed. “I could call there though. Do you have Gary’s phone number?”

  “I hate the phone.” She paused for what seemed a long time. “Looks like his address is on this party flyer right here on the table. I think I’ll go too. You wanna come?”

  Barbey was surprised. “To the party?”

  “Yeah,” her voice was sarcastic. “What else are we gonna do on a Thursday night?”

  Glancing at her watch, Barbey saw that Rave was already an hour late. But she figured she should probably wait for him in case he showed. She didn’t want to come across as irresponsible or rude. “Rave said he’d be here, so I better wait for him.”

  “Can I give you some advice?”

  “Yes,” Barbey felt nervous.

  “Never wait for a man.”

  “Ok, thanks, but, well…”

  “I’m gonna knock off the liquor store down the street for some tampons and vodka. It won’t take but five minutes,” she paused and then laughed. “Call me in twenty if you’re game.”

  Laughing out of discomfort, she responded, “Ok, Mrs. Pennington. Thank you so much for your time and help.”

  “Call me Cherry.”

  “Cherry?”

  “Yeah. That’s what my pa named me.

  “Ok. Thank you, Cherry.”

  “Bye.”

  “Thanks,” she responded awkwardly. “Ok,” she paused feeling uncomfortable. “Bye.”

  Barbey quickly dialed Sage. “Rave’s still not here. Can you believe it? He’s already over an hour late. Do you think he actually stood me up?”

  “Don’t worry, Barbey. I’m sure he just got caught up with work or something.”

  “Well, don’t you think he’d at least call?”

  “Yeah, I’d of thought he would call. I take it he wasn’t home when you called?”

  “No. And Parker’s mom seems kind of unusual.”

  “Really?” Sage sounded disappointed. “My parents don’t like unusual people and if they don’t like her then they probably won’t let me date Parker.”

  “Well, she wasn’t really that unusual. She was super confident and maybe that will make up for her strange sense of humor or whatever it was. I actually found her kind of fascinating—not like a mom at all.”

  “She was nice?”

  “I’m not sure, but she was helpful and offered me a ride which is pretty generous and friendly—I guess. She said she thinks that Rave is at a party with Parker.”

  “Really? That’s strange. Oh, yeah, Parker is probably D.J.ing the party. That’s how he makes his money.”

  “I’m so upset,” Barbey paused and then looked at her reflection in her dresser mirror, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m all dressed and ready to see him and here he doesn’t even show. I can’t believe he didn’t even call to cancel. I can’t believe this is happening. I feel so stupid.”

  “There’s probably a logical explanation,” Sage tried to reassure her.

  “I can’t talk anymore. I’m too upset.” She hung up the phone.

  Barbey dialed Mrs. Pennington. “Hi, Cherry. I decided to go with you to the party.”

  19

  When Mrs. Pennington arrived at her house, Barbey was surprised that she drove a brand new white Porsche. She had imagined her driving up in an old beat-up Pinto. Barbey was even more surprised when Mrs. Pennington got out of her Porsche—her long youthful brown hair blowing softly in the wind, her fit body clad in an elegant teal silk dress with three-quarter sleeves, a high scoop neck with a black feather boa wrapped around her neck and draped over one shoulder, and a hemline that hung below her knees, gently fluttering in the night breeze above her pointed-toe black stiletto heels. When she moved, she glided with confidence and attitude, her hand on her hip. As Barbey approached her, she was astonished to see that she was attractive and youthful, especially for a mother of a teenager, and her face was striking like a model’s with pouty lips.

  “You gonna stand there all night or what?”

  Blushing, Barbey responded, “What?”

  “Get in the car,” she said as she opened the passenger door for Barbey.

  “Huh?” Distracted by the extravagance of the diamond studded dash board, Barbey didn’t notice what Mrs. Pennington was saying.

  Mrs. Pennington jabbed Barbey in the rib with one of her spiked heels as she climbed over Barbey’s lap to get to the driver’s seat. “My door’s jammed,” she said as she peeled out of the driveway, leaving behind skid marks. “You can get out, but you can’t get back in.”

  “Oh, that must be a hassle for you when you’re running around doing errands,” Barbey was trying to be sympathetic and polite even though her rib hurt from the jab.

  “I don’t do my errands on foot,” Mrs. Pennington appeared surprised at Barbey’s comment. “I drive, of course.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t really mean that you ran. I meant…”

  “Oh,” Mrs. Pennington stared straight ahead. “I got it. That was just a figure of speech. “Run, drive—the same thing in the figure of speech world.” Her words rolled together in a sarcastic rhythm. “I hate figures of speech in American English.”

  The Porsche cruised down the well-lit Second Street with its fast food restaurants, gas stations, and monstrous billboards of perfectly sculpted women in erotic poses advertising cigarettes, beer, or bingo. Teenagers were standing in front of the bowling alley around their custom-painted lowered trucks and hot rods. Second Street was a popular teen hang-out where teens paraded their cars up and down the street.