Slaves to the Oikos

December 2004

Lakeview, New Orleans

One shot, two shot, three shot, four.  The ouzo flowed out of the bottle and filled the shotglasses neatly in their little row. Barbayannis, the bottle says, and I tipped the bottle to my mouth and take a hearty sip, my engines warming up before the race. Liquid licorice hits my tongue and I swallowed and took a quick glance around at the library door. I heard the faint sounds of Mariah Carey screeching out a Christmas song (Scotty's doing, trust me) and the catcalls of my family.  I didn't have much time and I capped the ouzo and shoved it back into the liquor cabinet, which was fully stocked, praise the Lord.

 Two quick movements and the first two shots slid down my throat, easy greasy. I took the remaining two and downed them as I approached the library door, shoving the glasses into a library shelf.  I pulled out a fake smile from my pocket and pasted it on my face. Game time.

I opened the door and Mariah, even in overkill mode, is not enough to drown out the laughing and fussing from the living room. My mom looked up from the kitchen counter and scowled at me.

"Nyx, it's Christmas, change your damn shirt, will you?"

I rolled my eyes and waved her away. "God, Ma, I will. You got something against Michael Jackson?"

I didn't wait for an answer, just turned my back on her and huffed quickly into my hand. Ugh, I needed a mint, my breath smelled like I had been gargling with alcohol, but there was no time. I burst into the living room and immediately, it started.

"Hey, it's my favorite grandkid!" Kiss on both cheeks.

"Nyx, what the hell are you wearing? Go change your shirt!" Slap on back of the shoulder.

"Hey gorgeous, aren't you supposed to have a man at your side?" Two kisses and hugs and a poke in the side.

"Don't you ever eat, girl? You're thin as a rail! That must be your father in you-nobody with our blood is that skinny!" Pinch on the arm, eyebrows raised.

Through all of this, I'm smiling so hard that my face is going to break. I'm almost to the back of the room, but they're everywhere. There are hands on my back, patting, slapping. There are blurry faces (Christ this ouzo is stronger then I thought) and grinning and voices calling my name. They never stop coming.

"Kala Christougena, Nyx!"

"Why don't you wear any makeup, girl?"

"What are you talking about? The girl is from my side, she doesn't need any makeup!"

"Kala Christougena, Nyx!"

"What the hell are you wearing?"

"Leave her alone, thios!"

By the time I got to Scotty and Christobel and my sister at the back of the room, my jaws were killing me and I was emotionally worn out. I took the glass of red wine out of Scotty's hand and downed it, and he laughed.

"Lord, Nyx, slow the hell down. Kala Christougena, by the way."

I pushed the wine glass into his hand and gave him a look. "Fuck you and your Kala Christougena."

My sister laughed. She's eleven but we never bother censoring our language around her. She can give us a run for our money with her mouth, anyway.

Scotty shook his head. "Drinking and taking the Lord's name in vain already. We haven't even sat down for dinner yet."

I groaned. "Can you just shoot me before dinner? Please?"

Scotty made a face of mock disbelief. "And get blood all over my new Gucci shirt? Bitch, please. Speaking of shirts, you're going vintage. Did your Mom have a fashion seizure?"

I snickered, wishing I had a glass of wine, even though I hated it. "Shit, nobody in this family appreciates the classics." Scotty gave me a Look and I hastily moved to correct myself. "Except for you, of course, Miss Thang."

Scotty sniffed. "Hooker better know it."

Christobel watched this exchange with her eyes narrowed, not saying a word.

My sister groaned next to me and nudged my shoulder. "Incoming."

From across the room I could see two of my uncles waving at us, on their way over to deliver many kisses and handshakes and abominations and Lord knows what else.

Scotty, Christobel, my sister and I waved back with big smiles, but when we turned away, the four of us sighed.

"Twenty bucks and the juicy part of the lamb says it won't be five seconds into the conversation that they stumble awkwardly around the fact that I'm a cock lover." Scotty muttered.

