Swim the Fly

by Don Calame

  “No, I wasn’t . . . That’s not . . .”

  “Besides,” Valerie says, “I can’t imagine Kelly would be too happy with me.”

  What does she mean by that? Is it because Kelly likes me? Or is it because she usually invites Kelly? I can’t tell if she’s serious or not. She must be making fun of me. What’s going on here?

  “That’s pretty forward of you, inviting yourself to my cabin like that.” Valerie chuckles. “And I thought you were shy.”

  “But I wasn’t inviting . . .” The words are fish-hooked in my throat. I feel my whole face get hot. “Never mind. Let’s just . . .”

  Valerie is laughing hard now. “It’s okay, Matt. I’m just teasing you.”

  “Oh.” I exhale.

  “I bet you’re blushing,” Valerie says. “I bet your cheeks are beet red.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” I keep pushing Valerie on the swing. I don’t know what to say anymore. We’re both quiet.

  “I’m sorry.” Valerie drags her feet on the ground and stops the swing. My arms rejoice. She turns to look at me. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. Well, I did mean it. A little. But I’m sorry.” Valerie smiles at me. She’s trying not to laugh, I can tell.

  “It’s okay.” She’s looking at me so sweetly. I figure I might as well take advantage of her feeling sorry and go for broke. “But . . . I was curious —”

  “There you are!” It’s Coop striding toward us. “I’ve been looking all over for you, dude. You’re harder to find than a first-edition Watchmen.” Coop gives a half smile to Valerie. “Hey, Val.”

  “Cooper.”

  Coop grabs my shoulders and steers me away from the swing. “Excuse us. I just need to borrow Matt here for a little while.”

  “Sure,” Valerie says.

  I look back over my shoulder, desperate to finish talking with Valerie. But I don’t have the physical or emotional strength right now to resist Coop.

  “What are you doing?” I say. “I was talking to her.”

  Coop shakes his head like whatever I’m saying means nothing. “It’s Mission Impossible time, dawg.”

  Coop’s got his arm around my shoulder. We’re headed back toward the house.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means,” Coop says, “we’re about to accomplish our summer’s goal and get that picture for Sean’s sister. As long as you don’t shit your pants again.”

  “IT’S MANDY REAGAN, dude. She’s here. And I overheard her asking her friend for a condom,” Coop whispers to me as we head upstairs. The steps are a challenge for me, but if I lean from side to side, I manage them okay.

  “So what?” I say.

  “She said she’s meeting a guy up in Ronnie’s parents’ bedroom at eleven thirty.” Coop raises his eyebrows. “So, we hide in the closet and get a live sex show, dude. Just like they have in Amsterdam.”

  “You’ve never been to Amsterdam.”

  “I’ve seen movies about it.”

  “Who’s the guy?” I say.

  Coop laughs. “Who cares? He could be Ronald McDonald and it wouldn’t matter, because that’s not where I’ll be looking.”

  I’m torn, actually. The idea of seeing a hot girl having sex is more than a little enticing. But I really wanted to hear what Valerie was going to say about Kelly.

  Sean’s waiting for us in the upstairs hallway. “All clear,” he says.

  We make our way into the room at the end of the hall. It looks very much like a parents’ bedroom. The bed perfectly made with a brown comforter, pillows on both sides stacked three deep. Nothing on the floors. Perfume and cologne bottles neatly placed on the dresser, right beside a glass jewelry box. It even smells like a parents’ room. A sort of swirling mix of leather, soap, and lavender.

  “Over here,” Coop says, pointing to the walk-in closet. “If we keep the door cracked just a bit, we’ll be able to see out but they won’t be able to see in.”

  “I don’t know.” My mind is still out in the yard with Valerie. “What if we get caught?”

  “We’re not going to get caught,” Coop says. “Trust me.”

  “And even if we do,” Sean says, “what are they gonna do? Chase us into the party buck naked?”

  Coop looks at his watch. “Five minutes to showtime.” He walks over to the bedside table and clicks on the lamp.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I say.

  “He’s setting the mood,” Sean says. “We want it romantic.”

  Coop laughs. “Yeah, that’s what we want. Romance. Followed quickly by some filthy, raunchy monkey love.”

