deadly nightshade | fever in, fever out

chapter 89: last christmas in new york

Sam never had her meeting with Bill at any given time during that following week. The whole entire time she had expected him to linger there over her shoulder as she drew up with pencils, colored and pure graphite otherwise, while in class. While she was relieved that he never did once show up, she still wondered what he had in mind for that summer and the months following.
There came a point in which she hoped that it would only be for that single summer and not the rest of the year. She knew that it was ridiculous to assume such a thing, and yet she still managed to think ahead. She had hope in Anthrax's new album for that coming year and that she and Joey could in fact take things to the next level. So much more that she needed to figure out with him in particular.
Even with the arrival of late October and the first freezing rains of the season, Sam couldn't help but feel that it would be her last autumn in New York, and ultimately her last Halloween there: all the spooky decorations and the fleeting scent of cinnamon in the air made her wish for those first days in the city again, even when she still lived in the Bronx. The smell of cinnamon made her think of Cliff as well. The smell of Christmas and home.
If it really was that significant of a task for her to carry out, then she knew that she would have to spend a great deal of time out there. And yet, the more thought she put into it, the more it felt so ludicrous to her. But then again, home called her with each passing day. Even with the midst of October, the days of the term seemed to drag by, not just for her but for Marla as well, who had come home every day from school looking as though she had run a mile at some point during the day.
Hardly enough time to relish in the rest of her time with one of her best friends, or in New York City. All both young women could do following their work was have dinner and then curl up under the covers with a book to read or with Genie curled up next to them. The very thing they had worked for and the very thing that made both of them head out to school had found its way into the realm of tedium. Sam lay in bed with her eye on her art journals and she wondered where it was all going wrong. A time away from the journals and the art desk, and she could return with a fresh approach.
Of course!
That was also the day she finally found that little bit of curiosity for some insight into it all, given Bill never showed up one time during her classes. Add to this, she thought of something else she had to figure out with Marla in particular. It was right after school and Marla herself had come home early in order to work on her own senior project. Sam knocked on her door and she peered over her shoulder at her. She nudged the door open and stepped inside.
"Hey," Marla called to her; she swiveled around on her stool and in turn showed Sam the trio of drawings on her desk as well as the look of exhaustion on her face.
"Hey," Sam replied back to her.
"What's happening?"
"I'm just curious about your own senior project—I also have to confess something. And I don't know who else to say this to—I mean, I haven't spoken to Aurora since Alex's birthday party last month, and we barely spoke to."
"Yeah, and she made it about herself, too."
"Right! Add to this, Bel's still at school and the boys are over in Europe right now. So you are literally the only person I can talk to about any this at the moment."
"Go ahead," said Marla with a shake of her head.
"Well," Sam began, and she cleared her throat as well, "I'm not a liar, I'm not gonna lie to you, Marla, but... I'm kind of tired of this whole thing."
Marla sighed through her nose and she tapped the eraser of her pencil on the inclined desk surface for a bit, and then she nodded her head. She let her eyes wander over to the desk next to her. Those drawings, those bare drawings that seemed to taunt both of them. Those drawings without any sort of feeling to them: they looked as though they hadn't been crafted by a human woman but by a machine.
"You wanna know something—I am, too," she said in a low voice. She then turned her head back to Sam. "Hey, at least you get a trip out to California and you get to go see your parents again. I don't have a clue what I'm gonna do next year. At least Bel has an idea what she'll be doing: she's gonna be working in a glass shop up in Albany, but I have no idea about myself, though."
"You and Genie, too," Sam added.
"Right!"
Sam folded her arms across her chest. "Bel's going up to Albany, really?"
"Oh, yeah. She told me this—today actually—once school is out for the both of us, she's packing it up and bouncing up there. My best friend is actually going to move away from me."
"Well, at least she's just going up the road, though," Sam pointed out. "You know, she's not going—clear across the country."
Marla sighed through her nose. One of their own was about to leave sooner than Sam, and then she would have to leave; Marla's eyes swept back over the pages on the desk next to her. If art brought her hands to that of a machine, then therein lay a dead end for her, and Sam had the impulse to call up Bill and tell him about it. But then again, they were a year apart. Whatever Marla had to do for herself was far different from that which awaited her the next summer.
"Can I at least see what it's supposed to encapsulate?" she asked her at one point. Marla then gave her cherry red hair a light toss back with a flick of her head.
