31-Joe

It was the longest work shift Joe ever had, each torturous second ticking by slowly, the entire day feeling like punishment. He stayed until the bitter end, when that last group of golfers finally came in, laughing and joking, smoking cigars, and slowly finishing their drinks. Joe didn’t care—he wanted to stay there late to prolong his misery. He felt he deserved it.

Joe greeted the jovial group patiently and politely. The golfers joked around with him, and it was almost as though they envied him—his young age, his job at a place they yearned to spend more time. He got a tip from each of them.

He finally closed up shop and walked across the parking lot. The twilight had faded into darkness and the intense summer heat finally relented. Joe was utterly exhausted, but instead of heading home he found himself driving toward Mike Marelli’s house. As he often did.

He needed to. It was necessary. He needed advice. He needed a voice of reason.

Within ten minutes, Joe sat downstairs in Mike’s basement, telling him the full story of what had happened, not just about last night, but of the entire weekend. Basically, everything since he had last sat in that basement, smoking a joint during lunch on Friday, when Joe had fully admitted his feelings for Katherine and asked Mike for advice.

Mike listened, patient and attentive throughout the whole story, impressed when Joe mentioned the good parts involving Katherine, and either laughing or shaking his head when he heard of Joe’s drunken shenanigans of last night.

When Joe was done, Mike sat quietly, going over everything in his mind. He sat on the couch, shirtless, with a bass guitar in hand, his long hair particularly crazy and unkempt.

“So, let me get this straight. You guys rolled a joint that contained a half-ounce of marijuana?”

“For the third time. Yes,” Joe replied.

“That’s not even the most unbelievable thing you’ve told me, though.”

“So, what is, then? How I managed to perfectly screw things up with Katherine? Almost like it was purposeful?”

“No, not that either.”

“Well, please do fill me in.”

“I mean, sure, you give a bunch of potheads a bunch of pot, and sooner or later they’re gonna roll a massive joint, because, why the hell not? It’s just what they do. And the whole thing with you and Katherine Lisi, how you scored with her, and then how you fucked it up, well, it’s all kind of vaguely predictable. Sorry, man, I’m not trying to be a dick, but…it just doesn’t surprise me, is all I’m saying.”

“What is so unbelievable, then?”

“You and Alana Herrera.”

Joe groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I thought it was common knowledge that there were certain prerequisites to get with her, you know? I thought you at least had to be out of high school, and that you had to look like…I don’t know…Tupac. But goddamn, man, you broke through! As a junior in high school, while drunk as hell, and probably while dancing like a freakin’ idiot. You’re the one who gets with our school’s reigning hip-hop princess? It’s amazing, man. You’re like…some kind of savant.”

“It keeps feeling like you and Trey are implying that I tried to do this. Like I wanted to.”

“But that’s part of it, see? That is part of the brilliance. It is one of the key components. Had you tried to hook up with her, you never would have! No chance.” Mike shook his head firmly.

“Will you please stop this?”

“Okay. Sorry. It just had to be acknowledged, though.”

“Just tell me what to do about Katherine.” Joe said, his voice pained.

“Okay.” Mike considered quietly. “How many times have you tried calling her today?”

“Twice. I’m afraid to call her again. I’ll feel like a stalker if I have yet another awkward conversation with her mom.”

Mike looked at him, his eyes resolute. “Go to her,” he said.

“What?”

“Go to her. Go to her house. Right now.”

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“But…I already tried calling a couple times. She said she didn’t want to speak to me.”

Mike shook his head. “Man, for a guy who gets as much action as you, you just don’t understand chicks at all, do you?”

Joe didn’t reply.

“It’s the effort, man. It’s showing her you care. If you show up in person, I bet she’ll see you. You can apologize face-to-face.”

Joe lit up for a moment, like Mike’s words had clicked, and it looked like he would stand up. But then his demeanor changed, and his body sank back into the chair.

“What?” Mike asked.

“She’s not home. I just remembered. Last night she told me she was going to some kind of dinner tonight. It’s supposed to go late, I think.”

“Dinner?”

“Or ceremony, or…something.”

“Oh,” Mike nodded his head. “The JV girls’ athletics banquet. Yeah, she’ll be late.”

“How the hell do you know about that, Mike?”

“I don’t know, man. I just do.”

Joe sighed, frustrated. “So, what do I do? Drive to her house, and just wait there for her?”

Mike shook his head. “No. That’s just creepy, man.”

“So, what can I do?”

“I guess nothing, for now. Which sucks. You blew your day-after window. You only get one of those.”

“But I was calling her. Doesn’t that count?”

Mike shrugged. “Think about it from her perspective. All you’ve done today is try to call twice. Do you really give a shit? If so, how does she know?”

“Well, I had to work all damn day today. That kind of limits my options, you know?”

Mike shrugged again. “You could have bailed from work, Joe. You could have. No one would have killed you if you missed work. People would have kept on playing golf. The world would have kept turning.”

“I could have been fired, though.”

