Steel & Ice (6 page)

Growing up I never had my own space. My
mother talked nonstop and yelled when I didn’t listen. When she
wasn’t yapping my ear off, she was raiding my room for drugs and
paraphernalia. She raised a smart girl though, so I got creative in
my hiding places as well as moving them around frequently. It
wasn’t so much that about the drugs, it was about control. My
mother wanted control over me and my sister. When she didn’t get
it, she used her words to make us feel worthless. For me, her
favorite way was to compare me to my sister. She thought this would
get me to work harder to please her like my sister, as well as turn
us against each other.

My sister followed the rules. She did
everything my parents asked and more. It became her mission to
please them. It was never enough, though. She got a full
scholarship to college out of state, and hauled ass out of my
parents’ house the day after graduation. She left scarred like me.
Our scars were different, but they originated from the same place.
We both desperately needed control to feel safe. Control was like
gold in our household. Whoever had the most was the winner in some
sick twisted game my mother played with out minds. I think the
distance was my sister’s way of attempting to reign in some control
from my parents. You could say she was more subtle with her
rebellion, whereas I shoved it in my parents’ face

I started working when I was fourteen, and
began saving for a car from my first day on the job. When I turned
sixteen, I got my license and saved for a few more months before
getting myself some wheels. It was old and rusty, but it was golden
to me. It meant I didn’t have to rely on anyone to drive me around,
or come get me out of the stifling weight that pushed on me at my
parents’ house. My mom tried to give me a curfew. By that time I
was already working late nights in the kitchen and partying with
adults. I was done following her rules. At the time, it was a
matter of self-preservation. At least on the streets I was in
charge of my body and my life, or I thought I was.

******

I was half way into the fall semester, and a
few months into my volunteering. Chris, Aaron and I were draped
over Chris’ beat up sectional we all loved. I preferred not to have
people over to my place, and Aaron had a roommate so Chris’ place
became the gathering place when all three of us were together.
Aaron had fucked a hippy the previous night and scored some killer
nuggs and Xanax. We were all on cloud nine when Chris decided to
bust into my business.

“
So what’s up with this
volunteer shit you’re so tight lipped about?”

It took me a minute to answer as I was in
slow motion by that point. I hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but
she caught me with my defenses down. You might have gotten every
single deep, dark secret out of me in that moment. Luckily, she
just wanted to know about my time at the center.

“
You know, when I’m on
campus I feel good. I feel clean. Like my life may have some
purpose. And I didn’t even know I was lacking purpose. I was just
going through the motions of life. I was so anxious to get out of
my parents’ house and to be able to stop fucking guys for a place
to sleep at night, that I didn’t think about much else. I’ve got my
place and my shit all in order now. I stopped having self
destructive sex years ago. Well, fuck, I kinda miss sex. Anyhoo, it
was boredom that made me take a class at the college. When I’m
there I feel at ease. I can’t explain it. It’s like I’m OK cuz I’m
doing something with myself. It’s not the streets where you gotta
fight to stay alive and not get raped, beaten, or killed. I feel
calm. It’s like I can let my guard down a little. God, it’s so
fucking refreshing to not have to look over my shoulder all the
time. “

“
Pause your monologue, and
puff puff pass, chica,” Aaron interrupted.

“
Deflect much? Volunteer?
What the fuck? You’re not going Jesus on me are you?” Chris asked,
bolting up from her seat.

“
Jesus? What? Dude, it’s a
Latino community center. Where the fuck did you get Jesus from?” I
chuckled, shaken out of my monologue, which was really a soliloquy,
as I had forgotten Aaron and Chris were there. Oops.

“
Whatever. What’s up with
it, and why aren’t you telling me about it? And why are you
monologue-ing about school?” Chris asked, passing me the pipe. “Hit
that before you start up again.”

