by Dylan Heart
He’s lying on his stomach, so on the off chance he upchucks while he sleeps I think he’ll be safe. Since I’ll probably be up all night, I can keep a close eye on him. That’s what friends do. Get each other blackout drunk, and then babysit them until sunrise.
The kitchen is a mess, much like the rest of the house. The floor is soaked with beer, whiskey and over by the sink, a small puddle of vomit. During parties, Summer attempts to keep a clean house but the higher her blood alcohol content, the more trashed the house becomes. At this rate, she’ll still be drunk when driving to State tomorrow.
There is no ice left in the makeshift cooler in the sink. All that’s left are two bottles of beer. I grab them both. On my way back outside, I make a pit stop in the bathroom. As I swing the door open, I see Dillon lying on the floor with his head propped against the toilet. He’s asleep, so it’s best that I don’t bother him. I do have to pee, though. Quite the conundrum.
I pull the front door shut behind me and toss a beer to Blue, who’s sitting on an antique wooden porch swing. “Be right back,” I say and gallop down the steps.
“Where you going?”
“Please don’t make me shatter all illusion of mystery.”
Once I get to the side of the house and behind a thick bush, I pull my jeans down and take care of business. Like a horror movie, I hear a twig snap and leaves rustle. My head jerks and I grab hold of my jeans, prepared to run.
“I knew it!” Blue shouts accusingly through the darkness.
“Yeah, you caught me, but I’m telling you right now that I don’t poop because girls don’t do that. Now turn around.”
He does as told. I pull my jeans back up and stand. “Where’s my beer?” Oh, there it is. Lying sideways in a puddle of piss. “Shit.”
“It’s okay, I’ll share mine.” Blue grabs my hand. “Come on.”
Four in the morning and we are the only ones still awake. The bench rocks back and forth gently. Swaying. It’s as if we’re at sea. There’s a calmness in the way the morning air tangles around us. It’s not like the afternoon or evening air when it all feels so thick and dense. I can’t be the only one who notices the quiet beauty in it. Billions of people are awake in this world at any given second, but here in Lakeside, it’s as if we have the city to ourselves.
Blue takes a swig of beer and the world is quiet enough that I hear it rush down the back of his throat. “It’s quiet,” he says.
“It’s four in the morning.”
“I’m used to it. Being the only person in the world awake.” His body shifts on the swing, making himself more comfortable. “I could never really sleep at night.”
“But you worked during the day.”
“I wasn’t the most responsible worker.” He laughs and brings his arm behind me, gripping the back of the swing and causing us to jolt before settling back into a rhythmic swinging pattern.
“You really should find some time to sleep. It’s kind of important, since you can’t live without it.”
“What you can’t really live without is dreaming.”
“How drunk are you? You dream when you sleep.”
“Not if you’re doing it right. There’s nothing in the world comparable to dreaming when you’re wide awake.”
“I don’t know about that. I believe your subconscious can tap into your wants and desires more than you ever could. It’s like everything is locked deep somewhere inside, and the only way to retrieve it is to fall asleep. Then you drift away and find everything you never even knew you wanted.”
Or you find Freddy Krueger.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t need my subconscious to tell me what I want. I dream with my eyes wide open, and right now, I’m dreaming about you.” He sets the bottle of beer on the railing beside him, then straightens himself out and turns his gaze to me. “I’ve thought about you every moment of every day since that night we met.”
“I don’t know if I should be flattered or creeped out.”
“A little bit of both, perhaps?”
“Let’s stick with flattered.”
“I was hoping you would say that.” He rubs his palms against his jeans, stands up, and offers me his hand. “Come?”
“That depends on where we’re going.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“There’s something you should know about me, Blue.” I stand up and take his hand. “I’m not big on surprises.”
“Then why did you take my hand?”
“Because I’m drunk and not in control of my actions.”
“Is that right?” he asks through thin lips. He pulls me by the hand, down the antique steps and into the center of the road where we come to an abrupt stop. He pivots on his feet and grabs my free hand, locking us together at the fingers. “Will you dance with me, Charlie Brown?”
I throw my head back, laughing. “Charlie Brown?”
“I’m just making assumptions since you never told me your last name.”
“It’s Scott,” I say as we begin dancing in a slow circle. “And yours?”
His lips crumple contemplatively. “You know? I haven’t decided that yet.”
My eyes narrow on him. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t need to look at me that way. I’m not crazy. I swear. I’ve just decided that I’d rather be anyone else than who my parents wanted me to be. Including my name.”
“Are you saying that Blue isn’t your real name?”
“I’m saying that someone would have to be pretty different to name their child that.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I like it. It has a unique ring to it.”
“Does it, Pink?”
“Definitely.”
One hand lets go of me as he spins back, expecting me to roll into his arms like we’re on Dancing with the Stars. I relax my chest before giving it a whirl but end up twisting my ankle. The only thing that saves me from the asphalt is the quickness of his hand as he catches my fall.
