by Lily Jenkins
Inside, the room is almost bare of furniture. It’s nowhere near as nice as Erica’s house. There’s a shabby old couch on the far wall and a brown beaten-up table in front of it, littered with red plastic cups. And even more different than Erica’s, this house is full of life. There’s a crowd of young people in here, and the smell of smoke clogs in the air. I cough. I’m not a smoker, but even if I were I’d probably be choking right now. Erica scans the room. “She’s not here. Maybe the kitchen?” She nods toward a door at the end of the room, and I find myself wondering how much time Erica has spent here. And if Nicole’s parents usually allow this kind of party—or if they don’t know.
We go into the kitchen, where there are sodas and beers laid out on the counter along with some half-empty bottles of cheap vodka. Her friend isn’t here either, so we stop to get drinks. She hands me a plastic cup, and I reach for a beer, wanting to get her drink first.
“Want any?” I ask.
She looks at the can of beer in my hand like it’s insect poison. “No,” she says quietly. “I don’t drink.”
There’s something going on here beyond teenage abstinence. Her shoulders are too rigid, her eyes too blank with dull pain. It’s the same way her body reacts when getting near a street crossing. So I put the beer back on the counter. “Sure,” I say. “What would you like?”
She looks at the choices on the counter and grabs a Sprite. She pours it into her plastic cup, and I grab a Dr. Pepper for myself, also pouring it into a cup. It’s probably a waste to use a cup when you can drink out of a can, but when you’re at a party, you don’t want to be the only one who’s not drinking. People will constantly ask if you want a real drink.
We turn around and see a group of girls coming in through the back door of the kitchen. They look me up and down, then they notice Erica and wave to her. Their motions are a little too enthusiastic, and I’m guessing they have something stronger than Coke in their glasses. Erica gives them a strained smile in return.
“Have you guys seen Nicole?” she asks them.
Two in the crowd shake their heads, but a short girl with frizzy black hair puts out a heavy hand and touches Erica on the shoulder. “Yeah, saw her out back.” Then she leans in to Erica, and even I can smell the booze on her breath. She’s whispering, but so loud she might as well not have bothered. “She’s with Chad.” She shakes her head and gives a look that says she disapproves. “Anyway,” she says, leaning back and smiling again, “It’s good to see you around, Erica. Haven’t seen you much since last summer, since—” She stops, catching herself in mid-sentence. One of the other girls with her nudges her.
“Way to go, Rita.”
The short girl, apparently Rita, gives Erica a look of pity. But it only lasts a moment, and then she shrugs and walks away, ready to rejoin the party.
Erica does not move a muscle. She remains exactly still until it is just us alone in the kitchen again. I don’t know what to say. I just want to put my arms around her. But at the same time I get the feeling she doesn’t want to be touched.
And more than that: What happened last summer? I realize how little I know about this girl. How much there is to learn.
She shakes her head, as if waking herself up. “Okay,” she says, and looks over at me. “Let’s try outside.”
I nod and we walk out the back door together. There’s a small porch where, surprisingly, no one is smoking, despite several overflowing ashtrays. There’s a yard that slopes down to the edge of some woods here, and we start to trudge through the damp grass. There are a few people scattered back here, guys leaning into girls trying to steal a kiss, and a group of high school girls who look way too young to be here. We walk past them, and I see where Erica’s eyes are fixed: to a couple in the middle of an argument toward the back of the yard. The girl is blond and wearing shorts and a low-cut top. The guy’s wearing jeans and a neon orange polo. Even in the dark, he stands out.
We approach, and their voices quiet as the girl sees us. She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand. “Erica!” she screams, and runs forward with her arms open. Erica gives a much more subdued hug back, and the guy glowers at me from the distance. He makes no effort to join us, and stands kicking the grass with his shoe. “I’m so glad you came!” continues Nicole. Then she turns to me. “Why hello there!” she says, and laughs. “You must be the mechanic.”
“This is Adam,” Erica says, an edge to her voice.