"You're on. Forty says they try to fix you up with a nice Greek girl right afterwards." I said through the corner of my grinning mouth, waving again at the uncles, who are only a few feet away from us.

"Sixty says that they'll be asking why all three of you aren't married with kids yet, even the kid." Scotty snickered, and all three of us winced, especially Christobel.

The smell of egg salad breath and Vicks and two extremely strong colognes assaulted the four of us, and my sister and I turned our cheeks and allowed their scratchy kisses on our cheeks, and Scotty got his arm pumped up and down. Christobel was greeted with an awkward slap on her shoulder and our eyes met from across the little group we formed. Anger and bitterness in hers. I looked away, trying not to wince. It has always been like that.

"God, you two look more like your mother every day. It scares me sometimes, how old you two are getting." Like me, our Uncle Warren had the same fondness for ouzo and I could smell it on his breath as he pulled me into his arm, kissing my forehead loudly.

I laughed. "You're not supposed to say we look old, thios. You're going to give your younger niece a complex."

Uncle Warren waved his hand. "Bah. You Dufrene girls get better with age." Purposely excluding Christobel was not unusual, but I tried not to look at my cousin. Despite our growing dislike of each other, I hated how they overlooked her.

Our other Uncle, Nick, eyed Scotty warily.

"So how have you been doing, Scott? How's...you know...life?"

Score for me-I'm twenty bucks richer. I tried not to smile as I heard my cousin's internal groan in my head.

"Not bad, Uncle Nick. School is hard, but everything else is going pretty good." Scotty is exceptionally gifted at hiding his gay side (even if he's a flaming queen) but the male side of our family aren't that great at ignoring it or pretending it doesn't exist. Sometimes it's funny and other times it's just idiotic.

"Don't you have a birthday coming up, boy?" Uncle Warren demanded, and Scotty smiled tolerantly.

"April, sir."

Uncle Nick guffawed. "Gettin' on up there, aren't ya?"

My cousin is two years older then I am, but that's old enough. I started the countdown in my head.

Uncle Warren squinted to focus on Scotty. "You know, boy, I've got a guy at work who has a daughter around your age. Maybe you two can go have a drink sometime at one of those clubs you go to."

Cha-ching.

My sister and I tried not to laugh. We both knew that the clubs Scotty went to on Bourbon are the ones where they serve the drinks with a dick shaped straw and all the help wear G-strings that don't cover their packages, but our uncles don't know this.  Scotty nodded thoughtfully as if he was considering it, but before he could find a way to wriggle out of that conversation, the Uncles are too drunk to wait on him and they converge on me.

"So Nyx, where the hell is that Adam boy that was here at Thanksgiving? He stupid enough to let you loose in a room full of young guys or what?"  They are referring, of course, to the number of young, dark, Guido-like extended cousins that are lurking in every corner, sneaking vodka and trying to hide from their mothers. My Uncle Nick laughed and elbowed my Uncle Warren and they evidently think that this disgusting revelation is fucking funny. Behind their backs, I saw Scotty doing a Madonna-esque dance of victory. Fuck, there goes sixty bucks.

"Alan." I corrected, really wishing I had a few lines in me.

"Whatever his name is, girl. Doesn't matter. Why the hell isn't he here?" Uncle Nick barked, and I took a deep breath and smiled brilliantly.

"He's doing Christmas with his family this year, thios. He couldn't come."

Christobel's eyes are on me and I ignored their accusing, knowing gaze. As my uncles expounded on Alan's rudeness for not being here with me on Christ's birthday, I thought of the way Alan's mouth had quivered as I had told him to leave me alone.

"Nyx, babe, please. What the hell has gotten into you? I thought it was going to work this time." Alan begged, struggling to pull on his pants on. Disgust and pity welled through me and I averted my gaze away from his unmade bed, wanting to get away from the smell of our skin and his neediness and his pain. I snapped my bra and pulled down my shirt, still not looking at him. Cocaine buzzed through me and I felt as if I was dangling precariously above the room, looking down at this sad excuse for a relationship. My stomach rumbled angrily and I almost regretted drinking that bottle of Skol on my way over here.

