Throwback-Part II

Folks...I apologize in advance for the inconsistency of fonts...

 

Tia’s Pumpkin Party: The Night I learned to Listen

8:00 p.m. Tia and I paint our nails and are sort of watching t.v. waiting for our guests to arrive. We're having a party tonight! Well-she is-there mainly her friends...

At about 8:30 the door bell rings. It’s Kate and Toya. Kate is a friend of  Sam's ( the boyfriend of Tia's friend Tara) and
Toya is Kate’s roommate. Toya is beautiful; thin, brown skinned and large doe-slanted eyes-a gorgeous smile and southern drawl. She’s the walking, talking poster child  for la vie Brooklyn Boheme. She makes me sick immediately. Fine, I’ll admit it- I’m a tad jealous. But in a healthy way-meaning, I’m the expert at repressing those feelings.

Kate is pretty too-laid back and soft spoken.  She has long red hair and huge, green "searching eyes."Very “hippie chick;” very Fort Greene.

We introduce each other; get the pleasantries out of the way-and Kia brings out a bottle of wine. It’s about time.

For the most part, I hate socializing, and tonight I really wasn’t in the mood. At that moment, Angela-’s Tiacousin arrives, with a bottle of rum and watermelon punch.  Now I’m excited, and a little more in the mood to socialize. The guests begin to arrive all at once-exactly one hour after the official start time of 8 p.m.

I suppose as  general party etiquette, if you don’t want to appear overly eager, and you don’t want to miss the food-which is why you probably came in the first place, you should arrive precisely an hour after the official start time. I think it’s a foolproof way to ensure that you’ll be fed, without sitting around starving, trying to be polite waiting around for people to show up so your starving ass can eat. And God knows we’re all starving.  Isn't that the real reason any of us attend these things? 

 Sam and Rich(who is supposedly semi-dating Kate) arrive. Rich is a drummer for a skinhead ska band. He’s about four feet tall, black, stocky and chock full of tattoos. I  met him a couple of times before, hanging out with Sam and his girlfriend Mara. Tia couldn’t stand him, but I could find no fault in him, at least not yet.  Finally, John arrives, the last of Tia’s guests. He’s a musician and another Brooklyn Boho. I overhear him tell my roommate that he’s fasting, and will only be able to drink the home-made ginger-iced tea he brought with him, and whatever other juice she may have  in the house. 

Ever since I’ve known him John’s been fasting. All I know is that he better eat something-he looks like he's going to die. It’s like the flesh is hanging from his bones, and his face is gaunt.
Where his eyes should be are two deep hollow spaces. I wonder how in the hell he thinks that’s healthy. I can’t bear to look at him. 

The guests are settled and I’m feeling nice. I’m tipsy enough to be friendly and sociable. Tia’s retired to the kitchen to put last minute touches on the entrees she has prepared. ( I refuse to take responsibility for any nasty food).

People are talking, the mood is light and fun. I’m getting my drink on because I don’t know how much longer I can take talking. I want to moooove something. But I behave and do the right thing. I try to enter my two cents worth on the political conversation that has taken over the party. 

“I just wish people would vote their conscience”, I say.  I want to talk about who I want to vote for, and why everybody else should too-but I don’t, and the guilt has been eating away at me. What kind of activist am I? How can I have a political career if I can’t voice my opinion without fear? I make myself sick. 

Heads nod all around. We can’t believe the outocome of the election, even though we knew he would win again. I should have voted my conscious. Conservative republicans and the Christian right could actually count on the democratic vote based on so-called liberal-democratic views on abortion, gay marriage, and so forth. I can’t believe how big a role religion played in the campaign.

“I know,” said Kate-the Catholic Church told its members, that it was a sin not to vote for HIM.” Heads shake in disgust and contempt of the new administration. We’re fucked for the next four years, says Rich. He’d been quiet all evening, his mouth didn’t open the entire evening except to put a fork full of food in it.

“What bugs me is this whole democratic/republican bullshit. If you ask me, the candidates are the same, it’s just that one supports big tax-cuts and the other doesn’t. One supports social welfare, the other doesn’t. But they are both rich, sons of bitches that don’t give a damn about you or me.  You know who was a flip flopper-and a stump speecher. I didn’t trust him at all. “

”Yeah,” said Kate-but you know that flip flop thing was created by the right…

“I don’t buy that bull-shit!" I said, a little louder than I wanted to.  "I’m tired of the left blaming the right and the right blaming the left."  You-know-who did did vote for the war:  it doesn’t matter if he thought it was the right thing to do or not. He just has to man up. He voted for it. Who cares what party you belong to? I know he can’t come right out and say he’s for or against gay marriage, but you can’t be on all sides of an issue-especially if you’re running for president. Let’s face it-voters want a president that they can count on. So what if the right introduced it, it’s what helped them win the election. You-know-who-didn’t do enough to defend why he flip- flopped. We knock the right down too much, but I think if other parties-well, the democrats especially-took a page from the republican handbook the democrats may be able to win back the White House. Personally, I want to see labor issues and the plight of the working poor in this country addressed, they never are, except as sound-bites.”

