From What I Remember

by Stacy Kramer, Valerie Thomas

  I can’t help thinking that maybe I wouldn’t be in this freaking mess if I weren’t so tuned out. How could Lily and I not have talked about her dad? Or my dad? How could I not know that my best friend is gay? It turns out I don’t know shit about anything, myself included.

  Everyone is silent. They’re waiting for me to say something.

  “Dude, why didn’t you tell me? We spend, like, twenty hours a day together.” It’s not the best I could have come up with, but it’s what comes out, unfiltered.

  “I sort of didn’t believe it myself for a while. I’m still trying to figure it out. It’s not the easiest thing to talk about—”

  “And Max is not the easiest guy to talk to, as I think we’ve established,” Lily says.

  I so don’t need her commentary here. I would love to put off this conversation for a few hours, until Charlie and I can grab some time alone.

  “Lily, you’re not helping things,” Charlie says.

  “Yeah. I know.” Typical Lily.

  “At first I thought I could will myself straight—”

  “Been there,” Juan shouts out from the back.

  “Not me,” Will says.

  “But it is what it is. It’s who I am. I’ve been wanting to talk about it all year. There’s never really a right time, though. And I didn’t want everyone to start freaking out, seeing me as some guy they couldn’t hang with, someone they couldn’t be in the locker room with, someone who was going to start crushing on them.”

  Fuck. Guilty. I suck.

  “You have no idea how many gay jokes I’ve heard over the years, from everyone, including you. It’s not the most tolerant environment, Freiburg.”

  “Tell me about it,” Will adds.

  I feel awful. I am sure I’ve made a million inappropriate remarks. My first instinct is to say as little as possible and then shut down and hide behind that, but I don’t want to be a wimp anymore. Charlie’s just done something braver than I’ll probably ever do. He deserves better than that from me.

  “I’m here for you, man,” I say, lame as it is. This is me, trying. I want to mean it. I’ve never had this conversation before; I’m not sure how it goes. But I still don’t entirely get it.

  “What about Janice Smart? And Tracy Lestahl?” I ask. Was Charlie faking it? He seemed so straight for so long.

  “It’s been a long process, okay?”

  “’Kay, I get it,” I say. I don’t really. But I’m gonna try, for Charlie’s sake.

  No one’s talking. They’re just letting us have this awkward conversation all alone, in a car filled with people.

  “So, whatever you need. Just say the word. Nothing changes between us, seriously,” I say.

  “Thanks, bro. That means a lot.”

  Everybody’s watching, waiting. Suddenly, I start laughing. I don’t know if it’s from the awkwardness of the situation or the absurdity. Or both.

  “What?” Charlie asks.

  “It’s just, I can’t believe you picked now to tell me. I mean, I’m glad you said something. It’s just, funny. Here in the car. With everyone.”

  “I know. It’s crazy.” Charlie laughs along with me. It feels good to laugh. Maybe everything will be okay.

  “It kinda gives new meaning to the expression, ‘It’s me, not you,’” Lily says. Her lips curl up into a smile and she chuckles to herself. The heaviness lifts, if only a little.

  “This has to go down as the most wacked road trip in history,” Kylie says, the edge softening in her voice. Maybe we all will make it out alive.

  “Have you told your parents?” Will asks.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “I have so much to teach you,” Will says.

  “Charlie may be gay, Will, but that doesn’t mean you’re suddenly besties or anything. He still finds you totally annoying,” Lily says.

  “And I still find you totally annoying, you odious harridan,” Will tells Lily.

  “What’s a harridan? Sounds like a religious freak,” Charlie says.

  “A fancy word for hag,” Will says.

  “I love it. I’m totally going to use it,” Lily tells Will.

  “Don’t. I’ll sue,” Will promises.

  “Yeah, good luck with that. We’re bankrupt.” And then Lily actually laughs, long and hard. “Totally, fucking bankrupt. Bankrupt. Bankrupt. Bankrupt. It feels kind of good to just come out and say it.”

  Will laughs as well. “The Wentworths have gone bust. I never would have imagined it.” He actually sounds sympathetic. “I think I first tasted caviar at your house.”

