Angels at Sunset
Mom encountered me face up on my bed, stinking from track practice, Walkman in my hands, Eurythmics in my ears. I was trying not to think about a girl who I could not stop thinking about. At least I was not masturbating.
“Gabriel?”
I removed my headphones. The tinny facsimile of Annie Lennox’s voice filled the space between us, “… How can I forget you, baby? I’m never gonna give you up, up …”
“Gabriel!”
“Sorry!” I shut off the Walkman.
“Dinner soon. Your father’s making chicken divan.”
“Dad’s home?” I asked, but the real question was, Were they fighting?
“He got back today. We were napping when you got home.”
Christ! “Nap” was a euphemism for sex.
“You forgot your laundry again,” she said and offered me the basket.
I stood to take it, leaving my sweat behind like a shadow on the bed.
“Ga-bri-el!” Mom threw her hands in the air, and let them fall with a slap.
Fuck! How did this happen?
“Your grandmother made that quilt. She’s not making another!”
Of course not, she was dead, and I did not know what to say.
“Really! I just don’t know what to say to you.”
Grandma had crudely but lovingly embroidered that quilt with stories from my childhood like a cartoon-scrapbook-tapestry of family memories. I offered, “I’ll wash it!” in atonement for its desecration.
“Why don’t you wash yourself? Dinner is -“
“- almost ready. OK! Okay. I’ll shower and be right up.”
“I am sorry for snapping. We can wash the quilt later.” She gave me a hug.
I hugged her back. “Okay.”
“Oof. You really need a shower.” Mom wrinkled her nose.
“Yeah.” I felt disgusting.
She let go of me, and whisked out of the room, calling brightly from the door, “Come up soon!”
Instead of folding the laundry or showering, I listened for signs of fighting. Mom joined dad in the kitchen upstairs, but I could not hear their conversation because someone - probably dad - cranked up the music. The windows rattled to Bruce Hornsby’s piano and, “… some things’ll never change …,” until someone - probably mom - turned the volume all the way down.
“Hey!” little sis called out fiercely. “Do you mind?”
“Sorry! Didn’t mean to interrupt your MTV,” dad quipped, and pointedly adjusted the volume back up, this time just not quite as loud.
“Better than VH1!” Mom and dad never tolerated back talk from me, but little sis held her own.
I couldn’t make out more words or even their tone over the music, but my ceiling creaked with their movement. Were they dancing? As if in answer, an empty wine bottle thudded in the kitchen’s recycling bin, clattering around with the cans and jars.
Ah, yes, drinking again! Dinner would definitely be awhile.
I did not want to think about another tense and drunken dinner. Instead I focused on grandma’s quilt. I gingerly pulled it from my bed, and draped it over a chair by the window. I opened the window to let in the air.
Voices came in from outside. One of the voices I recognized, Michelle’s. Meech and I had just been at track practice together. She was like a big sister, a year older, worldly, and always had my back.
“Get off of me!” she cried.
Fuck! I have to do something, I thought. I left my room, returned to it, left again, froze at the bottom of the stairs. What would I tell my parents I was doing? What was I going to do?
Hall & Oates interrupted my paralysis, “… Leave me alone, I’m a family man and my bark is much worse than my bite …”
Thinking about dad, I cringed.
“… Leave me alone, I’m a family man. If you push me too far, I just might! …”
Repulsed by the notion, I turned around, entered the laundry, crossed to the back door, took the key from the lock, and slipped out.
Outside I locked the door behind me, and leaned back against it to breathe, as if to release my inhibition to the air. Inertia held me until my eyes settled on a hammer propped against the foundation. That’ll fuck up whoever’s messing with Meech, I thought, and took it. Once in motion, staying in motion was easy. I walked out beneath the Eucalyptus away from the house.
I stopped again at the edge of a small ravine. It cut a path down between the houses toward Meech’s place. Papery strips of bark lay in braided cords over the clay. The grade was steep, and Poison Oak hid amidst the Broom.
Fuck it!
I forged ahead, striding into the brush, and down the slope, then slipped, and slid, and stumbled into a run all the way down to the street below where I stomped to a stop. The key slipped from my fingers and struck the pavement, ringing like a coin with each bounce over the asphalt.
What an idiot!
