Tessie D

Angel took me out this weekend to a Christmas party on Saturday night. One of his friends from high school was throwing a party, and we drove up there. I hadn’t been to the Metroplex in years, not since we went to Six Flags in high school during my junior year for a field trip in Physics.

Is it really possible to live for years within just a 60-mile radius? We just never had a reason to go to the city — or the money for it. It’s not like we could afford to go out to eat, see a play, or anything like that. Daddy’d complain about the gas money, and what if the truck broke down and we were stranded somewhere?

I didn’t want to say any of that to Angel, so when he asked if I wanted to go with him that weekend, I just nodded and said, “Okay.”

We stopped at a gas station before heading out of town, and Angel filled up his truck. Then we went inside and suggested that I load up the road. I wasn’t sure what he meant, so I got a fountain drink and a bag of chips.

“That’s not enough. It’s a road trip,” he smiled. “We’re gonna need a lot more than just to carry us through the night.” And then he started piling bags of junk food in my arms. He added candy, cookies, and a bigger bag of chips to the hoard in my arms.

“We can’t eat all of this!” I laughed.

“Oh, I bet we can.”

When we got to the register, we were waiting behind a tiny elderly woman trying to check out. She was carrying a couple packages of hot dogs and buns. They were supposed to be marked down, but the cashier kept ringing them up at full price. After they’d got that sorted, the elderly woman started counting out her cash, and she didn’t have enough.

I was waiting for Angel to get anxious or frustrated about how long we were having to wait. Daddy would’ve gotten mad at the lady for taking too long and holding up the line, but Angel didn’t seem concerned. I looked over at him, trying to gauge his response, but he didn’t notice. Instead, he nudged me to move up toward the elderly woman.

“Here, let me get this for you,” Angel said to the elderly woman. Angel directed his attention toward the cashier, “Ma’am, can you ring up our purchases with hers?” Before the elderly woman could object, Angel pulled out his wallet, “I’d like to buy your dinner, if my girlfriend doesn’t get too jealous.” He looked over at me and winked.

The woman looked back at me, and I smiled. “I think that would be okay with me,” I said in response.

After paying, we got back into the truck.

“Why did you do that?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t I? She obviously didn’t have enough money, and I had more than I needed. And if we can make her day a little better or easier, shouldn’t we?”

“Yeah, I mean, yes. We should. I’d just never seen anyone do anything like that before.”

“You’ve never seen someone be nice to someone just because they could?”

“Well, no. Not a complete stranger.” I couldn’t tell him that we barely had the money to buy our own groceries, much less help someone else buy theirs.

We drove most of the way talking or listening to the radio. I tried to focus on Angel, but I was so distracted by the hillside rolling past us. I hadn’t been this far from home in so long, and I wanted to take in the dormant grey pastures, crooked cedar fenceposts, and barbed wire fences. I caught my reflection in the truck’s side mirror, and I was smiling. I know we weren’t going far and that we’d be driving back home later that night, but if you’ve never been anywhere, just going a little bit up the road already feels like an adventure.

We drove further north, and the roads got congested with cars and trucks. Angel navigated us through the city, but I couldn’t tell where we were or how we even got there. We just kept moving toward the center of the city — overpass after overpass, turn after turn.

I could see the lights from downtown in the distance before we turned off the interstate. Angel turned down the music as we drove through an older neighborhood with large houses on oversized green lots. White Christmas lights were uniformly hung along the roof line of every house. A few homes had wrapped lights around the porch banisters, and a few staked lights in the ground along the sidewalk. The soft white lights glowed under the green tree-lined canopy that drowned out the noises of the city and highway. The neighborhood seemed like a hidden pocket, tucked away, an invisible barrier protecting it and all who lived there from harm or hurt.

A few moments later, we pulled up in front of a white two-story house with a large wraparound porch that could’ve been plucked from a children’s book. A driveway led up to the side of the house toward a two-story garage. Several cars and trucks were already parked in the driveway, so Angel parked on the street in front of the house. When I opened the truck and slid out, I could hear the sounds of laughter and Christmas music, almost beckoning us toward the house.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Angel said, coming around the truck to where I was standing and grabbing my hand to pull me along. The air was still warm, as if winter was still biding its time, but the sky was dark and cloudy. Looking around at the neighborhood, I suddenly worried that I’d underdressed for the party. I was wearing a snug, dark red, ribbed sweater, bootcut jeans, and a pair of black boots that I’d borrowed from Pamela. I’d curled my hair and pulled it into a ponytail so that the curls bounced behind me. When I’d left the house, I’d caught my reflection and reflexively smiled. I looked pretty.