“I agree,” says Kate, nodding her head solemnly. 

As if on cue, Tia came into the living room with a tray of food. I caught Kate staring over at

Rich, in the corner pouring himself a drink. I got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a stiff drink-all that political talk made me thirsty. The democrats had really pissed me off this election. I took a sip of my drink and seriously considered becoming a republican.

“Everybody! Everybody! Tia called, interrupting my reverie. Just a quick word about the food…” The mini conversations emanating from every corner of the living room ceased as Tia took the floor, looking quite pleased with herself.

She walked around the table pointing to each entrée. “This is pumpkin fettucini with mushroom, cheese and…, pumpkin seed salad with olive oil dressing, olive oil and pumpkin topenade and pumpkin soup. Actually, it’s not reeeallly pumpkin soup-it’s butternut squash.”  She giggled and looked around. No one else got the joke.

”You made all this?” Asked Toya, her wide eyes glistening.  I hated her.

“Yeah…”she said, casting glance to the floor, feigning humility. I wanted to slap her.  She knew she loved the attention.

Wows and hmmms and aahhhhs could be heard around the room. I stood in the kitchen and admired her presentation.

Tia’s no joke,” John piped up. He was the first one in line for a plate. It was actually nice to see him eat something. 

 “She cooks for my parties all the time. Tia’s infamous in Fort Greene for her parties and her cooking. You haven’t had a party in a while though, Tia? What’s up?” He asked, shoveling mounds of pumpkin what have you in his plate. He actually had to take two plates.

“Oh…I don’t know, she said. It’s just so much work.”

“But you’re so good at it.”

“Ahhh, thank you, and there’s plenty more so please, don’t be shy folks,-eat!”

And eat they did. 

I cannot tell a lie- the food was superb. One of the best meals she had ever cooked and it was going to be my last with her.

“Hmm….Tia, this butternut squash soup is to die for,” said Kate.

I watched Tia mingle with her guests;  envying her and pitying her at the same time. I envied her for having the guts to do what she did-she really put herself out there.  She would always be successful because she was a giving person, but I pitied her because I knew she did it trying to impress people and meet “real” friends through these parties-The guest list for her parties had changed over the four years I lived with her.  I knew she was trying to meet people that she could relate too and share a closeness with, rather than just having random friends. I realized it because I lived in New York City for four years hoping to find the same thing. I just didn’t try so hard. Perhaps I should have. Time for another drink.

“You’re drinking my favorite beer,” I said to Rich, who was still hovering by the table, sipping a Yeungling.

“Oh, you like Yeungling? We brought a whole bunch. Rich tapped Sam on his shoulder, interrupting his conversation with some poor, drunk chick.

She was having a hard time keeping her head up.  “She wants a Yeungling,” he nodded his head in my direction.

“There in the fridge, help yourself.” Sam said, returning to his conversation. He either didn’t care, or didn’t notice the girl was half asleep. Knowing Sam he didn’t care. He was proving his point and that's all that mattered.

“Thanks," I said. "I’ll get one later. Right now, I want some of the hard stuff”-I poured myself a glass of coconut rum and watermelon punch, and returned to the observatory, my spot in the kitchen where I had the best view in the house.

A few minutes later, Sam  and Angel call me out to the terrace for a smoke. Finally!  Since I lost my job, and had no income, I wasn’t able to afford the luxury. I had been without smoke or drink for months-I didn’t know you couldn’t buy beer with foodstamps, which is why I looked forward to these parties! I had to give up everything, because I could no longer afford it. All I had was my foodstamps. What I couldn’t buy with them, I’d have to do without.  So when Gerrard lit up , and my nostrils caught the aroma of fresh smoke, it was euphoria!  I was happy to be here. My needs were being taken care of. Tia’s friends were my friends.  I decided that I wasn’t ready to leave my apartment.

“Act like this is your house, go out there and entertain people,” Angel whispered in my ear.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked between puffs.

“Act like this is your house, and entertain people,” she repeated, inhaling deeply off her Capri slim.  I was feeling the effects of the smoke and drink so it took me a while to process things, and when I did, I was dramatic about it. She meant that if I wanted to stay, I had to act like I belonged there, instead of hiding in the shadows and letting Tia run the show, like I usually did.  I thought about it, and decided that she may be right-except that Tia really was running the show-it was her party. The one thing Angel did help me realize though was that if I wanted something, I better act like I wanted it. I wanted what I had tonight.  Intelligent debate, smokes , food.