Across the street sitting sideways in her car, Michelle looked up. She was alone. “Smooth!” she chided.
I smiled dumbly as I hunted down the key.
“Uhhh, so, what the hell?” she asked, palms face up as if weighing the situation, her own keys in her right hand.
“Actually, I wanted to ask you that question.”
She kept quiet.
I approached. When I reached her, I spoke low, “I heard you fighting. You okay, Meech?”
She shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“Oh.” Shit!
She pointed at my hammer, “Really?”
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“No need. It was my mom.” She pointed to her house. No one was at the door. As we watched, an upstairs window bloomed with light. “That’s her. We’re cooling off.” It was strangely quiet. Michelle had a sister, two brothers, and a father. No sign of them was visible, no cars but her own, and only that one light on in the house.
I tried my campy, Superman impression, “I’m glad I could be of service!”
She only returned a thin smile.
I sighed and without thinking reached for her hand.
She took my hand, grimaced as if holding back tears, then stood and crushed me in a hug, close, her cheek to my shoulder.
I stowed the hammer and key in my left hand, and embraced her with my right. She was almost my height, and as my unofficial big sister often seemed bigger, but not now. Now she seemed diminished, and I wanted to protect her.
Meech smelled good. As we kept holding on to one another, I became more conscious of her breasts and the bare skin of her legs against mine. I started to get hard. Not now! I thought, we are just supposed to be friends.
She broke the awkwardness by releasing me, stepping back and saying with a smile, “Wow! You stink, Gabe!”
“Why do you smell so good?” I asked, twisting away to adjust and hide my erection.
“I showered at the gym. You should try it sometime. Damn!” She pinched her nose in mock disgust, sassing me, smiling. And just like that, she had recovered. Her resilience amazed me.
“Yeah, I didn’t get a ride home from you today. What happened?”
“Sorry,” she shrugged.
“No biggie. So?”
“So let me give you a ride now.”
“I only live right -“
“- Get in,” she insisted, punctuating her command by unlocking the passenger door.
I walked around and got in. Her Plymouth Reliant was a beast compared to the usual Hondas, Datsuns, and Toyotas, and felt like set dressing for Taxi Driver. This was the vintage high school experience, I thought.
Meech cranked the key, the engine roared to life, and I took the liberty to switch on the radio. We heard the keyboards to the opening of Steve Winwood’s Don’t You Know What The Night Can Do? and exchanged a glance.
“I actually like this song,” I admitted.
“Me too.”
We sat side by side, quiet, looking forward, and listening, until she unhooked the parking break and pressed the accelerator. Then she added, “But I need to turn you on to his real stuff: Spencer Davis Group, Traffic -“
“- Have you heard him on Electric Ladyland?”
“Yeah,” she enthused. “He was like our age back then.”
“Well, your age.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“Yer a year older than me. I mean, you can drive! I don’t turn 16 for a few more months.”
“I just turned 16.”
I worried that this would change our relationship. To hide my feelings, I joked, “And here I thought you were the older woman.”
“Well technically I am,” she laughed.
We were quiet when she turned on to my street. Winwood crooned, “… and now’s the time when it’s down to me and you …” She slowed near my house. I looked over to say goodbye.
“Not yet!” she announced, and hit the accelerator.
“What?”
“This is a kidnapping, youngster.”
“Meech!” I protested.
“Come on. We can catch the sunset.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Come on!”
“You keep saying that like I have a choice.”
“Well get your license and you can return the favor.”
Sun washed over our faces fierce, warm, and yellow as we emerged from tree shrouded Heartwood into the open vista at the top of Colton. The bay gleamed liked hammered silver. San Francisco struck its quaint, little, big-city silhouette against a brilliant sky, layers of orange and red stacked behind.
Michelle lifted her foot off the accelerator, and we coasted, weightless, down the hill. We drifted to a stop by the water tower where Meech killed the engine. I stowed my hammer and key under the seat as we exited.
Once out of the car, I took off my stinking shirt, and splayed it across the hood.
“Uhhh, thanks?” she said, joining me with water bottle in hand. “Might as well rearrange it a little, donchya think?”
“Huh?” I turned to look.
She drenched me with a blast of water. “Gotchya!”
“Nice!” I protested, a bit annoyed.
