“Oh, you’re being serious?”
“I am.”
“Jeans and a shirt. It’ll probably be cold, so maybe a jacket. I feel like you should know these things, Travis.”
“I just don’t want to look stupid or out of place, you know?”
“Travis, it’s a concert, not prom. You’ve got to lighten up.”
“Fine. You can pick me up, then? Friday?”
“Yeah. Let’s say six o’clock. Oh, and don’t forget your glow sticks.”
“What?”
“Kidding.”
• • •
Friday at six, Kyle pulled into my driveway in his truck and waited as I hopped inside. He had the radio on and was listening to some slow-paced indie crooner, and I immediately noticed how the truck smelled exactly like his old bedroom, like a combination of patchouli and Old Spice.
“You might get to meet Valerie tonight, cool?” he asked.
“Sure. She gonna be at the concert?”
“We may meet her afterward, if that’s okay. Do you have, like, a curfew or anything?”
“Mom said eleven, but I can get around it.”
“Awesome.”
I’d expected us to be going to some auditorium or food hall on Kyle’s campus, but instead we parked down the block from this old three-story house that had people hanging around on the porch and out in the yard. Several of them were holding beer bottles.
“My permit says I’m technically twenty-one. Do I need to get it out?”
“First off, weird. And second, they aren’t checking. Don’t worry about it.”
“But people are drinking.” I nodded over toward a group yelling and hanging all over one another at the end of the porch.
“Oh no. They’ve just been pregaming. They can’t serve alcohol at school-sponsored events like this.”
“Pregaming?” I asked, embarrassed.
“Yeah, like, getting a little buzzed before something. You missed that part of high school, huh? Some people need it, I guess.”
I was surprised how many people were inside. The whole bottom level of the house had been hollowed out to make a huge room with a small stage and a dance floor. People were standing all around, laughing, flirting, and taking photos with their cell phones. It was louder than I’d expected and with way more polo shirts. I don’t really understand polo shirts.
I guess we made it just in time because as we sifted through the crowd and found a spot to stand in, a guy (wearing a polo shirt) got up onstage and everybody started cheering.
“Ladies and gentlemen of KC State, how are you feeling tonight?!”
The crowd started yelling all around me, and I felt sort of intimidated by it. The only real thing I could compare it to was the karaoke bar that night, except I wouldn’t be the one onstage. Thank God. What Kyle had said before, about the part of high school I missed, was right. I never made it to the wild parties and concerts and pregaming. I got sick before any of that could happen.
“Tonight we are pleased to bring you not one but two amazing acts!”
“Oh no,” Kyle said into my ear. “I knew they’d have some lame opening act. We should’ve come later.”
“Before we present to you the amazing Judd Nelson’s Fist, we have, as a special guest, KC State’s very own Floorboard Johnson!”
The crowd cheered some more, only not as loud, and a few people started laughing. Then this guy—he couldn’t have been any older than Kyle—walked out onto the stage wearing a fedora and holding an acoustic guitar. He grabbed a stool from the back corner, set it up right in front of the microphone stand, and started playing.
“Every song this guy sings is about flowers or stars. Bet.” Kyle extended his hand to shake mine.
Five songs and twenty minutes later, I handed Kyle a crinkled-up dollar bill, and he laughed much louder than I’d expected. A girl standing behind us started laughing with him before leaning over and asking my name.
“Travis,” I said. But she didn’t hear me.
“What?”
“Travis!”
“Nice. I’m Lindy.”
“Hey.”
“You’re that kid! The one with the . . .” She pointed to her neck.
“No. Different Travis. But I get that a lot.”
“But I recognize you!” She was getting louder.
I leaned forward and whispered into her ear, “Please?”
She nodded her head and winked at me, her silent agreement to keep my secret to herself. I was happy I’d zipped my jacket all the way up and even happier that Floorboard Johnson was done. I think everyone was happy, judging from the applause. He put his stool back and sauntered offstage. I imagined he lived out back in a teepee with a dream catcher hanging over the entrance and slept on a pile of Hacky Sacks.
“And now . . . the band you’ve all been waiting for. . . . Give it up for JUDD NELSON’S FIST!!!!”
As soon as the five-person band ran out onto the stage, they started playing “Video Killed the Radio Star” by The Buggles, and everyone was dancing and singing along. It was amazing, not only how good they sounded but how much fun everyone was having. It was the kind of fun that creeps into your skin and spreads all over your body, and even if you want to be cynical about something, you just can’t manage it. Hell, I was so relieved that people still loved ’80s music that nothing could bring me down.
After songs by Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Dexy’s Midnight Runners, Men at Work, Queen, and Talking Heads, Kyle asked if I was ready to go.
“Is it almost over?”
“Nah, man, but they’ll keep going until they’ve covered the entire decade. Trust me. We’ve seen the best.”
So we made our way back through the crowd, which was much more difficult with people dancing and singing and jumping up and down. When we got to the front door, I saw that Lindy girl pointing at me and saying something to a friend of hers. I guess the enthusiasm in the room had gotten to me a little, because without even thinking, I waved at her and pulled down the collar of my jacket really quickly before we walked out. Why not, right?
