29-Joe

SUNDAY

Joe woke up on the same couch in Antwann’s basement where he’d started his day yesterday. He leaned up with a start, and then clutched at his head for the pain.

He got to his feet shakily, realizing he was both shirtless and shoeless. The basement dance floor came into focus and Joe saw it peppered with dirt and sporadic red stains of jungle juice. Then Joe began checking himself and saw much the same story. His bare skin held dirt, carpet fuzz, and parts of it were red and sticky from the juice. There were even blades of grass clinging to him, which he brushed away or, in some cases, peeled off.

He found his shirt on the floor, which he considered step one—he needed it to go home. Downcast, he realized the shirt was in bad shape with red stains. He’d have to throw it away, surely.

He tried to remember everything that had happened last night but came up far short. The taste in his mouth let him know he’d thrown up at some point. He felt like he might do so again.

Wincing, he put a hand to his head again, groaning.

It was the liquor, of course. The beer bong was also a culprit, but he knew the primary one was the liquor in that jungle juice. He should have known. Hard alcohol made him lose his mind, every damn time.

A flash of concern came to his already pained face as he looked about for the time, and finally located the digital readout on the VCR. It said 10:33 a.m. This was the icing on the cake—he had to be at work in less than an hour.

“Fuuuuck,” he moaned, knowing it was going to be a long, long day. Plus, it was Sunday, which was the worst day at the golf course, especially during the summer. It was going to be a madhouse down at the club, Joe knew, and he did not feel like dealing with it.

These were all just minor details, though. There was something far worse affecting him—the growing sense of something terribly wrong.

He again tried to recall more about last night but kept coming up short. He cursed himself.

Shaky and full of cobwebs, he climbed up the steps. He passed the couch in the living room and saw Rob asleep on top of it, fully clothed and with no blanket, like he had just barely managed to stumble up to it and fall over.

Joe slid the back door open, squinting in pain at the bright sunlight. He found his shoes on the porch, and this gave him a small measure of relief. He put them on and walked out to his car, wincing like a vampire in the sun. He drove home and then felt another small measure of relief, seeing that both of his parents’ cars were gone—a little bit of luck was just what he needed on this morning.

He stumbled down to his room in the basement and tore off all his clothes. He was in and out of the shower quickly, and this managed to make him feel a tiny bit less shitty. He brushed his teeth, put on clothes, and then got some food in his system. All throughout his expression was of anguish and unrest.

Finally, he couldn’t handle it anymore, so he grabbed the phone book and flipped through it rapidly until he landed upon Lisi on Brookstone Circle. He snatched the phone from its cradle and rapidly dialed her number, silently begging for her to pick up.

But her mom answered instead.

“May I speak with Katherine, please?” Joe asked, as cordially as he could.

“Sure, just a second,” she said, and Joe exhaled in desperate relief. But he felt himself sinking rapidly again when it was her mom whose voice he heard again.

“I’m sorry, she can’t come to the phone right at the moment. Can I take a message for her?”

Pure dread flooded through him.

“Uh…could you tell her Joe called?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Joe hung up the phone and was frozen.

Finally, he snapped out of it. Just before stashing the phone book back where it belonged, he grabbed a pen and jotted down her number on the palm of his hand, knowing he’d be trying again later.

He looked at the time on the oven clock. “Fuck,” he muttered.

He scrawled a note messily for his parents, one that said he was going to work and would be home late. Then Joe ran out the door toward his car.

He drove to work feeling miserable. He parked and walked across the lot, feeling the brutal summer heat. The course was packed, as he knew it would be. It was going to be long, long day. He clocked in and started working. It almost felt good to do so—the work allowed him to just put his mind in autopilot, free from harrowing thoughts, while his body went to work sweating out the alcohol.

He checked the time often. Finally, at quarter to one, he could handle it no longer. He ran upstairs to the pro shop and grabbed one of the phones in the back office. He got an open line, and then dialed Antwann’s number.

“Hello?” Antwann answered, his voice cracking.

“Antwann.”

“Joe?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“Work.”

“Work? Ow, man, that hurts me, just thinking about it. How the hell did you make it to work?”