“You needed a shower.”
“True!”
She retrieved her soap and towel from the trunk of the car. “Come on. I have an idea.”
“You keep saying that -“
“- and you keep coming on.”
“Point!”
“How many is that for me now?”
“That was just one.”
“Yeah. I think I’ve scored a few more than that.” She turned back to look me in the eyes, egging me on.
“I didn’t realize we were scoring,” I tried to sound suggestive and sophisticated, but cringed at the double entendre.
She rolled her eyes, turned back around, and led me behind the water tower. The water tower was not actually a tower but rather a concrete cylinder with a rounded top, one of EBMUD’s cisterns nestled into the hillside. She passed the access ladder which was secured in a black, minimesh cage and stopped next to a hose bibb which required a special key to operate. Before I could say anything, she selected just such a key from her keychain.
“Do you have a can opener on that thing too?”
“I swiped this from Sean.” While I puzzled over the mystery of her brother’s key, she filled her water bottle.
“OK. Com’ere,” she called. “We’ll use it like a shower. Then you’ll soap up.” She handed me the soap. “And then we’ll rinse you off.”
“The towel?”
“I’ll keep it dry, I promise.”
And that’s what we did except that when I returned to rinse off, she shook her head as if to say, no, boy, properly scrub yourself. “Like this!” She took the soap from my hand and timidly started to lather my shoulders, then more confidently worked her way down my back.
I was relieved to be facing away from her. I didn’t want her to know how much I loved the feeling of her soapy hands sliding over my bare skin. My heart pounded. There was no keeping my erection down as she got closer to my ass.
“That’s better.” Her voice was soft and warm.
I swayed, caught myself, heart pulsing in my extremities, acutely aware of her fingertips lingering at my waist. I breathed in, held it. A car passed on the street.
She grabbed my side, squeezed, and spun me around.
I yielded, moaning involuntarily, embarrassed by how much I wanted her.
She leaned in for a kiss.
I flinched. I still wanted someone else, and was confused by her willingness to cheat on her boyfriend. She always seemed so good, so moral, so above her base instincts. Arousal and fear wrestled over me like two serpents strangling a corpse.
She looked annoyed, hugging her chest as she said, “It’s okay. It’s not like …,” but stopped, looked away, and then down.
I struggled to speak until I cleared my throat. When I did, I spoke carefully, deliberately enunciating each word as clearly and as evenly as possible, “Can you please turn the water on so that I can rinse off?”
“I can do that.”
I rinsed off. She came forward with the towel. I half heartedly tried to take it from her, but she did not give up so easily. Awkwardly between the two of us we managed to dry me off.
“I’m sorry,” I said at last.
“No -“
“- No, I am. You really are … I really like you, but, I just, I didn’t expect this, and I thought you were with Jordan and I,” I couldn’t mention Gina, the girl I couldn’t forget, the girl I needed Meech’s advice about but never asked, and now how could I?
“I understand,” she said. She looked so defeated.
Desperate to fix us, I took her hand like before, and said, “Hey. We can still watch the sunset. Let’s climb up top.”
She raised her eyes to mine, smiled just a little, and said quietly, “I’d like that.”
I squeezed her hand and let go.
Looking up at the cage around the ladder, she assessed the climb.
I had no idea how to scale it. The cage around the ladder seemed locked.
“Could you give me a boost?” she asked.
“Of course,” I answered and clasped my hands like a stirrup for her foot.
She stepped gracefully into my hands, pushed herself up, her waist rubbing my cheek as she reached out for the edge of the cage.
Neither of us said anything.
I focused on this as exercise rather than romance, like when we helped each other stretch for track. I suppressed my guilt about the pleasure of her skin against mine, and enjoyed the strain as I lifted her a little higher.
She pulled herself up and off of me. Her feet followed to where she planted them. Wedged between the cage and an adjacent pipe, she proceeded to climb.
Impressive! I guess she can climb too, I thought.
When she reached the top, she threw down her challenge, “Next!”
I procrastinated, setting aside our things, washing the soap off my hands, tying the towel around my chest. I didn’t want to scrape my nipples against the concrete. Then I climbed. Unlike Michelle I had no strategy, and brute forced my way up, graceless but determined. Eventually I reached the top with scraped knees.
