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1 year ago
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rufio was 20 years old, a university freshman fresh for women. Despite his young punk nature, he was not nicknamed for any Peter Pan reference, but by his infamous use of “roofies” at the neighborhood parties. Everyone has a talent, and for Rufio it was slipping date rape drugs into unsuspecting drinks. Of course, only his closest friends knew this. Most girls thought his black curls and brown eyes were cute, not to mention his star position on the school’s varsity track team gave him instant popularity. Deep down, Rufio knew his spoiled attitude to get what he wanted had gone too far. Non-consensual sex crossed the line of what most every teenage guy would do for a quick lay. But this never stopped weekend after weekend of girls waking up in a state of vertigo. Last week, Siobhan did the walk of shame for five miles. I saw with my own eyes as the skinny redhead stumbled into her house with sex hair and mascara still running down her face. She lives next door. Like the Beatles’ song, all she wanted to do was hold his hand. Thanks to Rufio, Siobhan would now hate men for the next decade or two. It was the guilt that separated me from him.
Monday rolled around, and I entered my 9.30 class still half-asleep from last night’s partying. Rufio waved me over with his usual cocky grin.
“Yo, remember that chick you used to like? I totally hooked up with her!”
“You didn’t…”
“I’m kidding, bro. You know I wouldn’t do that to ya, right?” Even as he spoke, I knew he would.
“You’re a dick,” I replied. “Just stick to fucking my neighbors you homo.”
Our estranged friendship revolved much around the same as any university student our age: sex, partying, sex, and trying to pass mid-term exams. Other than that, we had nothing else in common, or friends in common for that matter. In good conscience, I couldn’t support the nickname Rufio was so proud of. I had done my share of experimenting with “partnered recreational drug use.” It was a past that I did not reflect well on. Even as I spoke, flashbacks of a pale naked Asian lying half-unconscious on a polka dot bed cover distracted me for a split-second before Rufio started his story…
“So listen to this. Betsy, what a SLUT! Last night…”
My ears slowly zoned out of the conversation as Professor Brooklyn walked in carrying his usual cup of Tim Hortons double-double. Computer science lectures were always a drag, and the fifty-something year old man did nothing to help. I couldn’t tell if it was the combination of his geeky horn-rimmed glasses and gray tweed jacket that made him look like some ex-Cold War hero twenty years out of his time. Or maybe it was the way he spoke in his dry, monotonous voice. God, I fucking hated that. Either way, there was only one reason I showed up five minutes early to this class every Monday and Wednesday morning. Janice Moody was her name, and moody she was. Today was no exception as the bitch walked into class wearing her usual frown and red fuck-me heels. Rufio and I watched in silent pleasure as she took her usual seat ahead of us in the next row. Normally, tall blondes don’t do it for me. Janice’s play-hard-to-get approach to life only served to keep me interested and discouraged at the same time. But it was the scent of her hair that really made me like the girl. The smell of Herbal Essences shampoo simply reminded me of home. Call me an old-fashioned romantic, but that made her special in my book. She ignored every guy staring at her the entire time. I knew she was into me. I tested my luck.
“Hey Janice, what’s up?” I poked her shoulder with the back of my pencil. She turned around and flashed me a smile. Not a naughty flirtatious smile, but the genuine kind so I could notice her dimples.
“Hey you. Not much except absolutely sick of this class.” She turned towards Rufio. “Hey Rufio! Why do they call you that anyways?”
“’Cause I look like the leader of the Lost Boys in the movie Hook. You know, the one where Peter Pan is an adult?” I hated his lies.
“Oh. Never heard of it, so it must not be very good.” Janice turned back to face the lecture board. Rufio stared angrily at the back of her head, his pride shot to shit. Did I want her for myself, or was I trying to protect her from him?
Friday night quickly came around. It was eleven-thirty. A sea of Smirnoff lay spilt on the floor of the fraternity house, the bottles lined up neatly like disciplined soldiers on the marble kitchen counter. The drunken mass of boys were not zombies this night, but a herd of beasts fighting for the affections of girls drunk off of fermented fruit juice. One particular female stood out from the rest, wearing a bright yellow dress that reminded me of a peacock attracting attention with its flashy colors. I had no idea how we both ended up at the same party, but coincidences were not something to ponder long on. As I approached Janice Moody with a beer in hand, her regular scent of Herbal Essence shampoo was overwhelmed by something sweeter.