“Let me take you on a real date.” His strong grip holds me by the small of my back. If I say no, he could drop me against the cracked pavement. “It won’t be anywhere fancy because I’m not that kind of guy. We won’t go to a five-star or even a four-star restaurant, but I’ll take you somewhere you’ll never forget.”
I lift myself up and grab him by the waist as we resume dancing in circles. “It’s okay. I’m not into fancy anyway.”
“So why don’t you give me your address, and I’ll pick you up Monday at noon?”
“How are you going to write down my number if you don’t even have a phone?”
“I’ve got an excellent memory. You know people were able to manage their lives perfectly fine without phones, right?”
“I wouldn’t remember that dark time in history.”
“My parents would never let me forget it.” He lets go of me and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Sharpie marker.
“Handy,” I say, impressed. “Got any other tools in there?”
“Nothing you haven’t seen.” He winks. “Give me your arm.”
I do as told and he scribbles a permanent message on my arm: You have a date Monday with your favorite carnie, Blue.
“Definitely won’t forget about it now.” I grab the marker out of his hand and pull his arm to me. “Do you have any idea how many showers I’m going to have to take to wash this off?” I ask as I scribble my own message on his arm—my address. I’m drunk so I hope I don’t flub the house number, or worse—like accidentally give him my dad’s address. That would be a disaster.
I push the marker into his pocket and fold my hands into his again. We resume dancing, and I secretly hope the sun never comes up. I could stay here forever, or at least until I pass out.
Chapter Nine
My head thumps before I’ve even opened my eyes. The back of my throat is dry with the aftertaste of binge drinking. When my eyes blink open, everything’s a blur. Must be Sunday. I wonder what time it is—it has to be at least noon.
The alarm clock next to my bed is lying because it says it’s three. Did I miss the rollback of the clocks? God, I hope not, because then it would actually be four. I think. I need a glass of water, but the bathroom is what seems like miles away. I’m going to die in this bed. It’d probably be more enjoyable than Sunday dinner with dad.
Shit!
I throw my comforter off my body, prepared to jump out of bed, but my legs don’t cooperate. I could miss one dinner. No biggie. He thinks I’m visiting from college since I still haven’t told him yet. Theoretically, I could tell him that I can’t make it because of schoolwork. On the other hand, if I do go, I could guilt trip him into giving me money for books. Could I go that far down the rabbit hole?
You betcha.
Last night feels like a dream in the sense that pieces are missing. The last thing I remember is dancing in the street with Blue. I’m sure the walk home was full of adventures that I wish I could remember.
I could definitely get used to Blue sticking around. Our elders have always lectured us youngins’ about the dangers of drinking, but they never really talk about all the good things. For example, how getting drunk is the quickest way to open doors to the mind and soul of a stranger. Before last night, Blue was just a guy I had met at the carnival. Last night, he became a fully-realized person. More than a gorgeous face on an incredible body. There’s depth behind those dangerously blue eyes—dreams, fears, and hints of heartbreak.
Somehow, I finagle my way out of bed and onto my feet. My arms rise over my head as I force out an obnoxious yawn that threatens to knock my light-headed ass to the floor. Good thing I’ve decided against visiting my lawyer father, because I’d probably get a DUI on my short, five-minute drive.
I hold onto the stair railing for dear life as I descend the steps into the living room. It’s unusually quiet for a Sunday afternoon. So quiet that I wonder if my mom ever made it home.
I find her in the surprisingly pristine kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand and a bright smile on her glowing face.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Her hand swings to the side, almost spilling her Folgers. “Nothing, why?”
I’m not buying it, but I’m too hung over to dig into her issues. “I’m not going to Dad’s today.”
“I already told him. I saw you lying in bed about an hour ago, looking like death, and I knew you wouldn’t be in the mood to put up with his bullshit,” she says with glee. “Mom of the Year right here.”
“Wait a minute, you talked to him? Note the emphasis on you.”
She shrugs. “You know, we can be civil.”
“Seriously, what the hell is up with you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steam rolls off her chin as she takes a drawn-out sip of coffee.
“You’re happy, perky, and you’ve cleaned the entire house. You’re not on the couch watching some crappy love story, sobbing your eyes out. And you’re not reprimanding me for not going to college tomorrow.” I lean against the counter for support. “You’re acting like an adult, and it’s freaking me out.”
She brushes me off and walks past me, toward the living room. “Why does anything have to be going on?”
“Because people don’t just wake up being happy after spending months on the couch moping.” I give her chase. “I’m really hung over, so please... don’t make me follow you around this entire house.”
She spins around, cradling her cup with both hands. “I just woke up today in a better mood.”
“Whatever,” I groan and fall backward into the cushiest loveseat in the world. Time for a nap. I rest my eyes and fold my hands against my chest.
“You really want to know?”
Now you start talking...
I throw myself up in the chair and push myself back against it. She sits her cup on the table—on a coaster, even. Who is this woman? “I had a business meeting last night.”
