Cassiopeium

I.

I was vacillating on whether to give Sarah a buzz when the phone rang. It was Sarah on the phone.

“Oh hi.” I said rather panickedly, not expecting her call.

“Um… Just wanna ask ya if ya wanna com’over, my parents are out of the town and… won’t be back till tomorrow.” I could sense the almost unperceivable mirth within her words, and the low humming noise created by breathing toward the speaker, a sign of anticipation.

“Oh yeah..well I’d like to but..” I almost said yes immediately. Then I hesitated for a moment, thought over this invitation.

“OK then, I’ll see ya in 20 minutes.” She hang up before I could finish.

It seemed now that I’ve got no other choice but going. Not that I don’t wanna be with her and spend a wonderful night together. Only that something inside me, my intuition, told me that it might not be such a good idea. Would something happen if I go? Certainly possible. But there was no reason for me to be afraid of going over to a girl’s, especially a girl like Sarah.

II.

So I grabbed my jacket and walked down the Brookhaven Ave. Sarah’s house was located in vicinity of mine–five blocks away down the Brookhaven, take a left turn, and the second house on the left-hand. It was rather easy to find the house, which had the finest-looking front yard in the neighborhood. The house itself was a nontypical Midwest style mansion, with two floors and a small attic. The steep rooftop always reminded me of some pine trees growing in the rainforest of Pacific Northwest.

I walked up the doorway and knocked. In a minute the door was open and in front of me was Sarah with what I call a cunning smile on her face. She wore a pink dress, casual yet stunningly appealing. For a moment I stood mesmerized, staring at her without knowing what to say.

“Com’n in, I’ll get some drinks for us.” She took me in.

I sat down on the white-leathered couch, didn’t bother to look around. To some extent I was more familiar with Sarah’s house than my own messy, gloomy abode. The furniture, paintings on the wall, even the fans that’s hanging down the ceiling emanated a relaxing atmosphere. But tonight, the obscure lamplight made me feel somewhat nervous. I rubbed my hands together to get rid of the sweat on them.

When I raised my head I saw Sarah walking toward me with a bottle of liquor on her hand, which I did not recognized. She put down the bottle and took out two expensive-looking goblet from under the table. Now I could see the label on that bottle, it read Chivas.

“Are you kidding? Girl, you know we are underage.”

“Yes, and WE are going to drink it, tonight.” She said it solemnly.

“You know what happens if your dad finds out…”

“Oh screw it, I don’t give a damn.” She waived her arms in air, then, with a slight American accent, she said in Chinese, “Tonight, No intoxication, No return.” Sarah picked up the remote and clicked, some unknown tenor began to sing in a high-pitched voice.

So indeed we began to drink that bottle of Chivas, first sib by sib, and in fifteen minutes we were passing the bottle in and fro and gulping down mouthful of poignant liquid down. Soon my head started to feel heavy.

“Hey guess what? Papa’s bought me a brand new Mustang for birthday.”

“Oh that’s great news.” I replied, trying to finish the drink.

“But they wouldn’t lemme touch it till I turn 18, dammit.” She began to giggle.

I tried to put the goblet down, but all the sudden Sarah held my hand very tight. I managed not to let the goblet slip. Sarah brought herself up close to me; her face was in such an intimate distance that I could sense the breath touched my face like seashore breeze from Florida beach. My pants were wet as the brown liquid dipped down from the slant goblet.

But her eyes, as if spelling out some angelic incantations, transfix me totally. My head was in a sheer chaos, I couldn’t stop looking into her eyes, which perplexed me–there was something but nebulous, something unintelligible to me, something I was never able to understand.

For a split of second, I hoped that this transient moment could stay, the staring could perpetuate, and nothing should matter anymore…

“Sarah…” I put my hand on her shoulder.

Then the goddamned phone rang.

“Oh shit, they are coming home early…” She turned to me and said very disappointedly.

“I better get going, don wanna be caught home by a detective with his daughter.”

“Um… look.. I had a great time tonight, see ya.” She stepped forward, expecting a hug.
But I turned around and walked out of the door without saying a word.

What did she meat by “a great time”? What time? My thoughts got so messed up I simply started running down the street. Forget it. I hadn’t seen Sarah since.

III.

I never did get another chance to see Sarah, to tell her that I was regret that I left without saying goodbye, without giving her a big hug like I did twice before.

Sarah died later that night. I heard the news from Mattie two days later. With his usual playful tone Mattie told us the entire story like he did before with other bizarre ones from our school. I sat there as an audience like I used to, but I couldn’t laugh with the rest of them and make mocking comments on the protagonist’s pity fate.

Sarah shot herself with her papa’s pistol. She put it under her chin and pulled the trigger. Then she collapsed onto her bed, the blood splattered everywhere, it colored the ivory-colored sheets. Mattie said, as though describing a piece of artwork, that the figure blood had created looked like a rosebush–Sarah died amid the flowers she made for herself. The pistol was lying by her side, it probably appeared dark and shiny because her papa always wiped it. Under her feet there was a goblet, no wine had left in it because it had all spilt on the carpet.

“I mean it really sucks, you know, she was actually pretty hot.” Mattie had finished the story.

“Yea, what kind of stupid girl it is to kill yourself with your dad’s gun.”

“Sam told me it was because her dad wouldn’t let her drive the…”

I stood up and walked away. As I wandered down the hallway I thought of Sarah’s eyes at that night.
Perhaps she had something to say to me…

[End-First Draft]