Never Eighteen (7 page)

"Remember all the time we spent at Point Defiance?" I ask.

"Of course, us and Jake, going to the zoo, hanging out at the beach."

"I loved pushing Jake in the water. He'd get so pissed!"

"Well, the water was freezing. Do you remember the Leather Man?"

"Yeah. That old guy that used to lie on the beach every day? I haven't thought about him in years."

"I hear he went there every single day. He would swim then lie on the beach. All year round."

"No wonder his skin looked like an elephant's ass."

"Remember I snuck up on him one day while he was sleeping, just so I could touch his skin and see what it felt like," Kaylee says.

"Yeah, you said ... what was it? It felt like what an armadillo looks like, or something crazy like that."

"Well, it did," Kaylee squeals.

I take a bunch of pictures of Kaylee. She makes a different goofy face with each push of the button. She grabs the camera from my hands and starts photographing me. I'm a tad bit shyer in front of the camera than Kaylee. Most of the pictures are of me with my hands in front of my face, hiding. Then we take a self-portrait, Seattle looming in the background. We continue to reminisce as night falls. The Seattle skyline lights up, surrounding us in an endless sea of stars.

I eat slowly, savoring every bite, not only because the food is delicious-mouth-watery-goodness, but also because I'm here with Kaylee and I don't want it to end. This is as much a part of my plans as any of the rest, a first date with her, a real date, not a hanging out with friends, watching movies, goofing around date. It's the right time to tell her how I feel, in the dimly lit restaurant, the twinkling Seattle skyline just outside the window.

"Kaylee," I begin.

"Yeah," she says. She looks beautiful in this light.

My tongue twists, and suddenly I can't go any further. I just stare at her stupidly, unable to think, unable to breathe.

"What is it, Austin?" Kaylee asks. "Are you okay? Oh my God, are you choking?" She rushes over, slaps me on the back to dislodge anything that might be stuck in my throat. Of course, the only things stuck are my words.

I feel like a moron. Finally, my tongue moves again, but not in the direction I intend. "I'm okay. Ready to go?" Such an idiot.

"Sure," she says. I think maybe I see disappointment in her eyes, but then I decide it's wishful thinking. I ask for the bill and fake death when it arrives. Kaylee tries to give me a stern look, but ends up in a fit of giggles. I leave a huge tip. It's well worth it, to have had this night, to have shared it with Kaylee. We have our waiter take our picture before we leave. We enjoy the ride back down to the safety of the hard concrete below, then head back to Tacoma.

I crash in the car, as we drive back across town, dead from the busy day. I wake to Kaylee's voice saying sweetly, "We're here." I scan my surroundings blearily, blinking to clear my vision.

"No, no, no. Not here, not yet," I say, realizing we're sitting in front of my house.

"But you're exhausted. It's been a really, really long day. I'm kind of tired myself, you know."

"I know, but I'm not. We're not done yet."

"Not done?" Kaylee asks, confused. "What could you possibly want to do now?"

"It's still early, right? What time?"

Kaylee pulls her cell phone out of her purse and checks the time. "Nine. It's nine o'clock."

"Yes, nine! It's still early. The evening's just starting."

She rolls her eyes and asks, "So where do you want to go, then?"

"Kyle's."

"Kyle's." She was getting into the habit of repeating every destination just after I announce it.

"Yes," I answer.

She stares at me for a moment with cynical eyes.

"No."

"Yes."

"No. Get out."

"Get out? You can't tell me to get out. Besides, if I do, I'm just going to find a ride from someone else, or walk, and then you'll be worried. You wouldn't be able to handle it."

"Forget what I said before about you being crazy," she says. "You're just being stupid now."

"Kaylee," I say, putting my hand on her arm. She jerks away from my touch. "Come on, Kaylee." I give her my best puppy-dog eyes. She can never resist my puppy-dog eyes.

"Austin Parker, you're a fucking whack job," she says. We sit quietly for a moment; I break the silence by laughing. I can't help it. She's right; I feel like a whack job. She looks over, begins to laugh with me, and pulls away from the curb, shaking her head. We head to Kyle's house.

"Justin, Trevor, Suz, and Steph are meeting us there," I inform Kaylee as we approach Kyle's neighborhood, one with big houses, and large trees, and a great stone sign informing us that we're entering Firwood.

"Suz? Why Suz? I hate Suz. Her name isn't even Susan, or Suzanne, or anything that has to do with her stupid nickname. Her name's Bridgett."

"She doesn't like Bridgett, and come on. You hate her? She's not that bad."

"Okay, I strongly dislike her. Is that better?" she asks.

"I guess," I say, chuckling. "You should really give her a chance."

"She's annoying," Kaylee says.

"No, she just tries too hard. I bet if you reached out to her, she would mellow out."

"I don't want to reach out to her."

"Everyone needs a lifeline once in a while. Why don't you be hers? For me?"

"Lifeline? What is this?
Who Wants to Be a Millionaire
?" She looks at me with an expression of both irritation and admiration. "That's not fair," she says, now pulling onto Kyle's street.

"What's not fair?" I ask.

"You know I'd do anything for you. Now I have to make nice with Suz. Be her
lifeline,
" she says, her voice thick with sarcasm. I laugh as we look for a place to park.

Cars are bumper to bumper along the curb, and we have to park a couple blocks away. We can hear the noise, the voices, the music, all the way from our parking spot, the sign of a good party already in progress. We pass our peers, acquaintances, and friends, hanging out at their cars or leaning on trees, as we walk up the street to the party.

Some people whisper as we pass, some wave, some call out to us. I know they must be surprised we're here, since Kaylee and I aren't a part of the regular party crowd. When we get to the front door, Kyle's best friend, Tim, a badass linebacker for the football team, holds out his hand and without looking up says, "Five bucks cover."

