Trash Polka - 1. Chapter 1

It’s loud in here. It always is. I’ve had two too many and I’ve no plans to stop. I’m at the point where my friends and I are yelling more than talking. Our volume dials slid past respectful thanks to tequila and who knows what else. I’m smashed between them in a half circle shaped booth. It’s unbearably hot, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. I couldn’t tell you how long we’ve been here. It feels like days, years. Something about the atmosphere makes time stop while everything still moves around you in a blur. Mind you, that could be the alcohol and the pill I let dissolve under my tongue when I got here. It's okay either way. My mind is quiet, my body has a fantastic floaty feeling, and I can’t stop grinning.

Cameron’s to my left and his fingers grip my chin, forcing me to look at him. His dark eyes are like bottomless pools. I feel like that’s what the deepest bits of the ocean would look like. Deep, undiscovered depths swirling in circular pools on one of my best friend’s faces. I’m stuck for a moment on how angular his features are. All sharp edges and dark eyes. He’s pretty. I sigh. I have such pretty friends. It really is too bad that none of us are compatible. His hair is only secured loosely at the very end of the long strands, the black curtain hanging over his shoulder. It softens him a little. Not that he lets it much. A line appears between his brows and the corners of his mouth drag down. His mouth moves, gaze raking over my face.

Oh, his mouth moves. I try to force myself back into the present, squeezing my eyes closed as everything spins. The long fingers on my chin tilt it up and I let out a breath. When I reopen my eyes, it seems like the volume on Cameron’s voice is finally dialed up.

“This isn’t just alcohol. River, did you take something?” He’s using his most disapproving voice and I have to remember he’s a tall, lanky, goth in his early twenties and not my mother.

“I feel great.” I grin, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Well, you look like a spacey idiot.” Cameron scoffs, drawing his hand back quickly and wiping his cheek clean. My head flops forward and everything is spinning for a moment before I gather my bearings. He didn’t have to move so fast. He could’ve gone slow. But I’ve pissed him off by not following his rules I never agreed to. I’m older than him, why would I?

“Riv, you with us?” I loll my head in the other direction. Lukas is very, very different from his husband. His chaos of dark brown curls were tamed somewhat. I’m so used to him shoving them under a beanie or pulling them up and away from his face. His green eyes were a little concerned, but he hit me with a megawatt smile that settled me a bit. He's pretty too. That might not be the right word, handsome would be better, I suppose.

“I’m fine, dad. Mom.” I rolled my eyes at Cameron. I then dropped down to the floor and crawled out from underneath the table. I winced when I straightened, groaning as my back cracked. I was maybe getting too old to crawl under tables.

“Where are you going?” Cam asked, raising one dark brow as he watched me, arms crossed. Lukas frowned at me but shook his head and took a sip of beer from his bottle.

“To dance? There’s literally a whole section of floor specially made for that you know?”

“You’re on your own.” Cam’s lip curled and his nose scrunched up in obvious distaste.

“You’re so boring. Lukas, dance with me?”

Luke smiled softly at me and shook his head, “I’m not going to leave Cam here alone. With my luck he’d steal the car and leave me here.”

“You’d deserve it.” Cam said, trying to resist as his husband pulled him into his arms, puckering his lips in an over-the-top kissy face.

“Don’t you have the keys?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Stupid, you think I need keys?” Cameron asked, sneering at me. I flipped him the bird and turned, eyeing the dance floor. I was a little dizzy, but it’d pass. Or I’d manage. Either way it was fine. There were plenty of people below, moving together, and I planned to put myself right in the middle.

Have you ever ordered something on the Internet-advertised beautifully, reviews positive-only to receive a raggedy box that looks like it had been drop kicked from overseas? The “fragile” label slapped right on top but crumpled around a completely smashed corner. Maybe you hold on to hope anyway, and tear into the packaging with more care than the box has ever been shown before. Only to reveal a very poor reproduction of what you wanted. Hell, the object inside may be completely random. Then you're left with a faulty product. There’s usually no way to return it, and you've wasted weeks of your life and your hard-earned money. To only receive disappointment.

