One of Them Goth Girls

One of Them Goth Girls

He thinks Goth Girls are sexy.

It was a hot day in late June after I graduated high school and I was just so alone. At least they let me finish school before shipping me off to live with my dad... whom I hadn't seen since I was six. I mean, shit. I turned eighteen at the beginning of June. Couldn't I have just stayed where I was since I would be legal in a week? Nope. Her boyfriend's fucking lawyers kicked me out as soon as they could, not giving a fuck about me. Not thatheever did either... the prick.

So, it was off to my dad's since my mom was dead. Car accident. Her asshole boyfriend was drunk behind the wheel. He lived, she died. God hated me. God hated her, apparently. But God must be a good-ol-boy, because the prick walked away without a scratch. Fuckhead.

That was a month prior. Basic delays in legal proceedings kept me housed until graduation two weeks later, but I was forced out the next very day and sent to my dad in sunny LA.

And that was somehow worse.

He'd remarried, of course. Had two more kids with her, of course. So, there was no room for his only girl... of course... leaving me to sleep on a mattress tucked in a corner of the kid's playroom. Couldn't have even sacrificed the whole playroom for me. Nope. Kept the fucking playroom for the brats and let me live out of a suitcase for the rest of my life.

What I wouldn't have given to be able to get out on my own... lonely but alone.

Which was where my mind was on that June afternoon as I sat on the front steps, hating my life. My tears, which were plentiful in the beginning, had turned into a burning anger that went far beyond the usual angst brewing in my heart. I had always been drawn to the darker emotions of the human experience. But I guess I was still a girl at heart, so I always seemed to be drawn to the 'girly' colors. Some called me a "pastel

goth" as if it was some kind of deviant for deviants. I didn't care.

Five foot two with hair dyed platinum blonde, great tits, and a fine ass, I probably could have found some "help" in acquiring a place to stay, in spite of my preference to thick, black eyeliner, pale skin, black clothes, and a certain 'fuck you' in every part of my appearance. I had friends, but none of them were in a position to help, so off to Cal-iff-orn-ai-ay I went, feeling abandoned and alone.

My frustration and seclusion raging, I sat on the step really trying to find a way out of my situation... and seriously considering just running away. Swiping some cash and getting on a bus or even hitchhiking back to Denver. But in this day and age... an eighteen-year-old girl on her own traveling across country? I'd be onUnsolved Mysteriesby the end of the year.

Moving out? No job and no prospects. There was a coffee shop down the street that was interested in hiring me, but they were full up for the summer. All theotherrecent high school graduates had already snatched up the shifts.

So, it looked like I was stuck for a while.

I couldn't even get lost in my music for a bit to escape. My neighbor had this horrendously loud lawn mower which drowned out all other sounds, including my air pods. I stood up to go for a walk so I could actually hear, when the lawn mower and its operator came around from the back of the house to mow the front.

Oh. My. God.

He was tall, muscular, shaved head, sunglasses, shirtless, and beautiful. Lightly tanned skin, full sleeve tattoo on his left arm, a Celtic Cross tat on his right peck, and well-fitting Chinos on his legs. Maybe early twenties, but it was hard to tell from the profile and with the sunglasses. But Jesus Fucking Christ, he was nice to look at.

I sacrificed my music and my walk so I could simply stare at this statuesque man. He looked like hecouldhave been a Greek or Roman statue, though not many of the ancient sculptors ever carved a man mowing the lawn. If they had seenhim, they might have considered it.

So, I did the best thing I could think of and pulled out my sketch pad and started sketching him, justifying the leering gazes by saying to my brain that I needed practice drawing objects in motion. And there were plenty of motions I'd like to draw him in... and all nudes.

I sketched as he mowed, which gave me a real opportunity to observe his features and mannerisms. Scrutinizing him like this, I could see that I quickly misjudged the age. If he was over 21, I'd be really stretching it. He had the light fuzz of a mustache that was trying, but not quite there yet, as well as the awkward gait of someone who only recently came into their height. Probably a late bloomer, but God, how he bloomed.

He waved at me as he noticed me drawing him, and gave me an embarrassed smile, but went on with his work, occasionally shooting glances my way as he rounded corners, pushing the inordinately loud mower ahead of him.