“When Tia told me about your situation  I was so sad.” So she and Angel were talking about me...

“ I hated that bitch Tia roomed with before. Rich handed me another cigarette.  I took a long, deep pull. “Oh… yeah, well…I don’t want to leave, trust me. I’ve tried every avenue available to me-we’ll see what happens…” I was really feelin' the effects now, and I was cold. It was time to go back inside and re-enter the party.

11:00 p.m.

Angel, , Sara and Tia were showing Toya how to belly dance. Tia must have been waiting for us to come back inside because as soon as we came in, she ran into the kitchen, to retrieve the Pumpkin pie and ice cream for dessert. 

Pumpkin Pie and pumpkin ice cream. I didn’t realize the shit would be sooo damn good! I lost myself for a moment devouring it.  At this point, the party had broken off into two groups, with two separate conversations.  On one side of the room, was John, Angel and Toya. On the other, Sam, Sara, Kate and myself.  I couldn’t  participate in either of them,  I had nothing to contribute. And besides, I wanted to dance-not talk. We talked for two hours straight already.

“Everybody,” I shouted, cutting into the conversations, you’re all talking way too much.” I wasn’t trying to be rude-just stating a fact.

“She’s right”, somebody agreed. I think it was Rich, but I don’t remember. It didn’t matter, they continued to talk amongst themselves and I continued to drink.

Rich came and sat beside me. I don’t know if he expected me to start a conversation with him or something, and maybe I had offended him but he claimed he had a private joke to tell, and moved his chair away from mine, and closer to Kate, Sara and Sam. Eventually, he moved to the couch, and I could swear he was giving me dirty looks. But then again, I was drunk, and paranoid. Well, whatever it was, it was rude, and I knew that I wasn’t imagining him acting like an asshole, and after I gave him crackers too. I was offended and horrified. Did my feet smell? Did my breath stink? What did I do? Was it my imagination, or was Rich antagonizing me? I had to ignore him because I already knew his reputation. Besides, Kate was vying for his attention the whole time-weren’t they seeing each other? It didn’t look like it, because Rich hardly paid her any attention. I had been in situations like this before-real and imagined, where some chick gets mad at the dude she’s interested in because he’s paying more attention to me then her. I was really trying to avoid that tonight. Which is why I wore an oversized dress over my tight jeans-nothing form fitting, no titillating cleavage showing. Anyway…as the night progressed and I got drunker I relaxed a little bit, and resumed doing what I do best-judging people.  That Toya chick was really pretty. Did she and John have something going on? Sam  and Sara were trying to compete for control of the room, Sara like myself was just an innocent bystander-and Kate well, I couldn’t tell what was up with Kate. I was sitting in my own world observing-when suddenly John asked Tia a question about the doorbell. We always tell people to ring the middle buzzer when they come over-but I forgot that we have two.

“Oh yeah,” I heard Tia say. “The Raja bell, remember that Renee?” How could I forget?  She installed that bell so that Raja, "my boyfriend"  wouldn’t wake her up when he rang the original bell, which rang in her room.  Raja used to come over early in the morning-I can’t really blame her for being upset, but it wasn’t my fault that the bell only rang in her room. The problem with the
Raja bell was that whenever it rang, it would buzz our next-door neighbors, and whenever their bell rang, it buzzed our bell. There was a lot of annoying bell buzzing going on around the time that the “Raja bell” was installed. We reminisced about all the time he spent in our apartment, and how she hated him so much that when he came over and rang the wrong bell, she would come to her window and tell him to ring the right one, rather then answering the door and letting him in. It was strange to be laughing about it now; I never thought I would. The same went for the next dude-Kory, whom I think she hated even more than Raja. There sure were a lot of memories in that apartment. The rooms were full of us.  I learned a lot about my roommate and myself during our tenure together.Tia was a control freak. None of my friends ever came over, my family stayed away-except for my sister, because they noticed that she controlled the apartment; non-threateningly but matter-of-factly. They saw that she controlled the apartment while I was left to the tiny cupboard that was  my room. Part of that was my fault; I should have acted like I owned the apartment then too-I was paying half the rent, but I realized tonight, that this was not my apartment. I did not own it. It was time to get out into the world and start having my own parties; no talking allowed.

1:00 a.m.

The Questions Game-warning: never play this game while you are drunk. You will have to answer for things that you would never have admitted to if you were sober and in your right mind. What happens is that you ask someone a question, they can’t answer the question-they’re supposed to answer back with a question for you or for someone else. The game was fun for a while until Angel asked John if he wanted to sleep with me, and he simply answered yes.  Thank God alcohol was involved and I pretended not to hear.

