21-Joe

SATURDAY

Before he even opened his eyes, Joe could hear the rapid sounds of buttons clicking. His head hurt, and he moved it up slowly off the couch cushion.

Someone sat on the on floor in front of the TV playing Tekken. After a moment of utter confusion, Joe realized it was Brad, the tripping sophomore.

“Holy shit,” Joe murmured, his voice groggy. “I completely forgot about you.”

Brad paused the game and turned around. “Hey, Joe.”

With just those two words, Joe knew Brad was back to normal.

“Damn, you sound chipper. You feelin’ better now, right?”

“Yeah. I’m all sobered up. Well, relatively speaking.”

“You haven’t slept, have you?”

“Hell no.”

“What time is it?”

“Eight.”

Joe groaned and fell back on the couch, his eyes falling shut. He heard the noises of the buttons being pushed again as Brad resumed his game, and after a few minutes, he opened them again.

“So where did you go last night?” Joe asked.

“Just walked all over this neighborhood,” Brad replied. “I was Homer Simpson, man, following my spirit guide and shit.”

“Oh, that one with the Guatemalan insanity peppers, or whatever it was?”

“Hell yeah.”

“I love that show, man.”

“Oh, yeah, dude. My life would straight-up suck if it weren’t for The Simpsons.”

“You and me both, brother.”

“But hey, seriously, I can’t thank you enough for helping me out last night. I was hurtin’ bad when you and Paul found me.”

“No problem, man,” Joe said, as he finally sat all the way up. “When did you come back here, anyway?”

“It was like…four.”

“Was anyone up?”

“Paul was. We talked for a while, actually.”

“Huh.”

Brad kept playing the game, and Joe realized he wasn’t going to fall back asleep. At least not there, anyway.

“Shit, dude, I think I’m gonna go home. You need a ride?”

“Yeah. I’m ready anytime.”

“Let’s go,” Joe said, standing up shakily. He found his hat on the floor, put it on, and then stepped into his shoes.

Brad switched off the Playstation and the TV and then also stood up.

“Man, after I drop you off, I’m gonna go home and pass straight the hell out,” Joe declared.

“I will too, at some point,” Brad said. “Not sure when, though. I’m still feeling pretty wired.”

“When you finally do sleep, you’ll be out for a while. That’s a good sleep, after trippin.’”

“Yeah. I’m dearly looking forward to it.”

They walked outside through the backdoor. The startling amount of empty forty bottles, cans, and overflowing ashtrays bathed in the early morning light looked odd and misplaced.

They passed through the side gate and arrived to Joe’s car on the street.

Still half asleep, and still a little buzzed, Joe drove to Zack Huchzermeier’s neighborhood. He rolled up toward the house slowly, looking about cautiously. Brad’s car was parked right in front. Joe dropped him off. He noticed the trash in the yard had been cleaned up, but the mailbox looked busted, and patches of grass were badly trampled. He didn’t hang around very long, though, and nor did Brad. It felt like a crime scene and they were accomplices.

With no one else in the car, Joe pumped up the radio a bit and drove home with it blaring alternative rock drear. He felt sleepy, drunk, and hung-over all at the same time, but still, a slight grin never left his face.

He approached his own house with all the caution he had approaching Zack’s, moving slowly, scoping the scene out. The absolute last thing he felt like doing was explaining his night to his parents and why he was coming home at 8 a.m. Not to mention the fact he surely smelled like a brewery and an ashtray.

Joe parked, walked up the driveway and quietly opened the front door. Opera music was blaring from upstairs, from his mom, who was always cranking that shit. He was happy for it though—she was the one who’d have the strongest backlash, and Joe’s room in the basement, so he could avoid her. With very light feet, he walked down the hall and into the kitchen, moving toward the basement steps. Joe glanced into the living room and noticed his dad was there watching TV. Joe froze, thinking how he was busted, caught red-handed, but then he realized this was not so. SportsCenter was on the TV, and his dad was asleep in front of it—a fairly common occurrence.

