The Outliers
Page 30
I decided to read the poem The Caged Bird by Maya Angelou.
Each time I’d read it in the months I’d been in Outskirts I’d felt either sad or angry or powerful, depending on my mood.
I read it again and again.
Nothing.
I sighed and closed the book. I reached for a rag and began to clean the outside layer of dust from the tattered cover. I might as well get some work done if I couldn't concentrate on anything else.
Maddy was standing guard outside. Since my mother didn’t require full time care anymore she volunteered to stay with us and help protect us until this business with Richard was over.
If it was ever over.
I really want it to be over.
The bells above the library door chimed, pulling me from my inner thoughts. Maddy peeked her head inside the door. "Josh called, said this one was on his way."
"Thank you," I said, grateful that she decided to stay on with us although I found it odd she still wore her pink smiley face scrubs.
In walked a young thickset man who I’d never seen before. He was in his early thirties and no more than five and a half feet. The gleam from the overhead lights shone off his completely hairless head. His clean-shaven cheeks were as round as the rest of him, giving him an additional air of youth. The sleeves of his untucked white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. The collar stained with sweat.
He looked around the room from the walls with a curiosity and wonderment in his eyes. He was adorable in a way I never thought an adult man could be.
I painted a smile on my face to cover the worry. “Hello. We’re not quite open just yet. But feel free to look around. Can I help you with something?” I asked.
The man looked at me and instantly smiled, showing off two bright white front teeth that were slightly longer than the rest. His voice was smooth and high-pitched, almost feminine. “Why hello there, cutie-pie. O.M.G. I love your hair. So fierce. I want to scalp you so I can make me a wig out of it.” He looked at the confusion I could feel written all over my face. “And yes, that was totally a compliment.”
“Thank you?” I responded to this odd yet wonderfully strange man.
“I am Wilfredo,” he said, holding his hand to his chest, bowing at the waist. “My friends call me…Wilfredo.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. His personality was huge and took up most of the space in my tiny library. “I’m…”
“Sawyer, I know. Joshy-boo told me. She said you reopened the library so I had to come check it out for myself.” He looked around from shelf to shelf, running his hands across the spines of the once dusty books that between Finn and myself were nearly all clean and restored into lendable condition once more. “Bravo, my dear. Well done. This place doesn’t look nearly as condemned as it used to."
“Are you from here?” I setting down the book of poetry on the table.
Wilfredo nodded. “Born and raised in the mud, but I moved out to California a few years back after meeting the man of my dreams online.” He blinked rapidly and looked wistfully into the fluorescent lights overhead.
“Sounds romantic,” I commented, finishing wiping off the book and setting it on its usual spot on the shelf.
“Yeah,” he sighed dramatically. “It was. Until I got out there and alas, my Justin Bieber look-a-like was a lot less Biebs and a lot more…Lyle Lovett.” He scrunched up his nose so I took it as a bad thing.
“That’s a shame.”
“Not really. I may not have found my dream man, but I fell in love with Cali. Been out there ever since. What about you? Josh says you haven’t been here too long. How are you liking our little backwards town in the middle of nowhere USA?”
“Actually, I love it here,” I said, but the feelings that normally came with that statement were nowhere to be found. "It's home."
“Yeah, I get it. I want to hate this place, I really do. But it really is a great town.” Wilfredo pulled out a chair and sat down, fanning himself with a yellow pamphlet. He chuckled. “I mean, if the homo population ever increased from say…one, and by one I do mean THE one, being me, then I’d move back here in a heartbeat. Living with my beautiful ripped swamp-boy in overalls. Watching him de muck things or pick up heavy things, or whatever it is they do around here that could be sexy if I think about it hard enough.” He smiled. “I’d be living my own little gay redneck fantasy. Ah, that would be the life.”
I laughed and sat down across from him. “I think I like you, Wilfredo.”
“I like you too, Sawyer. So, what’s your story? How did you end up in Outskirts?”
“It’s a very long story,” I said with a sigh.
“Give me the short version of your long story. I’ve got time. My sister is still at the Dr. Maloy’s down the road getting her last check up before the baby is born. That’s why I’m back in town. To spoil my new niece and nephew. The newest members of my sister’s ever-growing litter of human cubs.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Now, back to your story. Short-version. Go.” He snapped his fingers and closed his eyes.
“Well,” I thought for a moment on how to shorten my story and not drag my new friend into the heaviness of my life. I liked having someone new ask me about my relationship with Finn it reminded me that we were still new. It was like having a secret that only I got to decide how much or how little of us I would share with others.
“I needed a change so when I found out that my mother owned land here I decided that I wanted to come check it out for myself. I took her old camper and truck and I’ve been here ever since.”
“I have a feeling your short version is like the CliffsNotes of the CliffsNotes of your story.” Wilfredo wiped the sweat beading up on his forehead with a handkerchief from his pocket.
I leaned forward and whispered. “I would say you’re right.”
“You got yourself a man, Red?” Wilfredo asked. “I know the pickings are slim around here but…” he paused when he saw my hand drop to my burgeoning baby belly.
He gasped. “Spill girl. Who is he?”
“If you’re from here then you probably know him," I said, biting my lip. "Finn Hollis?”
Wilfredo’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He squealed so loud I had to cover my ears. He then hurriedly made a backward sign of the cross. “Sweet baby Jesus, you bagged the lord of the swamp?”
