Short Story Corner

One Wing

          Three hundred and twenty three dollars and twenty three cents. Three hundred and twenty three dollars and twenty three cents. That is all I have to my name. How am I going to survive with three hundred and twenty three dollars and twenty three cents?

          That is what continues to play over and over in my head as I sit on this raggedy and extremely foul smelling bus. I don’t know where I’m going nor what I’m going to do when I get to where ever I’m going. Right now I have absolutely no solutions to any  of my problems. You would think that I have zero problems being that I am a recent Graduate of George Mason University with a major in dance, have so-called loving parents, with a large beautiful home in Virginia Beach, but no. My degree in dance means absolutely nothing in the real world, my father never believed in my choice to pursue dance and my mother? …Well she has no backbone and my oh-so-lovely home in Virginia Beach where I grew up is nothing but large and beautiful on the outside but stale and cold on the inside. That’s why I had to go, well and because of a huge argument I got into with my mom.

           I still cannot believe that she told me, “Man I feel so stupid for forgetting to take my birth control that day. Damn!” And she said it with so much passion in her voice and in her eyes. I knew when she said that, it didn’t just slip out her mouth, but something that has been burning inside of her for 23 years. I was done!...Completely done when those words touched my ears.

          It seems like I have been trying to please them all of my life and still find some way to keep myself happy. I know I’m young but I have learned that is impossible. I have given up on that, on them, and my whole family. All my parents do is compare me to my “amazing” sister who now lives in New York City working for Teen Vogue Magazine, with some important title. I don’t know how many times I have told them I am not Roselyn Marielle Mccullar, I am Rae Jora Mcculler. I am nothing like my sister and don’t want to be nothing like her or my parents for that matter.

          That argument was the turning point for me, so here I am on this bus in some blue jeans, tired sneakers, and a sky blue t-shirt. This is what my entire wardrobe consists of now plus two other t-shirts, one other pair of jeans, and my ballet slippers in my brown back pack. That was all I could grab and all that would fit in my bag in the few minutes I had to leave the house.

          I look up from my worn jeans and out of the window and I begin to imagine myself dancing on the sidewalk, on the benches, in the streets. Ballet, hip hop, ballroom, Latin, African, jazz, Bollywood, even belly dance, I love it all and can do it all.

          A light jazzy beat begins to play in my head and I close my eyes and drift off into my own concert with bright lights, a huge open stage, and an audience so engaged in my performance. Yes, now here comes my leap that ends the show…I get a running start and----.

          “Rae?” I heard someone say.

          I opened my eyes and a dark skinned girl about my age comes walking toward me in the back of the bus. I don’t know who this chick is and by no means am I in the mood of talking to anybody right now.

          “Rae? Is that you? How are ya?”

           I just looked at her, “uhh, yea. Hi”

           “What’s up girl? I haven’t seen you in years.”

           “Yea, it sure has been awhile. Wow!” I said as sarcastic as possible hoping she would get the point.

           “So, do you still dance?”

           Nope! She didn’t catch the hint.

           “Yea” I said hoping now this would end this pointless conversation.

           “You were such a great dancer. I bet you’re getting all types of high-paying gigs huh?”

           Alright I can’t take this not one second longer. The bus was slowing down. YES!

           “Welp, this is my stop. Nice talking to ya.” I replied as I quickly grabbed my things and headed to the door.

           “Uhh yea, nice talking to you too. Maybe I’ll see ya around.”

           “Shit, I hope not,” I mumbled as I stepped off of the bus.

           

          I just walked, and walked and walked. Ten minutes had passed before I realized that I was still walking. I stopped and took a look around. Shit where the hell am I? All I saw was abandoned buildings, grungy-looking people, and trash all over the streets. The sun was beginning to set and I had no idea where I was going to go, where I was going to sleep, what to eat, nothing. That girl totally messed me up. Not that I had any plans, but I know for damn sure I wouldn’t have got off at that stop. Shit!

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzz.

          I reached into my back pack, rustled through my things and finally found my vibrating phone all the way at the bottom.

          “Incoming Call…..Dad,” flashed on the screen.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzzzzzz.

       I hit the ignore button, tossed my phone back into my bag, and kept on walking.

     
       My dad has a way of getting under my skin. I mean, nothing I do he is proud of or believes in. Except for that time where I told my grandmother off for thinking that I was gay because of my eccentric attire. Her words not mine. See my dad and grandmother can't stand one another because she didn't think my mom should have married him but she mooches off of my father's success with every chance she gets. My parents were invited to the White House, she went too. Time magazine ran a cover article on my dad's company, she had to have her two cents. They got a new vacation home down in Miami, she insisted that they purchase her a guest home. I mean really grandma, you're 67 years old why do you need a house on the  beach in sexy Miami, Florida?