Nicole is eyeing me up and down like a piece of meat. “Mmm-hmm,” she hums. “He sure is.” Then she turns to Erica and nudges her in the ribs. “Damn! He’s cute!”
It’s dark, so I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure Erica blushes.
“You must be Nicole,” I say, to move the conversation along. This snaps her back to attention.
“Yeah,” she says, and gives a little wave. Then she points behind her and frowns. “And that’s Chad.”
Chad, still at a distance, tilts his chin toward us. “What’s up?” he says.
“Get over here, you silly goose!” Nicole calls to him. Chad gives a huge huff and walks the three feet over to us. He’s been drinking, and I realize I don’t know him at all, but there’s something about Chad that I instantly don’t like. He seems to have the same reaction to me, because when he gets close enough that we can see each other’s eyes, I swear he snarls a little. Like a dog that wants you off his property. But I’m not one to back down from intimidation. I meet his gaze and keep it, even though he’s a good head and shoulders taller than I am. He puts a heavy arm around Nicole, but keeps his eyes on me.
The girls seem fairly oblivious. Or maybe they deal with this on a regular basis. They ignore us and Erica takes an envelope out of her purse and hands it to Nicole. “Happy birthday,” she says.
Nicole gives a little squeal and rips into the card. She pulls it out and—I’ll give her credit for this—she reads the front before opening it up, which must not be easy since there’s a bulge of papers inside. Even I’m curious to see what it is. You can tell a lot about a person by the gifts they give. I don’t mean price. I mean, this is Erica’s friend. It should count.
Nicole opens the card and her eyes widen. “Is this…?” she starts, and then opens up the little booklet inside the card. “Oh my god!” she screams, and her glee pierces my eardrums and makes me wince. She steps away from Chad and throws her arms around Erica. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” she babbles. She pulls back, and there are tears in her eyes. “It’s perfect.”
I still don’t know what “it” is. Neither does Chad, and he has a lot more trouble containing himself. “What’s that?” he asks, and reaches for the card without asking. Nicole lets him look, but doesn’t take her hand off of it.
“Tickets,” she explains, then turns to me as well. “She got me tickets to come visit her!”
“Why you need tickets?” Chad asks. “She lives right here.”
I’m wondering the same thing, and Nicole says, “Not for long. I told you already. She’s moving to New York for school.”
My stomach sinks. Even though I can’t stay here, the idea that Erica has kept this from me feels like a betrayal. I know I’m a total hypocrite for saying that, but it’s true. She’s planning to leave and she didn’t even tell me. I can only stare at her. To her credit, she squirms under my gaze.
“Yeah,” she says quietly. “I got into Columbia.”
I take a deep breath. Remember, I tell myself, it’s not like you can be with her anyway. This is good for her. She should have a life.
“That’s great,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. It’s actually incredibly painful to imagine the life that Erica will have without me. “That’s a really good school.”
She gives a small, uncomfortable smile. Fortunately, Chad provides a quick distraction from the awkwardness. He’s looking at the tickets, struggling to read them in the low light. Then he looks up at Erica with a sneer.
“There’s only one,” he says contemp
tuously.
Erica looks over to him. “Excuse me?” she asks.
“You only got her one ticket.” Chad shoves the card back to Nicole. “You can’t expect Nicole to go across the country without me.”
Erica blinks. I can tell she’s fighting with herself to give Chad a somewhat respectful answer, but I’m sure she’s thinking what we’re all thinking: this is Nicole’s gift. It has nothing to do with Chad. He’s acting like a child.
“I’m sorry,” Erica says eventually. “I didn’t have enough money for both.”
“Well, that’s not much of a gift,” Chad sneers.
“Watch it,” I say, stepping forward. Chad meets my eyes, and I can tell at once he’d love nothing more than to start a fight.
And I’d love nothing more than to give him one. Except I feel Erica’s hand on my arm, and I’m here for her, not my ego.
“Let’s go inside,” she says, and then to Nicole: “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you,” Nicole says. “I love your gift.”