"Yeah—Mrs. Robinson gave me what to do like the first day of school—which really makes me wonder what Bill has in store for you if he's telling you about it now. I have to fill out this journal—" She set her hand on a brown hard cover journal to the left of her. "—plus make a whole series of drawings, three of them erotic and three of them far more chaste. She told me she wants it to be in the realm of 'yin' and 'yang', like opposites of each other. The meeting of sexuality without it. She described it as like the human experience. Neither side understands the point of the other, although I'm not sure as to how to bring the chaste side to life, you know without being too on the nose with it."
"Right, right." Sam paused for a second as she thought about her encounters with Joey; even though Marla couldn't hardly relate to the chaste side of life, she definitely could. "So—is that it?"
"Oh, wait, hang on—she gave me this note before I came home earlier." She picked up a little sheet of paper stuck onto the corner of the desk. "It says 'Miss Taylor, be sure to tell Miss Grimes to write up letters of recommendation for the pending masters and doctorates.'" She waved the paper about as if it meant nothing. "Yeah, another part of the whole thing is Bel and I have to write up letters of recommendation for a few of our classmates who are going onto to get their master's or doctorate degrees."
Marla then turned to Sam with her eyebrows raised. "Hey, there's an idea for you. Get your master's. He'll have to take you back home at some point because of that. The only drawback I see with that is everything I've heard about both levels of degree are a lot of work. And I mean, a lot of work. You think we're burnt out right now? That's a whole other can of beans—at least from what I'm told about it."
"Well, if that's just what a senior project is supposed to be, then it kind of makes me wonder exactly awaits me out in California."
"I have no clue what he's supposed to give you," Marla confessed to her with a shake of her head. The cherry red roots of her hair began to fade away in their boldness and into her original plain brown color.
"Hey, look at that—it's time to dye your hair again," Sam pointed out with a nod of her head.
"Yeah, I know." Marla patted the crown of her head. "I just haven't decided on what color I want next."
"I'm telling ya: different colors, like a bunch of stripes."
Marla chuckled at that. "Stripes, like one is black and the next is a muted tone and then a glossy neon one?"
"Yeah!"
"I dunno, Sam," she confessed with a shake of her head, "—that's a lot of work. Like, that is a lot of work. Remember that metallic sheen I had that one time, you know the one where it looked as though my hair was changing colors? That took like a whole afternoon to do because it was hard on my neck and there was a lot of layering involved, too. I mean, just one color takes a whole couple of hours to do. I'm still surprised Charlie was able to keep it neat—like he didn't make this huge mess in the bathroom."
"Well, there's always doing a single stripe," Sam pointed out. "Like you can dye your hair solid black and then add a tiny sliver near the crown of your head."
"Kind of like Alex's hair?"
"Yeah! Except you should make your stripe like bright pink or blue instead of gray."
"Like neon colored?" Marla smiled.
"Yeah! I can help you with that, too."
"It's not hard. Yeah, it's one of those things where it's not hard but it's just—time consuming. You don't just dye your hair willy nilly: you have to set time aside to do it. And it also takes work to pull off right because it can just make a mess or not show up at all. One of the things I learned about dyeing dark hair a weird color like blue or pink or even blonde is you have to bleach it before hand and I remember the first time that happened, too. The first time I bleached my hair and I thought 'I'm never doing that again.' Like right after that, I dyed my hair that bright tangerine orange and with those streaks on the side of my head. Remember that?"
"The first time we met each other!" Sam exclaimed. "I liked you with orange hair."
"I liked it, too. And I liked those little streaks I had, too, because they were odd. And everyone knew me not as 'Charlie's girl' but as 'the girl with the bitchin' hair.'"
"I liked you with purple hair, too."
"Bel really liked the purple, and so did Danny Lilker. During the Stormtroopers of Death tour, the first time he saw the purple hair on me, it was like one of those cartoon wolves when they see a foxy girl."
"Did he howl?" Sam laughed.
"He may as well have!"
"But ever since then, you just layered the colors on top of each other."
"Yeah. This cherry tomato color was done right on top of that metallic hairdo I had, so because of that, it's due for a redo anyways. Which means if I'm going to a weird color again like blue or pink, even if it's just a little Alex Skolnick or Dale Bozzio type streak at the front of my head, I have to bleach it no matter. And you gotta help me with it, too. The first time I did it Charlie helped me and I'm glad he did, too."
"Well—where are you right now with your senior project?" Sam asked her.
"I've been wanting a break," she confessed. "And it's still early, too." She then nibbled on her bottom lip. "I'm gonna have to go out and get hair dye, though."
"You can go blonde for a little bit, though," Sam pointed out.