But now, looking at the cars in the driveway, I worried that I’d be dressed too casually.

Angle didn’t seem to take stock of my anxieties because he just kept pulling me along gently, hand-in-hand, up toward the front of the house. We climbed the short steps to the wooden front porch and stood for a second in front of the dark wooden door with a frosted-glass mosaic. Angel knocked on the door, but he didn’t wait for anyone to answer before opening it.

I could hear from behind him a chorus of shouts greeting us, “Angel! He’s here!” “About time, man!” “Finally!”

We walked into the foyer, and as I went to close the door behind me, someone came out from the living room to our left. He was stocky and dark-haired in Wranglers and an old T-shirt. He reached out his hand to Angel and pulled him into a hug, and slapped him on the back.

I could see it was one of the boys from the carnival, all those years ago. I felt my heart start to pound in my chest. Would he recognize me? Would he know what happened to me in the years after the carnival? But when my gaze met his, he didn’t seem to recognize me.

“Hi, I’m Stephen,” he said, holding out his hand to shake mine.

“Tess,” I said and smiled back.

“Nice to meet you. Welcome! Come on in!” Stephen said and ushered us into the living room from the foyer. “Can I get you something to drink? How about you, Angel? What’ll it be?”

“Beer, if you got it,” Angel said. Stephen walked away, and Angel started walking through the living room, holding my hand and pulling me behind him. He seemed to know everyone, saying hi, shaking hands, and hugging them. One couple was sitting on the couch, several others standing off to the side. A guy was sitting in a side chair talking to a pretty girl with straight blonde hair. Looking toward the back of the house, I could see several other people standing in the kitchen, chatting. Several were wearing sweatshirts with Polo embroidered across the front. Several girls had long straight hair and were wearing collared shirts that left a slip of skin exposed between their belly buttons and the low waistband of their jeans. Their skin was golden even in December, and they were so long and lean that they could’ve been models. Standing there, I self-consciously of my size–the roundness of my breasts and waist. My dark brown hair and pale skin. My drugstore mascara and lip gloss.

I looked over at Angel, and he caught my eye. He squeezed my hand and winked. I smiled back, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease, and all those thoughts seemed to fade into the background.

A few moments later, we were still making the rounds through the room when Stephen came back with two bottles of beer in one hand and a third in the other. He handed me one and Angel the other.

“Cheers!” He said. I didn’t want to say that I didn’t like beer, but I just took a small swig and smiled, pretending to enjoy it.

Angel was so comfortable and relaxed. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see him — and, by extension, to meet me. I took another drink from my beer. This is what people did. They had friends and went to parties.

“I love your hair!” A girl with dark brown hair and eyes who looked a few years older than me said. “It’s so pretty. You’re so pretty!” She said, again.

“Thank you,” I said and smiled back. “I love your dress,” I said in return.

“Monica, this is Tess. Tess, this is Monica. We went to high school together ages ago,” Angel said, and Monica smiled and put her arm around his waist.

“Angel and I were in all our honors classes together. But I could never get his attention, and then he up and left us to go to college in the middle of nowhere,” Monica said, feigning a pout.

“Well, that was my loss,” Angel teased.

“How can you not just love him?” Monica said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “I am going to go and find James. I want you to meet him!” She said and walked back toward the kitchen.

We were standing in the kitchen when Monica walked over, leaned in, and whispered something in Angel’s ear. She smiled and raised an eyebrow, but Angel just shrugged.

After Monica walked away, Angel leaned into my shoulder and whispered into my ear, “Sharon is coming to the party a bit later. But don’t worry about it. It’ll be cool.”

I nodded. I knew from our conversations that Sharon was his high school girlfriend. The one he had dated for four years, the one he was supposed to marry if his parents had anything to say about it. Angel had told me that she was beautiful, smart, and charming.

“So, why didn’t you marry her?” I’d asked.

Angel sighed, “Well, we were in high school. Just a couple of kids whose parents were best friends. I wasn’t sure how much of us dating was because we liked each other or because our parents liked us together. So when she went off to TCU, and I went…somewhere else and we broke up. But I knew that she wasn’t the one. She’s not the type of woman who’d be happy with the kind of future that I’d imagined for myself. Out on a ranch, away from society and parties. She’d be unhappy with a simple, uncomplicated life. She’d need more…of everything.” His voice trailed off.

