I Will Save You

by Matt De La Peña

  “Busted,” he said.

  “What are you drinking?” I said.

  “Finest whiskey a man can buy for fifteen bucks.” He raised his glass like he was toasting me. “Tastes like piss.” He was slurring his words and his eyes were drooping and his whole body was sort of leaning to the side.

  “You okay, Mr. Red?”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Why do you still call me ‘Mr.’? Jesus, I’ve never understood that. Aren’t we friends by now?”

  I opened my mouth to say we were, but he waved me off and pointed at his other chair, still folded up and stashed in the bushes. “Pull that bad boy over here,” he said. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  I grabbed it, thinking how everybody wanted to talk to me, and how I always assumed it’d be about something bad.

  I sat down across from him.

  Peanut came near my feet, his tongue going, eyes switching between me and Mr. Red.

  “Ever wonder what this old guy’s thinking?” Mr. Red slurred.

  I shrugged, told him: “I thought you didn’t drink.”

  “I don’t.” He took the last sip out of his glass and filled it back up. “And don’t be asking me to pour you a glass, either, Kidd. I refuse to serve minors.”

  “I don’t want any.”

  “Well, that makes one of us,” he said.

  I watched him take another long drink and then turn to the ocean. You couldn’t see the big waves in the dark, but you could hear them. The thunder sound of water crashing on water.

  Mr. Red was drunk ’cause of his son. I knew that. But I kept trying to think why I felt so guilty about it. Like the whole thing was my fault.

  Peanut laid down but kept his eyes open.

  Like he wanted to watch over our talk.

  It was quiet for a couple minutes, except the ocean. Then Mr. Red took off his old sombrero, put it on his knee and ran a hand through his floppy blond hair. “Jesus, big guy, I’m drunker than hell.”

  “Should you stop?”

  “Of course I should stop.”

  He poured another glass and took a sip and looked at me for a while, shaking his head. “He was just doing a couple tricks on his skateboard, big guy. Him and his knucklehead buddies. At the mall.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  But I knew.

  “Was trying to ollie down some stairs. Like he had a couple hundred times before. This time he slipped, though. Bumped his head on the cement.” Mr. Red downed the rest of his drink. “According to his buddies it didn’t even seem that bad. They all laughed it off and kept skating. Including Ben.”

  I stared at Mr. Red’s beat-up sombrero, trying to imagine having your son die.

  I pictured my mom’s letter.

  The corner peeking out from under my pillow.

  “I felt the little bump on his head when he got home. Told him to shake it off. Tossed a bottle of aspirin in his lap. We ordered pizza and watched a baseball game on TV. Then we went to bed.”

  Mr. Red’s glass was balanced crooked on his knee.

  Some of his whiskey was dribbling out.

  “Went to his room the next morning. His mom was on her way over. But I couldn’t wake him up. Grabbed his shoulder and shook him. Called his name, over and over. Ben. Come on, buddy, you gotta get up. Mom’s gonna be pissed. But I couldn’t get him up.”

  Mr. Red’s glass slipped from his hand and fell to the dirt.

  Peanut lifted his head.

  The three of us stared at the fallen glass.

  Mr. Red took a swig straight from his bottle, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He smiled at me.

  I felt so sad for him and his son. It didn’t seem fair that someone like Mr. Red’s kid was gone, and someone with problems like me was still here.

  Right then Mr. Red’s Bob Marley song started playing on his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at who it was, and put it back.

  “Wanna hear the crazy thing about this life?” he said.

  I nodded.

  “You can be here one minute, talking like me and you, watching the Padres, and then you’re gone.”

  He snapped his fingers. “Takes two seconds, Kidd.”

  Even though Mr. Red was smiling, there were tears in his eyes.

  “All this stuff we do every day,” he said. “All we think. It’s hanging on by a thread.”

  I looked at the ground, picturing a kid who looked like Mr. Red falling off a skateboard. Picturing Olivia’s face mark. Devon’s gun against his own head. My dad punching my mom. Pushing me against a wall. Me caught in the ocean current.

  Even though Mr. Red was drunk, I knew he was exactly right. We could all die in two seconds. With barely anything.

  Why wasn’t anybody watching over us? I thought.

  Why wasn’t someone making sure?

  Then I considered my old philosophy, the one I thought back at Horizons. Nothing mattered. And nothing was worth it. And no one cared. I instantly felt my old sinking feeling.

  I wiped my face on my shirt.

  When I looked up, Mr. Red’s eyes were closed and his entire body was leaning way to the side.

  I hopped out of my chair and straightened him, the whiskey bottle slipping from his fingers and falling to the ground. Most of it spilling in the dirt.

  Peanut barked and barked.

  Until Mr. Red opened his eyes and looked at Peanut.

  Then he looked at me and said: “How’d you get over here so fast?”

  He chuckled under his breath and slouched back in his chair, his eyes closing again. “Hey, Kidd,” he said, his face losing its smile. “I always wanted to ask you something.”

  “Okay,” I said, putting his bottle straight.

  “It’s a serious question, though. Can you handle serious?”

  “Yeah,” I said, turning his wrist so I could see his watch. It was already after eleven. I was late to meet Olivia.

