Bright Lights, Dark Nights

by Stephen Emond

“So do we need to have a talk?” Dad asked as he stepped out of his room and put his jacket on. “You know, with the party, and the girls.”

  “No,” I said, instantly and definitively, and shook my head. Dad nodded.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “Use a condom.”

  “Dad, what kind of party do you think this is?” I asked. Although truthfully, I had no idea myself what kind of party it was. Parties and I don’t mix—that’s an accepted fact. If there were unknowns and unspokens in my budding awkwardness with Naomi, a party, well … I don’t have to go any further.

  *

  We made our way to the fifth floor in a building in High Hill, out in the city, not too far from where we went to the concert. The idea was for Naomi and me to go to the party as a detective and a femme fatale, but Naomi had interpreted “femme fatale” as “gangsta bitch.” She had baggy jeans, a loose belt, and a backward cap on. It looked like I was taking her into custody.

  “We had less than a week, and I don’t exactly have any nineteen forties evening wear lying around,” she said. I had a cute gangsta bitch on my arm, and I couldn’t pull my gaze away.

  The party was essentially a room where people could talk and hang out for longer than the seconds between bell rings we got at school. Aside from a group of kids freestyle-rapping near the TV, everyone was pretty much grouped off and talking to each other. The apartment was really cool, with big windows and a nice view of the city. The lighting was dim, and the living room was fairly crowded and noisy. The music fought the TV, which fought the YouTube videos on the computer, which fought the conversation and laughter. Plastic cups all over. There was a table with food.

  “Well, hellooooo,” one of Naomi’s friends said, two syllables that explained more than I’d ever need to know about the one named Maelynne. She gave me a once-over and Naomi an accusatory glare for springing this surprise. Apparently, I was a surprise.

  “So many slutty costumes,” Maelynne said, looking around. “Did you see Bethany yet?”

  Naomi shook her head.

  Maelynne was a tall Asian girl with sharp eyebrows and a smile that only enhanced her mischievous look. She had long hair down her back. Maelynne and Naomi’s friend Kaylee were on costume-review duty. “I don’t even know what the hell she is,” Maelynne said. “She’s wrapped in plastic or something. You can practically see everything! It’s like … see-through Saran Wrap. That’s her costume. What is that?”

  “Maybe she’s someone’s leftovers,” Kaylee said. Kaylee’s mouth was painted stitched-shut and she spoke as if in character, which is to say rarely. She had neck-length bobbed hair, sleepy eyes, round cheeks, and a button nose. She looked sullen but polite in a possibly not-a-costume Goth outfit. Maelynne made up for Kaylee’s silence and then some. She spoke enough for all four of us, and her cat costume was appropriately catty.

  “I think we can all agree that it’s pretty clear she’s a fashion mummy,” I said.

  “Fashion mummy!” Maelynne said with a big smile. “What is that? Mystery guest is funny!”

  “Seriously, Mae, how can you even be judging fashion mummy right now when you’re in a slutty cat costume?” Naomi snapped back, accurately.

  “It’s just a regular cat costume,” Maelynne said with a shocked face. She stroked her tail. “I can’t help it if cats are naturally slutty!”

  “So is no one going to mention my slutty Goth costume?” Kaylee deadpanned. She presented her costume. “It’s not skimpy,” Kaylee said, and then smiled. “But you don’t know what my Goth is doing behind closed doors.”

  “Tell us, please,” Maelynne said, clasping her hands together. “What is your Goth doing behind closed doors?” The girls all laughed, bumping into each other. I might have missed the joke.

  “Oh,” Maelynne continued, and put her arms around Naomi’s shoulders. She turned her toward the kitchen and pointed at a tall, dark man with a large Afro who was standing by the sink, sweatpants on and not a ton else—he had the body to pull it off. “Who is that? I’m honestly in love with him, and I need his name and phone number.”

  “Never seen him before,” Naomi said. “And I hope you didn’t ask me just because he’s black.”

  “Um, you know what his costume is, right?” Kaylee asked them. Maelynne shrugged. “He’s white. His body is, like, painted brown. I know that kid.”

  “Get the f—” Maelynne started before all three broke out in laughter. “Well, I don’t care if that guy is racist. I’m taking him home,” Maelynne said.