  “Oh, God, I remember that. In kindergarten. Mom had it flown in from Petrossian. It was so gross. She gave it to us for a snack with juice,” Lily recounts.

  “I was hoping for Oreos. I got caviar. It was so disappointing, I don’t think I’ve touched it since that day,” Will says. “Kids don’t generally like fish eggs.”

  “Tell me about it. The one upside here is no more caviar.” Lily and Will both giggle at this. Which comes pretty close to one of the trippiest things I’ve seen in a while.

  I’m relieved. I couldn’t take the stress much longer. I relax my shoulders and inhale a few times. It feels good to get air in my lungs. I think I may have stopped breathing.

  “Oh, shit,” Kylie says, pointing out at the road.

  What now?

  I lean forward, look out the front window, and see immediately what Kylie sees—a huge, snaking line of traffic. The border is at least half a mile up ahead. I check the clock. We have a little over an hour to get to graduation. And we’ve come to a complete standstill.

  check my watch. Eleven fifteen. Graduation begins in forty-five minutes. We’ve been sitting here, clawing our way forward, for the past twenty-five minutes. I take in the reality with a sharp breath. “We’re not going to make it,” I say, to no one in particular. “Sure we are. We’re five cars away from the booth,” Max tells me. It’s the first time he’s spoken to me in a while. Not that I care.

  “And then we’re going to go ninety-five all the way to school,” Will says. “Right, Charlie?”

  “Let’s say ninety,” Charlie replies.

  No one else seems willing to face the cold hard facts. Lily’s been pretty quiet, keeping to herself. Her anger has subsided, and in its place a sort of glumness has settled in. I actually feel sorry for her. Finding out your dad is a small-time Bernie Madoff has to be pretty hard.

  Today has been at the top of my agenda for months. I have been preparing for it forever, and yet I’ve managed to screw it up so royally it almost seems intentional. Was this really so difficult? Couldn’t things have gone as planned? We should have been able to get in a car and get back to school in time for graduation. I should have been able to read my brilliant speech that I’ve worked on since the dawn of time, and received a standing ovation. Instead, we’re going to miss graduation entirely. I should have never insisted on doing Murphy’s assignment. I risked everything and didn’t even get it done. I suck.

  If nothing else, the past twenty-four hours have made me realize that all work and no play isn’t such a good idea after all. It’s better to mix it up a little more. Before today, I spent all my time thinking about the future and none of my time living in the present. As of now, I’m not going to do that anymore. Maybe NYU really will be different.

  I look at my watch again. Three minutes have passed. The numbers are against us. We’ve got thirty-seven minutes. We’re still four cars from the border; it’s taking each car three minutes to get through, so at this rate we won’t get through until eleven thirty, and then it’s a forty-minute ride to school. With absolutely no traffic we’d be ten minutes late. And that’s the best-case scenario. We’re screwed. In light of my looming speech disaster, that should be good news. But it’s not.

  One more car creeps over the border. We’re now three cars from the booth. We’re so not going to make it. As much as I keep telling myself it doesn’t really matter, I can feel my heart breaking for the second
or third time today. I might hate Freiburg, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to celebrate all that I’ve achieved there. I’ve been looking forward to this day for four years. It was supposed to make all my hard work worthwhile and all my social shortcomings seem irrelevant.

  For the past several minutes no one has said a word. The tension is building. I think everyone is starting to realize that I may be right. I wish I weren’t. It’s not particularly fun to be right all the time. I’d like to be wrong for a while. I start to chew on my cuticles—a bad habit I rid myself of a few months ago, but it’s back with a vengeance.

  “Will, can I use your cell phone?” I say. “Mine is dead. I need to call my mom and tell her we’re not going to make it.”

  “We’re going to make it; don’t be silly,” Will says, sounding entirely unconvinced.

  “We’re not going to make it. I need to tell my family.”

  I turn around to take Will’s phone, but he isn’t handing it over. Max is staring at me like he wants to say something. I quickly turn away. What’s the point?

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lily says. “It’s just a ceremony. We still graduate.” Lily has had her eyes closed for a while now, and they’re still closed, lizardlike.

  “It matters to me,” Charlie says. “I don’t want to miss graduation. Shit.” And he pounds the wheel with his hand, something he’s now done a few times. It doesn’t move us along any faster, but I guess it makes him feel better.

