|
Creative Writing from
Fairleigh Dickinson University
First Light
Chapters from a novel Jon Avella
Chapter 1
The first night I tasted cocaine was also the first time I tasted Hannah. This was of course back when life was a bit clearer to me. My best friend, Jesse, and I had been at a party somewhere in the commons. All I remember of the room is that it was filled with frat boys and a few scattered girls. The one that caught my eye was in the middle of a big circle of people and she was chugging a beer. They were playing some sort of drinking game that I didn't really understand, but her drinking habits intrigued me. She was wearing jeans and a tight white top. Her brown hair hung to just above her chest. Her ample breasts stuck out mightily as she sat back to chug her beer.
I joined in the game and slowly made my way next to her. It took about an hour so I was nice and toasted when I met her. She was even more whacked at the time. I made some sort of stupid comment like, “You don't know me, but you should.”
She laughed quite loudly to my surprise. Jesse looked at me and shook his head in utter disgust. She stopped laughing and looked at me.
“What did you just say to me?” she asked.
“I said my name is Banty.”
I held out my hand and she cautiously shook it with hers.
“Banty? What's that?” she asked.
“My name.”
“Oh, right. How do you do Banty? I'm Hannah. Enjoying the game?”
“I don't even know how to play it.”
She laughed again, drunkenly.
“That's okay. Neither do I. Hey, do you have a cigarette?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I pulled out my pack and passed her one over. We sparked up together.
“Banty, are you an adventurous guy?”
“How so?”
“I mean are you open to try new things?”
I shifted nervously in my seat and pulled from my cigarette.
“I've been known to dabble in some shit.”
“Dabble? Is that even a fuckin word?”
“Um, I'm not really…”
“I just mean do you wanna go get high?”
“Oh shit. Of course. Let's roll.”
We went into one of the bedrooms. It was empty. I shut the door behind us. She hopped down onto the bed and started going through her purse. Now, at this point I thought she wanted to smoke some pot. Much to my surprise she pulled out a clear baggie filled with white powder. I hesitated at first. She smelled my nasal virginity immediately.
“Okay. That's cool. I'm just gonna go first,” she said.
The decision had been made, and somehow I wasn't involved. I stood and watched her crush, and line up two rippers for the both of us. She downed it as if it was a kamikaze shot. How could I say no? I pulled up the chair next to the bed.
It burned at first and then took a few minutes to kick in. When it did my head felt as though it may pop off my shoulders and fly through the ceiling above. Everything inside me sped up and I felt like I'd awoken from a life-long sleep. Hannah was sitting back on the bed staring up at me. She had a sly smile and her nipples were perking up through her shirt. I sat back in my chair for a moment and tried to steady myself. Before I knew what was happening Hannah was standing above me. I stared up at her. Her chest was right in front of my eyes. She sat down on top of me.
Instinctually my hand went right to her ass. She started kissing me. We went at it for a couple of minutes, before she pulled away all of a sudden. She stood up and started to pull off her top. I felt as though Hannah and I, along with everything else in the room was moving at light speed. My conscience felt like I needed to say something, though. Just to verify that she was of sound mind, of course.
“Hannah, you're not doing this just because you're completely wasted, are you?”
She laughed as she threw her shirt to the floor exposing her ample breasts.
“Banty, I was watching you before you even noticed me.”
She was definitely drunk. But, for some reason her answer made sense to me. I pulled off her jeans and then her little pink thong. She began rubbing my crotch. In no time she had me naked too. I began to rub myself up against her and began to slide inside. She stopped me and pushed me away.
“Do you have any condoms?” she asked.
“No. You?”
“No.”
She giggled at me and began stroking me. She pulled me on top of her and began whispering in my ear.
“It's okay. I want you so fuckin bad.”
Her breath was warm on my neck. I pushed inside her and my head felt as if it was going to pop off. The drugs had entered my blood stream and were pumping adrenaline through my whole body. The bed squeaked as I moved in and out of her. We were kissing heavily and in between lips each of us were moaning. From off in the distance I heard a knocking sound. It had no meaning to either of us.
I felt like my whole body was inside her all the way down to my toes. Hannah dug her nails into my back. The knocking noise grew louder, but we still ignored it. I felt my body tense up with the rush of everything coming together. I arched my back and pulled out of her covering her in my essence. My toes cracked as I rolled over onto my back. She lay down on top of me as voices now accompanied the knocking.
“Open the fuckin door. The beer is in there,” yelled several angry voices.