Out on the porch Kyle stopped for a second to say hello to a friend, and I checked out the crowd. The music was almost as loud as it had been inside, so I was bobbing my head a little with my hands in my pockets. Then I saw her. Cate. She was sitting right on the rail of the porch at the opposite end from us. I’m not sure why I was so surprised, really. I knew she went to KC State too—part-time, at least. I guess it would work out that the one night I hadn’t spent hours obsessing over her would be the same night we’d run into each other.
She spotted me as I approached, and hopped down from the rail.
“Travis, what are you doing here?”
“I’m with Kyle.” I pointed over toward him. “You look great.”
“You think they’ll sing ‘Head Over Heels’?” She laughed.
“They’ve got nothing on me.”
“You . . . you okay?” She kept looking over my shoulder like maybe she was waiting for someone. Hopefully not Turner.
“I’m okay. Getting out of the house has helped.”
“So you guys are good now?”
“Yeah.”
“Travis?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s really nice to see you.”
She reached out her hand and sort of tapped the side of my arm before letting hers swing back to its place. She was sincere. It was nice to see me. And I’d have sat through ten more hours of Floorboard Johnson’s songs to see her.
“Cate! Oh my God, wow!” Kyle walked up and hugged her.
“She’s following me,” I joked.
“No, no,” Cate said. “He’s following me.”
Kyle laughed and for a second, just a second while I watched him and heard her chuckle a bit, I thought maybe I’d slipped into a time machine. I could’ve stood there listening to them talk for five more years, never getting tired of how familiar and comfortable it sounded.
“You here alone?” Kyle aske
d her.
“Nah, my friend Sara’s inside. I think she ditched me, actually. She does that sometimes.”
“Come with us,” I blurted out. I couldn’t stop myself.
“Where you going?” She looked at me in a way I hadn’t quite expected.
“Umm . . . maybe get something to eat?” Kyle suggested.
“Uh, yeah . . . you know what? Yes. For sure. Let me go find Sara and let her know.”
She walked into the house, and Kyle looked at me with his eyebrows way up high on his forehead.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just . . . crazy night.”
“Crazy night, yes.”
“Don’t overthink this.”
“No. No overthinking. Just a chance encounter with my soul mate. No overthinking here.”
“Travis. I’m serious.”
“Kyle, I’m kidding. I don’t care what’s going on—I just need to be around you guys. In some capacity.”
She came back out a few seconds later and we all walked down the street to Kyle’s truck. I crawled into the backseat, and as soon as Cate shut the door, she turned around and gave me this look, this look I don’t think I’ll ever forget. She was so happy to be there with us.
“Burgers?” Kyle asked, cranking the truck.
“God yes, burgers. Burgers all around! Burgers for days.” Cate held her hands up dramatically as she answered.
“It’s nice to see you haven’t lost your ladylike appetite,” I said, smiling.
“Never!” she said, returning my smile.
Steak ’n Shake wasn’t too different from the way it had always been. I wasn’t sure if either of them could remember it, but my last time there had been with them, and I’d puked most of my food out in the bathroom after we’d eaten. Needless to say, I was pretty excited to try it without the chemo.
We ordered at the counter and found a booth near the back. We each got a burger, fries, and a chocolate shake. The burgers there were good, but the shakes were a religious experience. I wouldn’t tell them, but I was half expecting to wake up from a dream with every second we spent together.
“So, boys, what’s been going on?” Cate asked.
“Ah, you know,” Kyle said. “School and . . . lemme think, oh yeah . . . school.”
“Yeah, me too. I mean, work and school. It’s a bitch.”
“So you’re at the law firm still?” I asked.
“Yeah. Umm, I work there three days a week, just mostly clerical stuff while I’m getting my degree.”
“Awesome,” Kyle said.
“No art school?” I asked.
“Nah, that sort of faded away years ago.”
“That sucks,” I said. “You were so good.”
“That’s sweet. But no, I wasn’t. Everything looked too, I dunno, cartoonish.”
“Probably hard to find work with an art degree nowadays too, huh?” Kyle said.
“Yeah. And I have no interest in teaching it, so I had to let that go.”
“Do you still paint at all?” I couldn’t let it go as easily as she could, obviously.
“Not really. Hey, you think we could talk about something more interesting? Like how you died and we’re all sitting in a burger joint five years later?”
We laughed. Especially Kyle. His laugh, I noticed, was something that hadn’t changed at all. It was still this aggressive and quick inhalation of breaths with a few snorts mixed in. I loved it. I would’ve liked to record it and play it any time the world started freaking me out. I almost asked him if I could.
Our food arrived soon enough, and for a minute or two we were all too busy eating to say anything. We just sort of looked at one another, nodding and smiling with our mouths full. I’d say, it was on par with all of our late-night dinners at Steak ’n Shake—only better because it had been too long. And because it was unexpected. All the best moments are, I guess.
“I need to tell you guys something.” Kyle got this serious look on his face. I was sure this was it, this was what I’d been waiting for since confronting him in my driveway that day. He was going to tell us the truth.