That, if pressed, is how I describe myself. On paper I may look okay. Graduated top of my class. Straight A’s since I started school. Double majored. Everywhere it counted, I was perfect. I got the degree. In engineering even. People liked that. Thought it was impressive. I was an educated, successful adult. Or I should be. The issue has always been the same. That was never what I wanted for myself. So, I came up with a solution. I quickly found out it was easy to hide everything behind copious amounts of ink and metal. They went great with the commitment issues and poor coping mechanisms. Being colorful and pointy were keys I'd accumulated over time to unlock who I really was. Or who I wanted to portray anyway.

I spent high school huddled in the bathroom, hoping that if I remained hidden, I might fly under the radar. Kids were cruel and sought out those weaker than them with vicious determination. I was scared for a long time. Of everything. My classmates, my overbearing mother... myself. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't entirely spineless. Just mostly. Every near too-blunt needle I shoved through my own skin, every lock of hair I dyed, stripped pieces of me off to replace with something flashier. The steps were slow, the battle mostly uphill, but at near 30, I evolved. Teenage me wouldn't have been able to talk to adult me. I was proud of that.

Most days.

I grew up in the Midwest. Minus one father figure. Plus, a whole hell of a lot of religious guilt and shame. Religion was the only thing that kept my mother afloat for a long time. She relied on it to see her through to the next day. Unfortunately, it never lifted me up in the same way. Quite the opposite. The same thing that gave my mother hope, robbed me it. It held me down. I spent all the years I lived at home smashed under expectations and scripture. I didn’t understand. If God was so great, why did my dad leave me before his face became permanent in my memory? Why was I left with a parent who didn’t understand any part of me? A parent who didn’t want to. If he was so great, why was I made so wrong? Why was I everything my mother was taught to hate?

My mother did do her best. She tried. It took a long time for me to realize that. To put the hurt and resentment aside. As an adult, it clicked. My dad didn’t just leave me. He left a twenty-year-old woman, who’d never worked outside the home, too. My mom went from strictly stay-at-home, to working three jobs just to keep us housed, clothed, and fed. I have heaps of resentment, but something tells me, my mother has just as much. We struggled to see eye-to-eye for most of my life, but the woman never gave up on me. Even when I gave up on her when I shipped myself halfway across the country. She never stopped trying.

All this to say, yeah, my dad is a deadbeat and my mother’s death grip on religion and her own sadness almost drove us apart forever. That would’ve left me with minus two parents. I got lucky in the end. Sure, there was irreparable damage. I was messed up good, but it could’ve been so much worse. Especially for someone like me. I have some hard feelings for my mother, but at the end of the day, if I ever needed her, she didn’t hesitate. She gave me a lot. Somehow, my dad gave me things too. Even though I can’t remember his face. There are bits of him in everything I do. I feel him every time I’m by myself. The parts of my personality shaped by his leaving, sit with me in the dark when I’m alone. Those things I never wanted. I’ve spent my entire life pushing them down. It hasn’t mattered. Ever. They sit with me and they whisper.

After thirty years, I still haven’t found a way to stop listening.

The sheets were an awful off white which had been done no favors by the acts committed in bed last night. My head was pounding. It reminded me of the constant beat of two loud music that had been my undoing. Well, the music had probably been helped along by the alcohol. It wasn't completely to at fault. Alcohol is such an enjoyable poison. I really couldn't be blamed. I tried to convince myself of that while I looked with bleary eyes around the strange bedroom.

