A Little Something Different

by Sandy Hall

  Gabe comes in around eleven. I told him he could bring whoever he wanted with him, but it kind of seems like he lost touch with his friends.

  “What’s with the bag?” I ask as he wanders in.

  “I figure I’d crash here tonight,” he says. “Sam said it was cool.…”

  “Of course!”

  He runs upstairs and I wait for him to come back before I get myself more beer.

  “I thought you would have been here earlier,” I say as he reappears.

  “I decided to take a nap and that turned into like five hours of sleep,” he says with a shrug.

  “What on earth are you holding?”

  “This?” he asks, holding up the oldest, creepiest, most moth-ridden werewolf mask I have ever seen.

  “That’s gross.”

  “I found it at my parents’,” he says. “And you told me it was costumes required this year.”

  “So you’re a decrepit werewolf?”

  “Sure, let’s go with that,” he says, smirking. “Apparently all the chicks are really into those dudes on Teen Wolf.”

  I blink at him. “Why do you know anything about Teen Wolf?”

  “My little sisters told me that. Maybe they were lying.”

  “You look like Jason Bateman in Teen Wolf Too.”

  “You’re just jealous of my chest hair,” he says. And to punctuate that statement he unbuttons the top button of his plaid shirt. “And at least I’m referencing current popular culture as opposed to eighties pop culture.”

  “Don’t act like you’ve never seen those movies.”

  “Only because my dad owned them on VHS and we didn’t have cable,” Gabe says. “And who are you supposed to be?”

  “I … am Batman,” I say, pulling my cape around me with a flourish.

  “You’re wearing a cape with jeans.”

  “I am … casually neat Batman.”

  “Your Christian Bale voice needs work.”

  “I’m doing Michael Keaton,” I say.

  “And another outdated cultural reference! Not to mention that you don’t sound like Michael Keaton. You think you do, but you don’t.”

  I’ll have to work on that, but I refuse to admit defeat. “So, want some beer?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Do you need a chaperone, or can I hang here and greet people and you can come find me when you’re done?”

  “I’m good, I’ll be right back.”

  Bailey, one of our other friends, comes in while Gabe is gone. “Who are you supposed to be?”

  “I’m Dora the Explorer.”

  “Holy shit! You’re Dora the Explorer!” I say as I fully take in the pink T-shirt and orange shorts.

  “The T-shirt and shorts cost me seven dollars at Walmart and I stole this wig from my aunt.”

  “You probably should have shaved your legs.”

  “I thought about it, but I wasn’t that invested.”

  “Good showing,” I say, giving him a golf clap.

  He shrugs and smiles. As a friend group I think we might shrug too much. “Where is Gabriel this evening?” he asks.

  “Gone in search of beer,” I say.

  “How are his spirits?”

  “They seem pretty good actually. I know we don’t like … talk about him behind his back, and I’m sure he’ll tell you about this, but I saw him last week at the dining hall and he said he started seeing a therapist.”

  “Whoa, wait,” Sam’s voice says behind me. “Who started seeing a therapist?”

  “Your brother,” I say, unable to hide the question in my voice.

  “Oh, yeah. I knew that. It’s a good idea, I think.”

  “I’m always the last one to find this stuff out,” Bailey says.

  Gabe comes up the stairs smiling and saying hi to people he passes. He gives Bailey one of the beers he was carrying.

  “That’s good service you have here,” Bailey says to me.

  “They were technically both for me,” Gabe says. “But I suppose I’ll share.”

  “What about me?” Sam says.

  “You shouldn’t drink anyway. Don’t you have some kind of sport you’re training for?” Gabe asks with a grin.

  “Shut up, so do these two losers!” Sam retorts as he trudges downstairs.

  The three of us back off out of the way and lean on the kitchen counter, bullshitting as we tend to do. Gabe and Bailey argue about Gabe’s lack of costuming and Gabe pulls his mask on to demonstrate that it’s not so bad at the same second Lea walks in.