"I don't want this, Alan." I muttered, slipping my feet into my shoes. Alan finally got his pants on and reached out to grab me, but I pulled away.

"What don't you want? I don't get it, Nyx, what am I doing wrong?" He pleaded, trying to force me to look at him, and I groaned. I wanted to get away from here. I was scared I'd hurt him more if I did.

"I thought I could do it, Alan, but I can't. I know what'll happen if we keep doing this shit, and I don't want any part of it. I just don't!" I sighed in exasperation and pushed his hands away from me, grabbing my bag, my feet itching to carry me out of that gilt edged door. He hurried to block my path and I groaned, my shoulders sagging. I am so tired.

"It's not you talking, Nyx, right, it's the drugs, okay?" Alan whispered, his hands on my arms, keeping me there. Making me a prisoner.

My anger was like a nuclear bomb. I pushed him back with force that I never thought I had and he staggered back, dumbstruck. I flew at him, and the words gushed out of me like a torrent of blood.

"Goddammit, Alan, it's not the FUCKING drugs. I don't want to be your goddamn girlfriend anymore. I don't want to kiss you, I don't want to hug you, I don't want to marry you, I don't want to fuck you. I don't want to be your goddamn trophy wife and I don't want to have your trophy kids and I don't want your money. I just want you to stop being such a clingy fuck and leave me the fuck alone!"

All the things that I had muttered internally were coming out of my mouth and entering Alan's ears and his face broke like a mirror. Months and months of biting my lips had come down to this, and I felt nauseous, but too angry to feel remorse. Once I got going, it was too late to stop.

"Christ almighty, Alan," I groaned, covering my face with my hands. A bitter laugh slipped out; I couldn't help it. "you're telling me that you actually expected us to last? I only got back with you cause you were driving me fucking nuts-showing up wherever I went, calling my phone six times a day, showing up at the family's house for dinner because ‘ Christobel' invited you-like I would believe that! I mean, Christ, dude, have some FUCKING dignity."

Alan's blue eyes were welling with tears and I cursed and turned away, his weakness making me shudder. I cannot stand such cowardice-I'm physically repulsed by it. Minutes pass and the room is like a tomb. I blur in and out of focus like a video game.

"So you just screw me out of my virginity and leave me right after?" He whispered, his voice clogged with tears, and I growled in frustration.

"Yes, goddammit. That's what I'm doing. I fucked you and I'm leaving you. Is the picture a little clearer, now? Can I get the fuck out of here?" I gestured impatiently to the door behind him, and Alan slowly moved aside, his eyes fixed on the floor.

I don't hesitate. I strode across the room and tossed open the door, for once not checking the hallway to see if Alan's mother was lurking around. It's not my concern anymore. I came to do what I had to do and I did it. Game over.

I'm halfway down the hall and I hear Alan's voice calling my name. I don't turn, but I hear his next whisper as if he's right next to my ear. I'm taking the stairs three at a time, but I can still hear it, even now.

"No matter what you say, I'll blame it on the drugs."

That doesn't matter, Alan. It's all one and the same.

I returned to the present as if someone had smacked me across the face. My Uncles are still bitching about Alan and Christobel is scowling at me. I paid no attention.

"He's not rude, thios," I interrupted, and they looked at me, bushy eyebrows raised. "he just had somewhere else to be."

Yeah, like in Florida, as far away from me as he can get.

Uncle Warren scoffed. "The man's rude, no matter what you say. I came here expecting to give congratulations to you both, seeing as how your aunt told me you two had all but set a date."

Scotty is pretending to look anywhere else but at me. My sister rolled her eyes.  Christobel looked mulish. Here goes.

I laughed, even though I felt like puking. "Someone's been telling you lies, thios."

Uncle Nick snorted in a very unattractive manner.  "I doubt it. I heard it from my wife too, young lady. And I know you women lie like it's a sport, but things looked pretty well sewn up at Thanksgiving, if you know what I mean."