  “They’re going to know someone was in here,” I say.

  Coop looks skyward. “People leave lights on in their rooms all the time. They won’t even think twice about it. Besides, this way we’ll get a better look and get a clearer picture.” He waves his cell phone camera in the air.

  Coop moves to the closet and holds open the door. “Gentleman, please.” He gestures inside. Sean hurries in. I go next and Coop follows, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving a one-inch slit for us to peer through. “Okay, we need to arrange ourselves for optimum viewage. Sean, you kneel on the floor. Matt, you stand behind Sean.”

  Sean and I get into position.

  “Good,” Coop says. “And I’ll just peek in from the side here. Like this.” Coop stands next to Sean and leans over, his head floating around my chest.

  We have a pretty good view of the bed. The light Coop turned on does make it easier to see. Now that we’re here, I feel myself getting fired up.

  “This is gonna be awesome,” Sean says.

  “We should’ve made some popcorn.” Coop laughs at his own joke.

  “We should be quiet now,” I say. “Just in case they’re early.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Coop says.

  “Hey, Coop, can we switch? My legs are cramping up.”

  “Suck it up, dude.” Coop swats the top of Sean’s head.

  “I’m serious,” Sean says.

  We hear voices down the hall.

  “Shut up,” Coop orders. “They’re coming.”

  I hear a guy’s voice getting closer. “Ronnie won’t care.” It sounds slightly familiar.

  “Are you sure?” A girl who I assume must be Mandy.

  “Whatever. He’s passed out in the backyard.”

  Mandy enters first. She’s wearing a tight pink belly shirt and a short denim skirt. Oh, my God. This is going to be good.

  The guy enters. And he’s definitely not Ronald McDonald.

  Tony Grillo shuts the bedroom door and locks it. Mandy does a sexy twirl that brings her up close against Tony. She pulls a condom from the back pocket of her skirt and holds it up like she’s doing some kind of commercial. “Lexi loaned me one.”

  “Really?” Tony laughs. “Are you gonna have to give it back to her when we’re done?”

  Mandy laughs and smacks Tony’s chest. “Gross.”

  I am excited and terrified all at once.

  Sean emits a small soft groan. I don’t know if it’s pain from his leg cramp or if it’s an I-can’t-believe-what-I’m-about-to-see moan. Either way, he better shut up or I’m going to kill him.

  Tony pulls Mandy’s T-shirt up and over her head. She’s wearing a lacy pink push-up bra, and I think I might faint. It’s really going to happen. My first live naked girl.

  Mandy returns the favor and lifts Tony’s polo shirt over his head. His chest is carved from stone. His stomach is ripped. Mandy runs her hands down Tony’s body like she’s worshiping it. “Wow,” she says.

  Sean whimpers again. It’s definitely pain this time.

  Mandy unbuttons Tony’s pants and lets them drop to the floor. His legs are like sequoias.

  Tony unzips Mandy’s jean skirt at the side. He squats down and tugs the skirt off her hips, pulling it to the floor. She helps him out by doing a little hip shimmy, which makes me have to shut my eyes before I totally lose control.

  I hear the faint, electronic
click of Coop’s cell phone camera taking a picture.

  Mandy freezes. “Did you hear something?”

  “No,” Tony says, burying his face in her neck.

  Sean grunts loudly. I feel him shift on the floor.

  “There. What was that?” Mandy asks.

  Sean loses his balance and the back of his head smashes hard into my groin.

  “Ooof.” All my breath is forced from my lungs. I lean forward, cracking my head against the door —

  — which flies open.

  “What the fuck?” Tony stares at us huddling in the closet.

  Mandy shrieks and clutches herself.

  “Here it is,” Coop says, picking a phantom something off the closet floor. “Found it, guys. Sorry to interrupt. You can go back to whatever it was you were doing.”

  Coop is the first to bolt. He runs to the bedroom door, unlocks it, and flees before Tony can get his pants back on.

  Sean is right on Coop’s heels.

  I’m momentarily paralyzed. Tony meets my eyes.

  “You!” He straightens and points. His pants fall back around his ankles.

