Faster Than the Speed of Chemo: Chapter Four
Chapter 4
This is utterly ridiculous.
The whole thing is a not too clever attempt from Charles to get me into leather and fishnet. Not that I wouldn't look dashing in them, but this outfit just screams impractical. Not to mention that it'll attract a lot of unwanted attention.
I pull at the hot pants I'm wearing. The damned material wriggles into crevices better left alone. I've never been acquainted with the feel of a weggie before, having worn boxer briefs all my life. Not exactly pleasant.
I stare at the wig Charles roped me into getting. It's tacky, not at all convincing having been bought at the local Halloween shop. The red is candy apple and the strands feel like Easter basket grass. The cashier had given me a strange look too. One that not so subtly asked why a grown man was buying a red wig in November while also insinuating that I may be gay. I'm not.
I still bought it anyway. Who knows why I'm indulging Charles. He isn't deserving of it.
I face the mirror. It comes as a shock that I make such an ugly female. Guess my bone structure is too prominent to allow for the soft look that women carry in their faces. Not to mention that my legs are much too hairy and muscled to pull off these fishnet.
It's just so wrong.
Got to admit though, my ass looks nice. That's a given.
"Erik? Are you ready yet? I swear you're taking longer than Raven does when she ready for a date."
I square my shoulders. No worries, you look fabulous Erik, old boy, exactly how you always do. Just gayer.
God. Damn. It. I can't do this.
"Do you perhaps need some help with the panties? I'd be more than happy to assist you…."
"No need. Let's get this over with." Just another weakness to overcome. I open the door.
Charles eyes are bulging slightly and his mouth is parted in awe. How flattering. It certainly is nice to know that I can have this effect on people even in a wonder bra. Then again, maybe it's the wonder bra that's occupying the attention.
Either way, I inwardly sigh in relief.
"Charles, let's go. Stop standing there like an idiot." It's making me feel awkward because I'm enjoying it. What the shit.
"Ah, right." He visibly composes himself and I can't help the satisfied smile.
I give him a once over and laugh. It's just too much.
"Lace Charles? Couldn't you have gotten something less revealing?" His pale ass is practically hanging out.
"The girl at Victoria thought these would be best for my, uh, female friend."
"You have no female friends."
"I beg to differ, there's Moira, and, um, Raven-"
I give him a sidelong glance.
"Don't give me that look."
"Was this girl stupid? You practically radiate homosexual." And European. Weird how the two seem to go hand in hand.
"I suspect she noticed, but I must have distracted her-" He pauses. "Anyway she was too good natured to question my motives."
"Not enough to not gossip about you for the entirety of the coming week though." Probably lament her experience with the gay man shopping for thongs. I would die for something that funny to talk about at the company. Jason sure as hell would laugh.
"Quite."
We grab our coats and make our way down the stairs. I'm dreading bumping into any neighbors. It would only confirm apartment wide assumptions as to the nature of Charles and I's relationship. The two of us scantily clad. 'On their way to a gay bar for a date.' I'd think the same thing.
But we're not. And I'm not enjoying either of us being dressed like this.
"God damn it's fucking cold." Yet one of the reasons to loath this outfit.
"Yes, good thing. The trench coats really do pull the look together don't you think?" As if to prove his point some community kid catcalls us from across the street. Charles waves at him in a flirting way and the kid runs off.
"How insulting."
"Well can't speak for him but you probably aren't the best looking of the neighborhood prostitutes."
"And you are?"
"Obviously." I'm quite confident that I'm the most attractive person for the next six blocks.
Charles bites his lip and we continue on in silence.
I can feel him look at me from behind. Can't he be a bit more discreet? He better not be looking at my butt.
The club's neon spills over the dirty concrete in an unfriendly way. No windows and gratified brick and mortar.
Seedy. Just how Raven would like it.
"Nice location." Charles ignores me and walks through the soundproof door. Awful music buzzes through my skull. I think it's that Nikki Minaj character. Her ass is unbelievable. So is her music.
"Hey Professor!" Hank's getting up from a curtained alcove and waving franticly.
