chapter 11: cemetery graves

I’m waking up in my bedroom. The night comes rushing back to me. It was a beautiful night. A wonderful day, and a beautiful night. After the meeting (date?) at the diner I asked the girl if she wanted to go to Al’s. She said that she did. We went there and we drank a lot of light beer. I drank Budweiser Light, and she drank PBR. We started to feel really good. We played darts, and it seemed like she was having a good time. There was even one moment when I caught her eye for a second and I felt this glimmer of happiness. Her green eyes seemed to change colors for just one second. Real corny stuff, but it made me feel good, and I haven’t felt good in a long time. I think I deserve a corny day with a beautiful girl. I think everyone deserves that at least once. When we were playing darts these younger guys came over and sat at a table behind us. They both had on RealTree camo hats, and they wore khaki-colored Carhartt jackets. They looked like they just got off of a work shift. They drank Miller Lite beers, and they smoked Marlboro Red cigarettes. At one point when the girl went to the bar, they asked her if she wanted a drink as she walked past them. She told them no. One of them said, “Gee, you can’t even be nice to a lady anymore.” She looked one of the guys in the eyes and said “fuck off.” I’d love to have the confidence to be that direct with someone. The guys just laughed, and one of them even apologized. They left us alone after that. It would be nice if every confrontation in life were this civil. Sadly almost every confrontation ends in death.

The red-haired girl had put Nirvana on this modern jukebox, and we kept playing darts. At one point she told me: “I know everyone likes Nirvana. I know everyone thinks Kurt Cobain means something special to them. I really started liking them after I saw their first SNL performance on an old VHS tape my dad had. He told me the night before they performed Kurt Cobain overdosed, and he still decided to play. He was only 24. That seems so old when you’re a kid, but after you’ve been 24, you realize how young 24 really is. Every age seems so young after you’ve been that age. At the end of the show as the credits roll, the SNL cast was strutting around and waving to the cameras. Kurt just stands on the side, and he seems like he doesn’t know what to do. He has his hands in his pockets and is just sort of staring at the ground. Even when he became a celebrity he still didn’t quite fit in. Right at the end, Chris Farley comes over all nervous, and shakes his hand and says something to him. It’s just such a wonderful moment. The shy rock star, and the shy comedian meeting and shaking hands on national television. Both tortured in their own way. Both would kill themselves in their own way. After that I really got into Nirvana. Their music just sounds cool. Kurt Cobain just looks cool.” I told the girl I liked Nirvana too. I didn’t have any cool stories like that, so I just listed off the songs I liked which is really boring and stupid, but she nodded along when I said the names, and told me she liked those songs too.

Eventually we decided to leave Al’s. As we walked outside, we realized it was dark. When we went in it was still the middle of the afternoon. You can really lose track of time inside a dark, smoky bar. That’s the beauty of them. That’s why people go inside of them: to lose track of time. The girl had told me she didn’t want to go home yet, so I asked her where she wanted to go. She told me she would show me. I got in my car and started to drive. She directed me out of town. Out towards the forest, past the outskirts of town. Past the subdivisions in the suburbs, past the strip malls, past the industrial section. As we drove she played music through the car speakers, and I watched outside as buildings slowly turned into factories, and then gradually into trees. We were back in nature. She had me turn off on a road that didn’t even have a road sign. It was completely dark. I didn’t ask her where we were going. The road turned into gravel, and then it ended. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a road end, but eventually they all have to end somewhere, right? She told me there was a place about a half mile away that she wanted me to see, so I got out and followed her. She led me on a path with the flashlight from her Iphone X Max. I was a little nervous being out in the woods, but she seemed to have done this many times before. After about a 10 minute hike we came to a large opening. The moon was shining bright. Outside of the city the sky is so clear. You could see around you with just the faint light from the moon. It was beautiful and haunting all at once. It gave me this tingly feeling in my stomach. We stood in a small cemetery with ancient looking, dilapidated headstones.

The girl had turned to me and told me “I love to come to this place. There are so many stories here in the headstones that you can read. Coming out here helps me level my head. I wanted to show it to you. One day I just started driving. Turning whenever it felt right. Trying not to think. Eventually I turned onto that old country road, and when it ended, I felt like I should keep moving; so I got out and started walking, and I ended up here. I loved it so much that I spent the night out here. It rained that night, but it didn’t bother me. I slept by this headstone.” She pointed to a headstone that was brown and crumbling. When it new and shiny, it probably had been the tallest headstone in the cemetery. Someone special must be buried under that headstone.

