Save Steve

by Jenni Hendriks

But Steve just shrugged and turned on the faucet to wash his hands. “So what was the plan? Let me guess. You were going to livestream the whole thing, so Kaia would break up with me and fall into your spaghetti-strand arms. I mean, I gotta give you credit. You come up with the most convoluted Rube Goldberg type schemes to get a girl to go out with you.” He shook off his hands and punched on the hand dryer. “And yes, Cam. I know who Rube Goldberg is. Let’s not underestimate me again.”

  “I’m not trying to get Kaia to go out with me!” I shouted over the sound of the blower.

  Steve whirled around. “Then why else would you honeypot me!”

  “I’m not—”

  He stepped toward me. The dryer continued to scream. “Come on. It’s over. Give up.”

  I stepped back and bumped up against the sink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You’re going to deny it? Seriously?”

  “You’re just confu—”

  He leaned forward, inches from me, and curled his fingers around the scuffed white porcelain. “JUST FUCKING ADMIT IT!”

  “WELL, WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?” The dryer suddenly cut off and my words bounced off the tiled walls. I cringed as Steve hovered over me, both of us breathing hard. For a moment, neither of us seemed to know what to do. Then Steve released his grip on the sink and stepped back.

  With space between us again, I blinked away humiliated tears. Steve turned his back to me. “Do not. Fucking. Cry.”

  “You tricked her.”

  Steve spun, surprise and fury warring on his face. “I tricked her?”

  “The Cam Webber Hero Fund! Pretending to care about people! To be a good person!” I spread my arms trying to express the enormity, the everythingness, of what he’d done.

  Steve’s expression was strangely blank. “Maybe I am a good person. Ever consider that? Maybe hanging out with you and Kaia all the time made me think about things. The foundation’s real, Cam. Maybe setting it up made me feel all warm and gooey inside.”

  “What about collapsing in front of everyone? What about ‘You can’t beat a dying guy’?” I moved forward, closing the space between us.

  Steve’s mouth twisted. “Oh yeah. I faked that part. Totally wrenched my shoulder, if it makes you feel better.”

  There wasn’t even a trace of shame. God, I hated him. Even with cancer, it was like he’d never felt pain. I really wanted to make him feel pain. “She was just staying with you because she felt bad you had cancer! She was going to break up with you!”

  Steve stared at me for a long moment. He cocked his head. “Yeah. I know. She told me all about that.”

  I stumbled back. “What?” I’d heard exactly what he said, but my world was kind of crumbling.

  “She told me. Because we talk about stuff. Because she’s my girlfriend.” He said it slowly, like a teacher helping a particularly confused student with a remedial concept. And he was looking at me with a feeling I didn’t know he was capable of: pity. Steve Stevenson pitied me. It was the most horrible feeling in the world.

  I wanted to say something devastating. But what was there to say? I had nothing left. I was standing in a mini golf bathroom and everything I thought was true, wasn’t. They were in a real relationship. They talked about things. Kaia might actually really love him. “God. You aren’t even angry with me, are you?” The words were bitter in my mouth.

  “It’s hard to get angry with someone who is so ineffective.” It was true. Anger was a feeling you reserved for someone who could hurt you. And I wasn’t that to Steve. Because I wasn’t anything to Kaia. Steve patted me on the shoulder as he opened the bathroom door. “Anyway, you torture yourself enough for both of us.”

  A blast of alcohol-scented air wafted in. The girls were clustered right outside the door. “We were so worried!” Maybe-Nika shout-slurred. Steve and I both flinched.

  Maybe-Sophie caught sight of my red eyes. “Oh no! Were you crying?”

  Maybe-Haedyn held out her arms and stumbled forward. “Do you need a hug?” At this, the other two girls raised their arms in offer, wobbling toward us. Maybe-Nika burped, long and juicy. Steve jerked back, bumping into me.

  “Nope! We’re good!”

  “No hugs needed,” I added as Steve slammed the door in their faces. We both turned and leaned against it, holding it shut, as the girls pushed the door and we dug in our feet. Through the heavy metal of the door, we could hear muffled shouts of “Hey” and “We just want to hug.”

  “Just to be clear,” I huffed, “I didn’t think they’d be drinking.”

  Steve rolled his eyes as a particularly forceful push jerked us forward. “Cam, they’re college girls. It’s Friday.”