"Oh god Charles, why didn't you think about the consequences of seeing the other tarts?" Goddamnit. I hadn't even thought of that. And here's Hank in a skimpy leotard. Awful.
"I was much too concerned with seeing you as one." Charles dances away through the people grinding against one another before I can respond. Too bad, I had something to say to that.
"So, where's the woman of the hour?" Charles awkwardly hugs Hank.
"She went to the bathroom!"
"Stop shouting. We're right here." Honestly.
Hank looks up at me and takes a step back, taking in the wig.
"Is that you Erik?" he snickers. The prick. "Didn't recognize you."
Funny, I recognized him, and thought he looked completely at home in that getup.
I slide off the trench coat. "That was the point." Like I'd want anyone recognizing me in this.
"I certainly recognize you." Charles and I turn.
"Damn boys, look at those legs."
"Raven, what'd you do to your costume?" Hank sounds nervous.
"Yes Raven, you're supposed to be a vicar." Charles pouts.
"No offense Charles, but I refuse to cover myself up at a club. Besides," she tosses her hair around. I mustn't blatantly stare. "It's my birthday and I want some attention." What else could she want wearing a bustier and tight leather pants?
"Well you certainly have it." I smile suggestively, but then remember that this is Charles sister. Would complicate the rent if I pulled something. He gives me an annoyed look.
Raven laughs. "Yeah, well, mine is nothing compared to you guys. Look at the raised eyebrows you three are getting."
"We look like faggots." The hot pants are ridding up again. And the wig is itchy as hell.
"I think I look smashing." Charles sways his hips.
"You would." I frown at him.
"But Raven, a minute ago you were wearing…."
"Yeah, I wore this underneath and tossed the vicar outfit back into your car." She dangles some keys to a Toyota in front of Hanks face.
"When'd you…." Hank takes the keys.
"I have magic fingers." Raven gives him an evil little grin. I'm liking her more and more.
I scrath my head.
"Take that thing off, it's awful." Raven reaches up and tries to snatch the wig off the top of my head.
"Don't do that, he's never looked more beautiful." Charles grins at me.
"What're you, some dirty old man?" I throw the thing across the booth. End of discussion.
As we sit I survey the room. There are about fifty people on the small dance floor and six at the bar. Another three at a pool table in the corner. I dig through the pocket of the coat and pull out a gift wrapped mess. Never was good at aesthetics when it came to these things.
"Where'd you guys get all that stuff anyway?" Raven gestures to Charles leather top.
"Charles here already had most of it." I glance at him with a smile. "Just had to spring for the heels and wig."
"And my lovely panties."
"Eww, Charles." Raven looks horrified. If only she knew what I caught him looking at sometimes on the internet.
"Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear the answer too."
Raven starts swaying in her seat to some hiphop, dubstep remix of the techno remix, song blaring overhead. Going to have a goddamn headache tomorrow. Plus it smells of unwashed alcoholics. Not exactly potpourri.
"Glad to see we're not the most ridiculous looking of the group." Alex walks up with the rest of the party.
"You are pretty close though. A corset? Christ Alex, even we didn't go that far." Really glad Charles hadn't thought of that.
Sean, Angel, and Darwin sit round us. Darwin's donning modest booty shorts and a muscle shirt. Sean's in a see through mesh tank with a skirt that shows off way too much. And Angel, well, she's essentially dressed in her work outfit.
God damn this party theme.
God damn Charles.
"What the hell? Why are the guys the only ones that followed the dress code?" Alex sits down all disgruntled. "Where are the vicars?"
"Why, are you complaining about the view?" Angel leans forward dangerously.
"No, just seems unfair." Shit, the hot pants are riding up again. How can women stand this? Right, they don't have penises.
"Just ticked that we dressed as tarts for nothing."
I lean back and put an arm around Charles and Raven. "Not for nothing, least it's memorable. So where's this keg you were talking about Charles?" Alcohol. That's what we need. Cause in all honesty, I'm not sure if I want to remember the ginger hair on Sean's legs.
"Ah right, be back in a jiff." He springs up and goes up to the bartender. God, he's so damn pale he nearly glows in the lights.