The way I chose to customize my avatar was beneficial in some circumstances. For instance, not many people wore fully mesh shirts with a ruffled neckline and long sleeves. Nor did I see many leather pants with chains for accent. My boots were unaccounted for, but I'd find them when I fully committed to my escape. It involved an awkward shuffle, then crawling as I maneuvered out from under my host. Well, I assumed he was my host. I couldn't remember. And there was another guy in bed with us. No matter. A hiss nearly escaped me as my foot touched freezing concrete. I saved it at the last minute, but I was a little annoyed. Damn hipsters and their weird fascination with industrial designs. Why did you need concrete in your bedroom? My shirt was thrown over a dresser haphazardly and I was struggling with the chains hanging from my damn pants when my escape was thwarted.

“Morning. You don't have to leave, you know?” It was the smaller of the two. Blonde, pretty, eyelashes for days.

“Uh, yeah, thanks. I have plans.”

“Do you?” He asked. He was sitting up now, blonde hair a gorgeous mess around his cute face.

Sighing, I hopped into my pants, “Gotta go, unfortunately, darlin'.”

“You're a bad liar.” He grinned, and I winced. He was right. I was terrible at it.

“Most people prefer the lies.”

“Try me.”

I paused, meeting his eye, “I have no interest in getting to know either of you further. If at one point I knew your names, I do not now. I got what I wanted and now I wanna go home.”

“Wow, okay.”

I turned away from the glare and made my way out of the bedroom, sighing with relief when I found my boots. As I began struggling with them, I held my phone to my ear. I cursed when it just kept ringing “C’mon. Come on.”

“River, it's 7:00 AM.”

“Ohh, I hadn't noticed. Listen bestest friend, I need your help.” Finishing one boot, I became a bit more frantic when I heard two voices in the other room now.

“Where are you?” Came the groan followed by movement.

“Cannot currently advise. Will share my location.”

Another sigh, “You know it's cold and raining. I assume you dressed inappropriately last night? Who are we kidding, of course you didn’t dress for the weather. It’s you. Your wait's gonna be frigid.”

Glancing down at the black tape barely clinging to my nipples under the mesh, I grimaced, “You wouldn't want me to suffer. Please hurry, I could be attacked on the street.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming. Harlot.”

I tilted my head side to side, making a noise of agreement as I shrugged. Padding my pockets, I found my wallet and stood scoping out the door. I bee-lined for it and cringed as someone called after me. Of course, this day just kept getting better. There was no reason for this much conversation this early in the morning.

“Hey, we can give you a ride.” It was the other one now. Tall, dark haired, beard, nice to look at.

“Ohh very kind. While you've proven that you're adept at giving rides, I've got someone coming.” I called over my shoulder as I slipped out the front door. It was some kind of loft, and it took me a bit to make it down to the street level. Then all I could do was hide under the building’s tiny awning. Alec hadn't exaggerated. My upper body was freezing, and the lower half wasn't much better. I bit my lip to deter my teeth from chattering. Then I wrapped my arms around myself. Luckily, the wait wasn't more than 10 minutes. Better yet, I was handed a thick hoodie as I lowered myself into the car.

“At least this is a nice neighborhood. Nobody stole you before I got here.” Alec grinned. His blue hair was messy and his outfit consisted of pajamas with a coat thrown over top.

“Fuck. I didn't realize how cold I was until I got into the heat.” I held my fingers in front of the car's vents after snuggling into the hoodie.

“I warned you.”

“What was I supposed to do? Steal a coat?”

“I don't know. Be pleasant to your host and wait upstairs?”

“Absolutely not.”

Alec rolled his eyes but didn't argue the point. He knew better. This was one of the few arguments where he didn't have a leg to stand on. We settled into a comfortable silence, and I used my newly equipped sleeves to rub at leftover eyeliner. It was incredibly crusty and unpleasant. Like approximately half of my love life. Leaning back, I let my eyes slip closed. I didn't sleep well in strange places. I've been in far too many situations that turned out to be unsafe to fully relax like that. With Alec, I was safe and sleep overtook me quickly.

Adjusting the headband keeping my hair out of my eyes, I waved when the bell above me announced my arrival. Dark eyes followed me and I extended my middle finger as their owner scoffed, “Long night?”

