StreetLights

A Story by Taylor Speer

The white tablecloth was iron pressed, spotless and fell perfectly over the awkward edges of the solid oak heirloom. It stood with prestige in the center of the room, my family and our guests all gathered around. My older sister, Michelle, stood up across from me. She lifted the crystal glass in the air and said “I’d like to make a toast to my successful father, we love and support you and your blooming career.” Her glass was joined by seven others, mine included. We all turned towards the head of the table where my father sat grinning.

He chuckled, “I couldn’t have done it without you, sweet pea.” The men kicked their glasses back and the women sipped their champagne, all in celebration of the new deputy chief of Frederick County, Maryland. This dinner was the last chance for the Mayor, and the Chief of the Police department to get a better look at our family life. My fathers induction was tomorrow, and from this point forward we’d be in the public eye a lot. You could say it was practice.

The promotion had come out of nowhere, and the city streets whispered foul play. I knew a fair amount about my fathers dealings, though he tried to keep them underwraps. I kept my mouth closed, for now.

Loud rock music crashed up the stairs from the basement. A steady drumbeat pulled me closer. I stepped down the stairs, into a smoky sitting area. Kyle and Slick sat on the dingy pink couch, passing a joint back and forth.

“AY! I was hoping that was you, Lacey. What’s good?” Slick passed me the doober, and I took my place in my favorite patched up recliner. The news played on the television in the corner, the violent images were silenced and covered by the music. This was typical for five o’clock on a Tuesday.

My parents had me enrolled me in a SAT preparatory class, after two sessions, I realized there were better things I could be doing with my Tuesday afternoons. Today, for instance, I took the bus downtown after school, and helped cook dinner at the local soup kitchen. I had to fit between two and four evening shifts in every month without my parents finding out. I always left before dinner was actually served though. I’m all for helping the homeless, but they make me uncomfortable. They know I don’t belong there, and they shower me with scowls of resentment. So I just avoid the situation, for their sake and mine.

I walked out the back of the building, into a deserted alleyway. Since I didn’t have to be home for another hour and a half, I decided to walk the four blocks to my buddy’s store, Slick’s Smoke Shop. Slick had inherited the brick structure from his father, after his passing two years ago. People liked to say he had it coming. Slick had transformed the main floor into a shop where he sold mostly glass and local art. He turned the master bedroom into a cozy apartment for himself. The basement, where we sat now, was unfinished but the brick walls were covered in tapestries, and graffiti. It had become a safe haven for me and other miscreants. I ran my hand along a corduroy patch.

“We still down for tonight?” Kyle looked up at my expectantly. It was the first time in a few months that the old crew would able to go out bombing together.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

I was expected to be home, washed and ready for dinner by six thirty, sharp. I took my muddy boots off before I walked inside. I set them on the porch, slipped through the elegant glass door, and hurried up the stairs. Once I was in the safety of my room I stripped off my ripped jeans, wet socks, and tight tshirt. I threw my hair in a bun and jumped in the shower. The hot water rushed over my body and rinsed away my secret collection of sweat, smoke and dirt. Luxurious bubbles transformed me into daddy’s little girl. I stepped out of the steamy bathroom, and slipped into a white dinner dress. It was 6:26 when I put the finishing touches on my makeup and calmly walked down the plush stairs into the brightly lit dining room.

“Lacey, your fathers going to be late to dinner. Would you be a doll and set the table?” My mothers velvet voice cooed from the kitchen. I stepped through the opened french doors that connected the two rooms, she turned her body towards me as I entered. “Such a lovely dress, but shouldn’t you have something on your feet?”

I leaned against the cool counter as I watched her perfect the meal. Not just for taste, but in appearance too. Criticism was etched on her face. She had on a black pencil skirt, with a pair of pink pumps, the color perfectly matched the pinstripes in her shirt. Her blond hair was pulled up into a french twist, and secured with pink jewels. If I hadn’t known better I’d say she couldn’t have been over thirty five, but I had started to notice the faint laugh lines and crows feet that came with the endurance of time.

The front door opened and she jumped back to reality. She put on a perfect smile, her pearl white teeth shining, and lead the way into the dining room. She carried the Garlic Roast Chicken with Lemon and Rosemary. “Welcome home, dear, what perfect timing, the chicken just came out!” In her perfect world, we hadn’t sat in the kitchen making small talk for twenty five minutes waiting on him.

We took our places and the evening s**t show began.