“Excuse me… but is that ‘Fantasy’ by Britney Spears?” I said while lightly touching Janice’s arm to get her attention.
“Yes, it is.” She blushed, sending a rush of blood to my head. “Do you go perfume shopping or something..?” I laughed before replying.
“No, it’s just an all-too familiar smell. One of my sisters used to wear it.” Of course by sister, I actually meant an ex-girlfriend. But she didn’t need to know that. “I never took you as the partying type. You know the boys in the frat house?”
“Nah, I actually hate frat boys. I just figured the free booze was worth my amazing presence,” she said with just an ounce of arrogance.
“And here I thought the alcohol was loosening you up from your usual personality,” I shot back.
“Or maybe you should just get to know me better.” Her words cut me off-guard for a moment.
“Maybe I should. By the way, my name’s….” My last words were cut out as a giant fight erupted from the back patio.
The sound of plant pots smashing stung my eardrums as I watched Rufio and a five foot-something frat kid throw each other onto the cold winter snow. Rufio was clearly the bigger of the two, and it wasn’t long before he threw in two punches at the smaller one’s nose. At the first sign of blood, me and three other party-goers rushed in to break up the scuffle. We struggled to hold them back from ripping each other’s throat out.
“Motherfu—I’ll kill you!” The shrimpy frat kid was clearly pissed off from his broken nose. Rufio only laughed in response, gloating in his victory.
“Bring it on faggot! When you find your balls, why don’t you finish what you started?” Rufio laughed again before me and another pushed him out of the way, leading him back into the kitchen. Just as he began to cool down, my own fumes surfaced.
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. “Now we’re going to get kicked out. What’s your problem, huh?”
“Shrimp accused me of slippin’ something into the Asian chick’s drink,” Rufio replied.
“Yeah well, you probably were you sick fuck. Now settle down.” I handed Rufio my beer to shut him up before turning my head to look for Janice. I spotted her across the room, briefly making eye contact before I smiled and turned away in embarrassment.
“Bro, is that the chick from class? She looks cute tonight…” Rufio’s alertness didn’t surprise me in the least. The kid spends more time checking out girls than breathing. “I can hook you up with her if you want.”
“What? Since when do you know Janice Moody?” I asked curiously.
“You know what I’m talking about.” Rufio was holding up a small white pill that looked like an aspirin. “Rohypnol,” he said while raising his eyebrows and offering it into my hand.
“I don’t do that shit anymore man. You know that.”
“Suit yourself buddy. Do what you want. The roofie never fails.” Angrily, Rufio got up to mingle with the crowd. He was always self-conscious about his morals, because no one could be better than Rufio. I rolled my eyes at the thought and went to find a bathroom.
Pissing in the snow is an experience like no other. As I sprayed a golden shower onto make-belief gnomes, my body relaxed from tonight’s craziness. I’d had a lot to drink, but that wasn’t going to stop me from my mission. As I zipped up my jeans, I nodded to the guy next to me before heading back into the party. With reinforced enthusiasm, I went to find Janice Moody for the third time this evening. I had to get her number. Or maybe even kiss her? No, it was too soon. She was different. My eyes betrayed me as I caught her and Rufio in casual conversation together. Her drink was finished, and her face looked a little too relaxed. The Rohypnol…
The extent of Rufio’s asshole nature never hit me until tonight. I curiously looked on in profound disbelief as he took the drugged girl by the hand and led her upstairs, presumably towards the bedroom. It dawned on me that the girl I liked was about to have sex with my friend whether she wanted to or not. Friend? Was that really what I thought of Rufio as? He was no friend, but a punk I kept around to curb my own guilt for past wrongs. Fear, frustration, anger, revenge… Helter Skelter was playing loudly in the background. In that moment, I thought of Mark David Chapman and understood his whimsical desire to blow out John Lennon’s brains. But I didn’t own a gun. Instead, I closed my eyes.
A blinding light burned in my mind, growing brighter with the utmost intensity. In my memories, I was running past streetlamps trying to get away as far as I could from the sound of incoming police sirens. I had raped a girl that night and gotten away with it. The cops had arrested Rufio for possession of the rohypnol. Thanks to his dad’s good lawyers, he served only a year in juvi. But he would have only served community service had he confessed the rapist. The guilt had kept me tied to Rufio, like I “owed” him one for keeping his mouth shut about my crime. It would end tonight. I ran upstairs, fists clenched, face hot and ready to do battle against my friend and enemy.
about me:
freelance writer and student at the university of western ontario.
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