“I don’t know, man. It wasn’t easy. But I got to ask you something.”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell happened last night? I can’t remember anything.”

Antwann laughed. “I don’t know, Rambo. We were all kinds of fucked up.”

“Rambo? Why’d you call me Rambo?”

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“Nah, man.”

“So, you also don’t remember finishing off the Megaroach at 2 a.m.?”

“No!”

“That ended my night.”

“What else happened?”

“I don’t know, dude. What is the last thing you remember?”

“I guess it was…you, me, Ronnie, and Rob killing off the jungle juice in the kitchen. That’s the last memory I have. What happened after that?”

“We were all dancin’ in the basement. Real crazy-like.”

“Was I dancing with anyone, or doing anything stupid?”

“You and Alana were all up on each other. She was freaking on you. Something going on there that I don’t know about?”

Joe grimaced. “We were freaking on each other? I don’t remember that!”

Antwann laughed.

“Nah, Antwann, you don’t get it, man. I’m dating Katherine Lisi. I’m afraid that I screwed up last night.”

“Yeah, I know. You were telling us about her.”

“I did? What did I say?”

“It was up in the kitchen. We were scraping the cooler for all the fruit at the bottom. You were telling me and Ronnie and Rob that you were in love with Katherine Lisi and all this shit. You sounded all dead serious. For real, you wouldn’t shut up about her. And then, next thing we know, we go downstairs, and we see you and Alana all up on each other. That was classic, yo! We were dyin’!”

“Fuck.” Joe wanted to scream it, but he suppressed it into just a whisper. He had bosses and even some club members in close proximity.

“Yeah, man, and you had spilled the jungle juice all over your shirt, so you had it peeled off and were twirling it over your head. You were getting all sorts of funky.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“Don’t sweat it, bro. You were just goofy, that’s all. Ain’t no crime in that.”

“But what was I doing with Alana, though?”

“Just dancin.’ I didn’t see you all kissing or anything else. Shouldn’t be a big deal, man. Chill.”

Joe exhaled, slightly relieved. “What happened after we were done dancing?”

“We went outside and killed the Megaspliff.”

“Who all was out there, by that time?”

“Let’s see…it was you, me, Ronnie, Rob, Raza, and Alana. I guess that was it. You and her were funny. Like a comedy duo, for real.”

“We were? Funny how?”

“Well, you kept saying she had no legs, and that’s why she always wears the big jeans. You said she had to prove to us all that she had legs. Where do you come up with this stuff, bro?”

Joe winced. “Hell if I know. I don’t even remember it.”

“So, you also don’t remember how she climbed up on the table and kicked off her jeans?”

“No!”

“Yeah. It was hot. She damn near gave a strip tease, I think just to throw it back in your face. She had on little shorts underneath. Who knew, right?”

“So, what happened next? Keep going.”

“I guess it was around that time when she started calling you Rambo.”

“Why?”

“Because you had your shirt tied around your head, and it was covered in jungle juice stains that looked like blood, like you were in a war. So, Rambo, that prompted you to get up on the table with her.”

“Why? What was I doing?”

“Clownin’ around. You got all into the Rambo thing. You jumped off the porch railing into the grass, and then you were doing all this commando shit, rolling around in the yard. Man, we were dyin.’”

Joe was speechless, with a hand to his forehead.

“You were using the beer bong as a machine gun and tossing pinecones like they were grenades. I’m still laughing, man.” And Antwann did.

“What was Alana doing?”

“She was the one egging you on.”

“So, what happened after that?”

“Next came the Karate Kid thing.”

“What?”

“Yeah! You and her were up on the porch railing, doing crane kicks with this mock focus and seriousness. Man, it was priceless. Glad you didn’t hurt yourself, though. It was more than a distinct possibility.”

“What were you guys doing during all this?”

“Laughing our asses off. Oh, and also trying to decide which one of you looked more like Ralph Macchio. I think she actually got more votes.”

Joe exhaled. “So, what happened next?”

“That was pretty much it for me, bro. I went and passed out. Shit, that was a lot of weed. We smoked more than a half-ounce in that joint.”

“So, you went to bed, then?”