The knocking had become a banging. We hopped up and got dressed as quickly as possible. Hannah grabbed her coke and I snagged several beers. We let ourselves out the bedroom window, just as we heard the key sliding into the door. Before they knew it we were gone.
Chapter 2
It was after this that Hannah and I began dating. She was always wild and ready for anything. She loved life and claimed to feel the same way about me. A perfect world this is not, though, happiness is fleeting. I never imagined that Hannah would hurt me. Mainly because she always said she wouldn't.
All of a sudden she became distant. She was always pulling back from me and avoiding eye contact. Every loving gesture seemed to pain her in some way. I was at a loss, but was determined to make it work. To Hannah, though, this wasn't an option.
It was in her room at home over Christmas Break from school when she told me. She sat me down and began to tear up. I realized right away that something serious was going on. My neck tensed up and my stomach turned over several times. I remember that her radio was playing softly. I couldn't quite make out what was playing, but it sounded sad. I imagined it was Don't Cry because I wished she would stop. She did, briefly. Just long enough to spit some non-sense at me.
“I think you know what this is about,” she said.
I shifted nervously in my seat. My whole body felt uneasy. I shook my head dumbly.
“Anyway. I know you do, Banty. Something's missing and you've noticed that too. Even if you don't want to admit it,” she said.
Hannah paused there and looked over at me. She was expecting me to say something. I had nothing. My head and heart were spinning. I pulled out a cigarette and put it behind my ear.
“Say something, Banty.”
It was as if the voice had come from my head. It hadn't. Hannah waited for me to speak.
“So what are you trying to say?” I asked. Monumental first words, right.
“I think we may be rushing things a bit, Banty. I can't handle this.”
She began to cry again, this time more hysterically. I tried to keep looking at her, but I couldn't. I felt myself start to choke up. So I studied the rug. It was red and faded. I found a spot where some sort of drink had been spilled and focused on it. I shook off the tears.
“Is this it, then?” I asked.
She let out a sob.
“I don't know. I still love you, Banty.”
At this I felt a fit of rage come over me. I rose to my feet. The back of my neck tingled as I felt ready to go on the offensive. I gave my stained rug spot one last look, took a deep breath and stared her right down. She was looking at me with tears streaming down her face. I wanted to curse her and let her know how much she'd hurt me. It was her turn to hurt. I had every name in the book flowing through my head.
“I think you should leave, Banty.”
She must have smelled my transformation my transformation in the air. When she said it, I realized that it was over. I walked out of the house without a goodbye and I haven't seen her since. It's amazing how separation can cause such change. I heard it took her a week to find my replacement.
For me the following weeks were spent frequenting local bars around my hometown. It wasn't actually my hometown, but forty-five minutes outside of where I spent my childhood. My mother's house was small and always very hot so I could never stand being there for long amounts of time. Granted I loved her, but between the heat and her television preferences boredom became my companion whenever I was home. Just before break I had turned twenty-one, so now I had somewhere to go. I would just travel aimlessly from bar to bar trying to combat my feelings of loneliness and depression with massive quantities of alcohol. Unfortunately this was a drug free existence, here at home. I didn't know anyone, except my mom, and she stuck to the liquor. It was a painful time, but I promised myself that as soon as I got back to school I'd make up for lost time.
The break. What break? You're fuckin kiddin me, right, I mean it's the first fuckin night of class back from vacation and you're talkin break? I can't handle that. To have a full class the first night back should be a crime of some sort. As you talk about needless facts beers are being cracked and tossed around the room! My brain needs a chemical distraction from this repetitive babble that's being spit at me. My head seems to be expanding to the very brink of explosion. I peer around the room and notice those who surround. They all have the distant vacant look that I'm sure I'm wearing as well. Blank stare after blank stare, until something seems to spark and get my attention.
My gaze is drawn to a blonde in the far corner of the room. She is anxiously jotting down notes and the sun catches her pen and flashes around the room. “Look up,” I say to her, but really only in my mind. She does, almost as if she heard me say it. Our eyes lock and in a panic I look down and away from her. I doodle mindlessly for a few seconds before looking back up at her. She was still staring at me, but was smiling this time. I returned the smile, I think, and she goes back to writing furiously.
“I think we'll take our break now,” says the teacher, snapping me out of my daze. “See you all in say, three minutes.”
I grabbed my stuff and headed quickly for the door forgetting all that had been said and done in the last forty-five minutes as soon as I leave the room. I walked with a purpose cause I was dying for a cigarette.