I puffed on the pipe and heard the familiar
crackling sound signaling the bowl was cashed, empty. I passed it
to Aaron. “Cuz I get a similar feeling at this volunteer gig. I
don’t know how to talk about it. It’s causing feelings I can’t
identify. How is that possible?” I paused to stare at my hand in
front of my face. It was looking kinda weird. I shook my head to
clear it and get back on track. “I’m working with teens. Some only
five years younger than me. And Penny’s telling them not to do
stuff that I’ve done, and some things I still do. It makes me feel
weird, yet I like going, even if I’m just cooking. And the kids are
warming up to me. It was all awkward and shit at first. You know I
ain’t exactly Ms. Personality when I meet people. I was scared
shitless my first day. Not to mention Penny is 4’9” and I felt like
the giant white girl.”

“
High five,” Chris dead
panned, raising her hand. “Giants rock.”

“
What the fuck, Elle?!”
Aaron yelled.

“
Oh yeah, the bowl is
cashed, Aaron.”

“
Fuck you. For that you’re
packing out of your sack.”

I tossed Aaron a couple nuggs from my
plastic baggie of marijuana and asked if I could continue my
monologue. I didn’t wait for permission. I was on a roll.

“
Like this one girl,
Genesis. She’s been helping me with dinner the past few weeks, but
we haven’t talked about much. Not like I can tell her much about
me. ‘Oh hey I sell weed here and there to supplement my income and
smoke it all the time. I fucked a married man when I was sixteen,
and had a crack head point a gun at my head once.’ Like, what the
fuck am I supposed to talk to her about? And then out of nowhere
last week she starts telling me her boyfriend, who’s twenty-four
while she’s fifteen, and ole boy is pressuring her to have sex.
Suddenly, I’m counseling her about making smart decisions, and that
no one should make her do anything she doesn’t want to. I even told
her that I regretted some guys I slept with when I was her age, and
how I have to live with that shit. I push it to the back of my
mind, but it’s never gone. How the fuck am I, a stoner to the core,
giving advice to a fifteen year old? But dude! It felt good. She
hugged me and thanked me for keeping it real with her. Like, what
other way can I keep it? Real is all I know. Real, raw, and
un-fucking-censored. OK, I censored. She’s fifteen. It’s like, I
like being there with the teens. I’m building relationships with
them, and it trips me the fuck out.”

“
It’s just you and me. Chris
is out,” Aaron said, passing me the pipe. “I think it’s cool what
you’re doing. Don’t think too hard about it. You over analyze shit
to death. Just roll with it, chica. It sounds like you’re diggin’
it.”

“
Yeah, I guess I am,” I
said, lapsing into thought.

“
Oh no, pass that shit back
before you get lost in your head again,” Aaron said with his hand
out stretched.

“
I love you, Aaron
Brown.”

“
I love you too, Eleanor
Skye. So long as you stop passing me cashed bowls,” Aaron added.
Totally
not
stoner
etiquette to pass a cashed bowl. “You’re one of a kind, you
know.”

“
Oh dude, don’t get all
weird on me. I’m getting that shit from Larry enough,” I exclaimed,
hitting him in the arm.

“
Larry?”

“
Dude, he’s been saying shit
sometimes. Like about what a catch I am and shit. It’s fucking
weird. I trust Larry the most out of all the guys in the kitchen.
But ew, Larry. He might charm the ladies at Checks with those eyes
of his, but he will always be the Larry I first met in a Metallica
T and ripped up jeans. It’s a miracle he doesn’t have a mullet. I’d
love to see his high school year book.”

That sent Aaron into fits of giggles, which
sent me into giggles, and the next thing you know we had tears
coming down our eyes.

“
Whew. Damn,” Aaron said,
catching his breath. “You
are
a catch. We’ve all watched you grow from sixteen
to almost twenty-three. You look good, bitch. Take the compliment.
And Larry isn’t that bad looking. You just can’t see anyone who
isn’t seven feet tall.”

“
But Larry? I’d fuck you
before I’d fuck Larry.”

“
Oh honey that’s so sweet.
I’m touched,” Aaron said, putting his hand over his heart. “But I
steer clear of the pussy. No offense.”

I started to laugh, afraid the giggles would
suck me in again. “No sweat. I’m strictly dickly too. Fuck pussy.”
I could barely get the last works out before we were both lost in
giggles clutching each other so as to not fall off the sectional.
It wasn’t really all that funny, but we were floating by that
point. Chris was down for the count, passed out and missing
giggle-fest.

