My room is warm and cozy when I walk in. At least I can lounge around now, instead of having to wear these socks. I hate socks. My toes never did like being imprisoned. I drop my bag on the floor, take off my shoes and socks and curl up on my bed. It's early afternoon. I shouldn't take a nap, I should go down to the studio and work on my project. The phone rings.
"Hey Cas!"
"Hey, how are you?"
"Oh, I'm good." The slight hesitation in my voice doesn't fool Cassie, I know this. But she doesn't pick at it.
"That's good. So, what's new? I know, I'm a completely bad best friend for not calling you more often."
"Oh whatever. Not much is new. My project's going pretty well. Should be a masterpiece by the time Christmas rolls around."
"Christmas? I thought it was due by Thanksgiving?"
"Exactly..." I get up off my bed and turn on my hotplate. I hear something crash on the other end.
"Cas, you ok?"
"Huh? Oh yeah, that was outside. Stupid cats, they're always knocking garbage cans over. This place is such a shithole. I can't wait to move."
"What? You're moving? When did that happen?" For a second I feel flushed and in shock. Cassie didn't tell me about that before.
"Calm down. I'm not moving. But I want to. Just to the other side of campus. But they're all two bedrooms, so I'd have to get a roommate. Hence, I'm not moving just yet." My breath comes a little easier and I pour my tea, green.
"Well, do you have any ideas as to who you might want to ask? I can't imagine living with another person. Well, I could live with you or Bobby... maybe Bobby. But just some person that you don't really know, I couldn't do that. Then again, maybe I should consider it since my rent might be going up. Cas? You still there?"
"Yeah, I'm still here." Her voice is hesitant.
"What's the matter?"
"Uh... well... I might have someone to ask." She clams up again. I hear her take a deep breath.
"Cas, what's going on? Who is it?" Now I'm nearly nervous. Images fill my brain: slashes of red, clouded rain over Cassie's head.
"Ang, you can't be mad. I didn't want to tell you at first because I wasn't sure where it was going, but now it might be going somewhere, somewhere good. But now I can't not tell you and I'm so afraid of what you're going to say to me...."
"Cassie!" I interrupt her. She's rambling, her sign of anxiety. "Just tell me."
"I met someone." A long pause. "His name is Andy. He owns an art gallery downtown. Well, he doesn't own it, but his father does. He works there, he paints too. He's... nice."
"And...?"
"And we're dating." I can't believe this. She didn't tell me that she's dating someone. Then again, our last conversation was mostly about me and the professor. "Ang?"
"Yeah, I'm here. That's great." I try to sound convincing, but my mind is doubtful I'll ever convince myself. Cassie has never held anything back before. I realize my hands are trembling and I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder, wringing my hands.
"Ang..." I hear her breathe heavy and I can tell she's going to say something to make me feel better, when I understand her hesitance.
"Cas, it's ok. I'm fine. You really like him, huh?"
"Yeah. He's fantastic. He's so sweet to me and I can talk to him about almost anything. It just feels really great to be able to do that in person. He kinda reminds me of you. Except..."
"That sounds good. He sounds like a great guy." My voice is monotone as I interrupt and I can't help but feel ashamed. Cassie doesn't skip a beat.
"You'll meet him." Another long pause. Am I supposed to understand what she meant by that? "Ang, come out this summer. Stay the whole time. The three of us will have so much fun."
"Uh... yeah. Actually, it would be so great to see you again." Now my voice lets loose another emotion: loneliness. But before I can get caught up in it, Cassie changes the subject.
"But what did you do today?" Kyle's smile and eyes flashes through my mind.
"Oh, not much. Errands. Professor Hanyan barely made it to class today."
"What about Trawlen?"
"Yeah, it's going. I can't seem to do anything right in his class. I'm just not good at writing papers."
"Well, you can always get a tutor. I mean, they can't be all that bad. I'm one, right?" Cassie giggles.
"I suppose you're right. I can't let him get away with it." I say this last sentence in a lowered voice, hoping Cassie will let it slide.
"Well, I gotta go. Homework calls. And there's this meeting tonight. Some department thing." She sounds so innocent. I sigh as I realize how innocent she actually is.