It was time for the party to end-people were restless and ready to leave. I was feeling bad for Tia; she was oblivious to the fact that people were bored now. Especially Rich , who already had his coat on and was pacing back and forth by the door, like a dog anxious to go out for a  piss. He was begging Sam to leave with him. Sam was drunk and wanted to stay-he lived on the upper west side and didn’t want to have to take the train home at this hour. He extended the invitation to Rich, and the rest of the gang. Sam was trying to convince Toya that she should stay as well. 

“Let the girl go,” I insisted, with a hint of bitterness in my voice.  “She wants to leave.” And who the hell did Sam think he was-inviting people to stay in our apartment? The look she gave me was a cross between-“thank you,” and what the fuck is your problem? Rich vehemently refused to stay. He actually got nasty about it, shaking his head with disgust when Sam beligerently  told him he wasn’t going anywhere. I handed Toya and Kate their jackets, discreetly pushing them out the door. Yet somehow Sam had convinced Toya to stay long enough for her to recite her butta-fly chocolate pie-sugar- sweet nursery rhyme, which called for audience participation. These goddam Fort Greene boho’s-they just don’t know when to quit. 

This brought back bad memories for me, and I wasn’t in the mood for this wanna be def-poet shit.  Tia gave me a funny look when she realized I wasn’t playing along.  I wasn’t trying to be a bitch; I just didn’t want to play.  Toya was ruining my buzz with this poem-it was wack and it made no sense. Besides, it  brought me back to the first party Tia and I had together. When I fell in love with the other def –jam wanna be poet Raja,  fell in love, and had my heart broken.  The irony of the whole situation was that, she was the kind of woman he would have been attracted to-the kind of woman I wished I was.

When she finished her poem, I clapped for her as loudly as I could to show her that there were no hard feelings, (it might have come across as a little bit obnoxious) and I didn’t hate her stupid, talented and gorgeous guts.   She was definitely talented, but didn’t deserve all the accolades  Sam was giving her. It was like he was doing it on purpose--to get back at me or something.  He had embarrassed me earlier on at the party-making me repeat my own silly rhyme, which was in no way intended to be heard in public by strangers, or  judged, like I was in some kinda def-poetry slam competition.

Tia asked me to check on the pumpkin pie before I went out on the terrace to smoke and I made up a little rhyme about not trusting a girl that’s high (me) to check on the pumpkin pie.  He keeps bugging me to recite it, even though I tell him it’s not worth repeating, it's a stupid drunken diddy, but as is his nature, Sam persisted, and so I recited it. Toya laughs me off, and says to Gerrard in her stupid southern drawl, “Oh, she’s trying to do a spoken word thing,” Sam laughs,  turns to me and says, “Oh…that was really bad.” The whole party laughs. “I know,” I shoot back.  “I’m not a def poet, asshole.”

Rich is as phony as the Luis Vuitton purses that wide hipped  chicks carry on the subway when he gives us the goodbye kiss on the cheek. He’s mad as hell and won’t take it any-more!  He’s the first one stomping out the door. The rest of the entourage follows behind.  Kate mouths,  “I’ll call you” and then starts bragging to Tia about something that Toya does and is really good at. I don’t remember what it is, and I don’t know who cared.  Toya doesn’t needs any more marketing. She’s the last one to leave. She gives me a hug and I practically push her out the door. Party’s over.

The Wrap Up

I’m cleaning up getting ready to unwind. My roomate’s talking about what a great success the party was. This was the first time in the four years I’d lived here that I wanted to slap her. Could she be that self- absorbed? The party was wack-and I was tired having to fake my feelings. I had been doing it for four years, and it was catching up with me.  How could she not see Rich anxious to leave-and didn’t’ she think it was odd that everyone was ready to leave at the same time? That pissed me off. I mean, I understood that people had to go-but it was the way they left that pissed me off.  For her, not me, after all, these were her friends.

We’re all sitting around after the guests left, shooting the shit.  Tia, of course,  was patting herself on the back about what a great success the party was. I knew that she was leading up to something because she kept talking about Toya. And sure enough, here it comes:  

“I feel really intimidated by beautiful women.  Does anyone else feel that way?”

I may be drunk, but I know when I’m being psycho-analyzed. She’s been doing it to me for four years. I was tired of it. I knew she was referring to the way I was acting towards Toya. I took the bait. 

“What do you mean?”

“Oh I don’t know, I mean whenever I see beautiful women, they just look like they have it together, and I think wow-it must be cool to be them.

“I don’t know…I suppose I look at them, and think hey-I’m just as beautiful!” It’s not hard to be beautiful. You should know that, I shot at her. She winced. I knew it was mean, but she deserved it. I really had her thinking I was stupid, all these years allowing her to make judgments about me. I probably should have addressed the issue right then and there, but I didn’t. Instead, I got off the couch and began to clean up the house, which is what I always did.

Tonight would be the last time I cleaned up after her.