The ouzo roiled uneasily in my stomach, but I shrugged airily. "Well, you both know how men aren't good at their word. Looks like I've been jilted." I sighed in exaggerated despair and my Uncles roared with laughter, their hands gripping my shoulders. Uncle Nick pulled my head to him and gave me a big, rough kiss. "You would never be jilted, baby. You just wait-Adam or Alan or whatever the hell his name is will come around."

I shrugged. "If I'm lucky." Christobel's lips curled into a scowl. My sister hid a smile, and Scotty just downed another glass of red wine as if his life depended on it.

"Well, get that ring on your finger, girl, and start making some babies!" Uncle Warren thundered at me, and turned to harass my little sister before I could even think up a good retort to that.

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Uncle Warren asked her in mock seriousness, and my little sister (who refuses to watch cartoons and talks to our parents as if they were her bitches) smiled tolerantly, though I know she wanted to kick him in the nuts for treating her like a three year old. She shook her head, hands on her hips.

"I'm only eleven. Boys are idiots."

My Uncles exploded in laughter at this, but my sister just sighed. I could hear her thinking, and what it boiled down to was ‘fucking assholes.' And that was her being sweet.

Uncle Nick reached over and messed with her hair (another big no no, since she had spent three hours at home putting loads of crap in it) and chuckled. "Don't be like that, now. You better get to finding a good one and tying him down."

My sister shook her head, wrinkling her nose. "I'm too young for boys."

Uncle Warren sent a mock glare my way. "That would be your older sister putting those bad influences on you, girl. You've only got seven years until you get a ring on that finger, and it better be big."

My sister's eyes were narrowed, but she laughed along with them. They didn't notice how she was mocking them and Scotty and I bit our lips, trying not to look amused.

Christobel chose this moment to speak up, which was probably the worst idea in history.

"I like a guy." She said softly, and our Uncles paused and looked at her as if they had completely forgotten she existed.

My Uncle Nick chuckled awkwardly. "Yes, well, that's..." His hand lingered over her back, but pulled away, fingers closing over air. Christobel's face crumbled into itself and my sister and I cringed. Scotty tried not to snicker.

Uncle Warren was gazing at Christobel steadily. "Don't worry," He said quietly. "you have time."

Just then one of the aunts came around with a tray full of ouzo shots and all of us hastily grabbed for one, trying to pretend that the painful moment had never occurred. Christobel shot hers, then slunk away and I watched her go, pity mingling with the taste of licorice in my mouth. My Uncles turned to my aunt and started harassing her, allowing my sister to sneak another shot off the tray while they were engrossed.

She drank it like a pro (it runs in the family) and bit her lip, looking in the direction where Christobel had taken her leave.

"This family is like a fucking pimping business." With those wise words, she tossed the shotglass behind the couch and stalked off.

An eleven year old, I thought, should not know these things.

And all the love will show
Cause everybody knows
It's Christmas time, and
All the kids will see
The gifts under the tree
It's the best time of year for the family

"Nyx! Go change that goddamn shirt, it's almost time for dinner!" My mother hissed as I passed the kitchen, aiming straight for the library, where bottles upon bottles of lovely alcohol waited for my consumption.

"Goddammit, Ma, my shirt is fine!" I complained, dodging the dishtowel that she popped at me.  She gave me one of those Looks that a daughter cannot ignore from a mother and I growled in frustration.

"Fine, I'll go change the shirt." I threw up my hands in exasperation and turned away from the library door, heading towards the hallway, my nefarious plans foiled.

I angrily pushed open the door to the spare bedroom that Christobel and I used when we visited. Christobel was lying stomach down on one of the twin beds, sobbing into her pillow. Fuck.

I paused and stood awkwardly near the door. "You ok?"

She laughed bitterly, the sound muffled. "Like you care."

I rolled my eyes and shut the door, locking it. "Christobel, don't waste energy crying over them."

She raised her face from the bed and glared daggers at me. "Leave me the fuck alone, Nyx."

I snorted with disgust and threw open the closet door. "As you wish, fatass."