Joe exhaled and crept down the basement steps, moving faster and faster the further he made it down. Soon he was running across the basement floor toward his room, like he was nearing the finish line of a race. He deeply feared hearing his name being called from above at the last second. But that ringing voice never came, and Joe shut the door behind him. He slammed his wallet and keys down on the top of his dresser, chucked his hat to the floor, and then peeled off his shirt and threw it over his desk chair where most of his other shirts had accumulated. Then he dropped his shorts, stepped out of them, and dove into bed. He did all of this without turning on the light, and it was nice and dark as he threw the covers over his head and passed out, just like he said he would.

It felt that he had only been asleep for five minutes or so when the cruel intrusion came.

“Joe, get up!”

He kept his eyes shut, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening.

“Joe!”

It was his mom. She stood at the top of the basement steps, her piercing voice ringing down.

“What?” he yelled back groggily.

“Get up! It’s a quarter to one! And you have a phone call!”

He reached blindly toward the nightstand, feeling around for the handset of his phone.

“I got it!” Joe yelled back.

After hearing the click of her hanging up, Joe said hello into the phone, and his voice cracked as he did.

“Dude, you still sleeping?”

It was Trey. His voice was annoyingly loud and enthusiastic. Joe sighed, sleepily.

“Get up, man,” Trey said. “We’re playing volleyball.”

Joe sighed again, already knowing how this would all play out. He’d protest, but Trey would talk him into it. Trey always did. Then he’d go and play, it would be fun, very fun actually, and ultimately Joe would be glad he went.

But that did little to soothe his anger in the moment.

“Damn you, Trey,” Joe mumbled. “I hate you.”

“You’re going, Joe. Don’t try to fight it. Anyway, I already talked to Nikki, and she’s coming, and she’s bringing Katherine also.”

Joe’s eyes opened wide as he leaned up quickly in his bed. The taut phone cord knocked his alarm clock off the nightstand and it tumbled to the floor.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, man. I just talked to her. We’re meeting there at two. So, I’ll pick you up in about an hour. Get your ass out of bed.”

“Uh, yeah, all right.” Joe couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Later.” Trey hung up.

Joe jumped out of bed, rushed to the bathroom, and hopped in the shower. He was in and out rapidly, got dressed, and then walked quietly up to the kitchen, trying to keep a low profile. His dad was still around, awake this time, and Joe spoke with him briefly, merely mentioning that he was on his way out to go play volleyball. Joe could tell his dad either didn’t know or didn’t care that he never made it home last night. Joe liked this arrangement.

He wolfed down four bowls of cereal and pounded two tall glasses of water and then was ready to go.

Joe stood in his driveway, the warm rays of the sun shining down on him, wearing a T-shirt and gym shorts, flip-flops, and sunglasses. He kept hoping to see Trey’s station wagon come around the corner, and then finally it did. Joe hopped into shotgun and they took off, and it felt like a smooth jailbreak.

Trey had his long hair held back in a bandanna and wore his typical huge grin.

“What’s up, man?” Trey asked as they drove along. “Why you acting all sneaky? Your parents give you shit for not coming home last night?”

“No…well, not yet, anyway.”

“But you’re expecting it at some point?”

“I don’t know. With them, it’s like they only seem to care if they actually catch me in the act of being drunk, or coming home late, or whatever kind of misbehavior it might be, you know? If I make it home without running into them, it’s like…I’m in the clear.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Well, unless all of my blatant misconduct has just been building up into a giant shit-storm, due to explode on some upcoming night.”

Trey laughed. “Let’s just hope said impending shit-storm won’t be tonight, right?

“Yeah. This weekend is already too great. I don’t want anything to sour it.”

“You said it, bro.”

The warm air whipped in through the open windows and 311 blared on the radio.

“So, you already talked to Nikki, huh?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, man. She said she’d call Katherine and that they’d meet us down there.”

“Sweet.”

“I know, right? I’m lovin’ these sophomore chicks.”

It wasn’t the first time Trey had said that, and like the first time, Joe agreed with him.

They pulled out of Joe’s neighborhood and soon cruised down the unspectacular concrete jungle of the main drag through town.

“I’m glad to hear Katherine is coming out,” Joe remarked.

“What makes you say that?”

“She was pretty wasted last night. She threw up after we made our mad dash out of that party last night.”

“No way, where?”

