22-Brad

Brad had a few scattered, vague memories of his mom at his door. He couldn’t remember much of what she said, but he did recall the clear concern in her face, which was upsetting to him, much more so than that would usually be.

Hours passed, though they felt like seconds, and she was there yet again.

“Brad?”

He grunted in response. He deeply feared what she’d say next, because he might have no idea how to respond.

“How long are you going to sleep?” she asked. “It’s 3 p.m.”

She could have told him it was 3 p.m. or that is was 3 a.m. and he wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Any sense of time was gone.

“I’m just taking a nap. I’m tired.”

“Well, I got home a little while ago. There’s a message on the machine from Clay. He wants you to give him a call.”

“Okay.”

“And who is this girl calling you? Amy Weaver?”

What? It felt like an electric jolt went through his whole body. The sudden intersection of Amy Weaver and his mom having anything to do with one another whatsoever was something he wasn’t at all prepared for.

“When did she call?” he asked finally.

“Yesterday,” she replied.

In Brad’s delirious fatigue, he didn’t know if that meant before or after his acid trip. He hated that he didn’t know and couldn’t make sense of any of it at all. His mom’s bothered face, his inaction with Amy, his complete lack of wherewithal for what was going on—all of these things rushed upon him and felt like massive weights, dragging him down into cold, unknown depths, and for the millionth time he wished he could turn back the clock and undo the acid decision. The regret was a slow burn as his eyes refused to stay open and he drifted off to sleep once more.

He woke up again with a start.

Another hour had passed. His mom was gone, but she’d left the door wide open.

Brad forced himself out of bed, trying to shake the grogginess. The scene of his mom questioning him about Amy Weaver with a concerned look on her face was still etched in his mind, and he wondered if that had been real or if he’d dreamt it. Shakily, he got ahold of the cordless phone and then retreated back to his room. He punched in Clay’s number.

“Hello?” Clay answered.

“Hey.”

“Dude, what happened to you last night?” Clay asked intently.

“Most fucked-up night of my life, man. I’ve never tripped that hard, not even close.”

“Oh my God, that’s right. You were tripping through all that. I forgot about that. That’s crazy, man. You’re crazy.”

“I know.”

“So, I’m assuming you got out of there before the cops came?” Clay asked.

“Luckily so, yeah. How about you?”

“I was damn near passed out on the couch when they came barging in the door.”

“What happened after that?”

“They made me call up my parents, and they came and picked me up.”

Brad winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“What about Zack? Have you talked to him? I wonder how he’s doing.”

“I haven’t been brave enough to try giving him a call yet. I’m sure he’s fucked, though.”

“Yeah. His house was in rough shape.”

“You got out of there at the right time. In that respect, you were more clear-headed than I was. Where did you go, anyway? I’m assuming it wasn’t back home.”

“No, hell no. I ended up at a different party altogether.”

“What? Which one?”

“You know Antwann Jackson?”

“You went to Antwann’s Jackson’s party last night?” Clay asked. “How the hell did you manage that?”

“In the aftermath of the busted party I happened to run into Paul Lee and Joe Cunningham, and I must have looked like I needed help, so…they just brought me along with them.”

“Damn, that was cool. What was Antwann’s like?”

“Cool. Once I finally came down and chilled out a bit, I stayed up pretty much all night, hanging with Paul Lee. He’s actually a really cool dude.”

“Huh. What a crazy night.”

“So, I take it you aren’t doing anything tonight?”

“Hell no, dude, I can’t. I’m grounded like a mofo. How about you? What are you doing?”

“I don’t know, man. Probably nothing. There’s another party at Antwann’s tonight, and Paul told me to come over for it, but…I don’t think I will.”

“You should go, dude. Call up Amy Weaver and bring her over there. She’ll want to go, I bet, and she’ll be all impressed, since you’re cool with them now.”

“Yeah…right.”

“Nah, I’m serious. I mean it, dude. You should call her. That’s why I kept trying to find you last night, man. She was looking for you.”

“No way.”

Clay continued. “She was looking for you, man. I’m totally for real. She really wanted to find you, and she kept asking me where you were. I had to keep telling her I didn’t know. No one knew.”

“Clay, if you’re just fucking with me, please say so.”

“Dude, I’m not. For the last time. I’m serious.”

“Ugh…” Brad hung his head, feeling worse yet still. Amy had called his house, she’d been searching for him at a party, and all the while, Brad had been…

“What? Talk to me, dude.”