  “You know when I had a meeting with those supervisors last summer? Your Horizons people …”

  I looked over my shoulder, thought if I should hurry and meet Olivia and then come back or if I should keep listening to Mr. Red’s slurred words.

  Peanut stood up, watching me.

  “I wore a tie,” he said. “You picture that? Me in a tie?”

  “Mr. Red,” I said. “Can you wait here a minute?”

  “I can wait here forever, bud.” He laughed and said: “Nowhere else to go.”

  I told Peanut to stay and ducked through the brush and ran to my tent.

  Olivia was already standing there, waiting.

  “Kidd,” she said, soon as she saw me.

  I went right up to her. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “I just got here.” She took both my hands and looked in my eyes. “Listen, I realized something on my walk.”

  “What?” I said.

  She squeezed my hands and let them go. “You genuinely care about me.”

  I nodded.

  “Probably more than anybody besides my parents. So this all comes from a good place, I know. But can we agree on something?”

  “Okay,” I said, getting ready for something bad.

  “Can we please not talk about anyone following me?”

  I looked back at her, said: “It’s just, I want you to be safe—”

  “I’m fine, though,” she interrupted. She reached up and shook me by the shoulders. “Don’t you see that?”

  I nodded.

  She let go, said: “Honestly? You’re starting to scare me. And I don’t want to be scared at the campsites. I’ve been coming here since I was a little girl.”

  I didn’t say anything back. Olivia just didn’t understand. She’d lived her whole life in safe places. But I knew about the string Mr. Red said was holding things together. And how easily it could break. And I didn’t want that to happen to hers.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  She patted my arm.

  “I have to go help someo
ne,” I said. “Can I just see you tomorrow?”

  “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, too—Wait, who do you have to help?”

  “Mr. Red. He fell asleep in his beach chair.”

  “Need help?”

  I looked at Olivia, wondering if Mr. Red would want anybody else to see him drunk.

  Before I could tell Olivia no thanks, she said: “Lead the way.”

  I turned and started toward Mr. Red’s secret spot on the cliff, listening to the sound of Olivia’s footsteps behind me.

  Mr. Red’s Question

  When we got to Mr. Red, his head was leaning way to the side, almost touching his sombrero, which was upside down in the dirt. His whiskey bottle was back in his hand, too, even though it was empty.

  His phone played the Bob Marley song again, and Peanut stood beside him, nosing his leg.

  Me and Olivia rushed over and sat Mr. Red up straight.

  “Oh, my God,” Olivia said. “Is he totally wasted?”

  “I think he’s just tired,” I said, thinking Mr. Red wouldn’t want anybody to know.

  “No, look.” She pointed at the whiskey bottle.

  “Oh, yeah,” I told her. I shook his arm and said: “Mr. Red. Wake up.”

  He didn’t wake up.

  I automatically thought of his son and shook him harder. And said his name again.

  Olivia grabbed his phone off his lap, just as it stopped ringing, looked at the caller ID. “Who’s Bill the Deacon?” she said.

  “Mr. Red’s friend.”

  She put the phone back down, and right away it started ringing again. I picked it up this time and shook Mr. Red, but he still didn’t answer.

  “He’s passed out,” Olivia said.

  I flipped open the phone and said: “Hello?”

  “Red?” a deep voice said. “Where’s Red?”

  “He drank alcohol,” I said.

  There was a short pause and then the voice said: “Goddamn it! Okay, lemme speak with him. Is he there?”

  “He’s here, but he’s passed out.”

  “Who is it?” Olivia said.

  “Where’s ‘here’?” the voice said.

  “The campsites. In Cardiff.”

  “Be there in fifteen,” he said. And then he hung up.

  “Who was it?” Olivia said again.

  “This guy who’s part of Mr. Red’s alcohol program.”

  “Oh.” Olivia looked back down at Mr. Red. “Do you think this is because of his son’s birthday?”

  “Here,” I said, putting his sombrero back on his head. “We should carry him to his tent.”

  She nodded and we both put one of his arms over our shoulders and started moving him slowly down the campsite path, toward his tent. His legs barely doing any of the work. Peanut following right behind us.

  “Don’t you think, though,” Olivia said as we struggled along, “it’s because of his son?”

  “I think so.”

  She shook her head. “How does anyone get over something like that? Losing a person so close to you?”

  I looked at Olivia, wondering what she’d say if I told her how I lost my mom.

  We finally made it to Mr. Red’s tent, and I held him up while Olivia unzipped his door. We got him inside and laid him on his futon pad. Besides a small dresser there was nothing else, not even a picture of somebody. For the first time ever I saw Mr. Red as a lonely person. Even with all his women.

  He blinked his eyes a couple times and looked up at me, said: “Can you picture it, big guy?”

  “What?” I told him back.

  “A tie on me?”

  “You’re home now,” Olivia said. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

  Mr. Red looked at her, and then he looked back at me. You could tell he was too drunk to care what was even happening. “I just always wanted to ask about that,” he slurred.

  “About what?” I said.

  His breath was pure alcohol, which I knew the smell of from my dad.

  “Should I get him water?” Olivia said.

