Keeping You a Secret (12 page)

It took me over an hour to find the Rogue Theater. The building was wedged between two nondescript tenement houses in the downtown warehouse district. “Lock your door," I ordered Faith. Check your mace.

A few people milled around outside, smoking and drinking wine from disposable glasses. They were not what you’d call the“theater crowd,” whatever that was. No furs or formal wear. More like grunge. Faith must’ve felt right at home. My stomach was jumpy, as if everyone else knew the rules of the game except me. The usher smiled a warm welcome and asked us to sign the guest book, which calmed me a little.

There was a small concession stand right inside the door with popcorn and candy and drinks. Faith made a beeline for it, but I snagged her trenchcoat and said, “Let’s find seats first."

The theater was old, shabby, semiretired. The velvet seat cushions had seen another century. It was comfortable, though, and people were chatting and laughing softly. I read the program cover:

The Rogue Theater Presents:

A Night of Sensory Pleasure.

God, was this X-rated? The inside page listed six acts, and I scanned through them, trying to glean even a hint of the pleasures we had in store for us. “Singing with Cats" was the first act. Then “Virtual Virgins," "Synchro Nuts," "Aphrodisium," "Unity,” and “Canned Laughter.” I glanced over at Faith. She was watching me. I hated the way she stared at people, at me. “You know any of these groups?” I asked her.

“Hunh uh,” she grunted, peering back at the concession stand. 

I dug in my bag for my billfold. “Here." I handed her a ten. She scrambled out and I called down the aisle at her back, "No alcohol." A guy with a shaved head behind me winked. I shrank in my seat. 

There was a page of advertisements, pleas for financial support, thanks to all the people instrumental in staging the show. Faith returned with a bag of popcorn and a glass of red wine.

Shit. “Do you have a fake ID?" I asked her. 

“Yeah, but they didn’t ask. You want some?” She offered me the glass.

“No." I visualized myself confined with her in a jail cell. Shudder City. On the last page were the names of the performers. My eyes skimmed down the list, stopped. Joanie Fowler. Why did that name sound familiar? She was a member of Unity. There, under Joanie was Cece’s name. “She’s in Unity, too."

“Huh?" Faith said. 

Did I verbalize that? “My friend. Sheʼs in this group, Unity."

“Who?” Faith hung over my arm.

“Cece. Cece Goddard.” I pointed to the name. 

“Oh, yeah. I know her."

“How?" 

Faith took a sip of wine. Savoured it, just to irk me. “She's in my independent living class."

“What period?”

Faith blinked at re. “Third. Why?"

The lights dimmed and I shifted my attention to the stage. Independent living? That was a bullshit class. A spotlight illumineanted dead center and a woman dressed in a gauzy full-length garment floated out from the wings. There was scattered applause. She folded her hands in front of her and waited. Waited. Through hidden speakers a cat suddenly wailed. The sound as saluted my ears and I squinted them together. The screeching ebbed a bit, then the woman opened her mouth and yowled with the cat. In harmony.

Whoa, it was… interesting. I mean, I couldn't do that. 

Faith murmured in my ear, “Do not try this at home."

I whipped her knee. 

"Do not attempt this in a dark alley at night.’

“Quit."

“Especially if you’re horny."

I couldnʼt stifle my snort. Virtual Virgins was a light-and-shadow show, which was sensual, all right. I kept trying to figure out if the three women behind the screen were really naked. Synchore Nuts was this eerie musical group that used electronic sounds and digitised voices. Aphrodisiac was totally X-rated. Faith kept murmuring, “Ooh eee," and panting. I kept elbowing her.

The stage lights extinguished and the theater went black. Unity was next. My heart raced. A small floor light illuminated and a face appeared, followed by another beside it, and another until five faces stared out into the audience. Each face was made up to look exactly the same. But I could pick out Cece. The middle one. Together, they began to move, or rather undulate because, I realised, they were all one form. One giant octopus-like creature inside stretchy black fabric.

This sort of New Age music swirled softly from the stereo speakers as Unity pulsed in a circle. Then the music changed, became more strident, discordant. Each form broke off by unzipping their connection to the fabric and stepping out. They wore different pastel-colorer bodysuits with hoods. Cece was yellow.

The beat pounded faster and the individuals, who were so serene moments before, began to jerk and writhe in agony. Cece opened her mouth, but no sound came out. I felt a chill race up my spine. This was no act. She hurt.

