Dumb Luck (16 page)

chapter
thirtytwo

I'd never before been in serious trouble in my whole life. The worst thing I ever did was accidentally break a neighbor's window while playing backyard baseball as a kid. I'd never imagined myself arrested and thrown in jail.

But here I was.

I was dead tired but my mind was racing. Was my apartment trashed by now? Was the party still going? Did anyone notice or care that I wasn't there? Would Taylor take charge and make sure everything went okay? But that was the least of my worries.

And Kayla. Kayla had told me not to have the party. Kayla was wise. Why didn't I listen to her?

What would my parents say when they found out? And they would find out.

I found myself thinking of Stephanie. I had really liked her. Did she do what she had to do by calling a cab? Could she have helped in the situation, helped me? Did she really have a driver's license and lie so as not to be drawn into my problems? Maybe she saw me for what I was. A screwup. Trouble. I took out her picture. It was in my shirt pocket and I had failed to leave it with all my other stuff. I stared at it. A very beautiful young woman who had been interested in me. I turned it over and looked at her phone number. I almost laughed.

But the fear and panic was setting back in. I wondered if this was what Kayla felt like when she had her panic attacks. I reminded myself that I was the one creating the panic in me. In my mind. All I needed to do was control it.

Further away, there was another loud, angry man having what sounded like an argument with himself. Then the image of the naked young man, his face contorted and pressed up against the bars, came back to haunt me. I began to see that I had one small bit of good luck with me tonight. The cops had decided to lock me in my own private cell. Oh, my god. What would it have been like to be locked up with the naked guy or the shouting, insanely angry men?

I sat up again to stop the racing thoughts; I put my back up against the cold concrete and my feet up against the opposite wall. My entire world was whittled down to this. All I had to do was get through the night. If I was lucky, they'd let me out in the morning. I just needed to keep myself sane through the night.

I failed to fall asleep at first, but eventually faded off a little; the light was very bright and, just when it seemed to get quiet in the jail, someone began to scream again. And again.

When I heard the first screaming voice of a woman, I realized there were women housed in cells at the far end of this basement we were in. A woman screaming a name. “Darren! Darren!” she wailed at the top of her lungs.

And then Darren answered. A raw, raspy shout from the guy next door who had been screaming and kicking his door. “Carla, is that you?”

At first, I almost thought it romantic. Two drunk crazies, both arrested and shouting at each other from opposite ends of the jail. But it wasn't like that.

“Darren, you stupid piece of shit!” she screamed for everyone to hear. “Look what you got us into!”

Darren wasn't about to take the insult quietly. “Shut up, Carla. I'm gonna break your face when we get out of here!”

Nope. No romance at all. It went on like
that for fifteen minutes, along with other jailbirds shouting out
for them to shut up. If I wasn't feeling so
desperate, I might have actually laughed out loud.

When things settled down, I faded again but did not really sleep. Someone else started shouting out, “What time is it? Does anybody know the time?” But none of us had watches. And there were no police walking up and down through the cell block. None that I saw. Like the others, I wanted to know what time it was. There were no clocks, no windows. And no water to drink. And it was getting harder to control my mind, my panic.

I took several deep breaths. I remembered something I once learned from a magazine about self-hypnosis. I concentrated on relaxing every part of my body. Then my mind. Then counting backwards ten to one. But just about when I'd get there and just about when I relaxed enough that I thought I'd fall asleep, Darren or Carla or someone else would let out an unearthly shriek or curse, and I'd be wide awake and fully aware of where I was.

Keeping myself sane was my most important task.

I remembered back to days from my childhood. The good days with my parents. Car trips to the parks, the beach, the mountains. The trees. I started to picture the green of the leaves of trees. And then I was climbing them. It was a long time ago. Kayla and I were maybe twelve. She was above me in a crabapple tree we'd discovered in an empty lot.

I closed my
eyes and climbed tree after tree. I could not see
her in my visions but I knew I was not
alone. A shadowy but reassuring someone was always there in
the tree above me or below me. And there was
sunlight, bright sunlight sifting through the branches.

I guess I did finally fall asleep but I don't know for how long. The human wails and howling had stopped. I was out of it. But then, suddenly, I must have sensed myself falling. Falling like in those childhood dreams when you're falling out of the night sky and you wake instantly as you feel you're hitting hard onto the surface of the earth.

I woke up at that instant and sat bolt upright. I didn't know where I was.

My mouth was dry and my head was fuzzy.

And I was in jail. It was all real.