             My phone rang again. This time my father was calling from his office phone. "Come on, dad! Clearly I don't want to speak to you," I thought. Again I hit ignore.

            As I continued to walk I saw lights. Maybe I was getting out the dumps of this area. I came to a crosswalk at what seemed like a small business district still in an urban area. There was a candy store that caught my eye. It had a sign in the window that said "All CANDY 1 Penny!" When Roselyn and I were younger and would visit my dad's parents in Pasadena, California they had a store in their neighborhood that sold candy for one cent. I just had to go in there. Before  I did I promised myself that since I only had three hundred and twenty-three dollars and twenty-three cents, I would spend no more than three cents. That may even be too much with my life in shambles right now but eh, you only live once. 

         Inside I was greeted by an older gentleman who introduced himself as Mr. Getty. Seemed real nice. While I browsed I overheard him tell some kids, "go down to the youth center, it's spaghetti night." At the moment when he said spaghetti my stomach started to growl, boy was I hungry. I grabbed a pack of bubblegum, huge Symphony chocolate bar, and a water. There goes my three cents. I was thinking that it should tide me over til I got a real meal but I didn't foresee one anytime soon. 

        I went to the register to pay for my items and Mr. Getty's granddaughter Inez bagged the order. "That will be $1.02," she said sweetly. 

       I questioned, "$1.02?"

       "Yes, that's what I said."

       "But the sign says...."

      Mr. Getty overheard us and interjected. "Dear the sign says "all candy, 1 penny. Water is not candy."

      "I understand sir but you see I'm short on cash and today just hasn't been.."

      My phone was blowing up again. Five text messages and now three missed calls from my father because you know I hit ignore. I looked back at Mr. Getty and he told me, "dear we all have bad days but those bad days prepare us for our brighter ones. The days where we can rejoice that we had a bad a day." I sort of understood but I didn't. It was like he was speaking an ancient proverb or something. "Rejoice that you had a bad day?" Guess I would understand it whenever the brighter days showed up. 

     Mr. Getty asked, "Dear, you aren't from around here are you?" Him continuously calling me Dear was getting on my nerves so I told him my name and part of my story. As I opened my bag to pay Inez he told me that it was on the house. Inez saw my ballet shoes and that led us to talk about dance. For a change I was happy to discuss my formal training. Inez was only in high school but she expressed her dreams of one day attending Julliard and then being a part of a company where she could perform the classics like Swan Lake. I spent about 45 minutes in the store with Inez and Mr. Getty. I decided I should leave before it got too dark, but besides that I needed to figure out where I was really headed.

    Before I left Mr. Getty and Inez both told me I should go down to the Youth Center for spaghetti night. To my surprise it was FREE!  Where I come from you have to pay for everything, even thank you's. The Youth Center was only two blocks away on Main Street and Loving Lane. It was more than I expected. There was kids learning karate, a library/homework area, art studio, and best of all a dance studio with bars and kids who wanted to learn how to perfect their craft. I wonder why Inez didn't mention it was here. I did know one thing though I was in Heaven.

    Just a lady was approaching me, my phone started to vibrate again. This time the Caller ID said Myles. Myles was my parents assistant's son who lived with us. He was like a younger brother to me. We'd grown up in the same house. Shoot, I considered his mother Meghan to be my mother. She treated me as if I was hers. She was there from the time I my mother delivered me and the doctor spanked me on the butt to every pivotal moment and milestone I ever had. I pondered on whether or not to answer but I did. I just hope my dad wasn't using Myles as a pawn to get to me. He knew that kid was my weakness.

       "Hello."

       "Rae, where are you," Myles said. 

       "Myles, what's up my whereabouts are not important."

        "Yes, they are. Mr. Mack (his interrputation of their last name Mccullar) has been calling you all day."

        "Myles, I'm fine. Just after that argument with my mom, I had to leave."

        "Rae, forget all of that we have bigger issues than arguements to think about."

       "What do you mean?"

        "Your dad has been trying to reach you because it's an emergency....."

         "An emergency?"

         "Yes, an emergency. It's....it's....it's Roselyn........

“What about Roselyn?” I said in the most uninterested tone of voice.

“She….well….Roselyn… she’s ...uhhh,” Myles says as he stumbles over his words.

Myles is the most intelligent and articulate kid I know and he has never spoken like this. Ever!

“What Myles? WHAT?!”

            “ROCELYN WENT BLIND!” he blurted out.

            “Blind? Myles what are you talking about?”

            “Sis, she’s blind. She’s blind. She’s blind. She’s blind,” he continued to repeat as I heard his tears begin to run.

            “Myles, Myles, Myles, honey calm down. What happened?”