“Come here, let me show you something,” the girl had said to me. She took me to the corner of the clearing. There was a small rectangular headstone, not much bigger than a loaf of bread. It had badly crumbled, but you could make out what it said: “R.I.P. Benjamin Sowders: 1888-1889. Our Angel.” I didn’t know what it was but I started to almost feel weak. I probably hadn’t cried in years, but when I looked at that tombstone my eyes started to burn. A spicy sensation, and a lump formed in my throat. I asked the girl why she showed it to me. “Don’t you know why? It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. I mean I don’t even know how to explain it, but when I looked at it the first time I almost couldn’t move I felt so sad. My vision started to blur. My sadness was so heavy I could barely blink. I could barely breathe.” Then she had turned to me and asked: “ Can I kick you?” I had let the girl kick me. She kicked me hard in the shins. Then she kicked me in the back of the legs. “Can I hit you?” I had told the girl she could hit me. She just slapped at my arms as hard as she could, and she was crying. She was weeping almost, and slapping me hard. It actually hurt, but I didn’t mind. It felt good, and it was just what I needed. I kept looking at that little brown headstone. I had to look away. It was too much. After the girl finished slapping me, she grabbed me. Wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. She squeezed me hard. It wasn’t quite loving, but it wasn’t quite hostile. It felt good. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed hard. We stood like that for awhile. Then when the moment passed we sat down on the ground in silence, and listened to the sounds of the woods. There was the constant echo of the chirping of bugs. The occasional sharp shrill of a bird. Even the rare howl of some large creature. It felt really nice.

While we sat there listening to the sounds of the night, the girl had turned to me. “I think we should have sex now,” she had said to me. I had told the girl it wasn’t necessary. I asked her if she would get any pleasure from it. “Well no, it wouldn’t bring me any physical pleasure, but after all you just did for me, I feel like it’s the least I can do.” I had told the girl it wasn’t necessary. I guess I had kind of wanted to, but the idea of her doing it as a thank you wasn’t very sexy. It made me feel sort of uncomfortable. Like I would be taking advantage of her or something. Most of the fun in having sex is knowing that someone else wants to have sex with you. “Are you sure? She had asked. I’ve had sex with lots of guys in graveyards, and it always really turns them on. I mean there’s the whole looming element of death. And we are simulating procreation. And then when they shoot their sperm, millions of potential children die. And we’re both still alive. There’s a lot to be said about having sex in a cemetery. It’s one of the most audacious things you can do. Even when guys don’t fully understand the complexity of it, it turns them on. The primal fear of death does something for them. Sexual pleasure and terror are the exact same feeling.” I had told her I didn’t want to. I told her I really liked her, but it just didn’t seem right. She didn’t ask me again.

We had sat there in the cemetery a little longer, and then she started talking again. “I want to tell you about how I lost my virginity. Is that okay?” I had told her that it was okay. She didn’t have to, but it seemed like she wanted to. This is what she had told me:

“When I was in middle school there was this boy who really liked me. His name was Ronnie. He wrote me poems every day. He would make little origami birds for me. He was really sweet, but he wasn’t the type of boy I was interested in. During puberty I don’t think you have a type of guy you like, everyone is just attracted to the exact same type of boy. Often times it is literally the exact same boy. The confident strong one. The one that everyone else likes. Girls don’t like to feel alone. When there’s a boy that a lot of people like, we all want him. You can’t help it. Your body just takes over. Unfortunately, Ronnie was skinny and had a weird looking face. Despite this he was one of my favorite people to be around. He was warm and comforting, but I just couldn’t find him attractive no matter how hard I tried.

The boy continued to bring me gifts, and we continued to be good friends, and everyday I told him I wouldn’t date him. It didn’t slow him down one bit. Every day he asked. This boy was a country boy. He lived in a small rural town just outside of Philadelphia, but somehow he still went to my school.

There was this weird phenomenon in the rural areas around Philadelphia. There were these birds that lived up in the hills, and they laid these beautiful eggs. Everyone had seen pictures and drawings of them. They were colorful and had elaborate, intricate geometric patterns. The birds that laid these eggs always kept a watchful eye over them. Everyone who had ever taken one of the eggs had eventually been attacked by these birds. The birds always took both of their eyes. The birds waited. Sometimes months, sometimes years, but if you took one of their eggs they were sure to take your eyes. The eggs were worth lots and lots of money, so the poorer people were always trying to steal them. Sometimes they failed, and sometimes they succeeded, but they were always blinded by the birds. It was like lottery money to them. A ticket out of poverty, but like everything in life, there are no shortcuts, and there are no easy ways to escape what you are. There’s always a catch. Someone or something is always waiting to knock you back down.