It went on for excruciating minutes. I couldn't watch. I had to watch. She mesmerized me. On cue, they all touched hands in the middle, their pain subsiding. The music grew slower, gentler, and the individuals moved toward the center, toward each other. Closer and closer until they were squeezed together tightly into one form, one unit, one multicoloured being.

The audience clapped and stomped and I let out the breath I’d been holding. Faith arched her eyebrows at me and said, “Cool."

“Really.”

After the show everyone congregated in the lobby, waiting to congratulate the performers. I spotted Cece with her fellow Unity members, laughing and jabbering, her face more animated than I'd ever seen it.

I weaved through the crowd to get to her. Be with her. Cece obviously knew a lot of these people; they kept hugging her and calling to her. An unexpected bout of self-consciousness seized me.

Cece’s eyes met mine and her face seemed to light up. She weaved through people, under arms and wine glasses. “You were fabulous," I told her when we met in the middle. I had the strongest urge to throw my arms around her, embrace her, but my muscles wouldn’t move. I sensed she wanted to hug me, too. She didn’t, and the spontaneity of the moment passed awkwardly between us.

She glanced over my shoulder, searching.

“He’s not here," I said.

She smiled. Smiled broader. "Did you really like it?” she asked.

“Yeah. It was fantastic. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.'

She blinked at me. “Did you understand it?"

“I, I think so. About the birth and breaking away and being alone. How painful alone can be. And then coming back togather, being one. Being Unity. And the joy in that.” I hesitated. "Right? Is that it?"

Another slow smile crept across her lips and up into her eyes. “It's whatever you want it to be.” Her focus shifted to something, someone beside me. “Hey, girlfriend." Cece flung her arms around Faith. "How are you?"

Why hadn’t she hugged me?

“Good," Faith answered. "You were awesome."

“Thanks.” Cece’s smile lit up the room again. She embraced Faith for a second time. “Faith, this is Holland,” she said. “Holland, Faith."

We both snorted.

Cece looked from Faith to me. "What?" 

“She’s my sister." Faith thumbed. 

"Stepsister," I corrected. 

"No way," Cece said.

“Way," Faith responded.

"Wild." Cece shook her head. “Small world.” 

“Too small," Faith stole my line.

Another girl from Unity touched Cece’s shoulder. “Ceese, we're going out back for a smoke. You want to come?"

“No," Cece said. "I quit." 

The girl's eyebrows shot up. "You did? When? You didn’t tell me that.” The girl met my eyes and smiled. "Hi." She extended her hand. “I'm Joanie."

As I reached to shake it, Cece slapped down Joanie’s arm.

“Well, thanks for coming guys," Cece said quickly, pivoting to push Joanne back into the crowd, away from us. From me. 

What was that about? I was hoping Cece would invite us – me – to join them – her. Or something. Anything. I didn’t want to leave.

“Iʼm starving," Faith said. “Those Canned Laughter dudes with the pork and beans made me hungry. Could we stop at Wendy’s?"

Watching Cece hug another girl, I turned away and said, "Yeah, sure, why not."

The ringing of my cell phone woke me up. Cotton-mouthed, I grabbed it off the dresser and grunted, “ ’Lo."

“What time you coming over? I thought we said ten o’clock." 

I struggled to sit up, squinting at my clock. “`What time is it?"

"Almost eleven," Seth said.

“Youʼre kidding? I threw off my comforter and kicked through the rumpled sheets to find the floor. I never slept this late. I'd been dreaming – Aphidsiurn had deposited a subconscious suggestion, or two. "I’Il be right over. Just need to get dressed." What day was this? Why was I going over to Sethʼs?

“Forget it," Seth said.

He didn’t sound happy. “Really, I can be there in ten minutes. Nine."

“Where were you last night? I called and your mom told me you went out with Faith. Like I’m supposed to believe that." 

Uh-oh. Guilt gnawed at my conscience. Then anger overcame the guilt. “Do I have to report to you every night? Are you going to be checking up on me now?"

“No.” He paused. His voice dropped. “I just want to know where you were, Holland."

My heart sank. Did he deserve to know? Yes. What was the big deal, anyway? Nothing happened. "Faith and I went to a performance art show."

"Why?"

“Gee, I dunno. Because it’s there?" Did I need his permission to have a life now? “If you want me to come over, I’II be over."

