by Ryder Collins
These are the things Homegirl remembers from that night; these are not the only things that happened and some of them may not have even happened cos Homegirl’s been so drunk she’s hallucinated from the drink like Toulouse-motherfucking-Lautrec at least twice before that night, so it’s possible some of it’s all made up.
It’s possible but I know it’s not made up.
It was supposed to be a special night, so you know Homegirl shoulda known shit wasn’t gonna go down right or that the shit was really gonna go down. I mean, Homegirl’s cried consecutively on all her birthdays, her 1st through her 26th, except her 24th.
She got laid that night; she doesn’t usually get laid on her bday.
The anticipation, the build-up might have led to all this. Or the fact that Richboy is one sick fuck. But, Homegirl’s still kinda in denial on that one. At least until she sees the damage done.
She went to his apartment to pick him up. There was a chick there, in his kitchen, with a big glass of wine and pinot noired lips. Homegirl immediately bristled and immediately tried to hide her reaction; both Richboy and this new chick saw it, tho.
The chick was really thin with straight hips and big big titties; Homegirl was jealous. Homegirl’s tits were more than nice but she was curvy like a real woman and not anorexic or boylike, and Homegirl’d been picking up vibes from Richboy lately about her form. Plus, just who the hell was this chick and what was she doing in Richboy’s place?
Homegirl, Richboy said, meet Roomy.
They shook hands.
She’s my new roommate, Richboy said.
Homegirl wanted to say, Did your trust fund dry up?
Homegirl wanted to say, Where’s the bitch sleeping? But, she said nothing. She was always and always like that around the men she really liked. Anyone else she’d tell to fuck off or wouldn’t give the time of day to; she could ignore a motherfucker so hard it hurt like you got kicked in the nuts. But, if she really really liked someone she’d be all passive and sincere.
It could be a complete turn-off.
I had to give up my office, Richboy said.
These things are the things Homegirl really remembers cos she only had a swig of Jameson’s from the bottle before she went to pick Richboy up. She knew better but she’d gotten nervous picking out the right dress. Everything’d looked so gaudy and tight.
Richboy handed her a tallboy of Hamm’s. I’m trying to get the hipsters to drink this instead of Pabst, he said.
Homegirl should have taken that crap as a sign and left then. Instead, she popped the can open and chugged to show her skills. Roomy took a petite sip of pinot; Richboy opened himself another Hamm’s. It was already his fourth tallboy, but Homegirl didn’t know that.
How do you know Richboy? Homegirl asked Roomy.
Yeah, she said. There was an ad for a roommate who drinks and reads. That’s all it said and I was intrigued.
Really? Homegirl looked at Richboy.
Yeah. Richboy rubbed his hairy chest. He was wearing his shirt unbuttoned low like he wanted to be a 70s pornstar and/or Nick Cave.
This convo Homegirl remembers, this and dinner where she ate awkwardly around Richboy and he insinuated something about her curves she thinks and she ended up paying cos it was in celebration of his story getting published, a story in which a character not unlike her has a small part where she masturbates with a blue umbrella under a park bench and all Homegirl could think when she read it was oooh spiny or oooh expandable; he hadn’t described the umbrella so she imagined both an old-fashioned pointy one and a boxy collapsible one, whichever it was way too public and possibly too painful for her masturbatings.
Homegirl has always and forever wished there was a female equivalent to the term “whacking off.” She’s used whacked off in texts to Punkboy, cos she can tell him anything, but it always and always makes her feel kind of butch.
She likes to be the woman, even with other women.
But, like I said, these are the things she remembers.
& she remembers a lame writing workshop party where there was talk of tazing old ladies and there was talk of zombie literature. She and Richboy got the hell out of there quick.
But not before he stopped her in the art deco looking almost The Shining apartment hallway and said, I’m a lone wolf.
She imagined twins on trikes knocking into his shins again and again. Maybe she wanted to be one of them or maybe this memory is flavored by what’s to come.
They went to a bar and they talked and Richboy said he should call his new roommate cos she didn’t know anyone in Miltown and Homegirl said fine but really she didn’t want him to so when he didn’t she was happy that she had him all to herself among the drunks at the bar.
They went back to his place and Roomy was still up, still sipping wine.
Even tho she knew better, Homegirl said, Give me a glass of wine.
That’s when things went a little blurry.
Homegirl remembers Richboy opening a jug of cheap wine and she and Richboy drinking it and getting Roomy to drink it, too, even tho she’s a wine snob, supposedly. She remembers Roomy saying, I’m going to bed. She remembers hanging out with Richboy on his balcony. She remembers looking down and thinking about jumping or not jumping, but not thinking about either option very deeply and not caring either way. She remembers Richboy leading her into his bedroom or maybe she led him in. She remembers making out with Richboy and then she has no panties on and only her merry widow.
She remembers Richboy stopping and saying, The media has conditioned me.
She remembers stopping and almost sitting up and saying, The media has conditioned you what?
She remembers him saying something about how she’s too big for him. Too fleshy or something. She vaguely remembers hitting him and he has his hands all over her curvy thighs and they are scuffling but in a kind of not good way.
It could go bad.
It could go good.
Then he’s kissing her and saying something about joking or at least that’s what she thinks he said for her to let him tie her up after that.
She’s tied up and she lets him do whatever to her.
She’s tied up and he finally puts his big cock in her and they fuck and she cums and she thinks something about him and how she wants to protect him from him and how she wants to protect him and how can she protect him and how can she protect him when she’s got these rope restraints and how can she protect him.
He brings out a nurturing aspect in her that makes her want to punch him in the face.
She should have punched him in the face because that was the good part, the telling her she’s fat and the tying up.
After that it goes bad.
After that, he asks her, at one point, Are you a bitch like all the other little bitches?
That’s one of the few things she can remember. That and some woman, maybe Roomy, shoving something, some kind of plant – weed?, parsley? rosemary? thyme? – up her snatch.
Like she was Thanksgiving turkey.
Then she remembers weird dreams and/or weird chanting and shadows dancing and genuflecting and she’s tied up again and was she ever untied and she tried to give Richboy head and that’s when he said the bitch thing or maybe she tried to give him head later cos he was fisting Roomy and she was jealous but if she was tied up how could she even reach.
She remembers missing Punkboy. She remembers wanting him to protect her, somehow. And she remembers waking up in the morning and she was sick and bruised but free and Richboy and Roomy were nowhere and she knew they were gone; & she knew she was hurt and she knew she was hurting and bleeding and she knew the fetus, his fetus, their fetus, the one she’d told him about earlier this week, the one she was gonna stop drinking for, that fetus was gone.
Ryder Collins is working on a novel entitled Homegirl! Her fave word is still "hairshirt," and she thinks she may need to start wearing one soon to atone for all the people she's cared about that she's pushed or allowed to push her away. She can be found here: http://bignortherngirlgoes.blogspot.com/