When Everything Is Blue(43)

I finish my third beer and then my fourth. I don’t notice much of anything outside the steady rhythm of Sean’s voice and the wave of indifference I’m currently riding. The perfect wave. Makes me a little nauseous, but I can’t seem to get off. Somewhere in between Sean talking about stealing his mother’s silver only to discover it wasn’t real silver and nearly setting his sister’s place on fire, I tell him about my infatuation with my best friend, who is straight and how he’s the person I want to be with all the time. I really stress that phrase, all the time. Because when we’re not together, I miss him, and lately it’s the same way even when we’re in the same room. I miss the effortless friendship we used to have when I didn’t have to think so hard on what to say or what not to say, or wonder at any given second what he’s thinking, worried he might see my feelings on my face. I blubber all this to Sean, not sure if I’m making any sense, but Sean keeps nodding sympathetically and goes so far as to wrap his arm around me and say, “There are worse things in the world, buddy, and it’s not what happens to you, but what you let it do to you. If this friend of yours is as good as you say he is, you should tell him what’s up. Clear the air, you know?”

“Clear the air,” I repeat sluggishly, making sure I got it right.

And somewhere along the way, I have the sense to warn Sean I’m about to pass out, and ask him politely not to gank my shit when I do. Sean swears to me that he won’t, lifting three fingers in Scout’s honor. That’s the last thing I remember, Sean’s three fingers and the earnest look on his face, as I ride that wave into a sweet and cozy oblivion.





Sweet Sixteen?


“THEO.”

I wake to Chris gazing down at me, figure it’s a dream, and close my eyes again to hold on to it a little longer, but then he’s calling my name kind of frantically and I decide this must be really happening, because his grip on my shoulders cuts into the muscle and his panic vibrates in the sound of his voice.

“Theo, man, wake up.”

My head is thick and mossy, my limbs like lead weights and mostly unresponsive. My eyes are gritty and my vision a little fuzzy. I glance around and see that I’m still on the beach. My hair and back are damp with clumps of sand stuck to me. There’s a wet chill in the air and a fog on the water that clues me in that it’s the middle of the night. Sean’s gone, and it looks like he cleaned up after us, because there are no empty cans or cardboard box to tell of our adventures.

“Where’s Sean?” I ask.

“Who?” Chris asks.

“Lieutenant Sean Knox.”

“Are you drunk?” Chris asks me. “Did he buy you beer?”

I rise to a sitting position, and my head pounds like the deep bass of a lowrider. I cradle it in my hands while Chris calls who I’m assuming is my mom. “Yeah, I’ve got him,” he says. “He fell asleep at the pier. I’ll bring him home.” Chris glances down at me as I mime a pleading gesture that he not tell her I was drinking and may still currently be drunk. I don’t want her to see how far I’ve fallen since this morning when I was her sweet, innocent baby boy. Chris shakes his head like he’s disappointed in me, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m drunk or because I can’t hold my alcohol.

“You mind if I take him to my house tonight?” Chris asks my mom. “He’s had a pretty rough day.”

I wonder how much she knows about my day. What did my sister or Chris tell her? Hopefully they didn’t show her the picture. No, they wouldn’t. Tabs and I might not see eye to eye on everything, but we have a mutual understanding to not involve my mom in one another’s drama. I’m thankful Chris is covering for me. And speaking to me. And cares enough to come find my drunk ass and bring me home.

Chris ends the call and drops down to sit next to me, rests his forearms on his knees, and runs his fingers through his thick, golden hair like I’ve seen him do before when he’s stressed. He doesn’t say anything, and I don’t offer anything up. I appreciate the few minutes wherein I try to collect my thoughts and make the ground stop tilting.

“You hungry?” he says at last.

“Yeah.” Food might be a good way to sop up the alcohol.

“Harley’s?”

I nod and slowly rise to follow him to the Volvo, brushing the sand off my ass before collapsing inside it. It’s immediately calming because it’s warm and familiar and smells like him. There’s probably an indentation of my buttcheeks on the seat. Chris turns down the music so it won’t aggravate my headache but leaves it on low, so it’s not just this balloon of silence between us.

“What time is it?” I think to ask as we roll through the mostly deserted streets. I must have passed out around ten or eleven. I wonder how long Chris has been looking for me.

“About 2:00 a.m.”

“Wow, that late?” I glance over at him, wondering if his stony expression means he’s pissed at me. Probably. There are so many threads as to why, the task of unraveling it seems overwhelming. “Thanks for finding me. I’m sure my mom was worried.”

“We were all worried,” Chris says stiffly.

“Sorry.” All I do any more is apologize. Chris seems to be cleaning up all my messes lately.

He sighs. “You should probably know, I kicked Dave’s ass.”