by Embrialla Chase
(11/20/02)
I remember the ice cream girl.
She was tall and Hispanic and clumsy in a way that made her cool.
I'd sit at the table with Nance and Debbie and Poe while they talked about guys and clothes and music videos
and I'd watch her work the counter like she knew she belonged someplace else.
Sometimes she would look in my direction, but I could never tell if she was looking at me or not. Afraid that she was, I would look away.
With one ear on the conversation and the other on the terrible music spilling out of the overheads -- Ace Of Base, The Proclaimers -- I'd sneak glances toward the counter, usually just in time to see her knock over the water glass with the spoons in it or drop the scoop off someone's cone.
She would stop what she was doing, look at the mess, and laugh in an unselfconscious way that
seemed to say, "Oh, look what happened."
Like it wasn't her fault; it wasn't anyone's fault. It just happened and there was nothing she
could have done to prevent it.
We were the shit that summer, me and Nance and Debbie and Poe. We'd all landed in Concord after we'd gotten thrown out of our original high schools for truancy, fighting, smoking pot. Come September we were all going to be seniors. Seniors, in the worst school on the island.
Yeah, we were the shit.
"Eating is so fucked up," Poe said as we stood alone on the bus stop.
"What are you talking about?" I handed her the joint, trying to hold the smoke in. "I'm starving."
"I don't mean eating." She took a hit. "I mean eating."
Bobby Scalici honked as he raced past the bus stop in his brother's GTO and I flipped him the finger.
"Like," Poe took one more hit before passing it back, "what's with all this 'be home in time for supper'
bullshit? Who invented that?"
I shrugged and filled my lungs with as much smoke as they could hold. I passed the bone off to her
and looked up the block for the bus, not really caring if it was coming or not. I didn't really care
about who invented the supper rule either. It was good pot. I was starting to feel very high. That was
all that mattered to me at the moment.
She killed it, put the roach out on her boot and stuffed it into her cigarette box. "Man," she said. "One of us has got to get a car."
We stood in silence.
"That ice cream chick is clumsy," I said.
I don't know why I said it. I was thinking about her, but I didn't mean to say anything.
"She's a slut," Poe said.
I looked at her. "What are you talking about?"
"She's a slut. She fucked Danny Weber and Phildoe and now she's fucking Gary Sippoletti just 'cos they're
both going away to the same school."
"Where's she going?" I asked, again not wanting to speak.
"What?" Poe was playing with a piece of grass she had picked, twirling it between her fingers.
"Man, I'm so stoned." I forced myself to laugh. "I mean, where's he going? Where's Sipp going to school?"
"Fuck if I know," she answered. "Look, the bus."
I was in my room with the door locked, lying on my bed. I'd zipped through the kitchen, whispered to my mom
that I had my period, wasn't feeling well, needed to lie down.
"Okay, dear," she whispered back, knowingly. "I'll fix you something later."
I was lying on the bed with my pants off. I was still buzzed. I loved to touch myself when I was high. Every nerve felt like it was alive, like every molecule was a sexual conduit.
I had two fingers inside of me. I had my eyes closed. I was pinching my nipples through my shirt with my other hand. I was thinking about Gary Sippoletti, imagining it was his dick inside me, his hands on my tits.
I heard Poe's voice in my head. "...and now she's fucking Gary Sippoletti just 'cos they're both going away to the same school."
I pictured the ice cream girl.
I came so hard I had to stop myself from yelling out.
We got into The Wave with fake IDs. We always went through in pairs -- me and Poe, Nance and Debbie -- in case someone got caught at the door. That night they busted Nance. The guy who was carding didn't buy that she was 21. Debbie and Nance went somewhere else.
Poe knocked a path through the crowd on the dance floor. Rhythm Is A Dancer was booming out of the speakers.
Some guy bought me a rum and coke. His friend was cute. I danced for a while. I had another drink. I danced with the guy's friend.
Another drink. Dancing. I felt sick to my stomach. I found Poe talking with Phildoe and some guy who had his back to me. I pulled at her sleeve.
"Poe, I have to get some air."
"What?" she shouted above the music.
"I feel sick," I shouted back.
The other guy turned around. It was Gary Sippoletti. He smiled at me and I could swear he knew I had been fingering myself thinking about him.
"I have to go," I shouted to Poe and headed for the door.
She caught up with me halfway across the dance floor, pulled hard on the strap of my bag.
"Not out the front," she yelled in my ear. "You might not get back in. Go in the alley."