Michelle waited for me crosslegged at the peak of the dome. I scrambled up on all fours to join her.
“Smooth,” she said, eyeing my knees.
“Point.” I was too tired to care.
She smirked.
I took off the towel and she stood as I lay it down like a picnic blanket. We sat, shoulder to shoulder, facing the sunset. I thought our damp butts added to the charm.
Eventually she apologized. “I am sorry about earlier. Sometimes I just don’t think.”
“I understand, sistah,” I said with a laugh but thought, Did I just call her sister? Not wanting to admit what that meant, I blundered on, “And, hey, you know what? I definitely think TOO much.”
She opened her mouth, closed it.
Oh shit! What did I say?
“I didn’t expect. I didn’t expect you to be like that.”
“Like what?”
She furrowed her brow, swallowing before continuing, “You know that we’re all like Irish and Catholic, right?”
I was neither.
“My family. And a buncha people where I’m from. It’s not like here. Lotsa people are religious back there.”
“OK … and … ?”
“I didn’t expect you to be so, so moral, being from out here. I mean, no one forces all that bullshit on you out here, but you … You’re …. You’re just a really good person, Gabe.”
What? Good? “Me? No, I just … I …,” I choked. A sudden terror of opening up to her, to anyone, and being rejected came over me. But good? I wasn’t good. She had no idea. Unshed tears built up behind my eyes, and I desperately tried to keep holding it all in.
She looked over.
And I burst. “I think there’s something wrong with me.”
“Umm -“
“- No, really!” Tears dripped off the end of my nose. “My feelings are all wrong, and I … I fucked things up with … with ….” I could not say the other girl’s name.
So she did. “Gina.”
“How … ? That was …. You hadn’t even transferred here yet.”
“No, I was sitting at the edge of Senior Lawn when -”
“- Fuck!” Everything felt upside down.
“Alright. So what happened?”
“You saw.”
“I dunno, maybe, but, whatever, it seems like you really wanna tell me something.”
“It’s stupid.”
She flattened my name as she pressed, “Ga-abe!”
“OK!” I breathed in deeply. I began, “It’s like this,” and then I released:
“I wanted Gina and I to sit and talk and get to know one another before we told each other that we liked each other. And we clearly do like each other. I mean, all of our friends talk about it all the time. Like, when’s it gonna happen? What’sup with them? You know? It’s so much that I even got a little crazy. I was gonna make a necklace for her out of this stone I found in Zion last summer -“
“- Isn’t that illegal?”
“Huh?”
“Taking things from a national park.” She looked at me as if reassessing, “I might need to, uhhh …. Maybe you aren’t such a goody goody after -“
“- Ehhh!”
“Hey, no, no, no, it’s all good, Gabe. Come on. Keep going.”
“It’s all good?” I laughed. “You are becoming such an Oaklander -“
“- Gabe!” She groaned.
“OK! Right! Anyway, there’s a lot. But the point is that I thought my feelings could just be in my head, not real, overly romanticized and all that. Gina and I don’t really know one another, not well, you know? So before I told her that I liked her, I really wanted to see if it was real. I thought sitting and talking would do it so I asked her out to lunch. She agreed, but when she got there, she changed it up. I don’t know if she got scared or what, but she said she was going to eat with her friends instead of me. I couldn’t believe it. But then she got kind of excited. Her eyes sparkled. She smiled, shimmied a -“
“- Shimmied?”
“Well she shifted back and forth a little. Not fidgeting but kinda swayed a little to get up her nerve or whatever.”
“I get it.”
“So she … and then she asked me what I wanted to talk about. I mean like she just ….” I continued in anger, “It was just that childish-saying-you-like-each-other-crap! I mean just so she could go tell her friends!”
“Uhhh, so …”
“So I just turned on a dime, acted nonchalant, and said, ‘Oh nothing. Just wanted to see how you are doing is all.’ She was disappointed, but said she was fine. She clearly hoped for more. And then I said, ‘Okay thats all I wanted to know. You can go eat with your friends.’”
“Damn, Gabe, that’s cold.”
“Yeah,” I sighed, “I tried to put it all behind me, to just decide that it will never happen, and kill it off, but I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s torture. I thought it would just fade away, but it’s killing me.”