“Yeah.”

“Was I still up?”

“I don’t know, bro. I think so.”

“Alright, man. Thanks for the info.”

“All good, bro.”

“Wait…did you hook up with Jennifer Young last night? I seem to remember this.”

“Oh yeah, man. She’s my girl. We’ve been talkin’ for a long time, her and I.”

“Nice, man. Alright, I got to get back to work.”

“All right, dog. Later.”

Joe hung up, grimaced, and then immediately punched another number into the phone. While it rang, one of the assistant pros walked by and told Joe that he needed to get back downstairs.

“One minute,” Joe whispered to him. “Please, this is important.”

Ms. Cruz answered the phone, and she went to get Trey. He picked up the phone, and Joe knew it was bad news just by the tone of his voice.

“Joe…I thought you might be calling me this morning,” Trey said, somberly.

Feeling white-hot panic creep into him, Joe spoke. “Tell me, man. How bad did I fuck up?”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“Nothing. Well…somehow, I knew I needed to call you. Which is weird, because I barely even recall seeing you at the party. Were you even there?”

“For most of the night…no.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Nikki and I broke away, to hang out, just her and I. We started off laying outside on one of those crappy beach chairs, making out a little.”

“Nice.”

“Thanks. Then we went for a walk down the street and actually came to my house where we laid down in the yard and looked up at the stars and shit.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, man. Deep conversation we had. It was cool. She is fuckin’…righteous, man. She is one cool chick.”

Joe took a deep breath, just waiting for it.

“Anyway, she and I had been gone for so long, talking as we were, it was probably like 2 or 3 a.m. by the time we finally walked back to Antwann’s. She wanted to drink some water before going home. But as we got closer we heard voices in the yard. It sounded like two people getting their groove on. Or, about to, anyway.”

“Let me guess. It was Alana and I.”

“Yeah. Well, it was mostly her voice we could hear, and she was all giggly and laughing. You two were way louder than you thought, probably. Your voices carried—we could practically hear you from down the street. We approached, and I kept hoping it wasn’t you, but man, somehow I knew it was.”

Joe was afraid to speak.

“So, we walk up there and see you lying on one of the same shitty old beach chairs. Alana was sitting on top of you. Straddling you.”

“Shit,” Joe whispered.

“I gotta be honest, it didn’t look good, bro. I guess technically we didn’t see you two making out, but Nikki assumed as much anyway. It did not look good, bro.”

“It doesn’t sound good.”

“Also because you had no shirt on, and the way she was sitting on you. She was wearing these little shorts, and her hands were on your chest.”

“My bare chest. Great.”

“Yeah. Not a great scene for us to walk in on considering you had just started dating Nikki’s best friend.”

“No kidding. So, what happened then?”

“You must have seen us, and snapped out of it or something. You yelled out, ‘What the fuck?’ and then you said to Alana, ‘Get off me, bitch!’”

“No way,” Joe said, in disbelief, feeling himself sinking. “I said that?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t believe my ears! Totally unlike you, man.”

“I’m…speechless.”

“Usually you’re a happy drunk.”

“I guess now I’m the asshole. Damn it. This is new to me. I’m not accustomed to this at all, Trey.”

“I’m not done yet.”

“I know. I’m not sure I want to hear the rest, though.”

“Don’t worry, that was already the worst part.”

Joe gave a pained exhale.

“So, by then, Nikki was like, distressed, man. She was not happy at all. Alana too, she was understandably pissed off after what you said, and so she was about to storm out of there. So then—actually this part is kind of funny—Nikki says something like, ‘Joe? What are you doing?’”

“What did I say?”

“You didn’t say shit. Instead you threw your shirt at her.”

“I did? Why?”

“I don’t know, man. Nikki didn’t react at all, and it wraps around her head. She recoils like it was poisonous or something, and throws it off.”

“Oh my God.”

“That’s not all, because then you threw Alana’s jeans at her.”

“Shut up.”

“You did! Nikki sidestepped and dodged those altogether, and meanwhile, Alana just started laughing, like, despite everything, it was just too freakin’ funny. Why you decided the best course of action then was to start throwing clothes at Nikki is just beyond hilarious.”