  “Do you think they’ll break in? Should we try to jam the door somehow and go through the window?” I jerked my chin toward the small opening near the top of the tiled wall. “We’re near the edge of the course. We can hop the fence into the industrial park next door.”

  “Jesus, Cam. They’re drunk, not zombies. Give them a minute and they’ll get bored.”

  He was right. The pounding got more and more half-hearted, tapering off into a final shove that barely bounced us forward. Some muttering filtered through for a moment longer and then the only thing we could hear was the distant sound of the go-karts through the open window. We slid to the ground.

  I studied the pattern in the tile on the floor. It repeated over and over. “Why do you like her?” I wasn’t sure I’d even meant to ask the question out loud.

  Steve sighed, as if he’d expected this. “Same reasons you do.”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Not possible.”

  Steve tilted his head back against the door and stared at the ceiling. “She’s smart. She’s hot. She goes with the flow.” He counted them off on his fingers one by one.

  “Those are some pretty generic reasons.”

  “They’re the reasons most people go out, Cam,” Steve sighed.

  “But”—I tucked my knees up and half turned to Steve—“Kaia’s not a generic person, Steve. She’s amazing.”

  Steve rolled his eyes. “Like that’s super specific.”

  “Fine. You want specific?” I turned all the way to face him now. “Kaia is honest. She thinks the best of people. She’s kind but she’s never fake nice. She is passionate but not righteous. You can tell she wakes up in the morning and thinks about how she can make the world a better place.”

  “And she’s hot.” Steve turned to face me all the way, too, a hint of challenge in his eyes.

  “Yes, Steve, she’s hot.” I threw my arms up. “But even if she was burned horribly in an explosion at a fracking mine she had barricaded herself to in protest, I wouldn’t care.”

  Steve slowly shook his head from side to side. “God, do you lube yourself up with superiority when you masturbate?” Before I could answer, Steve rolled away and pulled the door open a crack. He peered out. “All clear.” He hopped to his feet, yanked open the door, and left without bothering to see if I would follow.

  I caught up to him near the windmill. He waited for me, twirling his golf club under the lazily rotating vanes outlined with cheery yellow lightbulbs.

  “Sure you don’t want to finish our round?” Steve asked.

  “Positive.”

  Steve swung his club over his shoulder. “Too bad. I really enjoy beating you.” With a little skip in his step, he walked toward the exit.

  We crossed the parking lot in silence. A few rows in, under the glare of a streetlamp, I could see my Prius. We’d get in, and I’d take Steve home. It was over. My stupid, half-baked plan had failed. Honestly, I was probably lucky that the night hadn’t ended with me getting a black eye.

  I still couldn’t wrap my head around it—Steve and Kaia talked. They shared things. They were a couple. I might be able to handle it, this new reality where Steve and Kaia were together for real, if I just knew one thing.

  “At least admit I’m better for her.”

  Ahead of me, Steve pau
sed. For a moment I didn’t think he would answer. Then he turned and arched an eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter if you’re better for her, Cam. I’m the one who asked her out.”

  I wish he had kicked me in the nuts. It would have hurt less.

  “Let’s go, bitches!”

  We both turned to see a rust-orange El Camino lurch to life and rumble forward. At the wheel was Maybe-Sophie. She stuck out her arm and chucked something out the window. It gleamed and flashed as it spun through the air under the streetlight before hitting the pavement and exploding into a thousand pieces. The fifth of vodka.

  I was already running by the time my brain caught up to what was happening. My Nikes skidded as I squeezed through some parked cars, then dashed across the lane, veering to intercept the car. I slammed my hands down on the hood. There was an answering thunk next to me. Steve was beside me, hands on the car, breathing heavily.

  “What?” he asked, looking slightly annoyed at my obvious surprise.

  “Move, cancer assholes!” A horn blared. We both peered through the windshield. The three girls were squished in the front seat.

  “We hate you,” Maybe-Haedyn wailed. “You ditched us!”

  “Get an Uber!” Steve shouted over the rumble of the engine.

  “My roommate needs her car back for work in the morning!” Maybe-Sophie yelled.

  “Not if it’s destroyed.” Steve was patient but immovable.

