CHAPTER TWO
The downtown of Williamstown, Massachusetts was only a few blocks long. The only places for teens to hang out were Mario’s Pizza Palace, The Burger Joint, the bowling alley, or Coffee Café.
It was a strange feeling when Oliver first came to visit his grandparents for the month, he wasn’t used to such a small town with barns and country roads. He remembered the downtown from when he was little, but it had seemed so much bigger ten years ago. Williamstown had quickly started to grow this warmth inside of him and in a way, felt more like home than his actual house.
He thought back to his home in Maryland, cold and enormous, with thousands of modern architectural details. It almost felt like a model home. It was as though no one lived there. Often times, only Laura and him would be at the house. Edgar would always be off on some business trip or staying late at work to finish up a case. Oliver tended to stay cooped up in his room to avoid Laura.
Oliver parked at Coffee Café next to a beat up Ford Taurus and an old Chevy truck with mud trailed on the side of it. His own car; a newer mustang, seemed out of place in Williamstown but Amir would always reassure him that he didn't stand out that much.
Oliver’s father had bought the Mustang for him for his 16th birthday. At the time, Edgar was off on a business trip to defend some celebrity in court, so he told Laura to give Oliver the keys when he woke up on his birthday. Instead, Laura sat around most of the day, reading a magazine until his father called to ask her if Oliver liked the car. “Oh! I had completely forgotten! I’m so sorry, pookie. I’ll give him the keys right now.” Oliver heard her say in her whiny voice as he was making a sandwich in the kitchen for dinner.
“Here.” She threw the keys at him and walked away, muttering “spoiled brat” as her Jimmy Choo heels clicked against the kitchen tile. Confused, Oliver looked down at the car keys.
Sitting in the driveway was a brand new Ford Mustang. He grinned as he sat in the driver’s seat. Breathing in the new car smell, he looked around and found a card on the dashboard. Written in lavish handwriting on the envelope was one word: Oliver.
He eagerly opened it, excited to read his father’s words. It was a plain white card, and on the inside were two words: Best Wishes.
He frowned. Maybe it was just the child in him that had hoped his father would write some heartfelt letter to his son.
Amir and Oliver walked into the café to be immersed by the comforting smells of coffee and cookies. There was a low chatter of dozens of teenagers. They were all lounging in the chairs and couches, some were even sitting on the floor. Oliver turned to Amir, “Why is it so packed?”
Amir looked around for a few seconds until his eyes landed on a chalkboard that read: Friday Night: Open Mic Night @ 8:00.
Oliver grinned. He had been wanting to go to an open mic night ever since Amir told him about it a few weeks back.
They bought their coffees and sat at one of the few tables that were left. “I love their coffee.” Amir smiled mischievously as he sipped from his paper cup. Oliver thought back to all the times that he had told Amir that he should cut back on coffee because it stunts growth. Amir was only 5’8”, but he didn’t care; he was hooked.
A little while later, there was a hush among the crowd of people as the first band came up to play their set. All four band members were about sixteen or so and wore bright neon shirts with red checkered ties and pinstripe pants. Despite their tacky appearance, they were all surprisingly talented. The lead guitar player’s fingers flew across the neck of the guitar. The singer had an excellent stage presence and strong voice.
After the band went, the chatter resumed as the next person was setting up the stage. From what Oliver could see, it was a short girl with long curly brown hair. Her face was turned away from the audience as she fixed the seat to her height and took her guitar out of its black leather case.
Then, she turned around as she sat and Oliver could feel his heart stop. She was beautiful. An enormous pair of green eyes attracted his own like magnets. Something about them was so inviting, this pure sense of innocence to them. They were gazing at someone in front of the stage. Tearing her eyes from the person, she pulled the microphone close to her mouth and spoke. Her voice was soft and melodic. “Hi guys.”
She smiled, her brilliant white teeth flashing. Two dimples formed at the corners of her lips. She paused as she resituated her guitar in her lap and took the pick out from underneath the strings. She reached for the microphone once more. “Boy, there’s a lot of you here tonight.” She cleared her throat. “So, this is,” she took a breath, “this is a song for my mom.” Her eyes closed and her head bowed as she strummed her guitar. The notes she played were breath-taking and slow. After a few chords in, she hummed a powerful tune and sang about a young girl that had hid her heart in a small treasure chest so that no one would be able to see it. So that no one would be able to change it or hurt it. Her voice was truly beautiful, ranging from alto to soprano. It was thick and unwavering. Then, mid-song, she looked up and her eyes were burning with sheer passion. It was as if she had forgotten where she was. As soon as her surroundings became apparent to her she bowed her head again, closing her eyes.
There was something about her, something so unique. Oliver couldn’t help but stare at her, hypnotized into a trance by her beauty. It wasn’t just her looks, but also this hidden flame that came alive inside of her when she sang.