  I nudge him. “The girl of your dreams is here.”

  “Huh?”

  “Lea. Is here.”

  “What? Where?” he asks, lifting his mask and leaning in to hear better.

  “She just went into the basement.”

  “Shit. I hate the basement. It’s so loud down there.”

  “It’s a party, Grandma Gabe,” Bailey says, tapping him on the chest. “We’ll go find Sam.”

  “Come on, ten minutes of mingling never hurt anyone,” I add.

  Gabe makes a face but pulls back on his mask, and Bailey straightens his wig. We go down into the basement, where the lights are mostly off except for one in the far corner by the keg and a lit disco ball that my roommates hung up in the middle of the room. It seems to be spinning a little too fast, but that might be the four beers I’ve had.

  “This doesn’t even look like your basement,” comes Gabe’s muffled voice from behind his mask.

  “I was just thinking the same thing!” I call back.

  We wander around. Sam is talking to a girl I’ve never seen before and he gestures for us to stay away. It’s surprisingly packed down here.

  Finally I see Lea and her two friends in the corner by the keg. Gabe sweeps in like nobody’s business and starts pumping beer for them. I’ve never seen him this energetic about a girl before. The girls are talking and smiling, and I’m annoyed at him for being too stupid to take his mask off before jumping into the fray. Now Lea has no idea that her chivalrous beer pumper is actually Gabe. I shake my head.

  “Dumbass should have taken his mask off,” Bailey says loudly in my ear.

  “Such a shame,” I say.

  I hear the girls thank him and then move away. Gabe saunters back over to us, head held high, back straight, obviously feeling like he just did something awesome. A minute later we all have fresh cups of beer and I gesture for us to head back upstairs. Gabe raises his mask as we enter the relatively quieter and much cooler kitchen, taking up our same positions by the counter from fifteen minutes ago.

  “That was good, right?” Gabe says.

  “Yeah, except she doesn’t know it was you,” Bailey says, smacking the back of his head.

  “Oh, duh.” He seems to consider this for a second. “I’ll just wait here until she comes up to use the bathroom and hopefully she’ll recognize my clothes?”

  “I’ve heard worse plans,” I say.

  We take turns getting beer for the next couple of hours and eventually Gabe hops up on the counter, sitting and swinging his feet, talking to everyone who passes by as he gets a little drunk, and then a lot drunk. It’s obvious that tons of people missed him last semester and I think this party is the first chance he’s had to see that. He’s chatting up one of the other housemates, so Bailey and I head down for more beer.

  “I haven’t seen him in this good of a mood in a long time,” Bailey says.

  “Yeah, I know. It’s good, right?”

  “Totally.”

  I see Lea head up the stairs with one of her friends and Bailey and I make a beeline. There’s not much to see but at least she waves at Gabe and he waves back from his spot in the kitchen. I can tell she just made his night from the way he’s smiling.

  “You should go talk to her,” I say.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t ever know what to say. It’s dumb. And I’m so sloppy drunk now I would probably say something stupid.”

  “Sometimes it’s better to say something s
tupid than nothing at all.”

  “That goes against my entire belief system,” he says.

  NOVEMBER

  Sam (Gabe’s brother)

  “Where am I?” Gabe asks, sitting up on the floor, mildly breathless.

  “You’re in my bedroom,” I tell him.

  He looks over at me and rubs his eyes. “Holy shit, what happened last night?”

  “You drank copiously, talked to everyone on Earth except for the girl you like, told multiple people that Jason Bateman was hands down the best Teen Wolf, and then you passed out on my bedroom floor around four in the morning.”

  He leans his elbows on his knees. “I don’t remember much of that.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “I really didn’t talk to Lea?”

  “Nope.”

  “What’s the point of becoming mind-numbingly drunk if it doesn’t even give you the balls to talk to the girl you like?” he asks as I get up to grab water bottles out of the minifridge in my room.

  “You waved bashfully at her several times.”