  “I promised her! She’s gonna hate me.” Tears spilled down Maybe-Sophie’s cheeks. She dropped her head on the steering wheel. “She already hates me.”

  Maybe-Nika shoved her from the middle seat. “Let’s go! I’m STARVING. Need food.”

  But Maybe-Sophie just cried harder. Maybe-Haedyn stretched her arms out and yawned. “Can we go home? Need bed. Me ty-ty.”

  I dropped my head. “Oh boy.” I looked up at Steve. “Divide them up?”

  He nodded. “Yep. I’ll take Weepy. You take Sleepy and Hungry.”

  I followed the taillights of the El Camino down Victoria Avenue. Maybe-Nika was slumped in the passenger seat, clutching her stomach and grumbling intermittently about food. Maybe-Haedyn was sprawled in the seat behind me, moaning.

  “I need my blankey.”

  Holding my phone, I spoke into the receiver. “We got an address yet?”

  Steve’s voice answered, “Not exactly. Somewhere off Telegraph. But Weepy put on Kelly Clarkson and now I can’t get anything more out of her.”

  Through the speaker I heard, tinny and thin, Maybe-Sophie sing-wailing, “I watched you die/I heard you cry/Every night in your sleep.”

  “Okay, well, that’s a mile or so up. After the song ends, ask her left or right.” Maybe-Sophie continued her serenade through the speakers, occasionally just dissolving into sobs.

  “Why didn’t you just ask Kaia out?” Steve’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the wailing. I couldn’t tell if Steve was playing me, but his tone lacked any of its usual mockery.

  “Um . . . she was dating you?”

  Steve huffed, rueful. “Nuh-uh. You know what I mean. Before that. Sounds like you’ve had a boner for her since sophomore year.”

  “I have not had—”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s a very respectful boner.”

  Maybe-Nika perked up. “Wienerschnitzel sounds good.”

  I sighed, my shoulders drooping. “Look, I tried to ask her out a thousand times.” All the almost perfect moments flashed in my mind.

  “But you shit the bed.”

  “Beeeeedddddd,” groaned Maybe-Haedyn.

  “I didn’t—It was never the right time.” It hadn’t been. There was no way Kaia would have said yes. Right?

  In front of us, the light turned red and we stopped. I watched as cars slid through the intersection.

  But then Steve had asked her, apparently without any special moment at all, and she’d said yes. If I had tried that, if I had taken a chance on one of those messed-up perfect moments, would it have worked? I closed my eyes for a second, gathering my thoughts. “I just—”

  “DEL TACCOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  “Whaaa?” I whipped my head around to see Maybe-Nika flinging the passenger door open and tumbling into the street. She scrambled up to standing and then weaved her way across the road toward the red, white, and green glowing sign of Del Taco. “Steve! We’ve got a problem!” I turned the wheel, angling my Prius toward the fast-food restaurant.

  “Already on it!” The El Camino lurched forward.

  Seconds later we pulled into the parking lot. I punched off the Prius and turned to look behind me. Maybe-Haedyn was asleep, drooling in the back seat. “Okay. Cool. Stay there.” I climbed out of the car. Maybe-Nika was easy to find. I just had to follow the sound of a fist pounding on glass.

  “Give me a burrito with red sauce now!” Maybe-Nika was half hanging off the ledge of the service window in the drive-through as she repeatedly banged on the window. The glare of lights reflecting on the glass made it impossible to see inside, but I thought I saw the silhouette of the cashier shaking with laughter.

  Arms out in front of me, I slowly approached Maybe-Nika like she was a deer who might bolt at any second. “Hey . . . there . . .” I didn’t dare say her name in case I was wrong and it might set her off. “Why don’t you get back in the car and I’ll drive you through.”

  Maybe-Nika whipped around, snarling. “No! I am not leaving until I get a fucking burrito!” Then without warning she slumped, laying her cheek on the cold metal of the ledge, arms dangling. “I’m so hungry.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

  Footsteps pounded on the asphalt. Steve had gotten out of the El Camino and was jogging to the drive-through. He stopped a little ways away, taking in the scene. “You take six o’clock. I take twelve. We herd her toward the Prius. Copy?”

  I nodded once. “Yeah. Got it.”

  The speaker by the menu board crackled to life. “Ma’am. This is a drive-through.” The worker managed to choke out their words through breathless giggles. “You need a car . . .”