"Have fun with that." I grin, thinking that Cassie probably would.
"Later." I hang up the phone and sigh. Cassie always puts me in a better mood. She makes me remember all the fun times we had in high school, before things got complicated. An image of hands, rough and big, flashes into my mind. The skin over my ribs and chest starts to burn, irritating. Instead of touching where it hurts, I grab my mug.
The tea is hot, burning slowly into my top layer of skin. The heat searching for a way into my bloodstream. I put down my mug and rub my hands together. My skin is smooth, yet leathery. The palms of my hands not silky enough to create instant heat. The skin over my knuckles wrinkles into deep crevasses when I straighten my fingers out. Its looseness tempting me to grab and pinch it, rolling it into taut shapes like tiny mountains.
A hard knock at the door and a swift opening. Jasmine stands ready to invade my thoughts. Her eyes glow with something I've never encountered before. A kind of confidence that seems to overpower others. I retreat into myself, watching how I perk up at her entrance. But I can see the difference instantly. I am an atom, pulled into her magnetic field.
"I heard you come home," she says with a click. She's sucking on something, the noise made from hitting her teeth.
"I've got a lot to catch up on. I can't play right now."
"No, it's fine. Same here." She plunks herself down on the edge of my bed, leaning back on her elbows.
"So, why are you here?" She takes another long suck, letting the noise become annoyingly loud.
"I said I'd be over this afternoon. It's the afternoon..." I can tell she's dying to tell me something. Normally, she just blurts it out.
"What did you do today?" I look away towards the window, giving her space to talk.
"Not much. Classes, phone calls, food. Normal stuff."
"Phone calls?" I have no idea where this is leading, but it's more intriguing than my homework.
"With my parents." Her words are heavy and float to my ears with slow meaning.
"Your parents? How are they?" I've never even heard her say the word parents, let alone talking about her own.
"Fine. They bought a new car. Mercedes or something. I wasn't really paying attention." She finishes what she's sucking and swallows. "My mom's moving part of her company to Philadelphia."
"She own's a company?"
"Only in name, she doesn't work. It was my great-grandfather who started it. They just give my mom the final decision. She only goes to board meetings. Stuff like that. But my brother... He's the favorite, thank god. He'll be a lawyer just like Dad and I get to dig stuff up." She lets out a giggle from her stomach, low and throaty.
I look at Jasmine now, really seeing the way she looks back at me. Her eyes show the sense of self-posession that only a few are born with, but now I can see her past looking at me through half-open eyelids. She's rich; grew up that way. I always knew that and always expected her to behave like the standard spoiled girl she was probably raised as. But she grew up motivated; running towards something she could never see, but knew she could own. Jasmine never said she was sorry.
"What's your brother's name?"
"Gregory." I nearly choke on a puff of air and spit. I wasn't expecting something so conventional. Jasmine is African, or so she always says. Egyptian, but not by birth. Her father emigrated to the US when he was very young.
"Do you want any tea?" I get up and put my own mug away.
"No, that's ok. I really should go write a paper or something." She stands up and pulls all her hair over her right shoulder. I grin as she opens the door and looks back at me before she leaves. Her mouth has a frowned look and she can't look away. She tilts her head to the side, gives a quick smile and is gone.
Her perfume still sits in the air, waiting for me to walk through it. I always did like the way Jasmine smelled, so feminine. I willingly walk through her scent towards the bathroom. As I brush my teeth and splash water over my pale skin, I think of people. Jasmine is always feminine but hard, never letting anyone have the last word. Cassie isn't hard at all. She's more like a soft pillow; you can manipulate her, but rarely do because of her worth as a support for your head. Bobby. He has he word stereotype written on his forehead. But he plays up to it, controlling others opinion of him by how they think they perceive him.
I wonder if the same goes for me. I am friends with all these people, but why? Am I friends with them because I see a part of myself in them? What parts of me do I see, the good or the bad? I look into my eyes in the mirror. Dark brown and wide. I follow the curve of my cheekbone down until my eyes lock unfocused. I can see into the very center of my body: a dark place full of flowing red and black, confused emotions lapping upon vacant sandbars.