I begin to reach for my wallet when Tim looks up. He hesitates; I'm sure because it's me, here, at a party. "You drink for free, Tex." I remember the first time he called me Tex, how I was surprised he knew where Austin is on a map. He's not the sharpest tool in the shed, though he can be a real tool sometimes.

"What about Kaylee?" I ask.

He sizes her up, checks her out. She fidgets and quickly says, "I'm driving—I won't be drinking," seemingly if for no other reason than to end his full body scan.

"Don't matter none. The cute girls drink for free anyway."

Utterly offended, Kaylee asks, "And what about the not-so-cute girls?"

"Five bucks," Tim answers.

"That's so wrong," Kaylee says.

"We don't care if the ugly ones get drunk, just the cute ones."

Kaylee shakes her head and mutters, "Asshole," under her breath. She shoots me a dirty look, as if all of us guys think under some kind of collective mind or something. I shrug.

Tim stamps our hands so we can drink if we want. As we pass, I see him staring at Kaylee's ass out of the corner of my eye. I get pissed, jealous, just a little, but who can blame him, really? She's gorgeous.

We enter the house, smoky, noisy, and crowded, and are received with more whispering, more waving, more greetings. We work our way through the living room, the hallway, to the kitchen where the keg sits. Kyle's there, master of the tap, pouring beer after beer to what appears to be already drunk teens. I hope Kyle has gathered car keys, but I'm sadly sure he hasn't.

When I reach the keg, Kyle sets the tap down and throws his arms around me. "Austin! What up, man? So glad you showed." Kyle, another massive football player, a tight end to be exact, obviously does not know his own strength, as he has just nearly crushed me to death.

"Kyle," I choke, patting his back.

"Oh, sorry, little dude. Are you okay?" Kyle often calls me little dude even though I'm nearly six foot two. Of course, at six foot six, he still towers over me, so I suppose to him the name is fitting.

When I'm finally able to breathe again, I cough out, "Yeah, fine."

Kyle and I aren't what I'd call good friends, more like two people linked together through our parents, who are friends. We like each other just fine, but I'm sure intoxication rather than friendship brought about the hug.

"Want a beer?" Kyle asks.

"Sure," I say.

Kaylee leans in close and whispers in my ear, "I don't like this, Austin. Not at all."

I lean back and whisper, "It's okay, really," trying to reassure her, but know I'm failing miserably.

Kyle writes my name on the cup with a Sharpie and gives me a perfect pour. As the beer fills my cup I ask, "So, your parents out of town?"

"Yeah. They're at one of those lawyer conventions. This one's in Maui."

"Nice," I reply.

He hands over the beer and turns to Kaylee. "One for the lady?"

"No thanks, I'm driving."

"One won't kill you," Kyle says.

"Yeah, it just might," Kaylee answers, annoyed. We head outside to the patio.

"Hi, Austin," I hear from my right. I turn to find Scott McPhee. He was a senior when I was a freshman. We played soccer together. He had everything going for him, a beautiful girlfriend, and a full ride to the University of Portland. Something happened to him, though I don't know what. He lost it. Went down a rough road. Now he's working at Frisko Freeze, flippin' burgers and drinking himself to death.

"Hey, Scott. What's up?"

"The usual."

Kaylee and I continue to a lounge chair by the pool. Not too many people have pools out here in the Pacific Northwest, considering July and August are the only good swimming months and those are sketchy at best. I guess if you're rich enough, which Kyle's parents are, his dad a personal trainer and his mom a lawyer, it's just one more notch in your belt.

I sip the beer slowly and it warms me quickly. I'm getting buzzed fast.

"Austin, what are we doing here?" Kaylee asks me, obviously more than a bit pissed.

"It's just part of the process, the natural order of things." My buzz tells me I sound profound, philosophical even. In reality, I sound like a dick.

"The natural order? A kegger? You have to experience a kegger? We're not kegger people, Austin. We're music and movie and art people. We're sports people. But we're definitely not kegger people."

I laugh; she gets more irritated. I ask her to get me another beer. She gets really irritated. She swipes the cup from my hand and heads back inside.

While Kaylee is grabbing me another beer, people approach, say hi, slap me on the back, ask how I'm doing. Kyle, taking a break from being tap master, comes around socializing; he takes a seat next to me, hands me another beer.

"So how're you doing, Austin? Really?"

"As good as I'll ever be."

"That's great. Say, you and, um, what's her name?"

"Kaylee," I answer.

"Yeah, Kaylee. Are you guys, you know?" He gestures by creating a hole with one hand and inserting the index finger of the other.

"Nah, it's not like that. We're just friends," I say, a little pissed at his crudeness. Even if we were dating, I would never look at her that way, like a piece of meat.

"That's too bad. She's pretty hot."

I feel myself getting drunker, being the amateur drinker I am. My tongue ties; my speech slurs just a little. "Yeah, she's beautiful."

"Ah, you like her," Kyle says, winking.

"No," I say. "I love her."

"You should tell her, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Kyle pats me on the shoulder and gets up to leave. I stop him. "Hey, Kyle?"

"Yeah, little dude," he says.

"This drinking thing, it's not so great."

Kyle laughs. "You seem to be having fun."

"I don't know; it's kind of a waste of time, isn't it."

Kyle sits back down and says, "Sometimes I get so worked up, so jacked, I just need to relax. Drinking helps me relax, you know?"

"There are other ways to relax," I say.

"What is this, some kind of intervention?"

"No, nothing like that ... I just passed Scott McPhee. I just don't want to see you end up like that."

Kyle looks back toward Scott. "Yeah, he looks like shit, huh?"

"Yeah."