"I don't look right with blonde hair," Marla told her. "It's too sharp of a contrast with my eyes. I'll show you what I mean once we get it. And the first time around it itched like crazy, even when I had washed it all out and tried to make it all nice. I can see people confusing me for Bel, too." She paused for a minute and then she snapped her fingers. "Tell you what. We can bleach my hair and then I can wash it out real good, and while I'm in the shower, you can run on down the block here and get some black and bright blue hair dye for me."
"You want blue?"
"Yeah. I think that's a good color to work with now. Either that or green, like bright green. I know I've changed hair colors before school terms ended, but I'm feeling it right now. I'm due for dyeing. I'm ready to dye."
Without another word, Sam and Marla headed into the bathroom with a bottle of powder bleach, some toner, and a shower cap: there was a pair of rubber gloves in the drawer. Marla held still as Sam mixed the powder and toner in the container right next to her. She would pour the bleach over her head while she lay her neck across in the edge of the bathtub: it was either that or lay down in the sink.
"Charlie suggested that, too," Marla recalled before she lay down, "and I was like, 'I think that's going to make a huge mess, though, Char.' So kudos to you for helping me lay down in the tub."
"So once it's mixed together, I just work it into your hair?"
"Yeah, you start from the tips and then work your way up to the top of my head—"
Sam leaned forward for the first piece of hair down in the tub and scrubbed the bleach mixture in. It took some time, but she eventually reached Marla's scalp. She had closed her eyes once Sam reached the crown of her head: the entirety of her hair had been laced with something that made Sam think of bubble bath. Meanwhile, pieces of cherry red hair dye bled off of her hair, such that it resembled to blood.
"How're you feeling?" she asked her.
"Okay. Kinda itchy, though."
"Ooh—damn."
"It's okay. It's part of the process, getting rid of the color in the keratin. So now—where are you?"
"I'm at the top of your head."
Marla then opened her eyes.
"You got the shower cap on hand?"
"Right here." Sam gestured to the shower cap on the edge of the tub next to her. She hesitated to pick it up for her given the bleach concoction on the gloves; thus Marla slipped it under her hair.
"Help me out here—"
Sam stuck stray strands of hair into the cap so they all would stay in place on Marla's head. Within a matter of seconds, Marla herself had the cap upon her head.
"So I just let it sit for a bit and then I wash it out under the shower. And then we can color it in with the black and blue hair dye."
Sam then took off the gloves and washed her hands, and headed out for two bottles of hair dye, one black and one neon blue. All the while, she pictured Alex with that same hair color scheme, that beautiful bright neon blue in lieu of the gray over his brow. She thought about the way he would dye his hair, with that rich jet black hair dye as it blanketed over that little cluster of gray hairs. The more she thought about it, the more hilarious it seemed to her, in how he could cover up a small piece of his hair with black dye. It was an odd little part of him, something that aged him even as he still stayed young, and thus he seemed so timeless to her.
His trademark.
And Joey had those deep black curls piled atop his head and the dark venom that made up his brown eyes.
Within time, she returned to the apartment right as Marla stuck her head under the shower head and washed out the bleach powder from her hair. Sam took her seat on the arm of the couch right next to Genie, who had curled up in her usual spot at the top. She could hear the water dripping from the shower down the hall, but soon enough, the pipes fell quiet and Marla rung out her hair. More silence, and then she surfaced from the bathroom with a towel on her head.
"Here, let me show you what I meant by that," she told her, and she unfurled the towel from her wet hair. Bleached and pale yellow, such that it made her eyes appear deeper and more voluminous than before, and it washed out her already milky complexion to an even more pale color.
"Wow—you look—possessed," Sam sputtered out. "Like you're about to take me down to the depths of hell.
"Charlie told me I looked like Johnny Winter when we first did it, but 'possessed' is more like it, though. Anyways, you got the dye?"
"Yup! Right here."
Sam handed Marla the bottles of black and neon blue hair dye, and she joined her once again for a bit of help. Once again, Marla let the dye sit in her hair for a bit before she washed it out under the shower's head. Come dinner time, she had a head of jet black hair accompanied with an electric blue streak at the top of her head.
"Stylin'," Sam remarked as she disposed of the shower cap; she thought of the mysterious man in her dreams and the ever changing streak in his hair. It was right then that Lars burst into her mind: maybe it was the sight of Marla's eyes having been far more prominent than before she colored her hair blonde for a bit, or maybe it was her helping out Marla with the hair dye, but she thought about how he encouraged her to be more assertive, especially with the boys not around. A break away from the tedium and she was able to find something within herself that could prove to be helpful; or maybe it came from living on her own for a few years that helped her be more of that nature.