The others chat akwardly while Raven figets with her hair.
"Have you noticed anything weird with Charles lately?" She whispers into my ear all of a sudden. Her breath makes hairs on my neck stand on end.
"I suppose. He's been a little jumpy and keeps disappearing without telling me where he's been." Not to mention talking about death. That was textbook definition weird.
"Yeah, same here. Keeps visiting me and looking at old pictures too."
"Maybe he's going through a midlife crisis." I laugh shallowly. "No worries, just focus on your party." Charles needs to stop making people worry, especially on their birthdays. He's probably just stressing over his school work. He's married to his dissertation.
"No problem." She turns away from me. Glad we're not talking about it anymore, gives me an, an almost worried feeling. "So where are all my gifts?" The chatter ceases as everyone pulls forth ribboned bags and small boxes. Mine looks inadequate. Who knows, if Raven's ashamed of money then maybe she'll appreciate the Spartan quality.
"Anyone order a keg?" Charles plops down next to Raven and kisses her on the forehead. Bout time. The men carrying it over stared, so would I.
"Ah shit! Excited to get plastered?" Sean looks fondly at the keg.
"Like it's the first time she's ever drank." Darwin winks at her.
"Having an older brother with a taste for liquor has assured that I am no novice when it comes to alcohol." She grabs for the nozzle.
"Maybe, but your taste is still horrendous." Charles helps her.
"Your taste isn't all that great either Charles. All you stock the apartment with is cheap scotch." Fucking dreadful.
"But Erik, all you like is whiskey and vodka, hardly my cup of tea."
"Your right, too rough for you." He'd puke it all out with that weak stomach.
"Oh, never my friend." He winks and the group laughs. His flirting's more inept then his appreciation for fine draughts.
Soon a server from the bar drops off a round of shots and the party's under way. The kids go shot after shot and I envy their enthusiasm, cause I don't seem to have much for anything other than welding. Now I'm sounding like I'm going through a midlife crisis. I need a girlfriend. Or at least sex.
I'm not sure if I should stop, but my face feels hot. Probably not enough since I'm still aware of my suffering libido.
Raven's digging through her presents, giggling at the array of Spencer sex toys and naughty cards. Having the humor of a twelve year old must be fantastic. She punches my arm when she opens mine. "Hangover remedies and cocktail recipes? Shit Erik, I won't even be able to look at this when I wake up. Gonna be way too hung-over." Her laugh is a staccato trill.
"D-don't worry raven, I'll take care of you." Hank leans against her, and gives her a peck on the cheek. Hank should be drunk all the time.
I lean back against the rubbery seat. That's how my legs feel right now. Rubbery. The seat squeaks as Charles scoots closer.
"Are you enjoying yourself my friend?" Now I am. The others have gone to dance off the alcohol. Charles and I sit here with it setting fire to our stomachs and veins. We're too old and bitter to fit in. Not to mention intelligent and handsome.
"Yeah, just shouldn't drive. Good thing we always walk everywhere."
"Does wonders for the butt."
"Sure does. You nice and plastered yet?"
"Getting close, maybe some more drinks are in order?" He raises his glass. I follow suit.
"Alright then" I pause for dramatic effect. "Here's to living a long life full of booze and friends." I clink Charles glass and down the bitter in one gulp. Damn I'm good. Charles stares into his, swirling it around.
"What up Charles? Drink. I tried especially hard to make up that cheesy toast, you better drink to it."
He smiles at me and sips the rum. Whatever.
I lean back and try to keep my vision straight. The seat squeaks again and Charles is right next to me, almost too close, eyes borrowing a hole into the far off ceiling.
"Charles, what's wrong. You've been acting weird for a while now." Not that I care. Cause I don't really. Raven just has a right to know and I have a right to not have him talking about weird ass shit all the time.
I can't quite identify the expression he has on right now.
"There's nothing wrong." His voice breaks on wrong.
"Bullshit." He just downs more of the rum and avoids the topic. He's been doing that a lot lately, and it's kinda ticking me off.
