she?’" I grabbed Julius by the collar. I was losing my patience with him. If Ruthie was in trouble, I didn't want to waste time with irrelevant questions.
"Calm down. She's inside."
"What's wrong with her?"
"She's drunk. She's not acting like herself. I was afraid something might happen to her." I let go of him and looked around. There were cars everywhere. It was one of Paul's famous parties that usually ended with a police raid and several people going to jail on possession charges. This was not Ruthie's type of party. How did she get involved with these people?
"She wouldn't listen to me. That girl has a wild side I never knew about," Julius said. I gave him a fierce look before he went any further. I didn't want to know the details of what she had done tonight.
I was marching up towards the front door, intent on taking Ruthie home, when Julius grabbed my arm. "Wait a minute, Stephen. You can't just go barging in there like some sort of barbarian, throw her over your shoulder and run out. You gotta play it cool. Here, take my jacket." I put on his jacket and flipped up the collar. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to calm down. It didn't really matter, though. When I got inside the house, most of the people were passed out. The rest were too drunk to pay much attention to me.
The house was completely trashed and smelled of beer and vomit. Paul was fairly wealthy, so it struck me as odd that he would let people destroy his house like this. But I really didn't care about Paul or his house right now. I had to find Ruthie. I made my way through the living room, the den, the kitchen, stepping over bottles, cans and people -- still no sign of her. Julius and I started opening bedroom doors and glancing in, but I was really hoping not to find her in any of them. Behind each door was a progressively worse scenario: rooms filled with smoke or beds filled with naked bodies. It took only a few seconds to determine that Ruthie wasn't in any of these rooms. Most of the occupants were white. The only black people I'd seen at the party at all were Julius, Anthony Everson, and three black girls whose names I couldn't think of.
After circling the house three times, Julius wanted to give up.
"Maybe she caught a ride home," he said.
"I have to be sure." I headed outside toward my truck. I saw Ruthie down the street, making out with Bruce Connelly against his car. My heart raced and ached. I knew she had to move on. Would I ever get used to seeing her with other men?
Ruthie got into Bruce's car and they drove off. I don't know why, but I followed them.
They ended up at his house. I watched as he opened her car door and then led her to front door of his house. Once inside, he turned on some music and they started slow dancing in his living room.
I was so jealous of him. I wanted to be the one dancing with her. They started kissing and I had to hold myself back. I wanted to go in there and get him away from her. But that wasn't my job. She had chosen to go out with him and she obviously liked him.
He didn't kiss her the way I did. He didn't gently savor every soft curve of her lips. His kisses were hard and crude. He was increasingly rougher with her. It almost looked like he was trying to force her to go further. Ruthie must have gotten the same impression because she pulled away from him. It looked like she was trying to explain something to him, like she didn't want to kiss anymore, but he didn't listen to her and started to kiss her again. This time when she pulled away he slapped her across the face. I jumped out of my truck as fast as I could and ran to the house. The door was locked. I could hear Ruthie screaming inside, but I couldn't get in. Finally, I punched through the glass in the door and unlocked it from the inside. By the time I reached the living room, Bruce had ripped her shirt open and was lying on top of her,
"Calm down. She's inside."
"What's wrong with her?"
"She's drunk. She's not acting like herself. I was afraid something might happen to her." I let go of him and looked around. There were cars everywhere. It was one of Paul's famous parties that usually ended with a police raid and several people going to jail on possession charges. This was not Ruthie's type of party. How did she get involved with these people?
"She wouldn't listen to me. That girl has a wild side I never knew about," Julius said. I gave him a fierce look before he went any further. I didn't want to know the details of what she had done tonight.
I was marching up towards the front door, intent on taking Ruthie home, when Julius grabbed my arm. "Wait a minute, Stephen. You can't just go barging in there like some sort of barbarian, throw her over your shoulder and run out. You gotta play it cool. Here, take my jacket." I put on his jacket and flipped up the collar. I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to calm down. It didn't really matter, though. When I got inside the house, most of the people were passed out. The rest were too drunk to pay much attention to me.
The house was completely trashed and smelled of beer and vomit. Paul was fairly wealthy, so it struck me as odd that he would let people destroy his house like this. But I really didn't care about Paul or his house right now. I had to find Ruthie. I made my way through the living room, the den, the kitchen, stepping over bottles, cans and people -- still no sign of her. Julius and I started opening bedroom doors and glancing in, but I was really hoping not to find her in any of them. Behind each door was a progressively worse scenario: rooms filled with smoke or beds filled with naked bodies. It took only a few seconds to determine that Ruthie wasn't in any of these rooms. Most of the occupants were white. The only black people I'd seen at the party at all were Julius, Anthony Everson, and three black girls whose names I couldn't think of.
After circling the house three times, Julius wanted to give up.
"Maybe she caught a ride home," he said.
"I have to be sure." I headed outside toward my truck. I saw Ruthie down the street, making out with Bruce Connelly against his car. My heart raced and ached. I knew she had to move on. Would I ever get used to seeing her with other men?
Ruthie got into Bruce's car and they drove off. I don't know why, but I followed them.
They ended up at his house. I watched as he opened her car door and then led her to front door of his house. Once inside, he turned on some music and they started slow dancing in his living room.
I was so jealous of him. I wanted to be the one dancing with her. They started kissing and I had to hold myself back. I wanted to go in there and get him away from her. But that wasn't my job. She had chosen to go out with him and she obviously liked him.
He didn't kiss her the way I did. He didn't gently savor every soft curve of her lips. His kisses were hard and crude. He was increasingly rougher with her. It almost looked like he was trying to force her to go further. Ruthie must have gotten the same impression because she pulled away from him. It looked like she was trying to explain something to him, like she didn't want to kiss anymore, but he didn't listen to her and started to kiss her again. This time when she pulled away he slapped her across the face. I jumped out of my truck as fast as I could and ran to the house. The door was locked. I could hear Ruthie screaming inside, but I couldn't get in. Finally, I punched through the glass in the door and unlocked it from the inside. By the time I reached the living room, Bruce had ripped her shirt open and was lying on top of her,
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