I tear my eyes away from Chad’s, and follow Erica inside. “That guy’s a jerk,” I say almost at once. “I know she’s your friend, and I don’t know her at all, but she can do better.”
Erica lets out a sigh. “Yeah. I know. I’m sure Nicole knows too.” We step up onto the porch and head back into the kitchen. “But it doesn’t really matter. None of her boyfriends last more than a few weeks anyway. I think she just likes having someone around.”
I look at Erica and wonder if she thinks of me the same way. She catches my eye and guesses what I’m thinking.
“I don’t approve of it,” she says. “I think she should look for someone who treats her right.”
I nod, and we go back into the main house. My mind quickly returns to the idea of Erica leaving for college. When was she planning to tell me? Was she planning to tell me?
We pass the noise of the main living room and take a seat on a bench in front of a window. Erica takes a small sip of her drink. Honestly, I’m not sure she’s done more than put the liquid to her lips. It’s just the appearance of drinking, of having fun at the party. She’s looking around at the other people with obvious discomfort. Some have said hello to her, so I know she knows them. But I get the sense that she hasn’t hung out with them for a while. Yet again, I get the feeling that there is something else going on, something bigger, that she’s not telling me. There’s so much she’s holding back.
“So,” I say, after a minute or so of her watching the crowd, and me watching her. She turns to me and gives a small smile. “So,” I repeat, “Columbia?”
Her smile drops and her eyes fill with pain. “Yeah,” she says, and instantly looks away. “It was sort of a last-minute thing. I’m—I’m actually not that—I mean, I think Nicole is more excited about it than I am. I just, I just can’t live in this town anymore.”
“Astoria?”
She’s still not looking at me. She nods.
“What’s wrong with Astoria?”
A tense smile forms on her face, and she looks like she’s about to cry out of nowhere. Then she turns to me. “You want some more soda?”
I blink, then say, “Sure. If that’s what you want.”
She’s up in a flash and I’m following her back to the kitchen. She refills the few drops that she’s already sipped, and I refill the third of my glass that I’ve drunk. She’s still got that awful tense smile on her face, and she’s not saying anything. It’s starting to make me seriously uncomfortable, so I cave and try to change the subject.
“How’s the search going for Pete’s owner?” I ask.
She lightens immediately and gives a sardonic laugh. “Oh, not so good. No calls yet.”
“Even after all those posters?” I ask, flashing her a grin. She takes the bait and grins back. This time it’s a real smile.
“Even so.”
“He still scratching you?”
She holds up her arm. There’s the line of scratches from before. “Nothing new,” she says proudly. Then she drops her arm. “But he still won’t let me near him. I’m starting to think I’m a horrible person for keeping him.”
“He didn’t seem like a cat that could make it on his own,” I tell her. “He needs you.”
This makes her feel almost all the way better. She looks up at me, and it’s like all the air has gone out of the room, replaced with static and energy.
She sets her cup on the kitchen counter. I set mine down.
She’s looking at me, meeting my eyes and opening herself up in a way that she hasn’t until now. Her eyes are so green, so hopeful. She looks so innocent and confused and full of longing. She seems so alive, so loud with life compared to other people. I can’t walk away, even though I know I should. She can’t be that serious about me if she’s holding back so much. She must not trust me at all. But still I can’t look away. I can’t even think properly when she’s near.
She bites her bottom lip, and I instinctively reach up a hand and run a fingertip along it. Her breath catches, and we inch closer to each other. She closes her eyes, and I inhale through my nose, my heart racing. I lean in, and—
There’s a crash in the next room, followed by shouting. Erica and I pull away from each other abruptly and look toward the living room. There are voices yelling. After a moment, I recognize them as Chad’s and Nicole’s.
We leave our drinks behind and head into the living room. Nicole is by the door, blocking it, and Chad is trying to get past her.
