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Non-fiction / Snowmobiles, Buttershots, and Elvis
When I was fifteen, I was working for my mom’s friend, Steve, as a babysitter. He was 32, divorced, and working as a trucker. His two kids were by far the biggest brats I’ve ever met in my life. That really has no relevance to the story, but has to be mentioned.
One day, Steve invited me and my mom to a snowmobile race the following weekend. Mom was busy, but said that I might as well go since I’d never been to one before. I was really not that interested in going with a kinda rednecky guy to a very rednecky event where I’d then be surrounded by rednecks. I may have lived on a farm, but it was just never my thing. Steve was really excited about it, though, and since he was my employer at the time, I figured what the Hell. Maybe there would at least be a bloody crash or something. What can I say, I’ve always been an optimist.
Steve was supposed to pick me up at noon on Saturday for the race. He showed up at ten minutes until, with a dozen roses, apologizing for being late. That struck me as somewhat odd, but since all my mom’s friends were somewhat odd, I decided to roll with it. When we got to the race we met up with some of Steve’s friends, all of whom were having a great time already, thanks to some beers out of the trunk. More beer was purchased at the race. Steve was kind enough to offer me some, and I admit I refused more because I didn’t like the taste of beer than because of any objection to underage drinking. I’d never drank more than a sip or two of any alcohol, and after tasting that sip or two I never had any real desire for more. To use one of my favorite words, it was icky.
The races were all right. Some of the snowmobiles came close to jumping the sides of the track and going into the crowd, although to my lasting disappointment, none actually made it. After it was over, I figured Steve would take me home, but he suggested dinner. I was hungry, and I didn’t have to be to my other babysitting job until nine, so I said ok.
He took me to a restaurant/bar, where I tried to order a cheeseburger. Steve did not want me to order this; he kept telling me to order something “nicer.” I could order anything I wanted, he said. Apparently, he meant anything but a damn cheeseburger, which is what I actually wanted. But, to calm him down, I got a chef’s salad instead. I don’t remember what he ate, but I do know he took full advantage of the bar. Throughout dinner, he asked me about school, boyfriends, hobbies. Everything I said in response brought “great”s and “amazing”s from him. He was surprised that I didn’t have a boyfriend. The conversation was getting me slightly unnerved, but I figured maybe he was just lonely from being on the road all the time, and was glad for someone to talk to.
After dinner, he told me he had somebody he wanted me to meet. He started driving to what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. It was getting darker, and I wondered where the Hell he was taking me. Maybe I should have said something, but I was far too conditioned to following orders to be able to do that. In my experience, there was no worse consequence for anything than for disobeying, and I still had bruises to remind me of that. So, I went along for the ride.
I was slightly relieved when we pulled up in front of a fairly decent looking house, and much more relieved when a nice elderly couple answered the door. They were some relatives of Steve’s, but I don’t remember how they were related. They were polite and welcoming, but seemed confused as to why I was there. I quickly gathered that Steve did not bring all of his babysitters here. The old man, especially, kept shooting worried, questioning glances at Steve, who was busy praising me to the skies. I was such a good girl--didn’t smoke, drink, no boyfriend, great with his kids, etc.
“Don’t you have any vices?” the old guy asked me.
“Not yet, but I plan on getting some soon,” I answered, which made him laugh and prompted Steve to put his arm around me approvingly. Steve then announced that he had one more place to take me, and we went out to his van.
At this point, it was after eight, and I tried to tell him that I was supposed to be babysitting at nine. He was fairly drunk by now, and he would not believe me. I would have told him about that before if it were true, he said. I tried explaining that since he’d picked me up at noon, I hadn’t thought I needed to tell him my evening plans. But, nothing would change his mind. I just had to meet Bobcat, he said.
Well, he was driving, and I didn’t know where I was, so I didn’t have much of a choice. Luckily, the lady I was supposed to work for was going to drop her little girl off at my house, and I knew my sister would cover for me. But, I still felt bad just blowing her off.
I think we had reached the far side of nowhere by the time we pulled up to Bobcat’s trailer. There was a whole bunch of people there partying it up, but even if it hadn’t been his house, Bobcat would have stood out. He was very short, but very loud, and his blond hair was done up in Elvis style. As I was soon to learn, Bobcat truly believed he was Elvis reincarnated. He rattled off all sorts of (interesting?) facts about the dead singer, and sang a passable version of “Hound Dog.”
One of the women there asked Steve about me. He came up behind me, put his arms around my waist, and declared I was the most amazing woman in the world. My eyebrows shot up at his use of the word “woman,” as did several of the other peoples’. The woman then asked me how old I was. When I told her I was fifteen, she looked very surprised, and even the drunkest people in the room (except Steve and Bobcat) looked a little uncomfortable.