  “I need to be there,” Max says. “For my dad’s sake.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but there’s no way.” This comes out meaner than I intended. Max doesn’t respond. “Will, please, give me your phone.” I hold my hand out in front of him.

  “No. I’m not giving it to you. We’re going to make it.”

  “Oh my God, Will. Just give me the phone.”

  “No.”

  “Here, Kylie, you can use mine.” Lily holds out her phone. I’m almost afraid to touch it. Like it’ll blow up in my hand or something.

  An olive branch? From Lily? So strange.

  I stare at the phone for a minute, realizing I don’t have the strength to talk to my mom. So I text.

  HI MOM, IT’S ME. I’M W WILL. WE’RE RUNNING LATE N WILL MEET U AT GRADUATION.

  As I wait for Mom’s response, we pull up to the booth. Oh. My. God. We’re here. One minute ahead of schedule. If Border Patrol just lets us through, if they don’t stop us and search our car, if Charlie floors it, we may actually get to school, late, but we could still make it.

  “Good morning to all of you. Passports please, people,” says an annoyingly chipper woman.

  We all hand our passports to Charlie, who hands them to the woman at the window. I hold my breath and cross my fingers. I’m not going to breathe until I know we are good to go.

  The woman flips through our passports for what seems like an interminable period of time. Is she going to ask us to get out of the car? Does she sense we came here illegally? Why is she taking so damn long?

  “Did you all have a nice time in Mexico?” she asks.

  “We sure did,” Charlie says.

  Oh. My. God. Are we really going to have to make small talk?

  “Where did you all go?”

  “We were in Ensenada,” Charlie answers evenly. He doesn’t even sound stressed. Thank God for Charlie because I’m not sure the rest of us could have pulled it off. I’m tempted to lunge out the window, place my hands around the woman’s neck, and scream, Let. Us. Go.

  “Love Ensenada. I go there every chance I get,” the woman says. “Did you make it to the beach?”

  Are. You. Kidding. Me?

  “Sure did. It was lovely,” Charlie replies, meeting her chipper and raising her one.

  “Be sure to come back and visit.”

  “We sure will,” Charlie says.

  “Okay, folks, you’re free to go.” Finally, she ushers us through.

  I gulp air. I feel light-headed from holding my breath.

  We pass through the extensive border area, and then we’re in California, heading onto the 405 Freeway. The long slog is over, and we instantly speed up as if shot out of a cannon. We all let out a huge sigh of relief. Will and Lily high-five, which ranks fairly close to the top of all the strange things that have happened today.

  “You just might make it,” Juan shouts from the back. Juan? I forgot about him.

  And all of a sudden the dark cloud that had settled over the car lifts. Lily has opened her eyes and come out of hibernation. Will is perched forward like an alert puppy.

  Lily’s phone, still clutched in my hand, buzzes with an incoming text from Mom.

  WHERE ARE YOU? I KNOW YOU’RE NOT WITH WILL. I TALKED TO HIS MOM LAST NIGHT. I CALLED THE POLICE AND PUT OUT A MISSING PERSON’S REPORT. WHY HAVEN’T YOU TEXTED UNTIL NOW?

  Uh-oh! I’m in trouble six ways to Sunday.

  “My mom knows I didn’t spend the night at your house,” I say to Will. “She talked to your mom.”

  “Shit!”

  “Tell me about it.” Jesus. A missing person’s report?

  KYLIE: IT’S A LONG STORY. I’M FINE. ON MY WAY BACK FROM ENSENADA.

  MOM: ENSENADA?! MEXICO? HOW COULD YOU JEOPARDIZE GRADUATION?

  KYLIE: I DIDN’T DO IT ON PURPOSE. UR GOING TO HAV TO TRUST ME ON THIS. I MADE A MISTAKE. BUT I’M FINE AND I’LL MEET U AT GRADUATION.

  MOM: YOU’VE GOT A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO. AND YOU’RE GROUNDED.

  I can’t believe Mom and I are having this discussion right now, via text message. But for once, I don’t feel like backing down. I always back down with Mom.