As he was nearly done, I went back into the house and grabbed a couple of cold sodas from the fridge, then came back out. I casually walked up to him, maybe putting a bit of sway in my hips, causing my short, pink and black plaid skirt, which barely covered my ass, to flare out and up, hinting at what I may or may not have on underneath. It was hot enough that I didn't have on my usual stockings or fishnets, so if it lifted just right, he would get a flash of black satin panty.

Okay, for the record, I wasn't a slut, but I was a tease. I dressed in short shorts and skirts, trashy fishnets, and tight tops because I felt sexy... and feeling sexy made me feel good... like a real woman Seeing guys do double-takes as I walk past is such a rush, and I take good care of my body to give them something pleasurable to look at... and sometimes touch when I'm in the mood, and the guy is particularly good to me.

And I liked being touched, too. Sue me.

I swayed up to him holding out a soda can just as he was finishing the last swath and shutting down the mower. Thank God. Finally, I could hear myself think again. "That's a very loud lawn mower," I said with a slight laugh. "Here. Payment for modeling for me. Hope that was okay."

He took off the sunglasses revealing soft blue eyes, a very pleasing smile on his lips, and I almost creamed right there. God, he was truly perfect... and not a day over 20! What???

"Totally okay," he said with a rolling, chesty voice... very manly and very sexy. "You Ray's daughter?"

My smile faded at the mention of my father, but I nodded politely, still holding the drink.

"I heard you had moved in," he said finally taking the offered drink. "Thank you," he added as he acknowledged the can and opened it. "I'm Gavin."

"Lexi," I replied, and I held out my own can in toast.

Chuckling, he 'clinked' my can, and we both drank. "How long you staying?" he asked just making conversation, though I hoped he might have asked for different reasons.

"Leaving as soon as I can," I replied looking down at his sleeve. "Not a good place for me."

"They even have room? I've watched the boys once in a while, and the house seemed pretty full."

I shrugged, trying to play it off, curbing the fury in my chest. "They got me on a mattress in the playroom." I didn't want to look at his face as I said this, so I made a pretense of checking out his body art. Okay, there was little pretense, and I just wasn't trying to deflect the conversation, I was truly interested. It was some excellent work, and I couldn't help but be fascinated by a lot of the intricate designs... as well as the curve of shoulder, bicep, tricep, forearm... Fuck, was I really getting wet?

He stared at me, not caring that I was shamelessly checking out his body. Bodyart, I meant. "Are you shitting me?" he said. "That fucking sucks."

Again, I shrugged, and I forced the conversation back onto him. "This art is incredible."

He held out his arm to display both sides. "Every night after school for about five weeks. Cost an entire two summers' worth of savings. Totally worth it."

"I'll say," and I held up a hand to caress his arm but caught myself and dropped it quickly.

He just laughed. "Any tats? You look like you would probably have a few."

I shook my head, even more embarrassed. "My mom didn't like them, so she wouldn't sign for them. I... only turned eighteen this month." In the moment, that was the reason I admitted, but it was much more than that. My mom actually gave me birthday money a couple of weeks early, so I could get my first tattoo on my eighteenth birthday, and I had even made the appointment. She died the next day, and my life changed forever.

Sure, I could have gone out at sixteen, defied my mother, lied about my age, and gotten inked. Many of my friends did, but I had seen how much she struggled raising me and dealing with a crumbling marriage to an alcoholic and abusive man, and I decided the last thing she needed was a blatantly defiant daughter. I still loved her... a lot. So, I swallowed my rebelliousness for a time and waited.

I didn't explain all that, but Gavin looked like he understood all my meaning and simply nodded. "Planning to get some?"

"Hell, yeah. Soon as I can. A rose with thorns dripping blood right here," and I pointed to the bare skin next to the strap of my black and pink,Hello Kittyhalter top just above my left breast, which, of course, made him look at my chest. 34D, baby. And my mom insisted on buying me good bras, telling me I would regret it later when I had to tuck my tits into my waistband because they stretched so far. She had large breasts, too, so she was kind of an expert in my mind.

"Very nice," he said blushing, making me wonder if he meant the tattoo or my chest. I secretly hoped he was talking about my tits. It would only be fair since I'd been oglinghisbody for the past half hour, right?