Michelle gave me a hard look. “Gabe-ri-el, most of us can’t control our feelings. That’s to-tal-ly nor-mal. I mean don’t get me wrong, that was harsh. And you shouldn’t even try to control your feelings -“
“- Ohh-kaay, mom!” I snarked.
“I mean there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s normal to feel.”
“But my feelings are like crazy.”
“We ALL have feelings!” She was exasperated.
So was I. I felt like she was belittling me.
Michelle softened, and asked in a low voice, “Do you mean like before? Between us?”
“Yeah! I’m just so complicated.” I blushed.
“Okay, yes, that was disappointing.”
I sighed.
“But don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s ‘cause yer so good.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I mean it. I like that about you. I do.”
“Doesn’t it make me boring? Like maybe there’s something missing in me, that I can’t just have sex with you, or -“
“- What?! Is that what you think of me?”
“I … I don’t know. I just … I figure that’s how everyone is, and I am just all complicated and -“
“- You aren’t the only one!”
“Huh?”
“You seem to think that it’s just you. You aren’t the only one! I. Feel. Complicated. Too.”
“You seem so together all the time.”
“What about today when you came to, uh, rescue me?”
“Alright, point.”
She laughed. “Damn! I’m scoring all the points aren’t I?”
“You see?! Thats what I mean!”
“Seriously?!”
“No,” I laughed. “I mean, I know what you mean - what you’re saying.”
“Good.” She let out a breath as if done. “You good?”
I didn’t want to talk about this anymore either. “Yes! Now I am. Thanks.”
“Of course.”
“I think I need to get back.”
“Sure,” she said, “but before we go, I want us to make a pact.”
“A pact?”
“Yeah. Let’s call this our pact.”
“Okay.”
“You know how I grew up Catholic, right?”
“Uhhuh.”
“So I learned about angels and so on, and I don’t believe any of that stuff, but I like what angels are supposed to be.” She looked at me intently, “I want us to be each other’s angels, to protect one another.”
“Okay …” What the fuck was she talking about?
“No, hear me out. There are two important arch-angels. One is Michael, and another is Gabriel. That’s kind of like you and me. Well my parents wanted me to be a boy and to name me Michael, but I am a girl so, Michelle.”
“Really?”
“Uhhuh. So Gabriel and Michael, angels. Angels protect you, wrap their wings about you to shield you from harm, and keep you warm.”
I started to speak, confused.
She continued over me. “We’re already friends. And we can stay friends, if that is what you want. That’s not what I mean. This is more important than that. I mean for us to be each other’s angels. To look out for each other. You are my angel-Gabriel. And I’ll be your angel-Michelle. This means that we are good to each other, keep each other’s secrets, and protect one another.”
I didn’t need to think about that. “Yes,” I said. “Deal! I’ll be your Gabriel.”
“I’ll be your Michelle.”
“And we look out for each other, regardless of whether we are friends or -“
“- Yes!”
“Yes!” I was suddenly very hard and really amorous, and I pulled her to me. We kissed with our mouths closed, just a sweet thing, gentle.
She started to grip me hard, pulling me tight, kissing greedily to open my mouth.
I let go of whatever held me back, licked her lips, kissed her face, her neck, grabbed at her waist, her hips, her thighs.
Then just as suddenly she pushed away, putting a hand between us and a hand to her chest. “Wait!” she said catching her breath. “You were right the first time. Its not like I don’t want to, but we’ve got things to work out.”
I felt guilty for grabbing her, and was again embarrassed by my erection, the tip of my penis poking out the top of my shorts. “Yeah, you’re right.” I hid my penis away.
An awkward moment passed between us.
Worried about trouble with my parents, I reminded her that, “We should head back.”
“You’re right. But coming up here was just what I needed. Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Do you think I would have climbed up here alone?”
“This was nice, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah, it was.”
I smiled, took a deep breath, and sighed.
She didn’t say anything but had this look.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Come on, let’s go.”
We stood, gathered the towel, and turned toward the caged ladder. I didn’t want to return that way. She balked too.
I grabbed her hand. “We can do this.”
“Ladies and gentleman, Gabe’s first point!” She mocked a cheer.
“OK. OK. Sheesh!”