  Like she’d been jolted with electricity, Maybe-Nika came alive and flung herself on the window. “YOU WILL GIVE ME A BURRITO!” Through the raspy speaker there was a short shriek of terror.

  Steve and I inched closer, eyes locked on each other. I held up my hand. “On the count of three. One . . . Two . . .”

  The service window slid open with a screech. “Screw it. Here.” And then a burrito was sailing out, flipping end over end. Maybe-Nika’s eyes widened as they traced its perfect arc.

  “BURRRRITTOOOOOOOOO!”

  She bounded after it.

  “Shit!” Steve yelled. “Hungry’s on the move!” As one, we dashed after her.

  Reaching the grass partition, Maybe-Nika scooped up the burrito from the damp ground and thrust it into the air, triumphant. “I’m gonna run for the border!” she exclaimed.

  “That’s Taco Bell,” Steve said, lunging for her.

  Maybe-Nika leaped to the sidewalk and took off down the street, holding the burrito high overhead. I tore after her, jumping a bush to land a few yards behind her. Steve followed a few seconds later. We pounded down the sidewalk, back toward the parked Prius and the El Camino.

  As we got closer, we could see Maybe-Sophie hanging halfway out the window of the front seat of the El Camino. “I’m alone. I’ll always be alone,” she wailed.

  We kept running a few more feet, then stopped. There was no sign of Maybe-Nika. “Where’d she go?” I panted. The streets were empty and quiet, not even an echo of a Mexican fast-food slogan.

  Beside me, Steve scanned the darkness. “No idea.” He sighed. “Back to the car?”

  “Yeah. Maybe if we drive slow we’ll spot her.” We trudged back toward the waiting vehicles.

  “So, what does the Cam Webber ‘perfect moment’ look like?” Steve mused, his hand stroking his chin. It took me a minute to remember what he meant. That we’d been talking about my inability to ask Kaia out. I’d hoped we’d
been done with the conversation, but judging by the glint in Steve’s eye, I feared it was just beginning.

  “So, is it swimming with dolphins after spending a day building homes for Habitat for Humanity?” Steve chirped through my phone’s speaker. He was on his one thousandth guess as we slowly drove down the street, hoping to spot a drunk burrito-munching fiend. Behind me, Maybe-Haedyn snored softly.

  “First, humans should never swim with dolphins for entertainment—”

  “What? But they’re so magical!”

  “Second. Do you see Hungry anywhere?

  “That’s a negative.” There was a beat of silence. “Oh. Got it. Candlelight dinner on a compost heap. Yes, it’s a little stinky, but you’ll be stuffed full of self-satisfaction.”

  “Steve?”

  “Yes?”

  “Fuck off.”

  I heard Steve stifle a snort of laughter when, through the phone, came a heartbreaking sob. “Oh my god! What if she’s deeeeeeeeaaaaaaad? It’s all my fauuuuuult.” Maybe-Sophie howled. Through the rearview mirror of the Prius, I saw Steve pull Maybe-Sophie back up to a seated position.

  “Shhhhh,” Steve said. “It’s okay, Weepy. She’s fine. You’re a good friend.”

  “I am?” She sniffed.

  “Of course.”

  I smiled, then gripped the wheel. “Wait! Steve! Is that . . . ? Up there . . .” A little ways ahead in front of a bus bench was a huddled figure. I thought I could see the bright white corner of a Del Taco wrapper fluttering in the gutter nearby.

  “Yep. That’s her,” Steve confirmed.

  “Okay. I’m pulling over.” I put on my emergencies as I angled the car toward the side of the road. Just as I reached the right lane, arms wrapped around my neck, crushing my windpipe.

  “What the—” I wheezed, and the car swerved.

  “I had a nightmare!” A now awake Maybe-Haedyn squeezed me tighter.

  “Let go!” I scrabbled at the arms around my neck. With no hands on the wheel, the car bounced onto the curb. Maybe-Haedyn let out a surprised shriek. The seat belt bit into my shoulder. I slammed on the brakes, throwing us both forward.

  We skidded toward the bus stop.

  I pressed down as hard as I could and yanked the wheel. We jerked to a stop. In front of the car, illuminated in a pool of yellow from the headlights, was Maybe-Nika, snoring, red sauce smeared on her face.