“In the woods. When she got sick I had these awful visions of having to carry her home, ringing her doorbell, and then not knowing if her dad would thank me, or…”

“Punch you in the face?”

“Yeah. Fortunately, she was fine, though. She took care of her business and then bounced right back, like it had been nothing. I was impressed.”

“Nice.”

“But, yeah, hey, thanks for getting her all wasted last night. Were you guys trying to make her sick, schooling her in quarters, or what? She’s a rookie, you know.”

“Hey man, she’s the one who kept coming back to the table. Who am I to deny someone alcohol?”

Joe grumbled. “Good point.”

“It’s a rite of passage, dude. Who hasn’t had their ass handed to them in quarters?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I think she’s actually just a cool girl, man. She’s down. Nikki, too. They’re both down.”

“I agree, man. I had Katherine pegged so differently, too. But, I’m quickly finding out otherwise. She’s actually becoming nicely initiated.”

“You gonna initiate her to some other things, also, Joe?”

He felt short of breath for a moment. “I goddamn hope so,” he replied.

Trey laughed.

“So, who else is coming out for volleyball?” Joe asked.

“I talked to Antwann, and he said he’d scrounge up everyone who crashed at his house. So, they should all be there. Except Rob. He has work.”

“That sucks. I have off today, but I got to work tomorrow, which I’m sure will suck equally as bad.”

“How is it working down there at the golf course?”

“Pretty cool, man, but I’m not sure it’s as cool as that fucking racket you run down at the pool, though.”

They were quiet for a moment until Joe finally asked, “By the way, what the hell was up with fuckin’ gats comin’ out last night?”

“I know, right?” Trey replied. “Shit is freakin’ silly, man. I’m just tryin’ to get my drink on and my smoke on, I ain’t tryin’ to get shot. Last time I checked, this ain’t fuckin’ Compton.”

They pulled up to a 7-Eleven. Behind it was a sand volleyball court bordered on one side by a parking lot overgrown with weeds and the other by a rusted chain link fence. The guys had already cast off their shirts and stood on the hot sand drawing out-of-bounds lines with the heels of their feet. Lauren and Nikki wore sports bras and bumped a ball back and forth.

Joe looked all about with a growing concern, because Katherine was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, Joe,” Nikki said. “Katherine couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, really? That’s too bad.” He tried to say it casually, despite feeling like he’d just been punched in the gut.

An hour after starting the first game they took a break. Joe, covered in sweat and sand, approached Nikki again, this time without anyone else in earshot.

“So, why couldn’t Katherine make it?” he asked intently.

Nikki had a huge smile on her face. “She said she was really embarrassed about last night.”

“What?” Joe asked, trying to look shocked.

“That girl normally doesn’t drink. Trust me, I know. She’s a lightweight. And last night, she was drunk.”

“So? We had a good time.”

“That’s what I heard.”

“So, what’s the big deal?”

“She just…she thinks she made a fool of herself.”

“Oh my God, that isn’t true!”

“Well…she’s convinced otherwise.”

Joe was at a complete loss for words.

Some of the others neared, so Nikki whispered. “Look, I’ve known her for a long time, okay? She can be a lunchbox. Trust me. You’ll just have to call her and talk to her.”

“I will,” Joe whispered. “I would have already, but I thought she’d be here!”

“It’s cool. Just call her.”

Another hour passed.

After a fourth consecutive serve went dead into the net, Raza made an executive decision.

“Alright, I think we should just call it a game. This is getting ridiculous.”

The feeling was mutual as they slunk off the court, tired and sunbaked, retrieving various shirts and sandals scattered about the sidewalk and the grass.

“So, what time y’all comin’ over?” Antwann asked as he neared his car.

“I don’t know, man, you tell us. What time is the party starting?” Paul asked.

“Shiiit, there’s probably niggaz waiting at my door right now,” Antwann replied.

“So anytime is cool then?”

“Yeah.”

“Any more late night visits from Jimmy Redman and Co. in store for tonight, Antwann?” Raza asked.

“And gats being drawn?” Trey piped in.

Antwann simply pointed at Paul. “His fault,” he said. “Him and his boy Rob, getting into all sorts of shit. You better keep tabs on this guy, Lauren.”

