Rat Poison

The lipstick I chose was a shade of deep red that felt impenetrable. The colour turned me black and white, softened my edges but kept the shadows, ghost-like, with floating red lips.

"Do you think they'll remember me?"

"We went to school with them since we were kids. Of course they will." Evie laughed. She sat on top of the sink in the washroom, dangling feet, leaning into the mirror. She was done-up in old glamour with blond curls and electric silk dress. On any other person it would have looked cheap, but the white sparkled lids were like sea foam and sand from old mythology.

I hoped they wouldn't remember me. I didn't fully exist back then, and they didn't really look at me back then either. They didn't know me with red lips. I was so quiet that I don't think they'd recognize the sound my voice. A week back home and I had shrunk back into the voiceless child I had sworn to leave behind. No - I they would see me this time and I would speak. I'm not scared. I'm excited. I'm not scared. I'm excited.

“So… in this are you hoping to see Calvin S– ”

I cut her off. “It’s been 4 years. I’ve liked other boys since then.”

She gave me that sweet look adults give to kids or dogs or innocent creatures that hid and cried when the lights sparked into darkness in a storm.

Innocence was a fascination to the boys back then. It was the one thing they knew of me, besides my silent brown eyes. A few impertinent questions and blushes and they would have you sorted. The boys would make that coy, competitive face, as they imagine the things they could tell you or do to you. Thomas Garland, and his black curled hair, told me once that he was going to "corrupt me" and he made it sound like it was something I would want. Like corruption was some sludge I'd want to roll around in.

The dirt stuck to your skin in the old town different than the sweaty unnamed sticky filth of the city. Gasoline perfume was money to our untrained noses. The dirt still felt like something to be ashamed of. It was baked onto your skin, years of sedimentation, layers of dirty poor, classless, stupid. You start walking around in a place and you start to feel yourself smelling like the city, getting powdered by pollen and cigarette smoke, and feeling like a mixture of babies crying and men catcalling and business ladies ignoring. I could be anyone. I could take on different faces as I walked, like good side of schizophrenic that feels like shapeshifting – not like myself; not like the dirt in the old town.

The smog hid the stars and the sun, leaving only the hazes of light, dreamy like in the movies. Even though breathing it in was a slow death, there's always some beauty in destruction. Blame the writers and artists for that.

In Psych 101 we learnt that people make bad decisions at night because they feel hidden by the darkness. Shadow faces wavering between dark and darker, unconsciousness and rebellion, whispers and screams. I wanted them to see me this time. The voice of Thomas in my ear said, 'you want that lipstick smeared.' Not kissed. But corrupted. Just their eyes on me. Keep my innocence, but feel their corruption wash over me like skates gliding on top of ice. A Christian girl's secret addiction.

A stand-up comedy show was still humming in the living room, but mom and dad were asleep. I didn't need to check to know that. They had no energy these days. We could have walked out the front door. Even if they were to wake up they wouldn't care, we were adults, but Evie opened the window so we could jump out and onto the rain barrel like we used to do.

We ran down the gravel road and slid into Evie's old white truck. The engine rumbled underfoot as we drove past town hall, the 50-person chapel and the small k-12 school. Just outside of town was a patch of forest that no one knew whose land it was. Through the tree branches you could see beams of light. Tire tracks made a path through tall grass. It was bumpy as we drove through the scattered trees to a row of parked cars. A fancy new black truck with big wheels was playing music and blasting it’s headlights like a lighthouse.

The old red barn brought back the feeling of hope and fear. Smoke and small-town sin and dancing girls.

At one point, this was a place for animals, but after years of abandonment, kids found it and it became a place of smoke and sin. Compared to clubs in the city, you would think the dancing was wholesome; it didn’t mean the people were less savage.

The barn was filled with about 60 people. Most of them we hadn’t seen since graduating high school a few years back; most of them were from our class, but there were a few who were a couple years older or younger.

“He’s here.” She pointed to a group of boys next to the cooler of drinks.