Amir hit Oliver playfully. “You alright there, buddy?
He snapped out of it. “Huh? Yeah.”
“You like her.” He winked.
“What? No!”
“Psh…lies.” Amir looked back up to the stage, grinning. Oliver bit the edge of his thumb as he returned his gaze to the girl.
Her lyrics were like poetry. Her beauty and grace was like poetry. And, the more she played, the more Oliver realized that he would never be able to have her.
After a few songs, she finally opened her eyes and looked back up at the audience. She set her pick back inside of her strings to rest. The passionate flame was disappearing, but it left a visible glow in her face as she smiled and thanked the audience for coming. The next band hopped up onto the stage as she packed away her guitar. Frustrated, Oliver wished that there were some way she could just play the entire night. The few songs she had played was not enough time, it felt as though she was done within seconds.
She left the stage to sit with the person that she was staring at earlier.
The other bands seemed to play their songs at a painstakingly slow pace. All Oliver wanted to do was find this girl and introduce himself. As the time wore on, he started to lose hope of being able to speak with her. There were still about two other bands left when the girl and the person she was sitting with both got up from their table. They walked through a small path in between the crowd to either go to the cash register or door. As they passed by his table, Oliver saw who she was with. Who she was staring at earlier. He could feel his face fall to the floor. It was a guy that looked as though he were straight from a magazine; the article on California beach models. His tanned skin complimented his perfect bone structure. He grinned as the girl pulled him along, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth. Oliver didn’t stand a chance.
Oliver stood up. Amir gave him a funny look and he mumbled “bathroom”. He wanted to see her up closer, to be able to deny that they were dating.
He followed them at a distance, they were walking up to the cash register to order something. Getting in line behind them, Oliver told himself that he was just her brother or something. Besides, he was at least in his twenties; much too old for her.
Oliver frowned. Who was he kidding; girls liked older guys. Girls liked perfectly tanned guys with chiseled jaws. Girls liked the kind of guy in front of him, not pale and skinny Oliver. It was almost as though the guy could hear Oliver’s thoughts because he proceeded to put an arm around her shoulder and steal a kiss as she was searching for her wallet in her purse. Surprised by the sudden appearance of lips, she looked up at him and smirked. She didn’t say anything and returned to the cashier to pay for her coffee.
Oliver knew that it was a lost cause to like her, that he should stop kidding himself and go back to sit with Amir. He should have known that such an intriguing girl would obviously be taken, but there was just something about her that made him incapable of simply walking away.
He gathered the courage to try and introduce himself to the girl and tell her that he liked her set, but they were already walking back through the path of people to return to their table.
The woman at the cash register smiled at him. “Anything for you?”
Forgetting that he was in line, he looked at her confused, standing there for a moment. He shuffled up to the cash register and decided to order a hot chocolate.
Sitting back down at the table, Amir glanced at Oliver and pat him on the back. A poet was currently on the stage, it was a man in his mid-twenties. He told the story of a boy who was searching for seashells on the beach but didn’t realize how dark it had gotten until the ocean’s tide had carried him away. His mother called out to him, but the boy was already long gone by then.
When he finished speaking, everyone snapped their fingers. He gave a little bow with his head before leaving the stage. In silent reverence, no one spoke after his poem.
Oliver glanced over at the table in the front, he could see the silhouette of the couple.
A man with a guitar came up and sang a few folk songs. During his set, Amir fumbled through his pockets and produced a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He wiggled his lighter in between his fingers and nodded at the door. Oliver nodded and returned his gaze to the stage before getting out of his chair to follow after Amir.
Oliver didn’t smoke, but it didn’t bother him either. The two of them sat on top of a nearby fence. The enormous full moon lit up the street with a light blue glow. The street was empty, save for a few cars in the parking lot and the occasional passerby. Neither of them spoke as they listened to the tiny chirping of crickets in the grass. A cool breeze came by and Oliver looked up at the night sky. He was always amazed by how many stars people were able to see when they were away from the city.
The café door opened and a girl with a familiar voice said, “Amir?”
Oliver looked down to see the girl from earlier, she was still with the California model.
Amir blew out a puff of smoke “Mona,” He flashed a smile. “Great set.”
“Thanks. How have you been?” She set down her guitar case to give Amir a hug.
“I’ve been good, just hanging out with my friend here. This is Oliver.” He put out his cigarette. “Oliver, this is Mona Pennington. We go to school together.”
The California model was standing a few feet away but quickly walked up to Mona’s side so as not to be forgotten.
“Oh, and this is Damien Algroe.” He pointed at the twenty year old. “He graduated a couple of years ago.”
“Hello,” Oliver said.
“We were thinking about getting some food. You guys up for it?” Mona asked.