Anyway, one day the boy who liked me brought in one of these eggs. He left it in my locker with a note that said: “I love you. Sorry.” I immediately tracked him down. I was furious. He would be blind. I didn’t know why he had done this for me. He told me it was worth it. He said he didn’t mind if he went blind: he had already seen me. He said that I was the only thing he ever wanted to look at. I almost puked, but instead I yelled at him. Screamed. Told him it was never going to happen. That he had thrown his life away. He just smiled and walked back to class. After this, his best friend, Jimmy, came up to me. He asked me for the egg. He said that when they had gone up to the hills he had seen one of the birds watching Ronnie. He said he knew what was coming, but that maybe if he took the egg back the birds would show some kind of mercy. I had gladly given him the egg. The next day Jimmy came back and gave me the egg. He said that he had taken it back, but the next day, the birds had set the egg on his porch. He said it was hopeless. He told me to keep it.

I knew what I had to do. I invited Ronnie over to my house that night. I told him to sneak in the back door. I took him down to the basement. I sat him down on this old couch. My parents were asleep upstairs. I undressed for Ronnie. I wanted him to see me naked. I knew his days with eyes were numbered. If he truly thought I was beautiful then I was going to give him the gift of my body before he went blind for the rest of his life. I danced and gyrated. Ronnie had this dumb, goofy smile. He kept telling me “You don’t have to do this.” Then I grabbed Ronnie, pulled him up next to me. I threw him down on the floor, and then I ripped off his clothes. I started slapping him, slapping him hard. I slapped him until his face was red, and then I got on top of him and rode him until he orgasmed. It didn’t take long. He had this dumb expressionless look on his face when he finished. “You really didn’t have to do that. You shouldn’t have done that,” he told me. “Yes I did you idiot.” I told him. I kissed Ronnie and told him I was thankful for the egg, but that he should take it and sell it. The next day the birds came and took Ronnie’s eyes. He dropped out of school after that. I guess his parents eventually sold the egg and bought a boat and moved to the coast and started fishing. Years later when I tracked down Jimmy he told me that Ronnie’s family had a nice life fishing and that they were doing well. He told me Ronnie still said that stealing the egg was the greatest thing he had ever done.”

I asked the girl if the story was true. “Parts of it are true,” she had told me, “I did lose my virginity when I was 12 to a boy named Ronnie.” We had sat there a little longer, and then we drove home.

I’m in my bedroom. The red-haired girl spent the night. She insisted that she slept on the couch again. I think she fell asleep watching tv. We got back really late, or really early I guess depending on how you look at things. It’s 2 pm right now. I walk out into the living room. The girl is standing in front of a mirror I have on the wall. She keeps raising her right shoulder up, and then dropping her left shoulder. She does this over and over again. I clear my throat loudly so she knows I’m in the room. The girl looks over at me and smiles. “Make some coffee,” she tells me. I go into the kitchen, feed my cats, and make a large pot of coffee. When the coffee is done I bring it into the living room and I hand the girl the remote. I tell her she can watch whatever she wants. She turns the tv to the Game Show Network. There’s this show on called “Grease Money.” On the show if you answer enough questions correct you get one minute to be covered in grease and roll around on a pile of $100 bills. Whatever money sticks to you they let you keep. There is this giant fat man in a bathing suit rolling around on the money. It makes me feel weird. People will do all kinds of crazy things for a little money, or a little time on tv. This isn’t a groundbreaking idea or anything, but it is still true.

The red-haired girl takes out a pill bottle and takes 2 pills. I ask her what the pills are. “Ativan,” she tells me. I ask her if she is nervous. “Yeah, coffee makes me nervous,” she tells me. I ask her why she drinks it. “Because it helps me wake up, and you can’t just sleep all day.” After a while the girl stands up and starts to stretch. She bends down and touches her toes. Her hair falls down in front of her. I try not to stare. I look up at the tv. There is a new show on. I’ve never seen it. There are men crawling around on the ground like dogs, and a beautiful woman is laughing and holding a leash attached to collars the men are wearing. I think it’s a dating show. The girl turns around to me. I ask her if she wants to go get something to eat. She tells me she’s not hungry, and she has to get home to feed her cats. She smiles down at my cats. She tells me she’ll text me later. I ask her if she needs a ride. She says that’s okay. She’ll get a cab. A few minutes later a cab comes to pick her up. I give her a hug, and she smiles and leaves. I go back to bed and fall asleep.