  “We’re nothing if not socially responsible here in East Bridge,” I said to some laughs. Life of the party, that’s me. I was good for an occasional one-liner.

  “And what are you dressed as?” Maelynne asked. “Dick Tracy?”

  “I’m a slutty detective,” I said.

  Maelynne laughed, maybe a little too hard, and she took my fedora and put it on her head. “Really?” she asked, as if I were flirting. “Are you in the market for a cat?”

  “Not in the cat market,” I said. Kaylee touched my forehead hair curl.

  “So are you two…?” Maelynne inquired, pointing at Naomi and me intermittently. It was cool to see who Naomi hung out with, what her friends were like, and it was especially cool that she was introducing me to that part of her life, but these girls were going to require a high adjustment period from me. If Naomi spoke with reckless abandon, these girls made an art of it.

  “Walter’s my husband, if you must know,” Naomi said. “We eloped, whirlwind romance … you know, the works.”

  I shook my head. “No, you didn’t pay enough for husband,” I said. “You paid boyfriend prices. This is in strict violation of our agreement.”

  Naomi played along. “Well, that’s unprofessional, not to mention crazy embarrassing,” she said. We had a future in improv. “Obviously I was going to pay you the difference after the party, but now you aren’t getting any of my money.”

  “That’s fine,” I said. “You can expect a visit from my cohorts Johnny and Jimmy, though, and good luck not paying them.”

  “I’ll let Johnny and Jimmy be my boyfriends,” Naomi said.

  “Okay, so you two are definitely an item,” Maelynne said, and took off my hat. “So I’ll just put this back on you, then.”

  The night continued on like that, the four of us stuck together with Mae ready to ditch us for cute guys at a moment’s notice. We made our way to a snack table, and we sat on the floor in the living room for a while. I was on the periphery of the group at first. Mae talked about her crushes; they talked about classes. I mostly chimed in with jokes or answered direct questions. Naomi and I continued to dodge any labeling of our togetherness. Eventually the bodies shifted around, and I was part of the circle. It was all going smoothly. Then Naomi left us.

  “I’m not sure I can afford much more escort time,” Naomi said around ten or so, “so I’m going to mysteriously excuse myself and use the restroom.” Naomi got up and left me with the cat and the Goth. With Naomi gone, there was nothing to talk about but me. Or at me.

  “You really like her, huh, Walter the escort?” Maelynne asked. She had a gaze that felt like she was picking apart every detail of her surroundings. I didn’t think much got past her. It felt like she was looking at me and simultaneously browsing through a cache of my deepest thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I said. “She’s really cool. Of course I do.”

  “She’s the best, isn’t she? She’s perfect. She’s the bomb,” Maelynne said, sprawling out a bit on the floor. She had a very casual way about her. “I’ve seen you around school. I’m going to bother you every time I pass you. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Yeah, are you kidding?” I asked. “I’m always looking for more people to bother me. Please do.” I twirled my shoelaces around my finger—back to the fun guy I was without Naomi present.

  “She’s never had a boyfriend, you know,” Maelynne said. “This is new—I’m so intrigued.” She looked at Kaylee, who was leaning back, watching
the party, possibly not entirely present in this conversation. How I would usually be. “Kaylee, can you see them together? I can see it. You’re a good couple.”

  “We’re not a couple,” I said. “Not really, not until she pays me, anyway.”

  “You will be—I can tell,” Maelynne said. “And then there’s no time for Mae and Kay. We’re gonna get along great, okay, Walter?” She nodded. “We’re pro-you, okay?”

  I smiled and gave a thumbs-up.

  A few more minutes passed. Kay was feeding Mae potato chips for some reason, and I had little to do but watch the clock and wait for Naomi. That was when I saw Lester Dooley, and he had Naomi cornered near the kitchen. I’d seen Lester with Jason before, so it stood to reason Naomi could know him, but he looked aggressive to me, leaning in a little too close.

  Naomi was laughing at whatever he was saying. I figured the cool thing to do would be to hang back here, but if he was flirting with her, or if she was uncomfortable, I should probably step in. I was cool with Lester now; I could approach him. But I didn’t want to come across as jealous or possessive. But then I was a detective for the night. The indecisive detective.