He finished his drink and crushed his can in his hand. "Want to come inside for a bit? My grandma's home, so you can meet her, since you're gonna be living here for a while. Follow."

To the ends of the Earth, Hercules. "Sure," I actually said instead, and we walked to the garage where he put away the lawn mower and grabbed a shirt. Dammit. Tank top. Yay!

We walked in and I felt the blast of air conditioning hit me like a freezing wave, giving me goose bumps and making my nipples instantly hard. They poked out under my tight black and pink halter top, but I didn't try to hide them. I never did, unlike most girls. I was proud of what I had, and it added to the tease. I liked it.

"I thought most grandma's houses were warm and stuffy."

"Not mine," he said noticing my rigid nipples and looking quickly away, embarrassed. "Always saying she's having her own personal summer, so she likes to keep the house cool."

We walked down the hall to the living room where I saw his Grandma Lois... who didn't look like much of a grandma. She wasn't sitting in a rocker or a wheelchair knitting doilies watching the endless reruns ofWheel of Fortuneon the television at full volume. She was short, feisty, wearing a blue track suit, and watching a YouTube fitness model lifting weights as she curled ten-pound dumbbells in each hand.

"Grandma," Gavin said, interrupting her workout. "This is Lexi, Ray's daughter. She just moved in."

She turned, saw me and smiled. Setting the weights down, she walked quickly over to me, holding out her hands. She walked with a slight limp, but carried herself very well, not old and feeble at all. "Call me Grandma Lois, everyone does." She shook my hand warmly. "I was so sorry to hear about your mother, dear. But welcome to the neighborhood all the same. You're one of them goth girls, aren't you? Would you like some iced tea, dear?"

"Grandma!" Gavin said sharply, rather embarrassed at her bluntness.

I smiled and ignored the comment. "I don't want to interrupt your workout," I protested.

She waved it off. "I can do it later. Golden Girl like me has got all the time in the world." She took my arm and guided me into the kitchen. "I have good days and bad days. Gavin helps me with the bad days, so I take full advantage of the good days. Know any hot guys your age? I've been havingreallygood days lately."

I laughed loudly as I sat down on the proffered bar stool.

"Grandma!" Gavin chided again, turning a deep shade of pink.

"What? I'm sure she knows lots of young men." She turned back to me. "Right Lexi? He thinks goth girls are sexy."

I snorted with laughter at the look on Gavin's face, a mixture of mortified horror, and abject humiliation.

He turned and hid his face in the refrigerator. "Thank you, grandma."

Grandma Lois turned to me and gave me a playful wink. She wasn't some doughty elderly spinster. She knew exactly what she was doing and probably didn't get many opportunities to mess with her grandson like this. I liked her, and I wanted to be just like her when I got that old.

Without looking at either of us, Gavin went about the business of setting out the pitcher and glasses and filling them. He turned to purposefully gaze out the kitchen window, away from us, as he drank his, still not wanting to face us, his face still almost scarlet.

"Thanks for the tea," I said picking up my glass. "How long have you lived here?" I asked just making small talk.

"Thirty years, love," Grandma Lois replied. "We were here when your dad and mom moved in next door, and you still a baby in her arms."

I gasped, surprised by this comment. I honestly never correlated that this was the same house they lived in when they were first married. I had zero memories of the house or the yard, and only a few of my dad. Most of my early childhood was centered on my mom and me at other places: the park, the beach, downtown, etc. I didn't know that I had come back to my childhood home.

But that thought made me even angrier. My childhood home and relegated to a mattress in the corner. What the actual fuck? It was my house before it was the boys'... before his new wife's. Didn't I have seniority? Didn't I rate?

Didn't they even care enough?

Apparently not.

Goth = lots of angst. That's me.

Author's Note: A few years have passed since this experience and my writing about it. I realize just how much of an entitled bitch I sounded at that moment. I'd like to think I matured in those years, and I guess I have to at least see just how idiotic those feelings might have been. That didn't change how I felt at the time, and so I describe those raw emotions here the way I felt them then. So don't judge.

"Are you alright, Lexi?" Grandma Lois asked, taking my hand and breaking me from my thoughts.

I tried to smile, but it didn't fool Lois. She turned and looked at Gavin. "Your laundry is in the dryer if you want to fold it and put it away."