He looked just as I remembered him. Tall and gangled. Always laughing or talking too loud. He could make a person smile even in an argument. Sometimes I wonder if what I felt for him back then was love, or if I just wanted the same openness and freedom he had. He was of the few who tried to talk to me even though I was shy.

Thomas staggered into the middle of the barn and hollered, “let’s turn this party up!” Tipping back his head, he downed the rest of his beer. People came in and formed a circle around him, all expecting the usual drama. He thrived on people’s attention, which he naturally got. The glass bottle made a thud as he set it down on the cracked wooden floor and he gave it a spin.

“If you wanted to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.” Said Calvin.

“It’s kiss or dare, you fairy.” Thomas wasn’t the joking type. To him, jokes implied there was conflict that you were too weak to resolve head on.

Thomas looked around and up and down, weighing his options. I prayed it wouldn’t stop on me. I could feel my legs leaning back. I was thirsty. I hadn’t gotten a drink yet. But I stayed in the circle.

The bottle stopped on Evie.

“Well?”

“You’d have to pay to kiss me.”

“Still the nightwalker you used to be. Oh wait – you’re now a city girl, you must have studied to be an escort, right?”

“You going to dare me to do something?”

“Open your wallet and give whatever money you got.” He knew we were poor.

“No.”

“It’s that poetic irony. Shakespeare bullshit you like.”

Evie took out her wallet and dropped a few coins on the ground. “Here you are.”

“Thanks.” Thomas didn’t pick up the money. No one did.

Evie kicked the bottle and it rolled to Calvin.

“Here’s to my first kiss!”, he said as he spun the bottle. His joke was somehow less funny to people when the bottle stopped at my feet. Was he disappointed? He was analysing my face just as hard as I was trying to look a mixture of confident and apathetic.

“You’re freaking her out. Just give her a dare.”

Shit. My face is so obvious.

“No. I’ll play by the rules.” I said.

“You don’t have to kiss me, you know. Or it can just be on the cheek... if you want.”

So, he doesn’t want to kiss me then. He was trying to convince not to. I don’t think anyone had ever seen a more serious look on his face. His voice was distant and quiet too.

“Give me a dare.” My voice was cold. I hope felt that. Maybe I’ll kiss Thomas in front of him. No. That wouldn’t do anything. Schoolgirl tricks only work when they care for you.

“Still not the kissing type. Too bad. Well, to keep the poetry alive. Let’s find something you find comfortable kissing.” Said Thomas who crowned himself the games-master. He walked around the barn slowly, inspecting each abandoned item. Holding up an empty tomato soup can and waiting for his audience to laugh. All the while, Calvin had quietly made his way around the circle. He opened a storage cupboard and took out a dusted tub of rat poison.

“I think be the best kiss of the night.” Thomas smirked and lit a joint.

Evie got in his face. “You’re an ass. We’re not playing this game.”

“But Esther’s still playing. Aren’t you?”

Of course, I’m still playing. But I couldn’t say it out loud. My muscles were frozen; my breath was caught in my throat.

Calvin stood next to me and whispered, “you don’t have to impress Thomas, you know. You don’t have to kiss me either.. I know a magic trick – if you trust me.”

I nodded.

He put one hand behind my back and slid his other hand over my mouth and brought his head in close. His hand between our two mouths. The group squealed. They didn’t know that it wasn’t a real kiss. It felt real though.

Thomas looked pissed; he hated not being in control. A guy pushed past him to get a drink and it set him off. Thomas punched him, full force, in the face; the guy staggered, confused as to what him. Then focused on Thomas’s clenched fist, and ‘what are you gonna do about it’ face.

“What the hell?!”

Calvin and two of his friends stepped in to hold the two apart from each other. Girls started leaving – not looking to get caught in a brawl. The party evacuated.

“Come on – let’s go,” said Evie leaving.

People pushed past me, but I waited. No one saw me, but I left a mark for myself. A red kiss smear on top of the tub of rat poison.