Climbing Up the Walls (15-17)

15.

“Did you get some good writing out?” she asked as we careened down the dirt road.

           

“Yeah, I think so, maybe.”

            

“You look exhausted. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

            

“Yeah. It’s cool though. I probably shouldn’t sleep at the table like that.”

            

“That where you were? Asleep sitting up? Sounds a little cramped.”

            

“I live in a camper.”

           

“Fair enough.”

            

“So, this party…?”

            

“Oh, yeah, it’s my friend Janet’s twenty first, so she’s having this like, thing, while her parents are out of town.”

            

“Don’t most people go to the bar on their twenty first?”

            

“Janet hates people.”    

            

“But she’s throwing a party?”

            

“Well, she likes her friends, she hates strangers, I meant.”          

            

“So you’re bringing me?”          

            

“Geez Louise. Relax, okay?”

            

“Okay.”

            

She smiled at me as we pulled up to the state route intersection. “It’s going to be a good time.”

   

        

16.

I sat in a circle of nine people, Megan to my left. We had been there nearly an hour and were sitting in Janet’s living room and passing around a darkened glass bowl and a bottle of Captain Morgan. I never liked rum, but like most things, I never passed it up. Monotonous hip hop pounded away mindlessly from the stereo in Janet’s bedroom down the hall and maybe it was the pot, but the incredibly irritating beat and nearly inaudible vocals were driving pins through my nervous system and stressing me the fuck out.

            

“Can we change the music?” I asked.

            

“Fuck off, bro,” one of the guys in the circle said. He was the sports type, right down to the eighties clichéd letter jacket. His was blue with white sleeves and a large blue and white “H” was sewn to the front. His hair was gelled and his brow shelved low onto his face. He smiled crooked at Megan. “Jay-Z fuckin’ rules.”

            

No one else seemed to pay attention. Janet was lying on her back staring at the ceiling with her legs crossed in front of her.

            

Two others to my left were mumbling who knows what to each other.

            

Others watched the bowl and bottle make its rounds.

            

Occasionally some of the circle spoke to itself and I sat and watched. Megan sometimes glanced at me and sometimes she glanced at letter jacket Cro-Magnon and I pretended I didn’t notice.  

            

“So why’d you even bring this faggot?” Letter Jacket asked Megan.

            

“Shut up Dane. You’re a faggot. David’s rad.” She nudged me and I didn’t look at Dane. I didn’t have a good feeling.

            

“Yeah, he looks real rad. You rad David? You rad, or’re you a faggot? I bet you’re a real cock licker, aren’t ya?”

            

“That’s it, you got me. Lickin’ cocks all day. Fuck off,” I said.

            

He stopped chuckling. “What the fuck’d you say to me?” He got up on his knees and began climbing to his feet.

            

“Dane, sit down,” Megan said. The others looked up but didn’t say anything.

            

“No, Megan. I think this little fucking queer had something to say to me. Isn’t that right you fucking queer? Fucking rad faggot queer?”

            

I knew as soon as I looked at him I was going to get the shit kicked out of me. I knew I’d embarrass Megan. Possibly destroy some of Janet’s house. I knew I should try to let it pass. But I was drunk.

            

I looked at him. “Sit down you fucking idiot. You’re being a dick.”

            

Before I knew what was happening I was in the air. He had charged me and for the moment I had been lifted into the air and then I was tossed against the wall and my back slammed into it and crushed the sheetrock and Janet was up.

            

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Janet yelled. “You broke the fucking wall! There’s a hole! Megan!”

            

Megan was already up though and shoving Dane. “Get the fuck out! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” She was screaming at him and everyone else was still sitting down. I looked at them and they mumbled and they smiled and I stood up and looked at the wall. I had put a hole into it. Or Dane did.

            

“You want more faggot?!” Dane said.

            

“Dane! Shut the fuck up!” Megan was trying to pull him toward the front door.

            

“You broke my fucking wall! Both of you! Get the fuck out of my house!” Janet said.

            

My back hurt. I had missed a coffee table and an end table and a vase. I picked up the vase and threw it at Dane.

            

It landed and exploded around his face.

            

Janet screamed. Megan screamed. Some of the remaining circle members laughed. Some clapped. Dane stumbled backward. Megan glared at me. “Let’s go.”

            

She came toward me. “I’ll bring you home.”      

            

I didn’t have time to answer. Megan was tossed to the side and Dane’s terrible face was streaked in blood and dirty water and his skin was red beneath it and his eyes were wide and his brow hung low and he charged me. The night ended.

17.

A streetlamp here. A neon sign. The rumble of dirt under tires. Black. The car was stopped. No light. Door opened. My face hurt. The air was cold.

            

“Let’s go,” Megan said. “Stand up.”

            

I could feel her lift my arm over her shoulder. I stood. All of my body said no.

            

“I’m sorry,” I tried to say.

            

“Is it unlocked?” she asked.

            

“What?”

           

“The camper, David. Is it unlocked?”

           

“It doesn’t lock.”

            

She pulled me along and I shuffled through the dirt and she leaned in and I heard the door open and I could smell the piss mold and then I was climbing the stairs and inside.

            

“Fuck,” Megan said.

            

“What?”

           

“It’s small in here. I hit something. Where do you sleep.”

            

“Bed.”

           

“Yeah, I know, I meant, never mind. Found it. Lay down.”

            

She swung me and I bumped into the counter and fell onto the old mattress.

            

“Did I win?”

           

“Win what, David?”

           

“The fight.”

            

“Wasn’t much of a fight.”

           

“Okay. I’m not tired.”   

           

“You need to sleep.”

           

“I’m not tired.”

            

I felt her sit on the mattress near my legs and heard her sigh. “I tried to tell Janet it wasn’t your fault.”

            

“Thank you.”

            

“Yeah.”

            

“Megan?”

           

“What?”

           

“I just met you.”

           

“That’s true.”

            

“So…”

            

“So what?”

            

“You stuck up for me.”

            

“What are you getting at?”

            

“And you got me home.”

           

“I took you out.”

            

“And you took me out.”

            

“Christ almighty. I know all of this. What are you getting at David?”

           

“Well, why?”

            

“What is it with you David? Are you always asking why? Didn’t you ask me this earlier? Who gives a shit why. I hung out with you because I wanted to and it was fun. I brought you out because I had fun hanging out. I stuck up for you because I’m not a shitty person and Dane is. I took you home because I brought you there. What do you want me to say?”

           

“You’re a good person I think and I’m glad I met you,” I said.

            

“Me too.” She put her hand on my leg.

            

“Megan?” I asked.

           

“Yeah?”

           

“Is my fucking nose broken?”

           

“I think so.”

            

“Fuck.”

            

“Yeah.”