Saturday I dropped by Lynn's with a bottle of wine, which she attacked with enthusiasm. We sat on her couch, not really talking but not really watching TV either. She was nervous and I didn't know why. It was making me nervous and we both would start talking at the same time and then stop, but instead of being able to laugh, it was awkward.
"I'm going home for a couple of days, maybe a week," she said. "All I've done since we got back is drink and cry. I can't stand to be here alone, and when I'm out I get so fed up I want to scream or cry, so I just come back here."
"If you think it will help."
"Don't be like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm putting your dog to sleep. I'll be back."
"Don't go. We'll go somewhere. We'll go back to the coast."
"My parents want me to talk to someone. They think it will help."
"There are 'someones' here. Go to student counseling," I said, but she just looked frustrated with me.
When the wine was finished, I got up to go. I was mad at myself for wanting her to stay. I didn't want her to think that I was taking this for anything more than it was. I wanted to get out of there, get some fresh air and figure out what I was feeling. She put her arms around my neck and kissed me goodbye at the door. She paused, looking into my eyes and searching my face. When she shut the door I realized that I should have kissed her back, but it was already too late.
I walked home and stood for a moment listening to the TV through the door. I hadn't seen Ryan in a week, and I didn't want to have to explain where I'd been or that her goddamn name was Lynn. It was a Saturday night, and the town was coming alive around me. One of the frats was hosting a battle of the bands and in an hour the streets would be choked with people heading to it to get drunk on cheap beer and scream at their friends on stage.
This early downtown would be packed with the wine and cheese crowd. Every other Saturday night local businesses stayed open late trying to attract the wage slaves who rushed home Friday at five to come back and blow their paychecks somewhere other than strip malls. Mostly it was thirty-somethings and their wives wandering around and reminiscing about their college days, pretending they were still young enough to party but fleeing downtown before ten when the bars filled up with twenty-two year olds looking to get blasted. "Everybody is a goddamn moron," I found myself thinking. It was pretty early, but I figured there would be people at John's.
John's was a weekly thing. Five bucks at the door, but that was more of a habit than a rule. There was nothing to keep people honest, but for the most part, everyone paid. The money covered the alcohol, but it meant we were subjected to whatever John decided to drink that week. Sometimes it was cheap wine, sometimes he bought bottles of liquor. Rarely did he have beer unless there was tequila. Mixers were hit or miss and sometimes if he was feeling lazy it was whatever was left from the previous week. It was a refuge for those burned out on frat parties. A break from the bar scene. A place to drink for five bucks, or less, if it had come to that. The dive of college parties.
When I walked in Georgia and Tim were sitting on the couch drinking screwdrivers out of Disney juice glasses.
"You two look fancy."
"Bar tonight," Georgia said. "You wanna come?"
"Probably not."
"Alright." The three of us said nothing for an awkward moment.
"How's life?" I asked.
"Seriously?" she said.
"What?"
"I don't think in three years you've ever asked me how I was doing."
"Oh."
"The eye's looking better," Tim said.
"It still hurts, Tim. But thanks for reminding me that I had my face beat in," I said.
"See, that's the you I know," Georgia said as I walked away.
I walked into the kitchen and poured half a bottle of red wine into a plastic cup and sat, leaning my head against the wall.
"Welcome back," John said sliding into a chair across the table from me.
"Thanks."
"You doing alright?"
"I'm fine. What do you mean?"
"Well," he paused and I wondered if he was enjoying this. "You look like shit and you disappeared for a week."
"It's nothing."
"She's not coming out tonight?"
"She's going to her parent's place and I'm not talking about this."
"I'm glad to see that you're staying positive."
"Shut up."
"I told people you'd been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped?"
"Russian Bratva, Chinese Triad. I don't know, drugs, prostitution, maybe you like cutting up little kids and stuffing them in the trunk of your car."
"Thanks asshole."
"The point is I'm not sure anyone else noticed that you and Lynn happened to disappear for the same week."
"I told you, I'm fine."
"Good. I'm fine too. Thanks for asking."
Tim and Georgia finished their screwdrivers and left the cups on the coffee table. They waved at us on their way out.
"Are they together now?"
"Who knows? I always thought Tim was gay."
"Is this stuff even safe to drink?" I said, looking into my cup.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"Wasn't this whole apartment quarantined?"
"Asbestos is only dangerous if you breathe it."
"Asbestos?"
"That had a cork in it, right?" he asked. "But anyway, about Tim."
"Tim's not gay, he's a moron."
"You're not that much fun to hang out with anymore," John said, getting up to say hi to Jimmy and Marie who'd just come in.