  He gives me a dirty look. “Where’s Casey?”

  “In the shower.”

  “Oh, man, I want to do that, too.”

  “He probably doesn’t want to share his private time with you that way.”

  I get another dirty look. “What time is it?”

  “Noon.”

  “How did I sleep for eight hours on the floor?”

  “I don’t know, but you were seriously loving up that beanbag chair.”

  He stares at it like it just popped out of thin air. Then he looks back at me. “All right. So.”

  He squeezes his eyes shut.

  “You okay?”

  “Yup. A little spinny. And starving.”

  “You want to go to the diner?”

  “Yes. As soon I shower and unseal my contacts from my eyes.”

  Casey comes in then.

  “Dude,” Casey says as they pass, tapping Gabe on the shoulder. “You were wasted last night, without a doubt the most drunk I have ever seen you.”

  Gabe shakes his head. “I was somewhere beyond wasted I think.”

  After all of us have showered the drunken night off us, we head out to the diner, where Lea and her friends are sitting three booths over. I would go so far as to call it serendipitous.

  I raise my eyebrows at Gabe, and Casey lets out a low wolf whistle as we’re seated.

  “Please do not embarrass me,” Gabe hisses.

  “No promises,” I say as I flip through the menu.

  Maxine (a waitress)

  Saturdays can be a real bitch. Depends on the time of year, but it can be packed in here from morning til night. And today’s the day after Halloween, so we have all the usual hangovers and a football game. It’s quite the mix of folks.

  The girl and the boy from a few weeks ago are back and with just a little bit of eavesdropping I’ve learned their names, Gabe and Lea. Good names; I like the way they sound together.

  Of course the manager is here, so I can’t make up my own seating arrangements. Instead, one of the times I’m over by the boys refilling coffee, I tell them they should go over and chat the girls up if they’re going to keep looking at them like that.

  Gabe’s eyes go wide in fear. “No, no. That’s okay. No, thank you.”

  I let it rest; some men just have to do things in their own time. Gabe is apparently one of them. But if he takes too long, believe you me, I will take matters into my own hands someday and send her a delicious, fresh-squeezed glass of orange juice, courtesy of that cutie pie.

  Maribel (Lea’s roommate)

  “So, what are they doing now?” Lea whispers to me.

  I’m the only one with a visual on Gabe’s group, thanks to the fact that I’m the only one of us facing the mirrored wall in the back of the diner.

  “They’re working out the check.…” I say.

  “So, Danny,” Bianca says, narrowing her eyes. “Lea says you think Gabe is gay. But would a gay guy really dress like that?”

  “Gay men come in a variety of shapes and fashion sense,” he says with a grin. “What’s the plural of fashion sense?”

  “Fashions sense?” I offer.

  “Fashion senses?” Bianca suggests.

  “Senses of fashion,” Lea says.

  Bianca sighs. “And I know they come in a variety of senses of fashion. I guess I just want him and Lea to get together. But it’s silly to root for them if there’s no point.”

  “There really is no point,” Lea says. “Even if he does like girls, he’s totally into this girl Hillary in creative writing.”

  “Sounds like Hillary is a skank queen of Cockblock-ville,” Danny says in a singsong voice.

  “That’s not nice,” Lea says, trying not to laugh.

  Bianca and I don’t bother holding our giggles in.

  “What are they doing now?” Lea asks.

  “I think they’re having trouble with the math,” I say. “Maybe I should go offer to help them.”

  “Don’t you dare!” Lea says.

  I do love teasing her.

  “His friends are cute,” Bianca says, pointedly ignoring Lea.

  “Guys,” Lea pleads.

  “Oh, Lea, calm down. I’m not going over there. But I was talking to the one guy last night, Sam? He’s Gabe’s brother. I bet he would be able to tell us whether or not Gabe is gay.”

  “You girls need to learn to trust me! I will not steer you wrong,” Danny says.

  Bianca tips her head in thought. “If you say so.”