Each time I’d read it in the months I’d been in Outskirts I’d felt either sad or angry or powerful, depending on my mood.
I read it again and again.
Nothing.
I sighed and closed the book. I reached for a rag and began to clean the outside layer of dust from the tattered cover. I might as well get some work done if I couldn't concentrate on anything else.
Maddy was standing guard outside. Since my mother didn’t require full time care anymore she volunteered to stay with us and help protect us until this business with Richard was over.
If it was ever over.
I really want it to be over.
The bells above the library door chimed, pulling me from my inner thoughts. Maddy peeked her head inside the door. "Josh called, said this one was on his way."
"Thank you," I said, grateful that she decided to stay on with us although I found it odd she still wore her pink smiley face scrubs.
In walked a young thickset man who I’d never seen before. He was in his early thirties and no more than five and a half feet. The gleam from the overhead lights shone off his completely hairless head. His clean-shaven cheeks were as round as the rest of him, giving him an additional air of youth. The sleeves of his untucked white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. The collar stained with sweat.
He looked around the room from the walls with a curiosity and wonderment in his eyes. He was adorable in a way I never thought an adult man could be.
I painted a smile on my face to cover the worry. “Hello. We’re not quite open just yet. But feel free to look around. Can I help you with something?” I asked.
The man looked at me and instantly smiled, showing off two bright white front teeth that were slightly longer than the rest. His voice was smooth and high-pitched, almost feminine. “Why hello there, cutie-pie. O.M.G. I love your hair. So fierce. I want to scalp you so I can make me a wig out of it.” He looked at the confusion I could feel written all over my face. “And yes, that was totally a compliment.”
“Thank you?” I responded to this odd yet wonderfully strange man.
“I am Wilfredo,” he said, holding his hand to his chest, bowing at the waist. “My friends call me…Wilfredo.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. His personality was huge and took up most of the space in my tiny library. “I’m…”
“Sawyer, I know. Joshy-boo told me. She said you reopened the library so I had to come check it out for myself.” He looked around from shelf to shelf, running his hands across the spines of the once dusty books that between Finn and myself were nearly all clean and restored into lendable condition once more. “Bravo, my dear. Well done. This place doesn’t look nearly as condemned as it used to."
“Are you from here?” I setting down the book of poetry on the table.
Wilfredo nodded. “Born and raised in the mud, but I moved out to California a few years back after meeting the man of my dreams online.” He blinked rapidly and looked wistfully into the fluorescent lights overhead.
“Sounds romantic,” I commented, finishing wiping off the book and setting it on its usual spot on the shelf.
“Yeah,” he sighed dramatically. “It was. Until I got out there and alas, my Justin Bieber look-a-like was a lot less Biebs and a lot more…Lyle Lovett.” He scrunched up his nose so I took it as a bad thing.
“That’s a shame.”
“Not really. I may not have found my dream man, but I fell in love with Cali. Been out there ever since. What about you? Josh says you haven’t been here too long. How are you liking our little backwards town in the middle of nowhere USA?”
“Actually, I love it here,” I said, but the feelings that normally came with that statement were nowhere to be found. "It's home."
“Yeah, I get it. I want to hate this place, I really do. But it really is a great town.” Wilfredo pulled out a chair and sat down, fanning himself with a yellow pamphlet. He chuckled. “I mean, if the homo population ever increased from say…one, and by one I do mean THE one, being me, then I’d move back here in a heartbeat. Living with my beautiful ripped swamp-boy in overalls. Watching him de muck things or pick up heavy things, or whatever it is they do around here that could be sexy if I think about it hard enough.” He smiled. “I’d be living my own little gay redneck fantasy. Ah, that would be the life.”
I laughed and sat down across from him. “I think I like you, Wilfredo.”
“I like you too, Sawyer. So, what’s your story? How did you end up in Outskirts?”
“It’s a very long story,” I said with a sigh.
“Give me the short version of your long story. I’ve got time. My sister is still at the Dr. Maloy’s down the road getting her last check up before the baby is born. That’s why I’m back in town. To spoil my new niece and nephew. The newest members of my sister’s ever-growing litter of human cubs.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. Now, back to your story. Short-version. Go.” He snapped his fingers and closed his eyes.
“Well,” I thought for a moment on how to shorten my story and not drag my new friend into the heaviness of my life. I liked having someone new ask me about my relationship with Finn it reminded me that we were still new. It was like having a secret that only I got to decide how much or how little of us I would share with others.
“I needed a change so when I found out that my mother owned land here I decided that I wanted to come check it out for myself. I took her old camper and truck and I’ve been here ever since.”
“I have a feeling your short version is like the CliffsNotes of the CliffsNotes of your story.” Wilfredo wiped the sweat beading up on his forehead with a handkerchief from his pocket.
I leaned forward and whispered. “I would say you’re right.”
“You got yourself a man, Red?” Wilfredo asked. “I know the pickings are slim around here but…” he paused when he saw my hand drop to my burgeoning baby belly.
He gasped. “Spill girl. Who is he?”
“If you’re from here then you probably know him," I said, biting my lip. "Finn Hollis?”
Wilfredo’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He squealed so loud I had to cover my ears. He then hurriedly made a backward sign of the cross. “Sweet baby Jesus, you bagged the lord of the swamp?”