            “I don’t know. I don’t know. Something about, laser eye surgery, a fake doctor, an accident, I don’t know but she’s blind Rae. Richard called your dad earlier today and tried to explain what happened, but he was so hurt, upset, and angry that your parents still didn’t get the full story, so they flew out to New York immediately.”

            Richard was Rocelyn’s husband of four years and he damn near does anything for her. Of course he does anything for her; he’s living in my sister’s perfect life. Why wouldn’t he be a great guy? Although he’s my brother-in-law and has been in our family for quite some time I don’t really know much about him other than he is “such an amazing man.”

 When Rocelyn moved to New York, I never visited her and she never came back home to visit us. That never bothered me none because we are two very different people, different interests, different perspectives, just different everything. We haven’t “clicked” since we were kids and I have always been okay with that, but hearing this from Myles has me feeling some type of way. I don’t know what to say or do at this point.

“Myles, I gotta go okay,” I quickly said.

“But Rae, are you com-”

Man this kills me to be so short with him, but hell what am I supposed to do or say?

“Myles, I said I gotta go.”

            CLICK. I threw my phone back into my bag and headed towards the cafeteria for this free spaghetti night.

            The woman who attempted to talk to me before she was interrupted by my phone call approached me again. She looked young, maybe a little older than me, very slim, flawless face, big beautiful smile with one dimple on her left cheek with a long brown bob. Just by looking at her, it seemed as though she didn’t belong here. Why? Because she looked too beautiful, too chic, too sophisticated to be in this part of town.

            “Is everything alright, sweetheart?” she said with the most concerned face.

            “Uhhh. Yea everything is fine,” I replied although I knew that she knew that I was lying.

            “What brings you in tonight?”

            “Well, I heard that-” I fumbled as I tried to quickly think of a reasonable story.

“Wait, don’t tell me, you heard about our new dance studio and wanted to check it out?”

That caught me off guard, why would she assume that I came here for dance? I don’t know this woman, and I’m sure this woman doesn’t know me.

“Uhhm…Do I know you?”

She giggled and replied, “No I don’t believe so, but I’m Jillian by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Rae. So why did you think I came here for dance?”

“Well, I noticed how you were standing. Dancers usually stand so gracefully even when they aren’t dancing and I also noticed how you lean on one leg and point your other foot. Sorry, I’m not a creeper or anything. Dancers tend to recognize other dancers by their body language. So am I right or wrong?”        

“Both, I am a dancer, but I came here for the spaghetti night and I didn’t even know this place had a dance studio.”

“Well, Ms. Rae go ahead and get you something to eat. My mother cooks all the food here and her food is amazing. Everyone loves her cooking.”

“Okay, cool,” I said as I smiled and began to feel more comfortable here.

“Yea, the cafeteria is right down the hall and it’s the last door on the right and if you’re not too full after then come down to the dance studio and check it out.”

“Okay, thanks Jillian maybe I will.”

Jillian walked away and headed towards a group of excited young girls and one shy looking guy who all were dressed in dance warm up clothes. I just stood there and watched them as Jillian seemed to pump them up for their first dance lesson. For a second there was an urge in me to start dancing right then and there, but my stomach started yelling at me, plus that would have been just plain awkward to start doing pirouettes down the hall, so I started walking to the cafeteria to see what all the talk was about this spaghetti.

When I entered, the cafeteria was packed with young boys and girls. The chatter and laughter grew and grew as I panned the room. In the far left corner was an older yet pretty woman serving spaghetti. That must be Jillian’s mom. I walked over there and stood in line, it went pretty quick because there was a large amount of spaghetti on my plate in no time. After I grabbed a cup of lemonade from the table I looked around for a place to sit. A group of kids were getting up from a table in the back, so I sat there. Before I could even twirl my noodles around my fork and stuff my face, I felt my bag vibrating again. I reached inside and pulled out my phone and there was a text message from Myles.

It read: Rae, I don’t why you think whatever you’re doing is more important   

   than your  sister   and your family. Everyone is wondering where you    

   are and what you are doing, especially after I told you what    

   happened    to Rocelyn. This is serious and you acting as if you don’t  

   care and I don’t know why you’re acting like that. Well, whatever, do  

   what you want to do, but your parents are flying me out to New York 

   tomorrow and said they would fly you out too but they don’t know 

   where you are. Come home Rae, we need to be with Rocelyn right 

   now.

             

           Before I threw my phone back into my bag, I shut it down and ate all my spaghetti. Man that was sooooo good. Either I was just that hungry or Jillian wasn’t lying about her mother’s cooking. I emptied my tray and left the cafeteria.

         The music that resonated throughout the hallway leads me to the dance studio. I peeked through the window and saw Jillian teaching the group of girls the basics of ballet. The girls in the front reminded me of the first dance class I took with Rocelyn when we were little. Flashbacks streamed through my head, and I just broke down.