Chapter 4

It was Black Friday. In the restaurant
business there were three days we dreaded most: Mother’s Day,
Valentine’s Day, and fucking Black Friday. We opened at ten in the
morning to a line of customers. By two o’clock, I was not only
cooking, managing the tickets so the food came out together and on
time, but I was also running interference as the guys got grumpy.
This was soooo not in the job description: calming down grown men
acting like babies over some stupid steaks and French fries, and
their inability to manage a little stress. We weren’t creating
world peace. We were flipping burgers for fucks sake.

In good form, Larry was bucking up for the
most part. He was on the massive grill, one of the most challenging
places to be on the line other than running point. I asked Jesse,
on the fryers, for a chicken tender platter and he started to lose
it. I called to one of the servers to see if Aaron could come cook
for a few minutes so we could get back on track. Thankfully, Aaron
showed up promptly, and not too high to help Jesse. I told him to
drop twenty chicken tenders and two baskets of fries into the hot
grease right away.

I walked over to the fry station, and put my
hand on Jesse’s shoulder. Using my calmest voice, I told him,
“You’re doin’ great man. Just hang in there. Two more hours and our
shift is over, and I’ll buy you a drink at Checks. Aaron’s gonna
make that chicken tender platter and a few chicken tender baskets.
You work on salads, and we’ll be out of this in no time.” I looked
at Aaron to make sure he caught that, and his head nod told me he
was on top of it. Thank god! Despite the length of the tickets
handing off the printer, I gave Jesse a reassuring slap on the back
and walked back over to my station.

“
OK gentlemen,” I yelled,
clapping my hands together. “Let’s do this shit. Larry, hook me up
with six burgers, one with cheese. José, plate ‘em up and make sure
to look at the specs cuz one is no onion and one extra tomato. I
got four steaks coming up, one medium and three well done. Larry,
toss a couple more chicken breasts on the grill for now, and I’ll
tell you what to do with them in a sec. Aaron, make sure you got at
least four orders of mozzarella sticks in the grease and some extra
chicken tenders. Jesse, you just keep at it with the salads. Ya’ll
good?” They grunted in unison, and I took that as a yes.

Everything came together. I handled a few
disgruntled servers, but all in all it wasn’t a bad day. I’d seen
worse Black Fridays. The night crew started coming in at quarter to
four, and we all gave a ‘hallelujah’ shout. It had been a long day.
I was off the hook for my usual Friday night shift. Larry worked a
double shift, so he wasn’t getting off work yet. That meant it
would just be me and Jesse at Checks.

“
Hey. Hook me up with some
nuggs?” Larry asked, as I was getting my stuff around in the back
to leave. I took pity on the poor guy. I had gotten out of Friday
night because I agreed to work the day shift and come in early to
prep extra stuff for the busy day.

“
Jesse, you ready?” I asked.
He nodded.

“
Alright. Larry, lets hit my
car up real quick and I’ll pack one. You trynna puff,
Jesse?”

“
Fuck yeah,” he huffed.
Jesse didn’t get high often, but after the day we’d had, I knew he
would want some. He did good after I talked him down. He deserved
it. Dear god, I’d been reduced to placating adult men and rewarding
them for good behavior with weed. What the fuck?

As we walked past the managers’ door to exit
through the back, I knocked on it. “Thanks for the help, Aaron. You
got a sec to help me move a keg?”

“
I got you, chica.” There
was no keg. That was code for ‘are you able to come get high with
us?’

“
Can you get someone to
cover the grill so Larry can come out?” I asked Aaron.

“
Yeah, I’ll take care of it
and be out in a second. Don’t have me comin’ out there and you pass
me a cashed bowl,” Aaron teased.

“
I’ll make sure you’re
puffing green,” I told him with a wink. That meant he would get to
hit a fresh packed bowl that was still green. No one had puffed on
it yet, turning the nuggs black, and then to ash.

“
Be out in ten,” Aaron
replied.
I guess I’ll be packing two
bowls,
I thought to myself.