Indeed, the next day at school, everyone in the hallways flashed Marla a thumbs up or an eager nod at her new black hair. Before they headed into their drawing class for the morning, Sam heard someone calling her name right behind her. She turned her head and there was Bill running towards her.
"Miss Shelley? A word?"
She returned to Marla.
"I'll meet up with you in a second," she told her.
A part of her wanted to ask him, "what took you so long?" but alas, she stopped herself in her tracks and they hung off to the side next to the classroom door.
"What's going on?" she asked him.
"I should tell you that it has been confirmed now. You are coming with me out to California for your senior project."
"I have a couple of questions about that," she started as Lars returned to her mind once again.
"Go ahead."
"First off, what am I going to do out there? Second, what if I wanted to get my master's degree?"
"Well, what I am going to give you for it won't be available until we get out there. And next, our master's program here works by way of signing up for it and beginning on your dissertation over the summer."
"Oh, I see." Her heart sank at that. "So—when do we go?"
"We head on out to the Golden State on the thirty first of July, and you begin your project on the fourth of August. I'm going to need you to sign some paperwork at some point so it's confirmed that you are in fact with me there."
He stuck out his hand for her to shake, and even though she took it, an uneasy feeling emerged in the pit of her stomach and inside of her chest. Her fate was sealed right then. In two months' time, she had to relish every second she had with Joey over Christmas break. Their last one together.
She had to give him what she couldn't give to Cliff in their final Christmas together in the two years before. Two years ago she and Cliff spent Christmas at her parents' house! Two Christmases without him. After class, she told Marla about it, who almost fainted when she learned of the exact date of it all. She then told Belinda, who cupped her hands to her mouth to keep herself from doing anything drastic, and then she threw her arms around Sam.
"It's okay, Bel," she sputtered from her tight grip, "—it's not like I'm leaving right now or even next week. It's the middle of next summer. It's still a ways off."
"But you're still leaving us, though!" Belinda exclaimed with a break in her voice.
"She's leaving me, especially," Marla joined in as she brushed away some tears.
"I just wonder how Aurora's gonna react to this," Sam confessed. "I haven't spoken to her since Alex's birthday."
"I saw her just yesterday, actually," Belinda told her. "She and Emile were shopping for baby clothes. She's not showing, though, so part of me feels like she's faking it."
"Understand, she's barely two months along, Bel," Marla pointed out. "She will be eventually, though."
Sam kept her eye on the look of disappointment on Marla's face as she said that, and she was disappointed, too. Aurora had gotten married and let it all go straight to her head: she could shake her head at Joey's antics to Alex all she wanted, but it was Aurora who hadn't thanked Alex for being in her wedding, and she made his special day all about herself. At the same time, she had no other means of coming in touch with Aurora, either. She had moved clear over to Long Island with Emile and with her packed schedule in school, there simply was no way for Sam to clear the air with her, her initial best friend.
As the days grew darker, and the rain froze over into ice followed by sleet and snow, so too did her wish to leave start a fresh new chapter in life. Granted, her move to New York proved to be a new chapter in and of itself, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt her travels out to California could serve as the next one. She was about to leave home for home again, but she had to finish the first arc before she moved onto the next one, and that was spending one good Christmas with Joey.
Winter came with a firm, vengeful grip on the Northeast come finals week and the middle of December, such that the snows blanketed everything to where it felt like they could bury everyone there alive. By the last day of school, Sam had signed the paperwork that Bill had left for her and thus, her fate had been sealed for the next summer. So caught up between both sides but the whole thing was inevitable.
She sat down on the edge of her bed, right next to Genie, with a cup of Mexican hot chocolate in hand, complete with the little marshmallows. Perhaps, even though it would be the summer time, she could teach her mother how to make Mexican hot chocolate, just like the kind she made for Cliff that morning.
She glanced down at Genie and that soft black fur. Careful not to wake her, she petted her head and her back. Genie never moved; instead, she gave her a soft purr. She hoped that she could take another photograph, that one of Genie for her parents to see for themselves when she got to see them again.
She sipped on her hot chocolate when there was a knock on the door.
"I'll get it," Marla called out.
Another sip and then—
"Hey, Joey!"
"Mm, Joey's here?"
"Yeah! Frankie is, too!"
Her two best friends, back to her for one more Christmas in New York. Sam set down the cup on her desk and then she headed back into the front room.
Joey's eyes never looked so brighter than they had before then, even with the look of fatigue upon his face. His black curls stood on every which end atop his head.
