Jean Marie...heh, yeah, that's a sweet little name that I'll never, ever forget—or better yet, escape.
It wasn't that she was bad or anything—See, it was when I was younger, you know? Around eighteen. I lived with my mom, my older sister, and my little brother. She was a friend to my sister, Candie, of course... And man was she ever a friend to my sister. I mean, mom thought that they were close—and they were. But were they ever! See, mom didn't know it, and I didn't either, not then. But looking back on all that now...
It was a weekend in October when my sister had gone to stay over Jean Marie's. See, all month long, or really, for the better part of every weekend in the month. They were always together during the weekends before, so, really, it was no big deal. The only real difference was that now they were involving others; you know, going to parties, boozing with the best of 'em.
That sort of thing.
I had heard only a little bit about the last party that they were going to for the month; some seventies theme thing. Candie had left the day before, you know, to be there at Jean Marie's early enough for the two of them to hang before the party.
Long story short, they went to the party, of course. Got loaded, I imagine. And then, of course, they crashed before sleeping the day away and showing up in my mom's driveway somewhere late into the afternoon.
Those were some happy girls as they came up to the door and came inside, laughing all the way. I watched Jean Marie as she carried all that she'd brought up the steps and through the front door. Books, clothes, papers—and booze like you wouldn't believe! They were brining it all in, the two of them. Laying it all to rest wherever their bags would fall.
Which was mainly in the livingroom.
Once they'd unloaded everything, they threw themselves on the couch, still giggling. They had fallen all over each other making a grand spectacle of themselves, but they didn't care. They never did. A lot of people would have called them shameless for the way that they acted. And then there were the ones who were like my mother, who just thought that they were the best of friends; like sisters.
"But sister have their ways, too... Everyone does, behind closed doors."
It's what Jean Marie had said in response to my mom's questioning. It was strange, no topic was too candid or too taboo when Candie and Jean Marie was around. It was strange and nice all at once.
So she stayed with us that weekend, so Jean Marie could spend Halloween with my sister; one of their traditions. Strange as it was, this holiday was like Christmas for the two of them. And our mom liked Jean Marie, better than any or all of my sister's friends. Thought she was good for my sister.
Heh, if only she knew.
That night was Halloween, and my sister and her friend lived it up. The both of them loved on the whole Goth scene, the dark and dramatic cloths and make up. Though I think it was the attention that they got off on more than anything else. It was just their way. It was my sister Candie, though, who really went for the extreme. A Gothic Sister of the Anti-Faith. That was Candie's angle; shock the hell outta' people at first glance and leave them wonderin'. Jean Marie, on the other hand, was more of the classical type. I mean, as dizzy as they both were acting when they had first shown up, Jean Marie still managed, somewhat, to keep this—timeless look about her... Heck, I think at one time my sister had made mention of Jean Marie's blood mix—blood being another of their turn on's...
They talked about it like—like she was a mutt or somethin'. My mom, Candie and Jean Marie laughed about it all the time, though it wasn't until some time later that I really understood. She wore her style like a Gypsy; long skirts, sandals, those tops with the large sleeves. But she looked good in it all, she made it look good, completing the look with a scarf in her hair and cheep junk jewelry. That's how she'd shown up to the house.
Of course, since her normal clothes where like a costume in itself, Jean Marie was the type to lean towards another extreme, following Candie's lead. She called herself a "Honey-Bunny," though in all truth, she looked like something straight from the lolita line of Hugh's Bunny Ranch. She looked good, though, don't get me wrong; in her black, strapless, corset-fitting dress and her platform Mary Jane's. On the back of her dress she wore a fluffed up tail, topped with a pink ribbon bow. And to complete the look, tall and half-floppy, fluffy pink ears.
Like I'd said, the lolita end of the Ranch.
"Jeez-Louise, I'm dehydrated!"
Jean Marie, was sprawled out on the couch again. She was giggling, still, her bunny ears crooked atop her head as she lazily tapped her foot on the floor.
"We can go out and get something to drink," Candie suggested, curled up at the couches other end. "Go to DQ and get a couple of sodas...?"
Laughing, Jean Marie shook her head. "Too much sugar! You know I can't drink that stuff."
I frowned, looking back and over my shoulder to them from where I sat on the floor. "All those bottles you half-whit's brought in, and you don't have anything to drink?"
That's when they both started laughing, like two little girls in Elementary school, having their first crush. They laughed like that a lot, and by now—at least for me—hearing it was almost second nature.
"That's for later," scoffed Candie. "When all of you and yours have gone to bed." She smiled.
"You and yours?" I asked.
Jean Marie giggled and nodded, her head at rest on Candie' hip. "When the jail-bait's away, us and ours will play..."
"In other words, you're too young to understand."
"Of course," I muttered in response to my sister's tauntings, glaring at her as she stuck out her tongue at me. She enjoyed having the upper hand, and at times it made me right pissed. Other times...
"Neh, Candie? Exactly how old were you when you first took to the bitter-sweet effects of 'la liquor'?"
"Younger in years, but wiser in the head than the sib's, I'm sure."
I looked up to Jean Marie as she spoke to Candie, watching her full lips as they formed every word that they spoke. And her eyes... She had those bedroom eyes, ya know? Though I'm sure at that point it was due more to the fact that they'd already begun their drinking. But they weren't drunk, not yet. They were only just beginning to feel the effects of what they'd had so far.
They were the 'happy drunk' sort. Though, they never really got to the point where they'd be annoying or obnoxious, stumbling all over themselves, speech slurring, wall-hugging drunk. Or at least, they weren't yet at that point... Right now, they were only slightly tipsy.
"A touch tipsy!" Jean Marie corrected, having heard me in my calling them out under my breath.