“Go on,” I said.
“I’m going to ask Valerie to move in with me. It just feels right.”
“Why would you do that?” I nearly yelled it.
“Travis, geez,” Cate said.
“You know, I love her. And she loves me, and I’m tired of visiting her creepy dorm room all the time. I’m really excited about this, Travis.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, yeah. That’s cool. I need to meet her. I thought we were gonna see her tonight.” I was trying desperately to save face. I’m not sure it was working.
“We were, but she said she didn’t want to intrude on our impromptu reunion.”
“She is so sweet, Kyle,” Cate said. “I think it’s a great idea.”
“I was thinking about asking my parents to move in with me, but it turns out they’re already there,” I said. “Because I’m trapped in teenageland.”
“Not forever,” Cate said.
“Yeah, man. You don’t get to cheat your way around that one. We all had to be stuck there.”
“Come back,” I said. “It was so much easier with you two.”
I’d meant the whole thing as a joke, but of course it hadn’t gone as I intended, and we all got quiet for a while. As much as I didn’t like to be reminded about not having my own body, it seemed like other people didn’t like being reminded of all the things that were also out of their control.
“Sorry, guys. I was just kidding around.”
“Travis Coates,” Cate said. “You weren’t funny in your first life, so why think you can be funny in your second?”
When we finished eating and got up to leave, Cate told us to wait up while she went to the restroom. We stood around outside the door, and I could tell Kyle was pissed at me all over again. I was consistently being an ass to him. I’m not sure why he would even keep trying at that point.
“Weird night, huh?” He broke our silence and kicked at a rock on the sidewalk.
“Yeah. Nice, though.”
“Yeah. Travis, I need you to promise me you won’t bother her anymore.”
“What?”
“Cate. She’s being really nice and cool about everything. Especially considering the way you’ve been acting.”
“The way I’ve been acting? What the hell does that mean?”
“Your little karaoke stalker shit. And even tonight. You knew she wanted space and needed more time, and you just walk right up to her like that.”
“Gimme a break, man. You have no idea.”
“See, Travis. That’s the thing. You come back and you expect everyone to be just the way they were when you left. But it’s not that easy, okay? You can’t just force us all to be how you liked us.”
I didn’t have time to respond because Cate walked outside. I think she could tell things were getting pretty tense because she made a big display out of talking about how full she was to lighten things up. I loved her so much for it. Well, for everything, really.
After we dropped her off at her car, Kyle and I didn’t say a word to each other. I wasn’t just thinking about our conversation, though. I was also bummed that I hadn’t gotten any alone time with Cate. Maybe that was for the best, but it sure isn’t what I wanted. We pulled up to my house, and before I went to get out, I looked over at him and I promise you I tried to stop myself, but I just couldn’t. Sometimes you have to say what’s on your mind or the whole thing will implode in on itself.
“Kyle, it’s not that I want you to be the way I liked you. I just want you to remember why I liked you is all.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because you were never full of shit about anything.”
“Good night, Travis.”
I shut the door and leaned into the open window of his truck. He had both hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, refusing to look my way.
“What?” he said.
&nb
sp; “Sorry. Just, listen. If I can be the head kid, then you can be his best friend who happens to be gay. None of it matters, Kyle. Screw what people think. Just let it go. It’s that easy.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
IT’S THAT EASY
Over the next week Cate and I talked on the phone about four times. And she was actually the first one to call. It was the day after the concert, and she wanted to thank me for “being so cool” and not “acting weird or anything” with her around Kyle. I told her I wanted to be friends just as much as she did and that I’d do whatever it takes to make sure she wasn’t uncomfortable or scared to be around me.
I called her the next afternoon, and we caught up a bit more. She mentioned Turner a couple times, and I somehow managed not to throw up into the phone. I guess she was testing the waters a bit, making sure I still didn’t have the wrong idea or anything. But both times she said his name, it felt like she’d walked into the room and samurai-style ripped my gut open. It was brutal, but not so brutal that I couldn’t get over it just to hear her voice.
The third phone call was a bit weird at first. She was upset about something, I could tell. I asked her what was wrong, but all she would tell me is that she’d just had a bad day. That made me happy, which is sort of sick, I know, but still. It made me happy to think that after a bad day she’d want to talk to me and not anyone else, especially Turner. Maybe old feelings were coming back to her again. Maybe I was growing on her more quickly than she’d predicted. I was just me, after all. I was just Travis 2.0—all the same files in a brand-new, fully functioning operating system.
It was our fourth phone call, though, that confirmed for sure that I shouldn’t give up on us so easy. At first she just griped about something that happened at work. Someone had been rude to her—one of the lawyers—and she was thinking about trying to find a job someplace else. Then she started talking about her art. It surprised me, for sure, since she’d seemed so determined to avoid that topic after the concert. But now she was asking me if I remembered these different paintings she’d done in high school and that mural she’d designed for the English hall.
“Of course I remember the mural,” I said. “The Canterbury Tales.”
“Yeah. You helped.”
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