  “Is it awkward if I go sit on Brownface’s lap?” Maelynne asked. “I am a cat. It’s what I do, right?” This seemed like as good an excuse as any to check on Naomi. Naomi and Lester both smiled when I approached.

  “Wally Wilcox, the cop’s son,” Lester said as I reached them. He nudged Naomi and pointed. “This kid’s cool.” He must not have seen us come in together.

  Naomi smiled. “Hey, Walter.”

  “Hey,” I said. “Hey, Lester. How’s it going?”

  “I’m all right. You get home okay the other week?” Lester asked. And to Naomi, “He got locked up in a cop car walking home from school.”

  “Sorry about that,” I said, remembering Dad’s full-on interrogation of Lester. “That was embarrassing.”

  “That’s cool,” Lester said. “I’m sure you told your dad I wasn’t trouble when you got home, right?” He flashed his bright smile; I flashed my trademark half-committal semigrin. “You know his dad’s a cop?” Lester asked Naomi. “Officer Wilcox, Wally Wilcox’s dad. I don’t even think he recognized me. He pulled over when he saw his son with a black guy.”

  “That’s not what happened,” I said. It made sense that he might have stopped regardless of who I was with. And he clearly knew Lester, who didn’t exactly blend in, with his massive size.

  “I’m just playing, Wally, you’ll get used to it,” Lester said, reaching out toward my face. “Let me see those glasses for a second. These big, thick frames, I gotta see how I look in these.”

  Lester pulled the glasses off and put them on himself. Naomi stood uncomfortably, and we shared a glance. Lester looked around the room. “Whoa. These are not fashion glasses. Dude has some real eye problems. How do I look?” Lester leaned like a model against the wall. “How’s this look? Do I look good? Handsome? You’d go to homecoming with me in a pair of these, right?”

  “Funny, Lester,” Naomi said with just a hint of more patience than I had. “Give him his glasses back.”

  “Hey, Jake,” Lester said calling out behind him. Apparently Jake was Brownface—perfect. “How do I look, man? Do I look smart in these? If you were police, would you let me walk by?”

  “You pull off the hipster look about as well as I pull off brown,” Jake said, and Lester cracked up.

  “Hipster—I love it. You got balls, Jake,” Lester said, cracking up. And to me, “Wally, is that what you are, a hipster? That’s great; that’s perfect.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “Just a little blind.”

  Lester took out his cell to take some selfies with my glasses. “I need to listen to some indie music, play a guitar. This could be my new thing,” he said, posing for his pictures. “Naomi, you like hipsters?”

  He was having fun at my expense, showing off for his friends. Trying to impress Naomi and definitely too concerned with what she thought of him. I did not like parties.

  “Lester, seriously,” Naomi said. “Give him his glasses back. That’s not funny.”

  “I’m sorry, man,” Lester said, handing the glasses back. “I had to try them on. Here you go, good as new.” I put them back on. “Yeah, you look sharp, man,” Lester said, giving the okay sign with his hands. “Both of you, good-looking couple. Have fun.”

  “See you around, Lester,” Naomi said, rolling her eyes. Lester joined Jake, and Naomi turned back toward the living room and I followed her. A couple came into the living room from the fire escape.

  “Do you want fresh air?” I asked. It looked like a good idea. “I feel like I could use some fresh air.”

  “Oh god, yes,” Naomi said, nodding.

  “So you know Lester,” I said, eyebrows raised. The jury was out on how friendly he was, but friend or foe, he was intense to be around. I was sweating.

  “A little. He’s like a family friend,” Naomi said. “He was arrested the summer before high school for throwing some upperclassman through a door at a house party. He’s got some anger issues, poor family, this and that. He did this mentoring program and my dad kinda took him under his wing. So he was around a lot this one summer. He’s not a bad kid, just dealt a real bad lot in life.”

  “I kinda feel sorry for him,” I said. I swayed my body a little, unsure how to stand or what to do with my hands. “Just a little, though.”

  “I know, right?” Naomi said. “He’s like a tiny, soft turtle in a big, giant shell. With spikes.”

  Naomi shrugged, and it looked like a cold shrug to me. I took off my jacket and put it around her. I took off her hat and spun it around so it faced forward. Naomi smiled.