"Holy fuck, that was a long flight," he declared as part of his greeting; the fatigue in his voice meant it had been a grueling stint of the tour. Meanwhile, Frank stumbled into the apartment as well. He let out a long low whistle and then he spotted Sam in the hallway.
"There's our girl!" he proclaimed with his arms outstretched for her. Sam lunged for Frank first. If anything, he was her best friend. Her first real best friend there in New York, and she knew he would be in that position no matter where she went in the world. How she missed the soft musk on the side of his neck and the softest part of his lush black hair.
She then turned to Joey for an embrace as well, and he followed it up with a kiss on the side of her neck. He then held back and gazed right into her eyes.
As brown as the earth, but strangely liquid, as if he was about to burst into tears.
"How is everything?" Marla asked them as she rubbed her hands together.
"Yeah, how was the tour?" Sam joined in.
"Oh, my god, I wish you girls were with us," Frank confessed. "Those European crowds are—crazy. Just insane. You thought the crowd in Boston was nuts—the crowd in Boston was like a graveyard compared to the people in Germany and Switzerland."
"They are so passionate, though," Joey added. "Like Frankie and I met some people before a few of the shows and they're just obsessed with the music."
"The girls, too!" Frank declared.
"Oh, yeah, they were just ape shit about the Cherry Suicides, too. I think we were in Ireland? They did that song 'Dead Witches' where Zelda just goes crazy on the drums."
"Yeah, it was Northern Ireland, Joey," Frank said. "I remember 'cause that was Halloween night. They stretched the song to like twenty minutes, like Minerva just unleashed this huge solo."
"They played it for like twenty minutes in Oslo and Sweden, too," Joey added. "Like Minerva was wearin' this little Viking helmet as she did it, too, it was just the coolest thing. Hardcore punk rock made by a black Viking, dare I say."
"Oh, and the guys loved them," Frank recalled.
"Who, the Swedes or the Norwegians?"
"Both. Both crowds were just in awe of those girls." He cleared his throat; he, too, had his fill of touring for the time being.
"Yeah, the Irish weren't too sure of them at first, but they warmed up to 'em pretty well, though. The Scandinavians, it was like instant love there. Kinda makes you wonder what's going on up there."
"And I'm surprised Zelda doesn't have like giant tree trunks for calves," Frank joked. "She basically hasn't taken off those duct tape boots Chuck gave her."
"Although we also performed a few dates here in the States," Joey continued, "there was just no way we could come in contact with you girls 'cause we were like manically hoppin' around the place. We finished up in Dallas just yesterday, and I am just bushed right now."
"Wow," Sam breathed out, "where is Zelda, by the way?"
"Oh, they went back to Rhode Island already," Frank told her. "Although Joey has sump'n for ya in his car downstairs."
"Yeah." Joey showed her that crooked smile and Sam followed him outside, to the cold gray blanket overhead and the thick layer of pure white snow all around them.
His car parked there at the curb, and Sam could make out the sight of something in the back seat.
"So for the last few dates of the tour," he began over the noise of the street, "I realized that—this is gonna be our last holiday break together."
"And it's confirmed now," she told him as they stood before the side of the car.
"It's confirmed!" he exclaimed and he gaped at her.
"It's confirmed. I leave July thirty first."
Joey swallowed, and Sam could see the tears in his eyes.
"I should tell you this then," he started as he tucked his hands into his coat pockets.
"What?"
He lingered closer to her body. "I cherish every moment I have with you, Sam," Joey told her. "I know I can lose you."
She peered up to the sky, at the first little flurries of snow as it fluttered down from the gray overhead. She brought her gaze down to the right side of the street, at all the twinkling Christmas lights as they decorated the trees along the sides of the street. Her last Christmas in New York with Joey. The snow was about to bury them both if they didn't act right then and there.
"I cherish every moment I have with you," he repeated; and he leaned in for an embrace upon her lips. Sweet and soft, like molten dark chocolate; warm and silken, like the cup of Mexican hot chocolate that she had made for Cliff that one morning. For the first time in a year, everything reminded her of Cliff, but at the same time, it reminded her of Joey. Something new, something unique, something completely different than what she had known before.
He held back and gazed right into her face.
"I wish you didn't have to leave," he told her.
"I wish I didn't, either," she confessed, and she couldn't resist the tears in her eyes. "What do you want to give me, by the way?"
"Just that," he whispered to her. "The only thing in the car here is my guitar. And yeah—it's officially my guitar now."
She brought her lips to his again. They didn't need any mistletoe to believe it between them.