“I have to leave for work in haII an hour," he said. He expeIIed a long, audible breath. “Performance art, huh? Why’d Faith ask you? Couldn't she get one of her ghoul friends to go? Ar, ar."

Oh, Seth. I closed my eyes. “I guess not."

“I’II caII you later,” he said. “Or you couId caII me." 

"Yeah. I will." We disconnected and I folded the phone closed. I should've just asked him to go with me last night, since she barely acknowledged my existence. 

That wasn’t true. It wasn’t my imagination that she was glad to see me. I sensed a current of electricity between us, even with Faith there. Then that Joanne person showed up and cut the wire. 

The phone in my hand beckoned me. I flipped it open and punched in the numbers. The numbers I’d memorized. One ring, two rings — my stomach knotted. I hung up. Stalled. Punched redial. One ring, two — just as I was about to bail, a voice said, “Yeah, hello?” I hung up. It was a guy’s voice. I fell back in bed, then shot up again and redialed.

“Hello," he answered again. 

"Is Cece there?" My voice sounded like a scared little girl's. I hate that.

“Just a sec Cece!" he bellowed. There was a short pause, then, “Cece, answer your frigginʼ phone.” It couldnʼt have been her father; maybe her brother? He came back on and said, “Nope. Not here. You want me to have her call you?"

“No,” I said quickly. "Iʼll just catch her later."

"’Kay oh," he said and hung up. My heart was breaking every bone in my rib cage. I wanted to see her so much it hurt.

***

Swimming. Up, down, counting strokes. One, two, three, four. Breathe in, breathe out. Torch, tuck, under, back. Her. 

Everything was her. The light, the dark, the day, the night. Her. Her.

She was my first thought in the morning, my last thought at night. She'd taken possession of my soul. She was inside of me, consuming me, compelling me to –

What?

Drown it out. Fight the force. You can do it, Holland. You're strong. Resist. You can beat the forces of nature. You have to.

Swim. Stroke. Count. Count. 

Can't. Can't. Can't.

***

She was propped against my locker, waiting, sipping her coffee. When she saw me coming, she scrabbled to her feet and smiled. I melted. Today she had on a T-shirt that read: I HAVE A QUEER CONSCIENCE. DO YOU?

"Hi," she said. “Thanks again for coming to my program."

Keep it light, Holland, my brain cautioned. “No problem. Tell me about Unity. How did you guys get together?” l reached around her and opened my locker.

“A couple of us met in the theater department at Wash Central. I came up with the idea and put a call card on the bulletin board at Rainbow Alley. Why?"

“l just wondered?" Light, very light. l grabbed my morning books, trying not to feel her breathing, feel her blood pulsing through my veins. “So, why did you transfer from Wash Central?" 

I asked, shutting my locker.

She didnʼt answer.

Hugging my books to my chest, I headed down the hall. She walked beside me. Close, too close. At the main intersection, we stopped. I looked at her, my question hanging in the air. A clique of girls passed, which wouldn’t have even registered if one of them hadn’t scanned Cece up and down. Eyed her shirt and sneered. Cece turned her back on them. “It was an unhealthy environment," she finally replied.

I scoffed. “And this oneʼs better?" I found that hard to believe.

She gazed down the hall toward our lockers, eyes faraway. “Maybe,” she said. “I’m waiting to see."

***

We had a sub in calc who couldn’t even spell “math," so he gave us a study hour. I could’ve used it to finish reading
Grendel
and start my comparative analysis with
Beowulf
, which was due next week. Or read the chapter we were discussing today in econ, or study for the calc quiz tomorrow. Instead I pulled out my sketchbook. Her eyes were so beautiful, expressive. The color of moss – deep, dark green, but brown, too, around the edges. Wispy blond lashes. Eyes were hard to draw. Not the shape so much or the color, but the depth. The person behind them.

She was such a tease, I thought, smiling. Did she mean to be? She didn't like games; she'd said that. Could she be flirting? With me? Who could tell? All of this, her, she was an uncertainty. A mystery. Yet, when we talked, when we were together, she seemed so familiar. Seemed to know who I was, where I was coming from. She knew me better than I knew myself, I think. She was easy to be with.

And I wanted to be with her, like all the time. Eliminate the obstacles, the people and things in our lives that were keeping us apart: Brandi, Seth, Kirsten, society, me.