The little room flooded with violent tension, but I turned my back on her and yanked my shirt over my head, changing quickly into plain V-neck Sinful top. Mom would yell at me again for wearing black, but I didn't give a shit.

I ignored Christobel's burning stare as I hurried across the room and pulled a brush through my black hair, yanked it into a sloppy ponytail, and sat down on the side of my bed. When I unearthed a little box from underneath the bed, Christobel made a noise of horrified disdain, flying to sit up in the middle of the bed.

"Oh, that's real nice. We've got the whole fucking family in there, Nyx, and you choose this time to be River fucking Phoenix?" She hissed, and I sighed in a long suffering sort of way.

"Numbnuts, the door is locked. They have no idea I'm back here and they wouldn't come to look for you anyway."

Christobel recoiled from my venomous reply and I pretended not to notice, quickly lining up short fat rows of sparkly white booger sugar.  

She watched me stack the lines with a scandalized look on her face and I was just about to snap at her when there was a knock at the bedroom door. We both froze. The straw fell out of my hand.

"Who is it?" I called, trying not to let my voice shake. People in my family pick up on guilty consciences like a police dog picks up the smell of drugs.

"Scotty, you bitches. Let me in."

My stomach unclenched out of the sailor's knot it had been in and I let out a groan of exasperated relief, leaping up to unlock the door for my cousin.

"Goddammit, Scotty, you almost gave us a heart attack!" I smacked him on the shoulder and he violently shushed me, hurriedly closing the door behind him and pressing the lock in.

"What the hell are you doing in here? We're about to eat dinner! The family's going to start looking for-" Scotty's eyes fell on the mirror on the bedside table and he stopped short, his brown eyes lighting up like the Fourth of July.

"Oooh! Nyx, you naughty cunt!"

Christobel scowled, but her brother ignored her and followed on my heels as I resumed my position on the bed.

"Give me a hit. I'm so sick of pretending to be a fucking hetero that I'm physically nauseous." Scotty moaned, and I smirked and held out the straw for him. He grabbed it as if it was a lifeline and he was on a cliff and we both watched his dark curly head bend to the mirror. Snort, gasp, exhale.

"Christ, you two are unbelievable." Christobel laughed desperately, and before I could tell her to fuck off, Scotty threw back his head and glared at her, his eyes narrowed, coke ringing his nostrils.

"Better unbelievable then fat."

Christobel's face broke-it was as simple as that, and I squirmed uncomfortably in my place, happy when Scotty gave me back the straw and I could hide my face in a line. I was a bloody hypocrite, I knew, but Scotty's maliciousness towards his own sister was not a level I could not even appreciate. I felt a faint stab of remorse but I pushed it aside and let myself lose my head in beautiful cocaine.

Christobel silently got up from the bed and stumbled out of the room, and Scotty giggled meanly.

"Good riddance. She's going to fuck up my buzz."

"God forbid." I coughed and handed him the straw again, wiping my nose. Someone turned up the volume on the stereo outside and I cursed in disgust.

No matter what your holiday
It's a time to celebrate
And put your worries aside (worries aside)
And open up your mind (open up your mind)
See the world right by your side

"What the fuck are they listening to out there?"

Scotty wrinkled his nose. "Christ if I know. They've got it on the Pop channel. I fucking hate Christmas music."

I sniggered and used my razor to prepare another line. "You're not kidding. Hopefully they got me the gun I wanted this year. What did you ask for?"

"My own pretty pretty pony." Scotty cackled, and we both erupted into hyena-like giggling.

We both snorted a few more lines until Scotty gasped for air and waved his hand frantically at me. "No more. If I get any higher then this I might start making out with one of the uncles."

I snickered. "They'd love that. No complaints-more for me!" To punctuate my happiness I bumped a mound and Scotty looked at me in awed concern.

"Goddamn, Nyx-slow the fuck down."

I snuffled and checked my nose for blood. "Why? They're idiots-they never notice."

I expected him to tell me to hush my traitorous mouth, but Scotty just laughed darkly.