I shook my head. "I really feel sick."
"You just need some air," she insisted, dragging me through the crowd toward the back of the club.
We made it to the back door. It was a fire exit, but the alarm wasn't hooked to anything. She opened the door and took my bag from me.
"Stay out here for a minute till you feel better."
She dropped my bag in the doorway.
"Don't let the door shut or you won't get back in."
She closed the door gently, my bag wedging it open, and she was gone. I made my way to the wall, willing myself not to throw up. I pressed my face against the stonework and closed my eyes, listening to the music from inside the club.
The bricks were cool. My stomach began to calm.
"Hot in there," said a voice behind me.
I turned around quick and there she was, leaning against the far wall. She was smoking a cigarette. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. Her red dress was spotted with sweat.
"Yeah," I managed. "Real hot."
The ice cream girl smiled.
"Want a drag before I ditch this?" She held the cigarette out to me.
I didn't really smoke. "Sure," I said, walking over to her.
I took it from her and put it to my lips. I inhaled, thinking that this cigarette was just between her lips. I looked at her mouth.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" she asked. "You look familiar."
I nodded and tried to flick the butt away like I saw Poe do all the time. It landed about a foot away. The ice cream girl laughed. I felt my face grow warm.
"I see you at work," I said. "The ice cream shop."
She smiled again. She looked into my eyes and nodded.
"Oh, yeah." She brushed her hair from her face with her hand. "You're the girl who watches me all the time."
I didn't know what to say. So I said, "Yes." My heart began to race.
"What's your name?" she asked.
It felt as though she had suddenly drawn closer to me. She hadn't moved an inch.
"Embrialla," I answered.
"Embrialla," she repeated.
I watched her mouth move as she spoke my name. My stomach felt hollow, like it was filled with air.
"What's your name?" I asked. I stared at her lips. This time, she did move toward me.
"Embrialla," she whispered. "Do you want to kiss me?"
"Yes," I answered. I felt as though I was going to cry.
She put her lips to mine. Something in my mind told me to run away, go back into the club. They were soft and full. Something in my mind told me to stay.
She put her hands on my lower back and pulled me into her and my entire body went weightless as I felt
her breasts push against my own. She licked my lips lightly, parting them with her tongue. Her breath was hot
and tasted of alcohol and cigarettes. I took it into my mouth. Her tongue followed. I felt a release of
wetness between my legs as I sucked on her tongue.
I needed to leave.
I needed to stay.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
I put my arms around her and held her tight to me, gently sucking her tongue as though it held the cure for everything that had ever been wrong with my life. I felt her hand go between my legs and I parted them for her as she rubbed me through my jeans.
Her fingers felt lengthy and strong. I wondered what her name was.
She withdrew her tongue from my mouth, beckoning mine to follow. I slipped my tongue between her lips and I came. I came at the feeling of her hand between my legs. I came at the idea that I had my tongue in the mouth of a girl whose name I didn't know. I came and wept and held her tight to me as my orgasm tore through my body like a tsunami.
The sound of yelling pulled me from my ecstasy, riveting me where I stood.
"You fucking dyke!"
I turned toward the voice and saw Poe standing in the doorway.
"Oh my god," she shouted. "I can't believe you're a fucking dyke."
I wanted to say something. I didn't know what. I took a step toward her. She kicked my bag and it landed at my feet.
"Oh this is too fucking much. I can't believe this shit." She turned her back to me and headed inside.
"Poe, wait."
"You're sick," she shouted and disappeared.
I watched the door slam shut. I stared at the door. I was locked out. I turned to the ice cream girl.
She shrugged. And she laughed that laugh.
Oh, look what happened.
We were the shit that summer.
After that night at The Wave, I didn't see much of Poe or Nance or Debbie. I saw them around school, senior year, but they would just nod and throw me a quick, "Wassup." I didn't have anything to say.
They held a look in their eyes. A look that said, "We know."
Gary Sippoletti never did go off to college, staying home to work in his father's locksmith shop instead. I didn't know if he knew what had happened in the alley or not, but, after that night, I could never bring myself to say much to him either.
Sometimes, when I'm out walking around the neighborhood, I go into the ice cream shop and I treat myself to a cone or a shake. It's still filled with high school kids thinking they're the shit, the music is still bad and there's generally some clumsy kid working the counter.
I sit, eating my ice cream, one ear on the music and one ear on the dreams of the kids sitting at the tables around me, and I smile.
I remember the ice cream girl.