The night turned hazy and indistinct. I stared at an empty wine bottle that I thought I had just opened. Tim and Georgia came back from the bars early and sat together on the couch flirting with each other.
"Is asbestos safe to drink?" I asked Jimmy and Marie when they sat down at the kitchen table.
"What?"
"Never mind. Want some wine?" I asked. From the couch Georgia was making faces at Marie behind her back. I laughed although I tried not to.
"What's so funny?" Marie asked.
"Nothing," I said shaking my head. Marie was looking at John.
"You miss him?"
"Not really."
"Even though he's seeing someone else."
"He's a weird guy. He's like a mom. You know he's trying to steer people away from coming over here to talk to you."
"What's up with his family?"
"Nothing. Why?"
"I don't know. Just the rumor mill."
"Yeah? It's had some interesting stuff to say about you recently."
"That's why we should talk about you."
It was well past four and the night had exhausted itself. John had long ago gone to bed with the object of his affection, and Marie and I stood on the balcony. She smoked a cigarette as I took a drink from the bottle of wine I was holding and passed it to her. She drank and gave it back. Those who weren't slumped into uncomfortable positions in chairs or on the floor said their goodbyes and filed out into the moonless night. We watched them as they went their separate ways. Two people, their faces indistinct in the darkness, made out at the bottom of the stairs. The rough need of a one-night stand. Across the street a kid in a baseball cap wretched into a bush, his friends turned to laugh at him. Three girls, back from some party and painted in cocktail dresses, passed under a streetlight. They carried their shoes in their hands. Their singing was loud and out of tune.
"This fucking town," I said.
"They're just having fun."
"Fuck them."
"Look at you. All drunk on cheap wine," she said deflating me.
"Whatever. Yeah, you're probably right."
"See I'm good for you."
"Is that right?"
"That's right."
"And what if I'm not any good for you?"
"You worry too much."
"Look, right there," she said after a moment. There was excitement in her voice.
"What?"
"Those two, holding hands."
"So?"
"It's cute and it proves that not everything is all doom and gloom." She grinned at me. I watched the two make their way up the hill together. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen two people hold hands. It seemed a very simple gesture. Marie turned to leave and when she asked me if I was coming, I wasn't surprised to find myself following her.
"I should warn you about my roommate." Her hand rested on the doorknob.
"It's almost four in the morning, isn't she asleep?"
"She'll be up." Marie opened the door and every light in the apartment was on, as was the TV, but it was muted and the stereo was on low. An overly thin girl sat in her bra and underpants on the couch sipping a drink. She was very intent on the TV in front of her.
"Hi. I'm Stacey. I'm Marie's roommate. Hi Marie. I made margaritas. Do you want a margarita? I'll get you a drink." The words poured out of her mouth and before either of us could react, she was off the couch and bounded into the kitchen. Marie and I looked at each other. Marie shrugged and Stacey was back with two salted glasses. We sipped at them while she continued to fill the small apartment with words.
Later, as Marie and I lay next to each other, we could hear Stacey pacing the living room.
"Seriously?"
"College introduced her to Adderall, and Adderall made everything else seem small. In a way, she's got it all figured out."
"You're joking."
"I wish. She might be a little crazy now but she's going to graduate next year. You should have seen her last year. She couldn't even get out of bed for class. She would cry for days over nothing. She found something that gets her through the day."
I wanted to fight with her but as I lay next to her, her leg over mine, her sweat drying on me, the words died on my lips.
The sun coming in her bedroom window woke me up. I looked at my phone to get the time and saw that Lynn had called and I had missed it. I tried to get out of bed without waking Marie, but as I pulled on my shorts, she opened her eyes and smiled at me. I tried to smile back.
"Breakfast?" she asked. "There's a pretty good place I like on Sundays."
"Thanks, but I should get home." My fingers tingled and my heart pounded in my chest.
"You look pale."
"Hangover," I lied. Lynn hadn't left a voicemail and when I called her back, she didn't answer.
When I got home, Ryan was on the couch, most of a twelve-pack gone.
"Hey," he said slowly.
"It's eleven in the morning, what are you doing?"
"Man, I got work tomorrow. You go home with that girl?"
"What girl?"
"The Asian. She's good for you, you know. Is she the first since Sarah?"
"One, you're a goddamn moron, and two her name is Lynn." He stared at me in surprise.
"There's no number three." My head was pounding in time with my heart. I drank one of his beers in three long gulps.
"You doing ok? You don't look good," he said watching me.
"And you never used to drink this much." I slammed the door to my room shut.
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Chapter 8 | Suicide and Keg Stands Index | Chapter 10
Posted by Ben Corman at 7:10 AM