He Saw Anger, She Saw Hurt
As I stood at the edge of the marble table, I watched the large group of stoned people
dance on top of an expensive coffee table to the base-enhanced rave music. Their hands
were in the air, their arms swinging endlessly, and their heads were bobbing up and down
in unexpected directions (much like those Taco Bell dogs you see in the backs of cars.)
Emerging from behind the group walked a familiar face, and as he noticed me, he walked
over to me as quick as possible. He asked me if I had seen his date, who was my best
friend. I tilted my head back a tad in one quick motion while rolling my eyes to me left,
his right. As he looked over my shoulder, a look of great disgust broke out on his face.
He turned around and walked away, fading out the door to the patio in the back which
was full of careless, drunk, teenagers. The girl he was looking for was standing next to a
tall white boy who was sitting in a high stool, with a devilish smile and a Bud in his left
hand. I turned around and heard him making fun of her date, the guy who I had just
talked to. She had a look of sorrow about her, as if one more person made fun of her she
was going to pick up a gun and blow her head off. I grabbed her arm gently and took her
out onto the patio with me. Something was wrong.
Standing next to the patio door, I saw him again, eyeing her in disgust. He
motioned me that it was time to go, so she and I walked around, saying our good-byes,
and we headed towards the front door of the colossal house that was located on the
wealthy Trinidad Island. We kept on walking, but he stooped and said something to one
of his friends as his date and I passed him by. They made no recognition whatsoever
towards one another.
He stormed out the front door, and didn’t wait up for us, as we did for him. With
anger in his walk, and heartache in her eyes, something horrible had gone on at that party
that I was unaware of, something hurtful. He threw his hat into the back of his truck with
immense force so that it made a loud, clangy noise. We had just reached the bed of the
white Chevy Truck when he had started the engine, and revved it so that the whole
neighborhood could hear him. We finally got in the truck with a small cab, and she had to
sit in the middle, next to his stick shift.
She was huddled closer to me this time, unlike our ride to the party, where she had
grabbed on to his arm as we sped around the turns. This time it was different. It was
silent in the truck, no radio, no talking. Even though I could hear the roar and rumble of
his engine, that kind of unnatural silence was deafening to teenage ears..
He drove with recklessness out of the neighborhood with a lead foot. A couple
unnecessary close calls due to his angered driving made me swear the f-word loud enough
for China to hear. That didn’t stop him. He was so pissed, he sped 75 down a 25 zone,
disregarding the fact he had gotten a ticket on our way to the party. She grasped onto my
hand for dear fright, but we still said nothing. I had no right to say anything, because I
didn’t know why he was mad. As we were stopped at a red light about 1/4 of a mile from
her house, I could have sworn that was the longest red light I have ever had to wait at, not
knowing how long we would have to be there, where I should look, or if I should say
something.
We safely made it to her neighborhood, and as he floored the gas one last time
down her street, I could see the anguish in her eyes as she thought he would not say
“Goodbye. I’ll call you tomorrow” this time As I slid my seat-belt off as the truck came to
a steady stop, he looked at her and said, “Can I talk to you.” I opened the door and felt
the cold gust of fresh, chilly air brush against my entire body, and goose-bumps ran down
my back. I walked up her driveway to the side door and went inside to her warm house,
making sure I didn’t look back. She remained in the truck, and only I know what
happened after that, but that’s a different story.