I was sitting on the couch in the living room next to Angel, who was talking to a guy who introduced himself as Charlie. I was trying to follow along with the conversation, but they were talking about people they’d known in high school. I’d sat back on the sofa and was holding Angel’s hand, just taking in the moment, when a strikingly beautiful woman a little older than me came through the front door. She was petite and tiny in a sequined halter top, a black leather skirt, and knee-high boots. Her hair was straight and parted down the middle, and silver hoop earrings dangled from each ear.

“Sharon!” Everyone seemed to shout in unison as she walked through the door.

Sharon raised her hand and did a little wave to the crowd. She crooked a little smile from the corner of her mouth and raised one shoulder.

“Yes, yes. I’m here. Let’s get this party started.” She said playfully.

Sharon quickly surveyed the room, spotted Angel and me sitting on the couch, and smiled politely. She kept moving her gaze around the room–as if someone surveying a kingdom.

“Caroline!” Sharon said and raised her hand to wave, then walked back toward the kitchen. For the rest of the night, Sharon seemed to be moving through the party like a magnet repelled by Angel. If we were on the back porch, she was in the living room. If we were in the study, she was on the front porch. But every few minutes, I could hear her laugh or call out someone’s name, as if she were having the most fun of anyone else there.

Eventually, we made our way back to the kitchen. I was talking with two young women, Jessica and Beth, not much older than me, who were telling me about their weddings last summer. They’d both married young to their high school sweethearts and dropped out of college to get their homes ready for the big family they both wanted.

“I can go back and finish my degree later, after the kids are in school. But, I don’t want to be an older mom in my early 30s with a college degree and a toddler. That just sounds exhausting when we can have our kids while we’re young and have the energy to take care of them,” Beth said.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good plan,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Sharon, yes! Do it!” I could hear someone in the living room just then yell out. Angel stepped aside to look through the entryway from the kitchen into the living room, and because he was still holding my hand, he pulled me along with him.

Peeking around him, I could see Sharon standing in front of the fireplace, a bottle of wine in her hand. Sharon was perched on one leg, unzipping one of her boots.

“My feet are killing me, guys. You don’t mind if I take my boots off, do you?” She asked coyingly.

Angel shook his head and walked back into the kitchen, and I followed behind him. For a few moments, we stood at the counter, Angel looking at me, smiling. I just smiled back, listening to a chorus of hoots and whistles from the living room.

“Sharon is so wasted,” Monica said, walking up to us. “She’s going to regret this in the morning.”

Angel shrugged. “Maybe, you could go in there and stop whatever it is that she’s doing. She wouldn’t want to hear it from me, but she’d probably listen to you.”

Monica feigned a mock salute and went into the living room. A chorus of boos and hisses erupted from the living room. It seemed that whatever was going on had stopped.

We didn’t stay much longer after that. Angel gave his apologies: “We had a long drive back.” “It’s been good to see everyone, but we needed to get going.” And, within a few minutes, we were back in the truck and driving down the road for home.

It was quiet in the truck, listening to the radio, while Angel held my hand.

“Move over. Sit closer to me.” He said after a few minutes. I took off my seat belt and moved down the bucket seat toward the center of the truck. Angel put his hand on my leg and rubbed his thumb back and forth along the side of my thigh. I put my hand on top of his, and he laced his fingers through mine.

“You were amazing tonight. So poised and self-assured. Confident. You were Jackie Kennedy come to life.” Angel said softly, briefly looking over at me before turning attention back on the road.

“I don’t know about that. But it was a fun party, and it was nice to meet all your friends.” I said, feeling the blood rush to my cheeks. Nobody had ever described me that way before. Ever. I was shy. Quiet. Reserved. Sometimes even stupid. But nobody had ever described me as a Jackie Kennedy.

“Sharon was acting like such a child. I was embarrassed for her.” He said, rubbing the side of my hand with his thumb. “And, there you were. None of it even phased you. You didn’t even seem to notice her and get jealous. You were the most beautiful girl at the party, and everyone saw it.”

I smiled. I didn’t recognize the person that Angel was describing as me, but I loved the way that he saw me that way. I wasn’t trying to be beautiful or graceful. Honestly, I felt sorry for Sharon. I was there with Angel and she wasn’t. I knew what it was like for Angel’s light to shine on you. How warm it was. To have that light turned away from you, not because of any fault of your own, just because you’re not “the one.” And, to live in the shadow of knowing how bright that light was, must’ve been so cold, dark, and lonely. Nobody had ever called me beautiful before. Not once in my life. Not a boy, not my parents. I was beautiful tonight because Angel’s light shone on me.