"I'm more concerned about you right now Erik, you're swaying a lot."
"Stop trying to change the subject." But now that he mentions it, the room is tilting rather like a boat. Is it the room or me?
Or maybe we're in some sort to alternate universe, where I have magical powers and people can communicate telepathically. That would certainly come in handy right now.
But he's distracting me. Back to his problems.
Knowing him it's not even that bad. Something totally blown out of proportion by his stupid head. He thinks too much. He's probably just had his thesis rejected.
Actually, that's probably it. The great mystery behind the last two weeks.
Poor guy, those scholarly types can be cruel.
"You know, it's okay to cry about it. I promise I won't even call you a faggot if you do." But I'll definitely think it. I pat his shoulder and chuckle.
He's looking at me like I've just said Patrick Stewart was a better captain.
"What?" Maybe I have something on my face. He just keeps staring with a dumb doe eyed look.
"You know?" Why is he whispering?
"I could guess. I mean, you've been on the computer none stop and acting weird. Not to mention getting sick all the time." Grad students. Don't know why they put themselves through it.
I mean, his whole life revolves around double helix's and chromosomes. Not exactly healthy.
He turns away quickly, but then back again. "Why haven't you said anything?" His voice is shaking. Why can't he be stronger than this. Almost makes me feel bad for him. It's just a paper.
"Well it's not really any of my business, plus I don't really know the details." Now he's rubbing his temples. "Jesus Charles, don't blow it out of proportion."
"How can I not? It's not like it'll just go away."
"It can if you-"
"And what do you mean it's not any of your business? I mean, we'll have to deal with it for a few months minimum." His voice is rising.
"Months?" It's going to take him months to get over this? I can't take another month of this. He's fucking bat shit crazy.
"At least you know. That's a load off my mind." He sighs and almost smiles. He ignored me.
"Months? It'll take that long for you to get over it? Come on Charles, just start over again and make them wish they hadn't rejected it in the first place."
"That's not how it works-wait-what are you talking about?"
"You're rejected thesis." Obviously. We've been talking about it for the past whatever minutes. I could be doing something better with my time. Like flirting with the lose woman on the dance floor.
I hear laughter. And not the normal kind. It sounds hysterical. Like someone's about to cry.
"What the hell Charles?"
"You thought that my thesis had been rejected? My thesis? I fine-tuned that thing to be near fucking perfect. I thought you were highly perceptive, but I guess I was off."
My fist clenches and I shove aside my glass. I faintly register the sound of glass shattering onto the sticky floor.
"Well then what the hell's been eating you for the past two weeks? And don't insult me." I feel like punching him. It's irrational and unfounded, but that booze sure can make you feel.
Charles settles into the seat and holds his head in his hands.
"I have cancer."
Raven and Hank are making out against the wall, and the others are dancing. They haven't heard.
I don't even think I heard.
"You shouldn't joke about something like that. It's fucked up." I really hope it's just that. Then I can laugh and tease him about his insensitivity.
Just deny it. But he's staring past me, looking at Raven and the others. He won't look at me and it just makes me angrier.
"Not joking." It's true. I know, he still won't look at me. It feels weird being told something so serious while drunk. I can't seem to voice any opinion what so ever. But my arms shake.
Denial and acceptance. He wouldn't joke about something like this. The signs too. Makes a hell of a lot more sense than the damn thesis thing.
He should've told me.
He didn't tell me.
I should've noticed.
For two weeks. I had two weeks, or at least that's what I can guess from his combination sad, guilty look.
My fist makes contact with something. For a second I'm afraid I'm being belligerent, but then realize its Charles' face that I've hit.
Good. He deserves it.
"Ah bloody hell Erik!" Charles clutches his nose.
"What the hell you doin' to my brother?" Raven stubbles over to the booth and comes between us. I'm standing now. Not sure when that happened.
As Raven nurses her sibling, cursing me under her breath, club patrons look at me wearily, and a horrifying thought crosses my mind.
"But what'll happen to your hair?"
sorry this took so long. writers block/school and work. its a hardnaughtlife
please review and kick my butt for not updating. it's great motivation.