Joe sighed deeply. “So, what happened then?”

“Nikki was obviously pissed off, so she marched out of there. I chased after her and chilled her out a bit. Then she got in her car and drove home.”

“What about Alana?”

“She left right at the same time.”

“What was I doing?”

“Last I saw you, you were sitting on that beach chair by yourself. You looked like a freakin’ zombie, man, with grass all in your hair, jungle juice all on your skin, dried and stained and looking like blood.”

“Why would I throw clothes at Nikki? It just…makes no sense.”

“That part was actually funny.”

Joe groaned. “Why can’t I just pass out like a normal person when I’m drunk? Why can’t I just pass out and sleep uneventfully through the night?”

“I don’t know, bro. Instead you become like a snowball rolling downhill, gaining speed and momentum.”

“Ugh…I can’t believe I did all that.”

“Yeah, you kind of fucked up the end of my night, too.”

“Sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about me, man. Think about what you got to do. I mean…there’s no doubt Nikki called up Katherine this morning and told her all about it.”

“Oh, of course she did. I’m fucked. I’m…defenseless.”

“Well…you were obviously really messed up. You have that going for you.”

Joe groaned.

“And you know, we never actually saw you two kissing. So, you have that going for you, too.”

“Yeah, but…she was only on top of me. While we were both half naked. Fuck. How can I expect Katherine to forgive me? Even I hate me now.”

“Well, you got to try. Just call her up, man. Apologize. It all starts with that.”

“I will.”

“Okay.”

Joe sighed, miserably.

“So, I don’t mean to be insensitive, Joe, but…can I talk about the other thing now?”

“What other thing?”

“The fact that you may or may not have hooked up with Alana Herrera? All things considered, it is impressive, man.”

Joe didn’t reply.

“Detach yourself from the whole Katherine Lisi situation just for a moment and look at the greater overall picture. I mean, shit, just about every guy in our school thinks Alana is more or less untouchable, and that she only dated older guys. Or girls, if any of that is true. But you broke through, man. You’re the one who did it, while drunk as hell, too. It really is amazing.”

“This is the most backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”

Trey laughed. “You are a true marvel when you’re drunk, man. You’re like a goddamn force of nature. I’ve honestly never seen anything like it. The change is astonishing. I mean, normally you’re the most laidback motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life, man, but when you start putting alcohol in your body, it is some true Jekyll and Hyde shit going on. Suddenly, you’re like Super Mario after he runs over a flower, dude. You’re shooting fireballs out your ass and flying on raccoon wings and hooking up with Alana Herrera. There’s nothing you can’t do.”

Joe groaned. “Dude, stop. I know I have issues. I ain’t tryin’ to be hearin’ this now. I mean…fuckin A, don’t you understand that I actually like Katherine? I mean, like I really like her?”

“Yeah. Sorry, man.”

The same boss walked by Joe again, pointed at him and then pointed downstairs, telling him to get back to work.

“Hold on!” Joe said, with obvious despair. Normally this particular boss wasn’t a pushover, but he must have sensed authenticity, because he walked away.

“Trey, man, I gotta go.”

“Alright. Good luck, bro.”

Joe hung up, and then stared at the number written on his palm. Then he found himself dialing it. He felt shaky and awful while doing so.

Her mom answered once more.

“May I speak with Katherine, please?” he asked.

“Is this Joe?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I’m sorry, Joe, she still can’t come to the phone, but I’m happy to take another message for her.”

“Ms. Lisi…please can I talk with her?” He made his voice desperate and pained.

It worked—for the moment. There was silence, and Joe listened, enraptured, at the soft talking in the distant background. He felt a ray of hope.

It came crashing down rather quickly though, as her mom came back on the line.

“I’m sorry, Joe, she’s just…well, she can’t talk right now.”

Her mom’s voice held a hint of sympathy toward him. Thus, Joe assumed that Katherine hadn’t told her all the details of what he’d done.

“You’ll just have to try again some other time,” she said. “Good bye.”

She hung up, and Joe heard a dial tone. He listened to it blankly for a few seconds, the devastating mechanical finality of it.