“I try,” she answered.

“How about you, Nikki? You comin’ over again tonight?” Antwann asked.

She hesitated. “Umm…maybe. Trey? You going too?” She looked at him.

“Only if you’ll be my quarters partner again,” he replied, beaming at her.

She smiled back, a radiant one.

“I’ll give you a call later.”

“Cool.”

At the last second before getting in their cars, Ronnie pulled back. “Oh shit, what about you, Joe? You gonna be there tonight, right? Or do you need to ask for permission first?”

They all looked at him, the guys with their shit-eating grins, the girls with curious expressions. Joe hated it all.

“Fuck you, I’ll be there,” he said.

“All right, all right.”

Seconds later, they all drove off, and Joe once again sat in shotgun in Trey’s car, the air whipping in through the windows.

“How come they’re always giving me shit?” Joe asked. “You were practically making out with Nikki back there, and no one says a thing. It’s not fair.”

Trey shrugged. “I don’t know, bro. I think it’s just…”

“What?”

“You’re kind of more fun to harass, for whatever reason that is. You’re right, it’s totally unfair.”

Joe sighed, frustrated. “Katherine is killing me, dude. I wish she just would have come.”

“Yeah, why didn’t she?” Trey looked over at him. “She wasn’t feeling so good after all, huh?”

“Man, not even. Nikki said she was all embarrassed about last night, I guess because she threw-up. Like I give a shit, you know? I just want to hang out.”

“Well, maybe she’ll come out later.”

“Maybe. Just…I wish everyone would know and fully understand how I was actually impressed with her last night, you know? The only thing, I mean the only thing, that bums out, even a little, the only turnoff I have, is the strong reaction this morning, you know? I mean, she threw-up. Who gives a fuck? It happens to everyone. Hell, I might throw-up tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m just sayin,’ it’s in play. It always is.”

“You make a valid point, Joe. So, what are you gonna do?”

“Call her up when I get home, and see how she’s doing.”

“That’s strong work, bro.”

“Thanks.”

“You gonna bring her over to Antwann’s tonight?”

“I have no idea. Hopefully.”

Trey laughed. “You crack me up, bro.”

The station wagon pulled up to Joe’s house and he jumped out of it. He jogged swiftly into his house.

Once inside, before he even showered, he grabbed the phone book. He flipped through it rapidly, found her number, and began dialing without hesitation, like it was a race. He liked the fact he still had sweat and sand on him, and that he hadn’t thought of a single word he might say. He hated trying to choreograph or plan anything. That only led to disaster. No, he had one game plan and one game plan only—to improvise. Some might call it winging it.

She picked up quickly, after barely a full dial.

“Hi, Joe,” she said, as soon as she heard his voice.

“Hey, Katherine. How are you?”

“I’m good. How was volleyball?”

“Oh, it was cool. You should have come. I think you’d have had a good time.”

“I know I should have…I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right.”

The silence went on for a bit too long, until Joe broke it, masterfully.

“Uh…did you get in alright last night?”

“Yeah! I told my parents I was home, and then just snuck up to my room. They didn’t try to talk to me, which is a good thing, since I was…kind of drunk last night, Joe!”

“Well…did you have fun?”

“Yes…I did.”

“That’s what’s important.”

“What about you?

“Oh, I had a blast last night…once I finally got to the party.”

“I know! I was waiting for you forever. I didn’t think you were going to make it, and I was so glad when you showed up.”

He shut his eyes for a second, smiling. “Well, I had an awesome time with you…even though it went so fast.”

“I did too,” she said sweetly.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“Well…I told my parents like a week ago that I would stay home to watch my little brother while they went out. I wish I wouldn’t have! Now I’m kinda stuck…babysitting.”

“Aw, that’s too bad.”

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll probably just go to Antwann’s, I guess.”

“You could stop by here if you want,” she proposed.

“Really? That would be all right?”

“Yeah. I’d like to see you tonight.”

“I’d love to come. What time?”

“Any time after seven.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

They said bye to one another, and Joe hung up the phone. Then he pumped his fist in the air a few times, triumphantly, and even struck it once or twice against his sandy chest.