“If I’ve blown my one chance with Amy in favor of a miserable night on acid, I might never forgive myself, Clay. Do you realize that?”

Clay laughed.

“I mean, do you actually think she might be interested in me, dude? Is it so farfetched?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“It is farfetched, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s also a possibility. Strangely. I mean…she really wanted to find you, bro. I saw it myself. I can’t believe you weren’t around. What guy would hide from Amy Weaver?” Clay laughed in disbelief. “If she really is into you, man, I’ll have to ask you what kind of voodoo magic or Jedi shit you used on her. And if you do get with her somehow, you’ll become like an inspiration to legions of shy introverts the world over. People will study this. They’ll analyze it for years to come. You’ll be like a folk hero.”

“I still don’t even believe it, though. At least not entirely.”

“Well…there’s only one way to find out, bro.”

Brad felt a flash of preemptive nerves. “You’re right. I’m calling her. Right now. I got to.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” Clay said. “Let me know how it goes.”

“Alright. Later.”

Brad hung up the phone and stood stunned for a moment. Earlier he’d never seriously considered actually going back to Antwann’s house, despite Paul’s invitation, but now…

The grogginess, even the trippiness, quickly subsided, as Brad felt real, natural excitement flood into him for the first time in what felt like ages. He crept out of his dark room, squinting at the sudden brightness of the hall, and silently walked into the spare room where the family computer was. Under the desk that held the computer were a couple phone books. Brad grabbed the white pages and retreated to his room.

He had done this before. He had looked up her phone number just for the hell of it. Just because she was on his mind. So, he knew he would find it. There were a million Weavers in the white pages, but only one that lived on Rogers Lane.

Shakily, he dialed her number, a part of him almost hoping she wouldn’t be home. But she answered almost immediately, like she’d been monitoring the phone.

“Hello?”

“Amy?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, it’s Brad.”

After the slightest pause, she said, “Hey!”

“What’s up?”

“Not much. I was looking for you last night!”

“Oh, really?” Brad had to swallow once before he could keep talking.

“Yeah. But I couldn’t find you.”

He loved how she didn’t even mention Rob, or any of the drama around that situation. As they were speaking, Brad realized it may have looked like he’d been hiding from Rob last night, and that was true to an extent—but she didn’t even bring it up. Nor did she bring up the incident yesterday after Psychology. She so carefully navigated around anything that might make anyone feel uncomfortable. Brad continued to be in awe of her.

“I actually left there kind of early,” Brad said. “Before the cops showed up.”

“Oh God, that was too much. You’re lucky you left when you did.”

“What happened when the cops arrived?” Brad asked.

“They gathered everyone up and one-by-one made us call our parents to come pick us up.”

“Oh, no. Are you in trouble?”

“You know, I’m actually fine. I hadn’t drank anything at all last night. So, my parents came and picked me up, and I was totally sober. They acted angry at first, but as the situation went on I think they were actually proud of me. My dad actually said how I seemed to be the only one who had any composure at all, unlike most everyone else involved in the situation.”

“Nice!”

“Thanks.”

“So…does that mean you’re free tonight?”

“Well, kind of. There’s this party I wanted to go to…”

“Antwann’s?” Brad asked, hopefully.

“Yeah! How did you know? Are you going?”

“Yeah.” Brad said it casually, like he’d intended to go there all along.

“Oh, can you give me a ride, Brad?”

“Sure. I’d be happy to.”

“Great! I hadn’t figured out how I was going to get over there yet.”

“Well, I’ll come and pick you up, then. What time is good for you?”

“Umm…eight? Is that okay?”

“Sure, that’s fine.”

“Oh, this is perfect. I had really wanted to see you last night, Brad. So, this will totally make up for it.”

Brad was in awe of her yet again. He began to think that maybe his letter to her wasn’t such a disaster after all.

“I’d really…wanted to see you, too, Amy. But anytime, though, I’d like…for that.” The words sounded weird coming out, and Brad winced.

In response, he could almost hear her smile through the phone.

“So…what is your address?” Brad asked, even though he could see her address printed in the phone book. He was literally staring right at it.

She told him her address, and what was the best way to get there.

“All right, Amy, I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Great. Thanks, Brad!”

They said bye, and Brad still held the phone, frozen in disbelief. The last words they had said still rang in his mind. Then he snapped out of it and swung his fists wildly in the air. His feet even left the ground at one point.

He did all that in a perfectly quiet manner, though, lest his parents hear him. Because, like always, he’d be goddamned if they had any clue whatsoever about the things happening in his life.