  “Good idea,” I said, lifting his head and sliding his pillow underneath.

  She went out of the tent.

  Mr. Red coughed and reached out his hand, like he was feeling for his whiskey bottle.

  “It’s gone,” I said.

  He grabbed his sombrero instead, laid it on his chest. “A nice kid like you, big guy,” he said. “It just kills me to think of it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying, Mr. Red.”

  Olivia came back into the tent with a bottle of water and touched it to Mr. Red’s hand.

  He took it and drank a little.

  Then he handed it back to Olivia and pointed at me. “Why’d you swallow all those pills?”

  I stopped what I was doing and stared at him.

  I turned to Olivia.

  Mr. Red let his hand fall to the mattress, said: “They told me in that meeting we had.”

  “What meeting?” I said.

  “I always wanted to ask,” Mr. Red said. “But it’s not my business. So I’m sorry.”

  I kept staring at him.

  My skin tingling.

  Mind emptying out, like a whiskey bottle in the dirt.

  “It’s just a thread, son. Why would anybody destroy it themselves?”

  “What pills is he talking about?” Olivia said, touching my arm.

  I shook my head. “I think he’s drunk like you said.”

  Mr. Red mumbled a little more about the pills, but his words got too slurred to even understand. And then his eyelids slid the rest of the way down his eyes. And his breathing got heavier like he was passed out again.

  “It wasn’t me,” I said under my breath, even though he was no longer listening.

  “It wasn’t me.”

  I backed away from the bed a little and stared at Mr. Red. Tried to think why he’d say that.

  Olivia was still looking at me. “What was he talking about?” she said.

  I shook my head, told her: “He mixed me up with another person.”

  Mr. Red had one arm over his eyes now. His sombrero on his chest. I made myself a deal.

  I could think about everything later. After I found Devon. After I did what I had to do.

  “You okay?” Olivia said.

  I looked at her and nodded. “I’m worried about Mr. Red.”

  She nodded.

  Me and Olivia waited like that, together.

  In Mr. Red’s empty tent.

  Not really talking.

  Until Bill the Deacon showed up a couple minutes later and said he’d take over.

  I walked Olivia back to her tent, sensing it was weird between us, ’cause we were barely talking. But I had no idea what to say to make it normal.

  She stopped three campsites away from hers, like usual. Peanut bumped into the back of my legs.

  We stood there looking at each other, and she said: “I’ve known Red for years. I never would’ve thought he had a drinking problem.”

  “I know,” I said.

  She smoothed down the flaps of her ski cap and said: “Know what’s strange, Kidd?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think people can truly know one another. I mean, really know.”

  I shoved my hands in the pockets of my cargo shorts, considering that. Even though she’d brought up Mr. Red, it felt like she was talking about me.

  “We only reveal what we want other people to know, right? It’s like we create these fictional characters for the public. And inside we’re somebody totally different.”

  “You think everybody does it?” I said.

  “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” she told me. “It’s just how it is. Everyone’s a puzzle that’s impossible to solve. ’Cause we never have all the actual pieces.”

  I stood there nodding, wondering if we could even solve ourselves.

  We were both quiet for a few seconds, and I watched Olivia lean down to pet Peanut. Her ski cap back on and her straig
ht blond hair coming out the bottom. Sundress and flip-flops. Rubber bracelets.

  Even if I could never solve Olivia, I thought, I had enough puzzle pieces to know I loved her.

  “So I’m gonna be at this college fair tomorrow,” she said. “And then my parents are taking my grandpa out to dinner for his birthday. So I won’t be around.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “And I think I might know something I’m not supposed to know. I heard my mom talking on the phone this morning. It sounded like my grandpa and dad might take me on a surprise trip to New York.”

  “Really?” I said.

  At first I was happy for her, thinking she could find out about that laser treatment for her mark. But then I realized something. It was almost the end of the summer already, so me and Olivia didn’t have that much time left. And what if her trip made it even less? What if it made it nothing?

  “Anyway, it’s not for sure yet.”

  “But you heard them say it?” I felt like I was never gonna see her again.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s what I overheard. Time to get my acting skills together, right? Pretend I’m super shocked if that’s what they tell me tomorrow.”

  “Will you be back at the campsites?” I asked.

  “That’s the thing,” she said. “I don’t know when we’d go. I have school coming up, and I know my dad would never let me miss. We’d probably go soon.”

  I looked at the ground, nodding, feeling my depression oozing back into my veins. It was worse than after I almost drowned in the riptide.

  “Hey,” she said, lifting my chin.

  I looked up and tried to smile.

  “I got an idea. We should watch the grunion together. That way, if I go to New York we’ll at least have one last time of hanging out.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “And you know what I was thinking?”

  “What?”

  “Maybe we could watch from that part of the cliff where we just found Red?”

  I nodded. “He said I could use his chairs.”

  “Awesome,” Olivia said. “It’s a date, then. I’ll come get you the day after tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “I better go, though,” she said.

  But then she paused, like she was thinking. “You think Red’ll be okay?”

  “I hope so,” I said. “I’ll check on him soon as I wake up.”

  “Good,” she said.