  KYLIE: I KNOW. BUT U HAV TO BELIEVE I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING. OTHERWISE, HOW CAN U TRUST ME TO GO ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE COUNTRY IN 2 MONTHS?

  MOM: I THOUGHT YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING BUT NOW I’M NOT SO SURE. YOU RAN OFF TO MEXICO.

  KYLIE: THINGS R GOING TO HAPPEN N I’M GOING TO DEAL W THEM THE BEST I CAN. U CAN’T GROUND ME IN NYC.

  MOM: WE’LL TALK ABOUT THIS AFTER GRADUATION.

  KYLIE: I LOVE U. TELL JAKE I’M ALMOST THERE.

  MOM: I LOVE YOU TOO. GOOD LUCK.

  Now wasn’t the time to tell my mom that I may not make graduation. She was already pissed enough. Charlie has been going ninety, as promised, for the past several minutes. He’s looking nervous and his hands have a death grip on the wheel. I kind of wish I were driving. I’m definitely better at it. But this is hardly the time to switch drivers.

  Everyone is calling and texting their parents to let them know they’ll meet them at school. It’s still kind of unlikely we’ll make it anytime soon. But at least we’ll make it. And then I hear a loud, wailing police siren fast approaching. I look out my window and see a police car directly behind us.

  “Shit, we’re getting pulled over for speeding,” Charlie says.

  Naturally, my good luck has run out. It lasted for a whole five minutes.

  harlie pulls over to the side, and the police car pulls up behind us. The cop gets out of his car and takes what feels like ten years to get to us. I can feel the car empty out of air as we all suck in a deep breath, waiting. As the cop approaches, Charlie feels around in the glove compartment for everything he knows he will need. Charlie and I have been here before—last year, to be exact. Charlie got a speeding ticket. We must have been going eighty-five in a forty mph zone. His dad had it expunged from his record, but he was beyond pissed and threatened to take Charlie’s car away if he got another one. Looks like that’s about to happen.

  “Goddamnit,” Charlie says, loud enough for us all to hear.

  He’s freaking, thinking this could mean no more car. I feel for him. Everyone else is freaking, thinking this means no graduation as the minutes tick away. I can see Kylie in the front seat, chewing on her thumb, staring blankly at her closed computer. This is her big day and it’s all gone horribly wrong. I feel for her. Lily’s big blue eyes fill with tears as she looks out the window and into the nothingness of the San Diego landsc
ape. I feel for her too. Man, I’m feeling a little too much. I liked it better when I was shutting out the world.

  “What are we going to do?” Will asks.

  “Dunno; what we can do?” Kylie says.

  “We’re sort of screwed,” Lily says. “It’s eleven forty-five. There’s no way we’re getting to graduation at this point.”

  “Are you aware you were going eighty-seven?” the cop asks Charlie.

  “Uh, I’m not aware of the exact speed, but I know it was pretty fast,” Charlie offers.

  “Can I see your license and registration?” Before he’s even done asking for it, Charlie hands the papers to him through the window.

  The silence in the car is oppressive. Even Will doesn’t have a snarky comment. I look around and realize that everyone has given up. So this is the way we spend graduation? Waiting for a cop to write out a speeding ticket? This blows. I can’t let it happen. I suddenly feel responsible, like I’ve got to do something. I don’t really have a solid plan when I open the door and jump out of the car.

  “Excuse me, sir,” I say to the cop. I’m winging it here.

  Which is probably a terrible idea when you’re trying to sweet-talk a police officer.

  “Please remain in the vehicle,” the cop tells me. I know the drill. I should just get back in the “vehicle.” But I don’t.

  “Can I just have one minute of your time to explain, sir?” I am determined, in a way I rarely am, to make one last attempt to get us to graduation. Not even really for me, because I’ve lost all interest. But I know Kylie hasn’t. And Lily hasn’t. And my dad hasn’t.

  “Let me see your license,” the cop says to me. “If you don’t get back in the car, I could take you in for obstruction.”

  Shit. I’m in over my head here.

  “Dude, what are you doing? Get back in the car,” Charlie pleads.

  I hand over my license. I should just calmly climb back into the Jeep. But a force beyond my control is pushing me forward. Yeah, it was definitely better when I didn’t give a shit.