  I don’t wait to confirm his accusation. My legs are still in horrible pain, but it’s amazing how a shot of pure fear can get you moving.

  “SPLIT UP!” COOP YELLS as he bounds down the staircase, with Sean right behind him. “He can’t get all three of us.”

  I scramble down the steps after them. I think I’m running fast, but Coop and Sean are leaving me in their dust.

  My left heel slips off the edge of one of the steps, and I’m bobsledding down the stairs on my ass. I feel the burn of the carpet through my jeans. The staccato pounding on my tailbone. Despite the pain, it works out pretty well because I make it down to the first floor much faster than I would have otherwise.

  Some kids in the family room are laughing and pointing at me, but I don’t have time to be embarrassed. Tony is charging me, pulling his shirt over his head, taking four steps at a time.

  “You’re going to die, Twig!” Tony roars.

  I don’t doubt this, but I sprint anyway. It’s pure instinct.

  I use the party guests as obstacles. I dodge in and out of everyone. Around this girl. Past that guy. In between this group. Sidestepping that couple. Some people reel back, raising their beers out of harm’s way. Others barely even give me a look.

  “Excuse me,” I say. “Excuse me. Just need to . . . Thank you.”

  I can tell by the “Heys!” and “What the hells?!” that Tony Grillo is whipping like a tornado through the crowd. I imagine bodies flying through the air as he tosses them aside like dirty socks.

  I wanted to head for the front of the house, but somehow I’ve ended up at the back. The sliding glass door is stuck. I pull on the handle, but it doesn’t budge. I rattle it like crazy but still nothing.

  “Come on.”

  “Door’s locked, my nezzy.” It’s some guy wearing a wool hat and track suit. He smiles at me, his eyes puffy and half closed. He flicks the latch and the door glides open.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  “Ain’t nathan, dawg.” He winks and shoots me with a finger gun.

  I bolt outside, swiveling my head back and forth, searching for a place to hide. I start toward the play set, but I’m instantly jerked back.

  “Forget it, Twig.” I feel the weight of Tony’s hands on my shoulders at the same time I hear his voice. He spins me around. We’re the same height, but it feels like I’m looking up at a basketball player. “You like to peep, peeper?”

  I shake my head hard. “I wasn’t . . . I didn’t see anything.”

  “You think Kelly goes for pervs? Is that it? You think she’d like to know how you hide in closets?”

  “It was a mistake.”

  “Damn right it was a mistake. Your last one.” Tony squeezes my shoulders up into my ears and lifts me off the ground. “How about we see how good you swim the fly, huh? I’d like to see what I’m up against.” He grins out of the snarly scarred side of his mouth.

  I want to plead my case, but Tony’s already thundering me toward the skanky pool like a SmackDown wrestler. The party crowd divides, stepping back like I’m contaminated. My one comforting thought is that Kelly is not here to witness my humiliation.

  “Tony! Stop being such an asshole. Put him down.” It’s Valerie storming toward us. Great. So much for Kelly not finding out about this.

  “Stay out of it, scrag,” Tony barks.

  If everyone in the party wasn’t watching, they are now.

  I shut my eyes and brace for the cold and the slime.

  “Tony! Cut the shit!” I hear Valerie scream this as I go soaring through the air.

  It seems like I’m falling forever. I still haven’t opened my eyes, and I expect the splash to come way before it does. The smell hits before the water. It’s sort of fishy. Kind of like a five-day-dead salmon left out in the sun. I wonder why I didn’t smell it before.

  When I finally land headfirst in the pool, it’s almost a relief. Because now I’m wet and covered in gunge and the suspense is over. Plus it’s warmer than I had imagined, so there’s that.

  For a split second I think that I ought to just let myself drown because, really, it would be easier than having to deal with the load of crap I’ve gotten myself into. But then, in the same instant, I think of all the things I’d miss if I wasn’t around. Like the next sixty Stanley Cup finals, and maybe actually having sex someday instead of imagining it, and all the laughs and good times with Coop and Sean, and Grandpa Arlo, and Mom, and even, believe it or not, my brother.

  And it’s too bad that I’ve come to this realization now because that’s when I feel a smack to my temple. If I had to guess, I’d say it was the planter, but it could just as easily have been the tricycle. And really, it doesn’t matter, because either way, I’m over and out.