“Good morning, Cameron. How are the hemorrhoids?” At his glare, I gasped, feigning innocence, “So sorry. I just assumed with the sour look always on your face. It's perpetually twisted up. My mistake. Must just be the garbage personality again. Should have known.”

Despite himself, Cameron cracked a smile, “Surprised you noticed whilst upright. Figured it’d be overwhelming for you. So much to see when you’re not on your back, eh?”

I laughed as I moved behind the counter, hearing footsteps from the back, “Can't you guys be nice for greetings, at least?”

“Anything for you, daddy.” I grinned, resting my hand on Luke's chest as I moved past him.

“Fat chance.” Cameron said at the same time. I laughed again, moving into my room to very slowly start my day. Luckily, I didn't have any appointments until noon. That meant I had a couple hours to organize and sketch. I slipped on my headphones, closing my eyes as the music blocked everything out momentarily.

Love me at arms length,

don't let me get too close.

Never see the sunset

spares you pain when it goes.

You let from the fire, still you burn. Oh.

Half an hour had passed in the blink of an eye, and a shadow fell over my tablet and hands. I looked up to see Lukas's form filling my doorway. He was pulling on his sky-blue, chunky knit cardigan, looking at me nervously. A lock of his dark, curly hair had escaped his beanie and he brushed it away impatiently. He shifted from foot to foot as I slid my headphones off, “Sup, boss?”

“How's your day going?”

“Stop it! That's not what you practiced!” Cam shouted from the front of the store.

I raised an eyebrow as Lucas flinched, then sighed, “Listen...” He visibly swallowed, “Could you watch the shop alone today? I don't have any appointments coming in. Cam and I have a couple errands we need to run.”

Lukas didn't like to ask anyone to do anything for him, but I could sense there was something else going on here. I narrowed my eyes and nodded, “Course, but is that really all you needed?”

I heard an irritated noise from up front followed by a slam. Lukas sighed yet again.

“Listen, it's not my business. I'm just worried about you. You know, I see you like a little brother. Albeit a weird one that hits on me sometimes. That's an issue for a different day. Anyway, I just worry about you going home with these random guys. What if your location doesn't work? What if something happens? I'm not saying don't... ‘make friends.’ You're an adult and I know you can take care of yourself. I'm even more worried when you're messed up on who knows what.”

“It just makes Cam and I nervous when you do one of your club disappearing acts and there's a time frame where we have no idea where you are. Sure, we assume that you've met someone, but how are we to know? I'm a little bit paranoid and when it comes to people I care about, keeping tabs on them, it's how I handle it. I know that's not great.”

“Be fucking safer so Luke doesn't think you've been murdered with your pale ass mounted above some fireplace! It's really not that hard.” Cameron snapped, elbowing his husband gently out of the way so he could glare at me from the doorway.

“Yes, mom and dad. I'll be better about the safety of my sexcapades.”

“That's all we ask! We know there's no hope for you. So at least be a degenerate with a modicum of caution and self-preservation.” Cameron snarled before stomping off.

“No worries, I would also like to avoid being axe murdered. Y'all go run your errands.”

I tried to convince myself I was unbothered, but parts of me resented the conversation. Lukas had said it himself. I was an adult, and I could take care of myself. But then he still felt the need to lecture me. It wasn't my fault that when I was leaving the clubs, I normally had other things on my mind. And body if you catch my drift. Setting my headphones aside, I wandered to the front where Cameron explained a few phone calls he was waiting for. Then they took off. Lukas with a grin, Cameron with a middle finger and a smirk.

With the tablet laid on the countertop. I focused on sketching instead of my weird day. Having to converse with my hookup partners after the fact always made me uncomfortable. Then Lucas parenting me had started a strange, creeping feeling moving up my spine. Grabbing the remote for the speaker system, I turned music on the shop’s sound bar so I wasn't alone with myself. Or my thoughts.

Heaven forbid.