He looked confused but set his glass in the sink and left the kitchen, throwing me an embarrassed glance as he walked out.

Lois turned her attention back on me. "Now it's just us girls. Talk."

No way was I going to spill everything on this stranger. I didn'tevertalk about my feelings. I drew dark figures and wrote poetry about darkness. But then I saw the earnestness and understanding in Lois' eyes... and I broke down.

Tears ran in rivers, painting vertical streaks of black ink on my cheeks as I spilled everything that I had experienced in the past several weeks. The pain of my mother's sudden death, being forced from my home by her asshole boyfriend, coming here alone and treated like no one wanted me, leaving behind all my friends and my entire life, not knowing anything what my future held, not havinganyplans for my life, and just feeling so goddamned alone all the fucking time.

All of that spewed out as I cried right there at her kitchen counter. Lois held my hand through it all, cried with me, and just listened. But best of all... she never said, 'I'm sorry.' Instead, she circled the counter and pulled me into a hug. Not being a huggy person, I just stood there with my arms limp at my sides, but as I relaxed into her warm embrace, I wrapped my own arms around her and grabbed on tight... the way I had with my mother... the way I desperately wished I still could.

"It's good to let that out, dear," she whispered as she stroked my hair. "Seems like you needed it."

I stifled my sniffles, and said, "I didn't know I did." I chucked as I wiped my eyes, embarrassed I had broken down like that.

Breaking our embrace, Lois grabbed a box of tissues nearby and let me clean up my face the best I could. She watched me as I wiped up the dark streaks the best I could but only ended up smearing them across my face.

"You might want to wash the whole thing and start over," she said laughing. "In the meantime... I might have a solution to your immediate problem." She took my arm again, still holding the box of tissues in the other hand, and guided me out of the kitchen and down the hall. We passed an open door, and I glanced in to see Gavin sitting on a bed folding shirts. He looked up, saw the state of my face, and grew concerned. But he didn't follow, nor did he ask what was going on, but just left "us girls" to ourselves.

Grandma Lois - I knew I would be calling her that now, even in my own head - opened the door to the room next door revealing an unused guest room complete with queen bed, closet and dresser. The décor was very grandma-esque with lots of bright colors and floral prints, and the room was stuffy from disuse, but it looked... comfortable.

"I have this room for when Gavin's mom comes," she explained as she went to the window to open the blinds and casting the room in natural light, which really added to the room's energy. "But since he's moving out in a few weeks, she probably won't visit as much. You can have it if you want."

I gaped at her. Was she really offering me a room... of my own? I mean, she'd known me for a total of fifteen minutes and was asking me to live with her... off of the mattress in the corner... away from my dad and the brats... and in the room right next door to all those tattooed muscles.

I felt like someone had just given me a Hogwarts Letter.

And that giant who delivered it was a tiny, old, spitfire of a woman who got me to bare my soul and cry within a few minutes of learning my name. There had to be a catch, right?

"I... can't pay for it," I replied, fishing for an excuse, half-assed as it was.

"Nonsense," she replied sitting on the edge of the bed. "Think of it as a trial run. Let's see if you can stand living with this old broad for a while. If you decide you can, you'll be here to help me when I need it, just like Gavin does. Now that he's graduated and going off to school--"

"Wait," I interrupted without thinking. "He just graduated? High school?"

"I was a late birthday," Gavin said, appearing suddenly and leaning against the door jamb. "I'll turn nineteen in November."

My jaw dropped as I stared at him, piecing things together. That's how he was able to get his tats. He didn't need a parent to sign, even though he was still in high school... unlike me. But he looked so much older, too. Maybe it was the chiseled face and the attempt at facial hair, but I would have sworn he was over twenty-one.

"Where are you going to college?" I asked, not really wanting to turn away from him, forgetting all the black smears on my face.

Like a gentleman, Gavin didn't call attention to them, but Grandma Lois handed me a few more tissues, recalling me to my predicament.

"San Diego," he answered.

"They gave him a water polo scholarship," Grandma Lois added proudly. That explained is excellent physique.

"Half... but it helps," he said, self-conscious.

"And since he's leaving," Grandma Lois continued, "I'll need some help. It'll be a load of Janice's mind if someone was here with me."