Finding Love

Bethany

It all started with a dance, a Fila shirt and Puff Daddy.

It’s a normal weekend. Nothing different about it. I had gone out many weekends before. All to the same place. One of my favorite places to escape. Escape my identity seems more like it. There I feel free, unique even, one of a kind. Not every time but most.

I’ve got a self-esteem problem. Then again, what teen doesn’t? Trying so hard to be notice. If someone would just notice me and give me the tiniest bit of attention, maybe I’d feel wanted enough.

You see, I come from a large family. You know, the one with lots of kids and only so much love to spare. I felt starved. Not just for food, which there was only enough of thanks to my mom’s food stamps, but for attention. Maybe if I was prettier, or more talented, or more spectacular, someone would love me more.

He always tells me I’m so pretty. I should be a model. He loves me. He loves me more than the others. But he says I can’t tell anyone. They won’t understand his love for me. No one understands how much I need this. I needed him. He tells me that it’s wrong if people find out, but I want to shout it at the rooftops. This man loves me. He gives me gifts and pays special attention to me. His smile lights up the room when I come in. I know I make him happy and that makes me happy.

I shake off the memory.

I found myself begging my dad to let me go to the club that night. I’m only 15 years old. It’s an under 21 club just a couple blocks from my parent’s house. I go all the time but for some reason he isn’t giving me the permission to go this time.

“But Dad, c’mon. All my friends are waiting for me,” I say, pleading.” I’ll make sure my room is clean, the kitchen, whatever you want done. I’ll do it. Please let me go. Please?”

“No.” He says with such finality.

I turn to my friend Lucy. I just met her a couple of weeks ago. She’s a senior like my sister. She’s pretty too. Tall with short brown hair, makeup all done with that pencil thin liner on the outside of her lips, dried with powder so it wouldn’t fade. It’s the 90s you know.

“Will you try to talk to him?” I say as I give her my most pleading look.

Lucy knows what this is. She knows my dad is a big flirt. I see her walk over to him and bat her eyelashes and now I hear them laughing. My dad loves my mother but sometimes he likes the attention too.

“Get dressed. We’ve ten minutes before the doors open. Let’s go” she says.

I fly into the living room hugging my dad saying thank you as hard as I can as I squeeze his neck. I run up the stairs and realize I don’t have time for any cute outfits or doing my hair. Heck, I don’t have time for any makeup. But I have a tank top on with some jeans that are frayed at the bottom because they drag so low on the ground. I have short legs and long arms. It helped me set the sit and reach record at school, many years in a row. These pants are a form of Jenco jeans. Tight around my butt though, how I like them but wide from the thigh down. It feels like a deep hug with wings. I grab a Fila Jersey, three sizes too big for me, and throw it over my head. I got it at a Goodwill store. It’s name brand and screams hip and trendy so I wear it. It does nothing for my figure, but I don’t care. Today isn’t about getting people to notice me. Today is just about escaping and having fun.

“I can’t believe he let me go!” I squealed. “You’re magic! I can’t believe it.”

“Believe it girl. No one can resist me.” Lucy says proudly.

I get excited as we walk the couple of blocks away from my parent’s house to my haven, Planet Bubba’s. The club has been around for a long time. Changing its name every couple of years or so. Just enough to keep it hip to the new set of teens on the scene so to say. My mom came here when it was “The Rink.” My sister came here once when it was called “Illusions,” a techno place. Now a year or two back it was renovated again by a local radio DJ and has a space theme playing primarily rap.

We walk up the four floors to get to the top. That’s where the club is located. It’s all decked out in glow in the dark colors. A huge spaceship crashed into the side of the wall above the stairs. Planets and stars litter the ceiling and walls.

“These stairs are killing me. I need to get in shape.” I tell her.

“You look great! Hot even!” She states.

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes.

We walk in feeling like a million bucks. My best friend Alyssa comes up to me. She’s racially mixed. Not too many of them in our small town but she’s popular, nonetheless. She’s my best friend. She reminds me of T-Boz from TLC the popular girl group from the late 90s. We may have even dressed up like them from time to time in her bedroom with silk pajamas exposing our midriffs just like the song while singing it at the top of our lungs.

“Hey Alyssa! How’s it going tonight? Anyone here?” I say.

“You will not believe who showed up tonight!” She grabs my arm and tugs me away in a corner.

“Who?” I look around excited but alarmed at the sight of her eyes.

“Jennifer!” She screeches while looking over her shoulder. Jennifer is the tough girl in town. She has it out for me. A couple of weeks ago, I was shaking my thing on the dance floor while this guy came up behind me and started grinding up against me. We danced together for most of the night. But that’s all that it was, a dance. She apparently was dating the guy and was ready to punch my face in for just a dance. She’s scary. I ran from the club back to my parents’ house once I found out she had it out for me. She threatened to beat me up when the night was over so I slipped out early and ran home. Well she was here tonight. It had been weeks though so surely she didn’t still want to beat me up. Right?

“Crap! What do I do?” I say with fear in my eyes.

“Just ignore her. Let’s hit the dance floor,” Alyssa says.

Getting my mind off my possible impending doom, I head to the dance floor. I’ve been blessed with rhythm. I know how to move my body to the beat. My parents taught me well. I can dance all night. I know eyes are on me. It’s my happy place. I get attention here.

I find Lucy in the crowd near our usual friends. She’s not as popular as Alyssa who is a track star in school but she’s so outgoing she might as well be.

“Do you want to come dance with me?” I say, out of breath.

“Sure!” She replies as she follows me to where Alyssa and some of our other friends are dancing. We dance for a couple of songs until a slow one comes on.

Because I lack confidence, I always find myself left out during slow songs. No one wants to dance with me. No one finds me attractive. No one wants to come near the shy girl who doesn’t know the full power of her sexuality. She doesn’t give men what they want, so why should she get asked to dance. Instead of moping around about it, which I had spent plenty of other times doing, I came up with a fool-proof plan. I dance like a silly person during a slow song. I say silly because if you hear the song and watch my movements, they don’t match. I found it was easier to act like a total weirdo than to admit someone doesn’t want to dance with me. I really can’t handle rejection.

I’m near Lucy as she’s dancing with this big man. He’s a senior too. I know this because we also run in the same circles. He’s super popular. Not in the Ken and Barbie stereotype but in the ‘everyone knows him and wants to be around him’ type. She motions me to come over.

“Hey! Take my place while I get a water.” She says.

“Um... Okay.” I stand there looking confused. It’s very rare that I find myself dancing with someone for a slow dance. There is no where to go. You’re boxed in. His hands are on my tiny but curvy waist. My hands are on his big shoulders. He’s handsome. Reminds me of a huge teddy bear. His eyes don’t know what color to settle on. Are they blue or green? Maybe they’re a weird shade of brown. I can’t decide. I study his features more closely. His hair is short but black and he’s got facial hair shaved to a goatee. As I’m dancing with him in my large Fila jerseys, I’m wondering if I’m going to finally get beat up tonight by a jealous girlfriend of someone I danced with one time.

He’s looking right at me and I keep looking over my shoulder. When is Lucy coming back? How much longer am I going to dance with him? He keeps staring at me. Like he’s looking through to my soul. I’m feeling uncomfortable. What’s he looking at? Do I smell bad? I sprayed a lot of perfume on me. This is a direct result of years of being teased. My parents smoked a lot. Do I have something on my face? The song has almost ended and as he keeps staring at me with a slight grin on his face, I can’t help but have a warm feeling in my belly and one word in my mind.

Safe.