  THERE ARE SEVERAL THINGS I didn’t know about being unconscious. First, it’s not like sleep. You don’t dream. Really, there’s nothing. I want to say there’s blackness, but that doesn’t quite capture the feeling. It’s more like you disappear for a certain period. Could be a minute. Could be a day. But there’s no sense of passing time. Which is weird.

  And second, when you finally wake up, you’re very disoriented. So much so that you may even think Tony Grillo is trying to make out with you.

  Everything’s blurry, but I swear I see an out-of-focus Tony coming toward me with his mouth open. There is no way I want my first kiss — or any kiss, for that matter — to be with Tony Grillo. I try to back away, but I feel like I’m pressed against a wall. Tony puts his lips over mine.

  But he’s not kissing me. He’s pinching my nose and blowing air into my mouth. Down my throat.

  I feel my stomach convulse and I cough, and then I turn my head and puke all over Tony’s fancy polo shirt.

  I’m instantly aware that I’m in Ronnie Hull’s backyard. Lying on his lawn. Surrounded by a group of kids. Tony Grillo is kneeling beside me. His hair is wet, and his shirt is spray-painted with half-digested fish sticks and Tater Tots.

  “Fuck me,” Tony says, clambering to his feet. His arms are wide like he’s hugging an invisible beach ball.

  “Sorry,” I croak. I sit up and wipe my mouth with the back of my wrist. My head wah-wahs. My skull feels like someone took a bat to it.

  Tony glares at me. “You weren’t supposed to drown, loser. You sure aren’t much of a swimmer.”

  Everyone laughs. But it’s more of a relieved laughter than anything else.

  Tony points hard at me. “You owe me, shit head.” With that, he turns and stalks off.

  “Are you all right, Matt?” It’s Valerie. I didn’t realize she was there beside me. She brushes my wet hair out of my face.

  I nod. I have to force myself to swallow. “Fine,” I say. My throat is raw, like I swallowed a handful of razors. “Just sort of soaking wet.”

  “You’re lucky Tony’s a lifeguard,” Valerie says.

  “Yeah,” I
manage to rasp out. “He’s a real hero.”

  “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

  “I’m okay.” I touch my temple and wince. Not so much from the pain but from the shock of the golf ball that seems to be sticking out of my head.

  “You need ice,” Valerie says. “Let’s get you to the table.”

  Valerie leans over and helps me to my feet. It’s a struggle, as my burning legs aren’t cooperating. I feel the water trickle down my back.

  Valerie leads me over to the table by the pool and gently lowers me into a chair.

  “I’ll be right back,” she says, dashing off.

  The crowd of people has dispersed. I guess it was interesting at first to see if I might die, but now that I’m just some kid with a lump on his head, it’s not so fascinating anymore.

  I’m trying to focus. Everything feels so foggy. I’d kind of like to go home, but I should wait until Valerie comes back with the ice. I’m sure she wouldn’t be doing any of this if she knew what really happened. Stupid Coop and his stupid ideas. I’m sure this will all get back to Kelly, and if dressing up like a girl doesn’t completely turn her off to me, then the Peeping Tom act should seal my coffin.

  I’m rubbing my closed eyelids, trying to get all these scenarios out of my mind, when Valerie returns with a plastic grocery bag half-filled with ice.

  “Here.” Valerie places the bag gently on my head. “It’ll bring down the swelling.”

  I smile. “Thanks, Nurse Valerie.”

  “It’s Dr. Valerie,” she says, sitting down next to me. “Dr. Devereaux, actually. At least it will be someday.”

  “You want to be a doctor?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Wow,” I say. “That’s cool. I have no idea what I want to be.”

  “Oh, really? I thought you wanted to be a gardener.” She laughs. I can’t believe she remembers that stupid quiz.

  “Hey. You only gave me five choices. Besides, I changed my answer to teacher. Even though I don’t really want to do that, either.”

  “What are you interested in?”

  I try to think but nothing comes to mind.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “When I was, like, ten, I saw Rocky on TV, and for about a week I thought I wanted to be a boxer.”