My teacher's voice rung throughout my head. I lunged for the door as I clinged to my backpack. As I stepped outside the night air hit me like a cold shower and snapped me back into focus. I sparked up a cigarette as I hopped down the cement stairs leading down from the building. I stared down at the ground as I walked, and made every effort to avoid contact with others. My hand began to shake, but not from the cold air. I needed a drink and a bump to steady myself. I sucked deeply from my cigarette and could taste the filter. I flicked it off to the side and approached my building. The smell of piss and beer welcomed me as I walked through the propped door.
After scaling two flights of stairs I fumbled my keys to the floor in a half-assed attempt to open my door. I collected myself and my keys and walk into my room. Darkness! Darkness and silence meant no roommate. I flipped the overhead light on and tossed my bag onto the bed. My stuff from home was still packed and sitting on the floor. I grabbed a beer from the twelve-pack sitting on my dresser. Good old beast ice. Beast double diesel I called it. Not just beast double diesel, but warm beast double diesel. I had bought it before class and both me and my roommate neglected to bring a fridge up with us. I winced in disgust as the warm liquid crawled slowly down my throat like cough syrup.
I flipped on the stereo and Kurt Cobain's raspy voice filled my room. I grabbed my phone and checked my messages. There was just one and it was from my advisor Professor Harold Huvstad. He was also teaching several of my classes. As soon as he identified himself I erased the message. School was over for the day I told myself as I dialed up my best friend Jesse's number. It rang about five times before the machine picked up and played his goofy message, “Hey whatsup! This is Jesse. You know what to do.”
“Yo whatup. Nice fuckin message. It's Banty. It's seven o'clock. Where the fuck are you? I'm tryin to party. Hit me back.”
Jesse was supposed to be my roommate this semester. That was our plan at least. We requested a room together in the Macintosh building. The Mac dorms are the nice rooms. They're clean, well lighted and heated. Residence Life, the fuckers in charge of housing lost our paperwork, though. Jesse ended up in the Mac at the last minute. Some luck, huh. Yeah right, that lucky prick. I got stuck in the commons, the group of buildings across from the MAC.
The roommate I got placed with was named Luis. He was four years older than I was, so he was ancient. Last semester he might have been of service to me but I since I turned twenty-one I was a self-reliant man when it came to getting drunk. Luis was a pre-med student with hopes and dreams for a bright future. His schedule went as follows; class, homework, sleep. First night back and he was already at the library. That of course was partly my doing I believe. When I walked in the room and cracked a beer before class he cringed as he looked up from his mammoth chemistry book. Five minutes later when I busted a line he left in disgust. I faintly heard him mention the library on his way out, but at that point all I understood were clouds.
Chapter 3
About an hour later Jesse called me back and told me he couldn't hang out. He had promised his girlfriend Liz that he'd spend a night alone with her. I called him every degrading name I knew but nothing changed his mind. He tried to cover for himself by saying that the next night was on for sure, but I didn't give a shit either way. I just wanted to get blitzed somewhere. Of course I had no other friends, really, so I spent the rest of the evening chugging warm beer, snorting lines and trying to forget Hannah. I chain-smoked and with each drag felt reality slowly slipping away from me. I fell into a deep sleep.
I woke up to the ringing of my phone. My room was dark and I could hear the pitter-patter of falling rain on my windowsill. I stumbled out of bed and answered the phone groggily.
“Hello.”
“Hello! May I please speak with a Banty Witter?”
I didn't recognize the voice and did not respond right away.
“Hello, Banty? It's Professor Huvstad.”
“Hi professor. Yeah it's me.”
“How's it going this morning?” he asked.
“Good, it's uh, good.”
I looked over at my clock. It was 10 in the morning.
“So, Mr. Witter, do you remember what we talked about last semester?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I lied.
“Well I've lined up an interview for you. You know, for your internship.”
“Oh, right, great.”
My head pounded as the past nights activities began to percolate through my body.
“Have you been getting my messages? I thought we were going to meet this morning. You know, to go over the interview?”
“There's been something wrong with my voice mail.”
“The interview is at 12 today, Banty.”
Panic fell over me. I still felt half-drunk half drunk from the night before.
“Shit! I mean, shoot. We're gonna have to re-schedule. I have, uh, a class, soon.”
“No you don't Banty. Remember I helped you make your schedule. I have it right in front of me. You have classes tonight. Besides, we can't reschedule. This is not a class Mr. Witter, it is the real world where responsibility is necessary.”
“What day is today?”
“Wednesday. Is everything alright Mr. Witter?”
“Yeah, just great. So where am I going?”