Bobcat broke the silence that followed by proclaiming it time for another round of drinks. He asked me if I wanted some Buttershots, and as I’d never tried those before, I said sure. At this point, given that there was nothing I could do to get away, and Steve didn’t show any signs of hurting me or anything, I was resolved to be amused by my situation. The Buttershots were delicious. It was the first time any alcohol had ever tasted good to me. I immediately asked for more, which got everybody laughing. My head was spinning a little, and everything started to seem a lot funnier.
Steve sat down and pulled me onto his lap. Hoots and hollers ensued from the gathering. They appeared to have quickly gotten used to things. Bobcat, feeling that this was a romantic moment, and maybe wanting to help Steve out, launched into “Don’t Be Cruel.” He aimed the words right at me, while Steve nodded and hugged me tighter. When the song was over, Bobcat said,
“Now, give the poor man a kiss!” Everyone else started chanting,
“Kiss him! Kiss him!” Ok, so spinning head or not, I began to think at this point that I really needed to leave. But a room full of adults was telling me to kiss this guy, and I didn’t know how to get out of it, so I did. The best I could do was pull away as quickly as possible.
I was still sitting on Steve’s lap, though, and his hands were beginning to wander. My mind worked frantically to come up with an escape plan. Then, I remembered that I’d been drinking. The kiss with Steve had sobered me up instantly, but he didn’t know that, so I played sick. I begged him sweetly to take me home.
How we made it home on the back roads in the pitch dark, I’ll never know. I didn’t want to say anything out loud and ruin what little concentration Steve had on the road, but I silently prayed that he’d be able to pick a side of the road and stick to it.
Finally, we pulled up in front of my house and I reached for the door handle to get out of the van. Steve grabbed my arm and asked me to wait a minute. He told me he was in love with me, that he’d thought I was beautiful and wanted to be with me even before he and his wife divorced. (Just F.Y.I. I would have been about thirteen at that time). He begged me to be his girlfriend. I told him no, it was impossible, over and over, but he wouldn’t let me out until I promised to think about it. He said he’d call me from the road the next day to get my answer.
I went inside. We didn’t have a living room--Mom had converted it into her bedroom--so instead of going in the house through the kitchen door, I went to the one that opened directly into her room. She was still up.
“Thank God,” I thought. “She can get him off my back.” I told her the whole story. She looked at me and said,
“It’s your decision.” Huh. That had not worked out the way I wanted at all. So, I hoped that the whole thing was just drunkenness on Steve’s part, and that he wouldn’t call the next day.
He called. I told him as nicely and firmly as I could that I was not going to be his girlfriend. He asked me again to change my mind (dear God, was he crying?), and again I said no. He finally said he understood. The next Saturday was supposed to be my last day babysitting his kids, and as he wasn’t going to be there, I agreed to keep the engagement.
Friday night, Steve stumbled through my front door. His high school class was having its reunion that night, and he really wanted to go. Could I baby-sit? And, hey, since I had to be at his house Saturday morning, why didn’t I just sleep over? I was still feeling pride from having successfully told him no before, and so was able to be very clear in my refusal to baby-sit both that night and the next morning. That was the last time I ever saw Steve.
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matthewtrent reviewed Version 2 -
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Yet another tragic tale for the lonely hearted. Not sure who is more pathetic, Steve for being a pedophile or Bobcat for his choice in hairstyles. Regardless. The narrative of the piece is strong and consistent throughout. The flow was surprisingly quick. I had expected something completely different given the title but as the piece progressed, it was obvious what was to ensue.
You have talent and a grasp of the narrative. I want to see you use both in broadening your skills. There were no typos that I noticed. Great job. Hope my thoughts help. And keep writing!
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Montresor reviewed Version 2 -
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I really enjoyed this story. Your persona is clever. There is a good amount of humor in here as well as serious subject matter and a wee bit o’suspense.
softmonkey reviewed Version 1 -
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i don’t really have any criticism, so you can refund it. i just wanted to say that i was riveted and horrified from the time Steve’s intentions became clear, when he showed up with the roses. i just got more horrified as things progressed, the deserted back roads, people realizing something was wrong but not stepping up, it just occurred to me, much like the movie Alpha Dog (which was really great and also a true story). i was sure you would end up being raped by this pig, and i was relieved when you got home, and horrified again when the overnight proposal came; i thought you were going to go. i was relieved again, a great ending.
a gripping story, could be a novel or a screenplay if you have more to tell. i’d go see it.
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