"They don't notice you bombed out like Courtney Love but they can ignore the fact that I'm as gay as a two dollar bill."

I laughed. "Oh, put your big girl panties on and deal with it. You know and I know that it's much easier when they ignore it instead of kicking you out of the front door.  And they would have, babe, if YaYa wouldn't have put her two cents in."

Scotty nodded thoughtfully. "God bless YaYa. I shouldn't bitch. It's you and your sister that have the horrible end of the deal. You two are being whored out for your ovaries simply because your mother mixed bloodlines."

I raised my eyebrow skeptically. "Must I remind you that we're not the only two females in this family? You do have a sister, you know."

Scotty snorted like a bull. "That's the really fucked up part. The one female that wouldn't mind being whored out and nobody wants to sleep with her."

I blanched, but Scotty didn't notice-just kept plowing ahead, his dark eyes getting that sparkle that only harassing Christobel could inspire.  He was starting to gesture wildly, a sure sign of a Scotty Nolan rant.

"I mean, Christ, she's the only one that's trying to honor the family's code and they all could care less. Don't take this the wrong way, babe, but I am SO glad I have a dick." Scotty sighed in self admiration.

I made a face as I reluctantly packed my coke away. "Ew, but none taken."

"They'll be after your sister next, honey, trust me. She's going to be a prime piece of real estate when she gets a bit older. They'll have a ring on her finger before she graduates." Scotty proclaimed, and I sent a dark look at him.

"I don't even want to think about that right now, Scotty."

He stood up to his full height and stretched, looking down wryly at me. "Better start worrying about yourself, Nyx. Nevermind the marriage thing-you better be more careful about this coke shit you're doing.  They won't play idiots forever."

I immediately shot to my feet. "What the fuck do you mean by that? Do they know?" I demanded, and he shook his head. "No, by some small miracle. But you know you can't screw up your body like that."

I rolled my eyes and turned away from him, waving my hand impatiently. "Don't start."

"I'm serious, Nyx." Scotty's fingers closed around my wrist and he turned me towards him, and for once his eyes were sober. "You know that if you can't get pregnant, sooner or later, you're pretty much lumped in with my sister. I don't want that, and I know you don't, either."

My shoulders heaved in a tired lament. "I know, Scotty, but my ability to make a baby or not should not define who I am. It's fucking ridiculous-I don't even have a boyfriend or a ring on my finger, but I'm already a slave to this goddamn mythical zygote."

One of Scotty's dark eyebrows lifted and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "No boyfriend? What happened to Alan?"

I pulled my wrist out of his grasp, avoiding his eyes. "Alan is no longer a part of the equation."

Scotty whistled. "Damn, girl. I gotta say, that was pretty stupid on your part. He was enough to make my teeth sweat, Lord have mercy." He pressed his hand to his heart dramatically and I snickered and shoved him.

"God, shut the fuck up, you fairy. If you want him, take him-he's in Florida with his WASPY fucking parents."

Scotty cackled. "No thanks, babe. He's had his thing in your thing, and I don't do sloppy seconds."

"I'm glad we've regressed to using terms that a kindergartener could appreciate." I said dryly, quickly checking my hair in the mirror behind him. Scotty immediately followed suit, poking at his carefully mussed curls, though it would take an act of God to make even one lock fall out of place.

Someone yelled our names and Scotty made a face. "Back to the freak show."

"Go ahead. I'll be in there in a second."

He nodded and bustled out of the room, leaving behind a wake of Burberry, and I took a deep breath, unleashing my hair from it's ponytail, pinching colors into my cheeks.

My eyes looked wild and my hands were jittery, but I had no time to calm down.

The show never ends.

I pull the mask of fake Nyx over the real me, and I slip out of the door.

It is December 24th, 2004. Katrina waits for us, only a year away. Scotty is twenty and wants to be a lawyer working for gay rights, my sister, eleven, wants to be a Hooters girl. Christobel, seventeen, wants to be anything but invisible. I am eighteen, and all I want is to be fucked up.

I never knew how good I had it until now.