“Would that be worth it? I mean, if it meant you could get Katherine back?”

Joe sighed. “Yes.” Then he grimaced. “Yes, it totally would be worth it. Fuck. Fuck, man, fuck my job! I’d personally go and tell my boss to fuck off right now if it meant I could make everything all right with her!”

“So…why are you just now realizing this?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know, man! I’m like…learning disabled when it comes to all this shit.”

Mike laughed, hard.

“So, what do I do, man? When I see her tomorrow? What do I do?”

Mike contemplated. “All right, Joe. Here’s the deal.”

“Yeah?”

“You got two options.”

Joe smiled. “Lay it on me.”

“Option one. You say ‘fuck it.’ It’s done. You don’t think about her anymore, you get her out of your system, you go out, get fucked up, party, hook up, do all those things you normally do, and you don’t look back. You move on. You forget all about her.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “And option two?”

“Option two. You fight for her. And you have to go all-out. You can’t half-ass this, like you normally do. You got to do something big, something really cool for her, to let her know you truly are sorry about what happened, and that you genuinely care…about her.”

Joe felt intrigued. “Like what? What would I do?”

“C’mon, man. I can’t tell you what to do. Is this so far beyond your understanding?”

Joe shrugged.

“I can’t help you any more than that, Joe. You know her, man. I don’t. You got to do something cool for her. Try to incorporate something just you and her know about, or something you know she likes, or some sort of inside joke between the two of you. Make it personal. Make it something she can’t forget. Something she can’t resist.”

Joe sat quietly with his jaw ajar. “Buy her a cool gift, or something?”

“Maybe. But the dollar sign in this case doesn’t mean shit. It’s got to have meaning. It’s got to be personal, like I said.”

Joe was silent in his contemplation.

“Look,” Mike continued. “I can’t do this for you. I don’t know her. Only you can do this. If you’re serious about option two, the first step is to come up with this on your own.”

Joe stared at the ground, unresponsive.

“And just keep in mind, whatever option you go with, you can’t be half-ass. You got to go all-out for either of these to work. You either say ‘fuck it’ completely and you don’t look back, or you go all-out for her. Win her back. Sweep her off her feet. Redeem yourself.”

Joe finally looked up. His expression was that of a pre-algebra student asked to perform calculus.

“Oh, and you might want to apologize to Alana, also. You dick.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. I will.”

“And Nikki, too.”

“Of course, Nikki, too. I have a long list.”

“So, what’s it gonna be? What are you going to do? Do you have the testicular fortitude for option two? Or the lack of testicular fortitude, depending on who you might ask?”

“Man, if it was any other girl at all, it’d be option one in a heartbeat. But Katherine…I just can’t ever get her off my mind, man. And I won’t ever forgive myself if I don’t try to get her back.”

“Word. I like hearing this kind of talk from you, man. I’m not used to it.”

“What do you mean? What kind of talk?”

“You…caring about shit. You’re all fucking romantic and dramatic and shit.”

“Fuck you,” Joe said harshly.

Mike laughed. “Nah, I’m just messin’ with you, bro. But seriously, I’m glad you want to win her back. Do it, man. I’ll be cheerin’ you on.”

Mike mindlessly ran a couple grooves and slaps on the bass guitar he had in hand. The amp was off, so Joe just heard the soft thumps of the strings as they sounded acoustically.

“What the hell did you do this weekend, anyway?” Joe asked.

“Just chilled, man. My band jammed on Saturday, and I spent the rest of the time hanging out with Kelly.”

“See? See? Why can’t I do that? Why can’t I just spend a weekend hanging out with a girl? What is it about getting fucked up that just pulls me in? It’s like I can’t ignore it. I can’t deny it.”

“There is a very technical term for what you are, Joe. You just described the symptoms. You are a buzz-hound.”

Joe nodded, glumly accepting this label.

“You got time for a session, man?” Mike asked. “Before you take off?”

Joe smirked. “Of course, man.”

They each grabbed a Super Nintendo controller and within seconds launched into Mariokart, a game they were both severely addicted to. Joe’s mind went blissfully empty for the next hour or so as they played the video game in the dim room.

Joe finally drove home and walked in the door of his house around eleven. His parents were both up, watching TV. It was late, and they spoke calmly. Without any prompting Joe apologized for his lack of communication over the weekend, citing he’d stayed both nights over at Antwann’s. He admitted that they had been drinking on both nights, knowing his parents weren’t naïve enough to be told otherwise. But he also emphasized that no one was driving, and that’s why he didn’t come home on either night. All in all, he wasn’t lying about a thing, and it was flawless execution, in that he sounded perfectly genuine and apologetic. He was a master at just such conversations, and his parents ate it up, saying they were glad he was being honest, and to try to keep them better informed in the future.

“Of course,” Joe replied, hugging them both good night. Then he went downstairs to his room, shed his clothes and dove straight into bed. His exhaustion, both physical and mental, were overwhelming, and as he lay there in the darkness, feeling sleep about to take him, he thanked God this miserable day was finally over.