My parents sat at either end of the table, and I sat between them, my back to the picture windows. An empty seat, where Michelle sits, stared at me. She was lucky enough to have moved out of the house, into her own apartment. She still had dinner with us once or twice a week, but that was only out of respect. Dinner time was the most formal everyday experience my family had together. The table could seat fourteen, if we used both leaves, but that was saved for holidays and celebrations. We were always the hosts, our friends, family and community members seemed to the love the inviting air of the golden chandelier, and crown molding. The record player sang from the corner setting the mood for the meal.

Tonight, it sat silent. Typically, they would have started with Michelle, asking her polite questions about work and her fiance, but since she wasn’t here, they sank their teeth into me. It wasn’t until they had grilled me about every aspect of my social, school, and home life, that they would take any interest in each other.

“How was work, dear? You said you’re working on a new case?”

“You know I’m not allowed to say, so you didn’t hear it from me, but there’s been investigators eagerly profiling the work of four vandals. They’re getting closer to having some suspects. They want me to help them tell the public, but want to keep the gang’s messages of anarchy and violence low-key. Don’t need any degenerates getting any ideas, ya know?”

I inquired, “How do you know they’re violent? I didn’t see any images portraying physical harm, on the news.” Actually, I knew every image the group had done, and not because of the cheese ball reporters on news channel abc7. I turned to my plate, and suppressed a sneer. It was hard not to mess with such a hot head. He grew red in the face.

“Those types are always violent.”

After the table was cleared, I left my mother in the kitchen to finish up the dishes. I kissed her cheek and told her I was going to the library to meet with a study group, and wouldn’t be home until late. She smiled, “We are so proud of you.” She felt that if I didn’t hear this everyday, I might stray away from being their flawless daughter. It make me feel like a doll. One of those really nice porcelain ones that sat on shelves and were never touched.

Before I took off into the night I bounded up the stairs. I changed out of the white dress, and into a pair of black jeans. I put on a tshirt and a black jacket. My car was cold when I slipped into the driver seat. I let the engine heat up as I tuned the radio. Rage against the machine played through the speakers. Whipping out of the driveway, I lit a stogie, and dialed Kyle’s number. He answered after the first ring.

“Hey babe! Slick is down staking out and securing the area. I’m going to swing by the Hampton and grab Chris. Do you want to meet us by the tracks?” I agreed, and hung up the phone. Chris had just flown in from Los Angeles. When he had left for school about two months ago, he had taken a piece of each of us, but it was so good to have him back for a day or two.

I parked my car down the road in at an empty bowling alley. It wasn’t visible from the street, so I doubted anyone would question it’s presence. I pulled my hood up and strided along the sidewalk, until I came across the railroad tracks. They crossed the main road and then disappeared behind trees and old factories. I slipped into the background, following the familiar path. I counted the tracks as I walked. 1,2,3,4. 1,2,3,4….

They went on for miles. Slithering between old box cars and abandoned buildings that dripped with the colors of a new age revolution. I’d first gotten interested in street art when I was a freshman in high school. The idea of it was exhilarating and as soon as I felt the weight of the can in my hand, and smelled the intoxicating fumes, I was hooked. I didn’t paint as much as I wanted to at first. I spent the majority of nights walking along these tracks, planning out pieces and places. I’d occasional throw something up, refining my techniques. It’s not as easy as it looks, and I didn’t just want to be another vandal claiming fame behind a fake name. I wanted my art to mean something. Do something. Say something. F**k. I wanted it to be something, maybe even something that could change the world, but the world doesn’t change overnight, and it definitely doesn’t change with s****y art..

I turned off the tracks down a narrow gravel path that went along the backside of a gray brick building. I heard laughter for a brief second, and then it was silent. The air grew thick with stillness. “Ay.” The word came quick and sharp out of my mouth. I came up on the left side of the building, which conveniently faces one of our main freeways. I slapped my arm over Chris shoulders and he pulled me into a bear hug. I choked on the odor of pine and whiskey. He must have spent the afternoon down with his buddies at the saw mill. “Hows the Cali life treating you? You famous yet?”

He gave a fake half chuckle, and I saw his eyes sink. His face looked thinner than the last time I’d seen him, and his spirit seemed wounded. “Oh, yeah. Everybody loves me.” I gave him another hug.

“Don’t I know it! Who's ready to rumble??” I tried to have enough enthusiasm for the both of us. Kyle and Slick were off to the side, leaning against a fence that overlooks the six lane, two way road beneath us. There was a perfect opening in the tree line, a little further down, I’d been eyeing for years. With all of the shadows it was near impossible to spot it at night, but if someone were looking (which lets be honest, who will be these days?) it’d be hard to miss on your drive to work, or heaven forbid, the mall.