“Sounds like a blast. Am I missing something here?”
“Well.” She sits on the edge of the couch. “Business turned to pleasure,” she says with a shrug.
My eyes widen. “Please spare me the details.”
She frowns. “Nothing like that, but I did manage to get a job—”
“Congrats,” I say, deadpan, fully aware my enthusiasm is lacking. It’s there, even if I’m unable to show it.
“And a date.”
Under normal circumstances, I’d be proud of her for moving on, but— “You can’t date your boss before you’ve even started working. You’re going to be one bad date away from a spoiled résumé.”
“Charlie, it’s not like that. I’m not going to be dating my boss,” she says and rubs her palm nervously across the arm of the couch. “I’m going on a date with his son.”
My mouth sinks further and I spring to action, almost vomiting on the freshly-steamed carpet. “I’d almost prefer if you’d go back to dating Ryan Gosling, to be quite honest.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t you even want to know what my job is?”
“Other than being a cougar?”
“Charlie,” she laughs. “I’m going to be working in insurance–”
You know nothing about insurance. You’re a high school teacher.
“–training new employees. There’s a lot of travel—”
I really should have gone to college.
“–and his son is very handsome.”
“All right, I’ve heard enough. I’m going back to bed, and I’m hoping I’ll wake up somewhere other than Bizzaro World.” I stroll past her and grab onto the stair railing.
“Don’t stray too far from Bizzaro World, or you might wake up to find your carnie boyfriend doesn’t exist.”
I turn around ominously slowly. She’s wearing the wickedest smile this side of Halloween. “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about.” Then I turn and walk up the stairs, knowing full well that someone has spilled the gossip-flavored jelly beans.
“I’m thinking of painting the house blue,” I hear her say as I ascend the steps. I happen to catch, for the first time since I awoke, Blue’s scribbling’s on my arm.
Good grief. Do I need a drink.
Chapter Ten
September is the first bipolar month in a typical year. Temperatures can rise and fall like a roller coaster hitting the highs of heaven and the lows of hell. Today is one of those days in heaven. There’s a light breeze blowing against Blue’s Jeep as we travel down a dirt road. Dust billows behind us forming clouds. Straight out of a Toy Story movie, the sky is painted in shades of blue beauty.
I don’t have a clue where we’re going. He says it’s a surprise and I’m excited. I’ve had too many curve balls in my life, so I normally hate surprises, but everything is different with Blue.
I’ve been down this road many times before. Just up ahead, to the right, is Pine Ridge Road. Dillon’s road. I’ve spent so much time on that road. In that house. In those woods. From when we were still too young to understand love to a few months ago when we still believed it was enough.
Those days are in the past, and now so is that road. Both are close enough to turn around. I stare into the passenger side mirror, watching Pine Ridge fade into the distance.
“You’re being quiet,” Blue says to me.
I look over with a smile. “I’m being contemplative.”
“Do you ever not think?”
“I don’t think it’s possible to turn your brain off.”
“You’re telling me that you’ve never shut it all down?” he asks, one hand on the wheel, the other on the gearshift. “No dreaming, no thinking. Just nothing.”
I shake my head. That doesn’t make sense to me.
“You should try it sometime. It’s peaceful.”
“Is that what you’re doing now?”
“No,” he says. “I’m driving.” He turns his head and looks at me. I want to tell him to focus on the road, but it’s impossible for me to tell him to turn away.
Then I get an idea. “Pull over.”
The grass is warm against our backs, scratching against cotton and denim. About twenty feet away, the Jeep sits against a guardrail.
“What are we doing?” Blue asks.
“Hypothesizing,” I reply. “Trying to turn it all off.”
“Oh,” he grumbles. “I thought we were gonna do it in the grass.”
I’m not disgusted, but I look it. “Where any Billy Bob or Sally can see? No, I don’t think so.”
“Does anybody even drive down this road?” He rises up slightly, resting his body on his elbows as he takes a survey of our surroundings. “I don’t think anybody’s gonna see us.”
“You’re right, because we’re not doing anything.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles again.
I ignore him and close my eyes. The leaves on the trees rustle in the wind. An annoying yacking bird circles the sky. The sun must be coming out from behind the clouds as I begin to see a thick, blinding shade of red. It’s hard to focus on not focusing when I can feel the heat burning against my eyes.
I’m not tired, but I force out a yawn. If I fall asleep, does that count? I think back to our conversation on the porch. According to Blue, and maybe basic science, the answer would be no.
When I first told him to pull over, I thought it would be a cute and quirky side adventure. Maybe even romantic. I was devastatingly wrong. It’s just awkward and pointless. I’ve mucked up our first date.
“Not to ruin the moment—” Blue’s voice punctures through the silence.
“Too late.”
“—but this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve had sex in the grass.”
“How could I forget? I was living in the moment.”
“Yes, you were,” he says, his voice slowly trailing off.