She held on to my hand, and we made our way over to the ladder. I secured myself adjacent to it as I looked over the side. Michelle looked inside the cage.
“I’m gonna check this out. This end is open,” she said.
She climbed in to descend the ladder while I considered sliding down the pipe. It was not that far. I was still considering it when I saw her emerge from the cage and drop down to the ground.
“What the hell?!” I asked.
“Looks like they forgot to lock it.”
“I’m doing this anyway,” I declared.
“What!?”
I took the leap, figuratively. I actually let myself down backwards and controlled my fall with my grip on the pipe. Before reaching the bottom, I spun to get away from the wall, and hit the ground harder than I expected. My feet stung from the shock. Michelle rushed over, concerned, but I was alright.
“You could have. Just. Taken. The. Ladder.”
“I felt like I had to take the leap rather than agonize over it.”
“OK. Philosophically thats all cool and shit, but you’re way too talented to risk an injury like that. Twist an ankle and then what? You gonna run the mile with crutches?”
Nothing registered beyond her saying that she thought I was talented.
“Alright, to be continued. Just be careful, okay?”
“OK,” I said, but fixated on her praise.
“OK! Let’s go.”
The light was fading fast from the sky. We returned to her car. I grabbed my shirt. She unlocked the doors. We got in and returned home.
When we pulled up outside my place, I saw dad on the deck. He had been smoking. When he saw us, he waved, then slowly made his way over to the car.
“Shit. I need to put on a shirt, but this stinks.”
“Here.” She handed me a giant, Hello Kitty t-shirt from the backseat.
“Wh -“
“- Not mine. Yours now!”
“Fine!” I grumbled, and pulled it on.
She snorted. “Been trying to get rid of that for ages. Please wear it to school.”
I gave her my best silent deadpan.
Dad leaned in the passenger side window with a wry expression on his face. I tried to come up with something to explain away Hello Kitty, but was annoyed and distracted by the smell of wine and cigarettes on his breath.
“I found your son, Mister Jones.”
“You sure did,” he agreed. “You’re Michelle, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Good to meet you. And thank you.” He considered the two of us then looked back at her to ask, “Would you like to join us for dinner?”
I was shocked by his generosity, and nervous about exposing Meech to my family.
She shook her head, “Thank you, but I really need to get home to my dinner.”
“Alright. Maybe another time then.”
She and I exchanged a glance.
Please no, I thought.
“Thank you. I’d like that,” she said.
Shit! I cut in to cut off a formal invite. “See you tomorrow?”
“If you wear that shirt, definitely,” she teased.
I exited the car with the hammer in my hands. “Later.”
“Wait,” she said, “your key.”
Looking in at her as I retrieved the key, I thought, Michelle really is beautiful. “Good catch!”
She smiled. “Later.”
“Later.”
She drove off.
Dad asked, “Why were you driving around?”
“We went to see the sunset.”
“Right,” he sighed. “I have something for you.” He pulled a strip of condoms from his pocket and placed them in the folds of my stinky shirt.
“Really?” I said angrily, “These were just in your pocket?” I waved the condoms self-righteously in his face.
“Let’s talk about this later. Now’s just not the time.”
He didn’t yell. Why didn’t he yell? Something must be wrong. “Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yes, everything is actually.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Gabriel, really!” He laughed. “But it would help keep things okay, if you put those away, alright?”
“I understand.” At least, I thought I did.
We returned to the house. As we approached the door he suggested, “Why don’t you change and put the key and hammer back before joining us for dinner?”
“Sure.”
“It would have been slick, if you slipped back in with that key, but you stayed out too long.”
“Point,” I said.
“What?”
“You’re right, but it was worth it catching the sunset with Michelle.”
My dad pulled us to a stop just outside the door, and grabbed me by the shoulders, turning me to face him. His eyes glistened as if with tears. He smiled wide, painfully, like he would crack open. “I love you, Gabriel. You’re so good.”
There was that fucking word again.
He enveloped me in a hug. When I started to pull away, he added, “I just love you, and it is good to see you growing up. I’m sorry. I am so sorry that I have not been around lately.”
“I understand.” I didn’t, but I wanted him to feel better.
He squeezed my shoulders once then turned to let us inside. Little sis was going to give me so much shit about my new shirt.