Karla - Section Three

Okay. This is where the novel begins to take shape, but in order to do that, there are things discussed that could offend some people who visit my blog, or whose children visit. So I will begin omitting BIG TIME starting today. I will include an excerpt from each chapter from now on. If you have not read "Reverse Skate" before, please go back to previous posts from "April 2006" and click on Preface and work your way through Karla - Sections One and Two. If you wish to read an entire chapter from now on -- which would make sense if you are wanting to understand the story -- please email me or bmail me, and request "section one, section two, etc." If you don't have my email address, just post a comment with your email address. i won't publish it here. i have the right to not send you anything if i don't know you or someone you know.

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pale, blue curtains o salty popcorn o nights spent in front of the television watching “Roots” o Darth Vader’s breathing o the taste of Billy Beer o crying all night o Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders o sailing on the “Love Boat” o Barbra Streisand o sticky gum on the bottom of a tennis shoe o the Fonz o “No Coke, Pepsi!” o Toni Tennille haircuts o
“You Light Up My Life” playing on the radio,
a lavender, floral bedspread…

1977… Karla’s bedroom…15 years old…
Donna had been Karla’s friend since elementary school, but they had only recently become “best” friends. They had so much in common; it’s amazing they had never gotten close before now. They both loved the new “Star Wars” movie and bawled at the end of “The Goodbye Girl.” They had snuck into the theater to see John Travolta dance in “Saturday Night Fever.” Neither one of the girls were allowed to see Rated R movies. Karla told her grandmother she had gone to see the movie “Orca.” When asked about the movie, she said, “Just picture Bruce the Shark in the ‘Jaws’ movie, and replace him with a whale.” That seemed to be a satisfactory answer. Karla was usually good at lying, and that had been a clever one!
Karla and Donna would have loved to spend more time together, but Karla was very busy on weekends. “What do you do all weekend, Karla? Every time I call you, you’re not home. I feel like the only time I get to see you now is at school!”
“That’s not true, Donna. You’re here now; aren’t you?”
“Well, why don’t you tell me what you’re doing this weekend? Maybe I’d like to come along with you. It’s almost like you’re holding back, Karla.”
“Nah. Donna, I told you, I sometimes hang with the kids from my old neighborhood. You wouldn’t like them anyway.”
“Why not?”
“They’re just different; that’s all.”
“How are they different?”
“They’re not nice like you,” Karla said, laughing. “They cuss, drink, smoke. Shall I go on?”
“You’re making fun of me.”
“No, I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. I can be rude, crude, and socially unacceptable,” Donna teased, “if I try.”
“Well, I don’t want you to be. God knows, I need at least one good influence in my life.”
Karla’s room was currently painted lavender. It was a pig sty. Her grandmother was always saying, “How can you let your friends see your room like that?” But Karla didn’t care. Donna was family to her. If your best friend can’t accept your messy room, then she’s not your best friend! A poster of Andy Gibb covered the back of her door. Her newest poster was of a singer named Barry Manilow, described by her grandfather as a “long-nosed Jew.” But he could play piano and sing better than anyone she had ever heard. Karla slept in what was supposed to have been a canopy bed, minus the canopy, which her mom had promised long ago. Her bedspread was a lavender floral pattern, with lace around the bottom. She had matching pillow shams that you could not see because they were covered with about 20 stuffed animals, all in alphabetical order by first name. Karla was overly organized in some ways. She slept with the animals all at night. No one knew of her fear of the dark, not even Donna.
She and Donna were sitting cross-legged on the floor, going through cassettes and 8-tracks, trying to put them in their correct cases. “Oh, why don’t we just dump them in a box? They’re going to get all messed up again anyway!”
“No! I told you, you need to organize them! Then you can find them faster! Don’t you ever get tired of hunting for things, Karla? Do you have any A’s?”
“Oh, no! Don’t look at me like that! I am NOT, I repeat, NOT going to alphabetize them! That is insane,” Karla answered, looking back at her stuffed animals.
Donna laughed and leaned back against the bed, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I can’t wait until my birthday! I’m getting a phone line for my room with call waiting!”
“Good! Now I’ll be able to get a hold of you. Your brother talks on the phone more than any guy I know.”
“And my parents say I can go on a real date once I turn 15! Can you believe it? I thought they were going to make me wait another year.”
“Donna, you’ve already been on a real date, with Ricky.”
“Yeah, but my parents don’t know that. That disco was great!
(omitted for content)
What’s so great about that? I feel like I’ve been doing it forever, thought Karla with a sick feeling in her stomach.
“Karla, when is your mom going to let you date?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really asked her. Besides, no one would ask me out anyway.”
“You’re crazy. Jason has a crush on you. You know what? I think you’re scared of dating! I think you’re afraid the guy would try to go all the way!”
“I’m not afraid!” Now that’s funny! thought Karla. “If Jason likes me so
much, then why hasn’t he asked me out?”
”Maybe he’s not allowed to date, either.”
“Well, we could still hang out at school together.”
“I don’t know; I just know that he watches you a lot. I bet he’s the one who wrapped your house”
“You’re imagining things, Donna. It was you who wrapped my house! You know what I’m going to get you for your birthday?”
“What?”
“A T-shirt that says ‘Brat’ on the front of it.”
Donna grinned, “Well, for your birthday I’m going to get you a shovel, because that’s the only way we’re going to get to your floor.


Audre Lorde:
The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference.

~c'ya~