  “Oh, I say so,” he responds knowingly. I can already tell that I’m going to love Danny with all my heart, but I think he’s wrong on this one. I just don’t know him well enough to tell him how wrong I think he is.

  I was watching the way Gabe was watching Lea during the party last night and I think he really likes her. I just don’t know how to say that to Danny without hurting his feelings.

  The group of boys walks out past us.

  “I should have talked to him,” Lea says, chin in hand, watching them go. “Or at least waved. As it stands now the last thing I said to him was ‘thank you’ the other day in class when he handed my paper back to me.”

  “At least you were polite,” I say.

  “Don’t worry,” Danny chimes in. “We’ll still invite you to the wedding.”

  Inga (creative writing professor)

  Cole and I meet once a week to go over what’s been happening in office hours and to discuss general class-related business. I feel like I need to touch base with him and make sure there’s nothing going on that he can’t handle. But he’s a pretty serious and responsible guy, so it hasn’t been an issue.

  I think he assumed these were going to be extremely thoughtful and erudite meetings regarding assignments and grading rubrics. And sometimes things of that nature come up. But more often than not it devolves into me telling him ridiculous stories about the weekend trips I take with Pam and him goading me on as I talk shit about all the students in the class.

  He’s aware of how much I like Gabe and Lea.

  “You’ve gotten so in my head about that!” he tells me. “They came to see me one after another at office hours a week or two ago and I forgot that they’re not actually dating. I told her not to keep her boyfriend waiting.”

  I sit up straight and at attention. “What happened?”

  “Well, they both looked absolutely mortified and I awkwardly tried to cover up my mistake, and if it was embarrassing for me, I can’t even imagine how they felt.”

  “Yikes.”

  He nods.

  “I just can’t believe that Hillary snagged him to work with,” I say, shaking my head. My dislike for Hillary grows on a daily basis. I mean, half the reason I give these kinds of assignments is so my couple du jour will have a chance to interact. How much more can I do? I’m going to have to trick them into going on a date with each other. Tell them it’s mandatory office hours and then reveal a we
ll-appointed table with the world’s most romantic foods and then sneak out the door.

  “Yeah, that was quite the coup.”

  I shake my head. “I wish I could make them realize they’re meant for each other. Time’s a-wasting! The semester will not last forever!”

  “We could try to convince them to take creative writing part two,” Cole suggests.

  I look at him appraisingly. “I knew there was a reason I liked you. I knew there was a reason you were my TA.”

  He smiles.

  “You’re like a genius at this, Cole. Who knew you had such a knack for classroom romance?”

  “I definitely had no clue,” he says. “You think I could put that on my résumé?”

  “I’ll be sure to mention it in every reference letter I write for you.”

  “Thanks,” he says.

  “Now, we have one more issue at hand.”

  He looks at me like I’m about to say something very serious.

  “How do we keep Hillary out of the second part of creative writing?”

  Bob (a bus driver)

  Look at these two. On alone, off alone, walking alone. I wish they could be together. No one so young should be so alone all the time.

  And I suppose they have friends in other places, and that I’m only seeing a tiny sliver of their lives, but it seems to me if they’re moving in the same direction, why not move in the same direction together? I’m not talking about undying love, but I wish they would at least become friends. That wouldn’t be too hard.

  I have to admit that they kind of, sort of remind me of me and my wife, Margie, back in the day. I can’t put my finger on why exactly, but I was also a tall gangly kid, so maybe that’s a start.

  Makes me wish I was a matchmaker, or knew some way to make them talk to each other. Maybe one day the bus will be really crowded and they’ll be standing next to each other and I’ll stop short and she could fall into his arms.

  I’m obviously getting sappy in my old age. Maybe I’ll take the wife away to the Poconos for Thanksgiving weekend or something.

  Squirrel!

  The girl has come back to me!

  Hooray!

  I race over to her where she’s sitting on the bench. I preen for her, fluffing my tail. I hope she recognizes me. I hope she has more peanuts.