  As we leaned on the railing, I moved my body a little closer to hers. I wished we could stay outside on the fire escape. I wished that was the party and the rest wasn’t there. And everyone else would be gone by the time we went back in.

  “Sorry about that, anyway,” Naomi said, glancing at me. “I kinda hate parties.”

  “I’m not a huge fan, either,” I said. I played with my hair curl. “But I’m so popular, it’s just a thing I have to do.”

  “I have this social-anxiety thing,” Naomi said. “My parents keep me locked up, which I’m always grumbling about, but I kinda like it. I never know how to act. Hooray, party.” She pumped her fists up a bit. “I thought it might be fun if you were here, and it wouldn’t be, like, a ‘party’ and it’d just be—I don’t know—more fun or something. I’m not even sure what I’m talking about.”

  I could have turned her face to me and kissed her, right there with the lights of the city and the hat and my coat, and it would have been perfect. Instead, I chose option number two: doing nothing. The Walter Wilcox regular.

  “It was fun,” I said, and we both laughed knowing it really wasn’t. Neither of us was enjoying the party. But that’s the Awkwardness of What’s Next: it’s always awkward—it has to be. That’s the stage. “But it was. It is.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Naomi agreed, still looking forward at the city but turning her eyes to see me. She copied my patented semigrin.

  “This is a really nice view,” I said, looking around. A view I was aware I wouldn’t have, standing right beside Naomi Mills, if I’d stayed home and had a traditional Walter Saturday night. “I want to pack it all up and stick it outside my window.”

  “This is nothing,” Naomi said, shaking her head and squinting her eyes. “You ought to see where my sister used to take me some nights. You can see the whole city. I’ll show you. Remind me. This is just a warm-up.”

  So that’s what’s next, I thought.

  Naomi kissed me, a peck really, on the mouth. I hadn’t expected it, and then it was over, my brain scrambling to grab the details.

  “That was terrible,” she said, laughing at herself and backing away. She took off the hat and pushed her hair back with her hand. “I just kissed you like I kiss my aunt. That was like a three-year-old’s kiss
. I’m gonna jump off this fire escape, okay? I’m so embarrassed. Don’t try to save me.”

  “It wasn’t bad,” I said. “Any kiss is a good one with you. But … I mean, if you weren’t happy with it…”

  I stepped closer and we kissed again, longer. This was better than the kiss after the concert. It wasn’t a passing flash of a spark. I was able to savor it. I hadn’t ever kissed another girl besides Naomi, but I found it hard to believe any girl kissed softer or sweeter.

  She pulled away, put her hat back on. “Should we go back in?”

  I nodded. “We need to get Maelynne off Brownface’s lap.”

  “They’re so wrong,” Naomi said, and shook her head. “Everyone is so wrong.”

  *

  I didn’t get home till almost midnight. I fell asleep right away and woke up after what felt like half an hour, though the sun was up, to an odd smell: breakfast being cooked. And there were sounds—clanking in the kitchen. This hadn’t happened in years. Dad hadn’t cooked breakfast since the whole family was still living together. Eggs were his specialty, fancy eggs with lots of stuff in them—cheeses and meats. Back then, he’d do it all the time.

  “Where were you last night?” Dad asked as I shuffled into the kitchen.

  “What’s with the breakfast?” I asked him back, although I wasn’t about to turn down any Belgian waffles.

  There were smells of happiness and sunshine streaming in through the windows. I couldn’t remember waking up feeling this good, this open to possibility. I had, like, 74 percent of a girlfriend. I still had to ask her out, but that was just a technicality. I mean, someone was out there in the world waking up this morning, feeling the same sun, maybe smiling, maybe thinking about me the way I was thinking about her. That was amazing.

  “You still in your clothes from yesterday?” Dad said quizzically.

  “What are you so happy for?”

  “Is that lipstick on your collar?”

  “Nice try, Dad,” I said.

  “You win, I’ll go first,” Dad said. “I had an interesting evening.” He bobbed his head a bit. This was proud Dad. “I’m on duty, around eight p.m., driving south down Broad Street, and see a car with a taillight out. No big deal, that’s routine. Car’s driving slow, though, so that’s a little suspicious. I pull him over.”