“Give me the keys!” he shouts. His voice is slurred, and when he tries to lurch toward Nicole, he stumbles and has trouble catching himself. Chad is very obviously wasted. He reaches out to Nicole—more than reaches, his fist punches through the air—and swipes at her side. Nicole is too fast, and pulls up her hand. There is a set of keys in them that jingles as she lifts them.
“No, Chad,” she says. “You can’t drive. You’re drunk!”
“I feel fine,” he says, and then gives a loud belch. “Stop being such a bitch and give ’em to me.”
The scene is trashy and loud, and the other party guests are laughing and hooting. I look over to Erica, who looks like she’s going to be sick.
Chad yells again, this time his voice getting meaner. “You’re going to give me my keys,” he growls, “then you’re going to get in my car and shut the fuck up. You understand?”
He raises a hand to Nicole, and Erica gasps.
This has gone too far.
I cross the room and say, “Hey, dude, there’s no need for—”
But before I can finish, Chad spins around and punches me in the face.
Nicole screams. Adam is stumbling back into the room, and every head at the party is turning in his direction. Chad’s taking a step toward him.
“Stop it!” Nicole yells and tries to hold him back. “Chad!”
He doesn’t seem to hear her. He pushes her away and she falls backward. If she weren’t so near the door and able to grab the handle, she would have been knocked to the ground.
Adam rises to his feet and looks up just in time to duck another blow from Chad. When I see the fist coming toward Adam, I wince, as if I’m the one about to be hit. But Adam doesn’t seem as shaken as I am. With surprising speed, he whirls on his feet so that he’s standing behind Chad and out of immediate danger. Chad rebalances after his punch and turns to sneer at Adam. Adam gazes at him calmly, but I see the vein on his neck pumping. He is in full fight mode, ready to react in a split second.
“You’ve had too much to drink, Chad,” Adam tells him in a level voice. “Why not just stay and let Nicole enjoy her party?”
Chad wrinkles his nose. “Don’t you tell me how to treat my girl,” he snaps. But he looks like some of the fight has gone out of him.
Adam just stares at him. I can feel the heat of his anger from here, but he keeps his face blank, controlled. “I wouldn’t have to,” Adam says in a low voice, “if you knew how to treat her already.”
I can’t help it: I gas
p. There are a few chuckles around the room, and Chad tilts his head slightly. “You’d better mind your own business, buddy, or you’ll have another black eye in the morning.”
I look over at Adam, but I can’t see his far eye from my position. Does he really have a black eye? Does it happen that fast?
Adam doesn’t flinch. His face is still that blank calm. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at Chad.
Chad, who was trying to provoke a response, now shrinks a little under this silent treatment. Nicole seems to catch on to what is happening, and reaches for the door behind her. She catches eyes with me as a sort of good-bye, then turns to open the door. She’s running away from her own party.
“Fuck no,” Chad screams, and tries to reach past Adam to grab Nicole.
That was a mistake. Before he can touch her, Adam’s arm extends through the air silently. All I hear is a smack as his fist connects with Chad’s jaw. A line of blood splatters against the wall behind them, and Chad falls to the floor. Adam has knocked him out with one punch.
The room is silent. Nicole is no longer trying to get out the door. She’s looking down at Chad with about as much shock as everyone else in the room. Then, collecting herself, she takes a step around Adam and puts out her hand to shake. Adam looks down at it for a second in confusion, and then he takes it.
Nicole smiles at him. “Thank you, kind sir.” She looks over at me. “If you don’t want him, Erica, I’m next in line.” Adam blushes, and Nicole is already moving on as two of Chad’s friends drag him out the front door. He begins to regain consciousness, and seems a bit bewildered and dazed. He looks like a child that had no idea that anything could hurt him. Then he’s gone, with Nicole following to oversee his disposal.
As soon as he’s out, Adam’s posture changes. He turns to me with an embarrassed half-grin, and it’s now that I see his left eye.
“Ouch,” I say.
His eye is already swelling up and turning a ripe shade of purple. The bruise is a dark half-moon beneath it.