Huvstad gave me directions from school. The interview was at a place called the Bartonsville Arms Hotel. Huvstad said it was a nice place, and told me to dress up. I showered quickly and began to get ready. As each minute passed I felt a sense of dread fall over me. I had no idea what to do or say. I had picked hotel restaurant management as a major with a blindfold on. The truth was I didn't know what to do with myself. My hand was sweating and as I knotted my tie it shook.
I took a look in the mirror and other than the bags underneath my eyes, I looked good. My nerves finally overcame, though. I sprinted to the bathroom and vomited harshly. I sat back on the floor and realized I needed to calm my body.
I walked back into my room. It was 11. I pulled out my sack and cut up a line. “I just need a quickie. Gotta get back in control,” I said to myself.
I ripped the line and smoked a cigarette. As I walked out the door it was 11:30. I was at my car in ten minutes. Huvstad said the place was fifteen minutes away. Was it possible that I planned this perfect.
Maybe not. I pulled into what looks like a Transylvanian castle at about 12:15. I had forgotten that I needed cigarettes so the plan had been poor after all. I jogged causally into the castle and made my way up to the front desk. I felt a single bead of sweat beginning to form on my forehead. Behind the desk was a woman in her forties who was wearing too much make-up. Her name-tag read Leslie. She greeted me with a half smile.
“May I help you?”
As she asked she nodded forward with one eye squinted shut.
“Yeah, I'm Banty Witter. I have an appointment with Mr. Fink.”
“Let me check.” She stared at me for a few moments before looking down to a huge red book that rested on the desk in front of her. “You're late, Mr. Witter.”
“Right, well on the way over here a …”
“Yes, fine, good. Save it for Mr. Fink. He is waiting for you right behind this door.”
As soon as I walked through the door I was immediately hit with a blinding light. It was the lamp on Mr. Fink's desk. It felt like a police interrogation room. I walked in and shut the door. Mr. Fink leaned forward and turned the light down a bit. He stood up and shook my hand. He was tall and lanky. He had high black hair and a pair of black glasses.
“Mr. Witter, have a seat.”
He motioned to a chair in front of his desk. He took his seat. I looked around the room and noticed a man in the corner. He had a note pad and a pencil. I nodded to him. He didn't respond, but looked right at me. I sat down.
“Mr. Witter, you do know that you were supposed to be here at 12 O' clock, don't you?”
“Yes, of course I did. Really it was unavoidable. You see with all the rain and there were accidents all over. I got stuck, unfortunately.”
Mr. Fink stared at me before looking over to the man in the corner. He looked back at me.
“Well then, we are a bit pressed for time, so let's get on with it.”
“Right, right, yeah, let's go,” I said.
“Okay. Mr. Witter what quality do you believe most makes you fit for a place such as the Bartonsville Arms?”
“Quality, yeah, okay. What quality do I, hmm. That's a good question, Mr. Fink. I think it's my work ethic, I like to work, I am a hard worker, you know, not, not, not, afraid of a little work. Also, I'm very friendly, so that could possibly help as well, with dealing with people, and uh, other things of that nature.”
Again Mr. Fink looked over at the man in the corner.
“Things of what nature?” he asked me.
“Excuse me, nature?” I said as I sat forward in my chair.
“No, nothing Mr. Witter. Do you have a resume we could look over.”
I sat back in my chair and crossed my legs.
“Here's the thing with that. I had my resume all set this morning when my computer crashed and the lights went out and so I ran to the computer lab on campus with my disk and was told everything had been erased. By that time I had to get ready to come here and I didn't want to be late.”
“But you were late Mr. Witter.”
“Right, the rain, I mean, you know.”
I sat forward in my seat.
“What do you think you could improve most about yourself by working here at the Bartonsville Arms.”
I sat back in my chair and crossed my legs. I looked over at the man in the corner. He was watching me. I sat forward again.
“It's not my work ethic, because I love to work. And I'm very friendly so people skills are good. I mean I have some personal things I'm working on, but that really shouldn't affect anything that we do here.”
Again Mr. Fink looked over at the man in the corner. He shook his head. The man in the corner got up and walked over to me.
“Thank you for your time Mr. Witter. We'll be in touch.”
“Oh yeah sure no problem. Anytime really. You guys can call whenever just, uh, you got my number, right.”
“Yes we do Mr. Witter, we do.”
I backed out of the room and watched the door shut in front of me. I waved good bye to Leslie and walk outside. I hopped in my car and spark a cigarette. As I sat in my car I felt as if none of that interview with Fink had ever happened. It was like I had been dreaming and now had awoken inside my car, dressed in a suit. Had the meeting really happened, though, I liked my chances to get a call back.
|