The mention of food made Oliver realize just how hungry he was, he had only managed to force a few bites of spaghetti and chicken down during the awful dinner with his parents from earlier. He tried to forget the dinner, reminding himself of how much fun open mic was instead.
“Sure. Let’s go to The Burger Joint,” Amir suggested.
They walked in the barren street to The Burger Joint, a small white building that was a few stores down. It was said that on a perfectly silent night in Williamstown, the buzzing of the green neon sign of The Burger Joint could be heard from a mile away. Amir opened the creaky front door to the restaurant and they all piled in. A large and balding man was sitting on a stool, reading the newspaper from a few days ago. At the sound of the door, he looked up and grinned. “Amir, buddy, long time no see.”
Amir smiled too. “How have ya been Freddy?”
“Eh, not too bad.” He wiped his hands on his white apron as he walked around to the kitchen and threw some things in the friar. “Combo number one good for everyone?” The menu said that Combo #1 was a hamburger, fries, and a drink. They all said yes and sat down at one of the diner’s booths.
Mona set down her guitar case to the side of the booth as she squeezed in and Damien sat beside her. Before sliding into the booth, Oliver caught a glimpse of something on Mona’s guitar case. It was a painted white rose with a golden banner below it that read the name “Dessa”.
Amir and Damien made small talk for a few minutes about Damien’s baseball position until Freddy brought them their food. Oliver couldn’t help but watch Damien and Mona as they ate. Damien would shove a large portion of his burger into his mouth at once. Then he would chew without closing his mouth so the enormous mass of beef and burger swirling between his molars was visible. Finally, to wipe his mouth he would use the back of his hand as a napkin. Watching Damien began to repulse Oliver though, so he just stared at his plate of food instead.
Damien pointed a fry at Oliver. “How come I’ve never seen you around here?”
“Um, well, I’m actually from Maryland,” he replied, taking a sip from his drink.
Damien grunted and continued to eat.
“What brings you here?” Mona asked.
Oliver grimaced, he had almost forgotten about his parents. “Well, my parents were visiting my aunt in California for a month, so I was staying with my grandparents. But they came back today.”
She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “How come your parents didn’t just have you go with them if it was for a whole month?”
Oliver frowned, pausing to think of the best way to put it. “Um, me- me and my parents don’t have the best relationship.”
She put her hair behind her ears, saying “oh,” in a knowing tone.
The table was silent for a few minutes, despite the noise of Damien’s open mouth chewing on his hamburger, along with the occasional licking of his fingers.
Oliver spoke up, “How long have you been playing the guitar, Mona?”
She smiled, “Since I was twelve, so, five years. My mom taught me.”
“So, is Dessa the name of your guitar?” He asked, remembering the painted rose on the case.
She frowned, staring at her food. Oliver could see her expression haze over. It was almost as if her mind wasn't there any more. She mumbled, “Yeah.”
They sat in silence again until they finished eating. As Damien got up to throw away his food wrappers, Oliver could have sworn he heard Mona let out a small sigh under her breath. He looked up at her from his food. She however, did not look at him, she was staring at her hands, as though she were off in some other world. Her enormous eyes were opened even wider than usual. Oliver still couldn’t believe that he was sitting less than two feet away from the girl from earlier. He never thought in a million years that they would hang out like they were. But, Amir had plenty of connections and friends. He should have expected it.
She was just so beautiful. Oliver wondered if she were there to torment him, if them going to the restaurant with her and her boyfriend was to make his day even worse than it already was. He should have been the one sighing, not her. She had nothing to sigh for. He however had just had an awful day. Despite the parts he enjoyed of the open mic night, it didn’t seem like his day was about to turn around any time soon.
The four of them left the diner, walking back to the parking lot of Coffee Café. Mona got into the passenger seat of Damien’s old Ford truck. It was the muddy one that Oliver had parked next to earlier. “Later.” Damien said as his truck noisily peeled out of the parking lot and sped down the barren street. Oliver and Amir got into the mustang and drove down the street in the opposite way. At that moment, Oliver swore to himself that he wouldn’t care less if he never saw Mona again. She was just another beautiful girl without any sense, dating a rude yet handsome boy. Oliver didn’t understand why looks made up for bad personalities.
They didn’t say much in the car as Oliver drove Amir home. However, when he pulled into Amir’s driveway, Amir’s mother came shuffling up to the car with a plate of homemade cookies, “for your grandmother,” she said in a thick Indian accent. Amir whispered a warning to not eat the cookies before he got out of the car. His mother was notorious for having really bad cooking. She meant well, but things just didn’t seem to work for her once placed in the oven.
Amir walked over to the driver side door and rested his head on the window ledge. “See ya later, Oliver.” With a grin, he pat Oliver on the shoulder and followed his mother into the house.
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