I think things got harder after that. I was still tired and my back ached from sleeping on the hard metal. I tried to calm myself again but I couldn't. I felt cold and scared and I started to shake, then sat there with my knees scrunched up, hugging my legs. This was bad, a voice in my head kept saying. Very bad.

But there was another voice. I can't say I recognized the voice but I like to think it was the voice of my father. In recent years, he had been so caught up in his ambitions and his work and then the new business that there had not been a lot of warm father/son moments. But he had been different, once upon a time. Back before his falling-out with my grandfather. Back when I was young. I think it was the voice of him back then that I was hearing. “You will get through this, Brandon. Everything will be okay.”

I heard this voice more than once. And when it receded, I waited for it to return.

And I did get through it.

One by one, the other prisoners were escorted from their cells when what must have been morning arrived. I seemed invisible to the attending policemen, so I finally piped up in a croaky voice to one walking by, “What about me?”

He looked puzzled, as if they had truly forgotten I was there. “I'll check,” he said.

When I was finally allowed out and given my watch, it read 1:30. It was the afternoon. I was given back my other things and freed to just leave. Once some more paperwork was signed, it was as if the attending cops suddenly lost all interest in me. I had to ask where the door was to leave the building.

“Down the hall and up the stairs,” one said and laughed a little.

I stumbled out into the cool bright afternoon and stood there by the side of the road for a minute. I looked at the police station that I'd seen maybe a hundred times before in my life, never knowing what went on inside. The panic was gone. I'd survived my night in jail.

A small bubble of euphoria at being free came over me. But it was quickly pushed down by the fact that this was not over. There would be a fine, a court appearance. And God knows how this might affect the rest of my life. Maybe I'd never be allowed to drive my new car or any car.

I started walking, realizing that I had never been prepared for the chain of events set in motion by winning the lottery. Maybe Mr. Carver was right. But maybe it wasn't the lottery at all. Maybe I just wasn't ready to be living in the adult world. My legs ached as I moved forward. The air was chilly and I only had a thin jacket. A thin, very expensive jacket. I saw a taxi and considered flagging it down, but decided I should just keep walking. Even though I didn't know where I was going.

My befuddled mind came to the conclusion it was Saturday. And I realized there was only one person I should go see right now. I wasn't going to go back to my condo just then to see what the partygoers had left of the place. No, I decided I'd go to the one person who might be able to help straighten me out a little.

chapter
thirtythree

Kayla answered the door and immediately knew something was wrong. “Brandon, you look like crap. What happened?”

“I spent the night in jail,” I said.

Her eyes were wide but she didn't speak.

“Can we go for a walk?” I asked. “I'll tell you all about it.”

“Sure,” she said. “Let's go.”

As we walked, I told her the whole sorry tale. She didn't tell me “I told you so.” She just looked very concerned and then suddenly stopped and gave me a hug. “You'll get through this,” she said.

“I don't know how I could be so stupid.”

“You're human. Things moved too fast. Now you need to regroup.”

We were in front of the public library. There was a low wall by the sidewalk and I sat down on it. Kayla sat beside me. I took a deep breath. “I really screwed up. I'm gonna have to go to court. Everyone will know. I'll have to pay a fine. I may never get my license now. And I'm going to have to tell the truth to my parents. They'll kill me. But, you know, as bad as all that is, there's something else that's bothering me more.”

Kayla sat silently and studied me. I could see how deeply she was worried about me. “What's the something else?”

“I just don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what I want, and I don't know who my real friends are, and I don't know where I'm going.” And then I started to cry. Yeah, I cried. Kayla held me again as a couple of elderly women walked by and stared at us.

“Maybe you should go live with your parents for a while. Give yourself some time to chill out.”

I shook my head. “Not in their new home. I'd hate that. I've hated everything about them wanting to move. That would only make things worse.”

“Well, then maybe when you move back into your old house, things will settle down and you'll feel grounded.”

She was trying to be helpful, but maybe nothing really could help me right then. I'd crashed and burned. In jail, I'd felt like I'd nearly lost my mind. “I'm worried about that, too. It won't be the same. It will be like a shadow of my old life. My parents gone. A lot of the old familiar things gone. What will I do? Sit in my room and make new friends on the Internet? It's going to suck, I know.” I blew my nose and felt embarrassed at what a mess I was. “Kayla, would you come stay with me? Live with me for a while?”

Kayla put her arm around me. “You're tired, Brandon. You've lived through hell. You need sleep.” She paused and drew back a little. “I'll come visit you. I don't think I can live with you.”

Despite the fact that Kayla was here for me and being the best friend anyone could be, I was beginning to realize that something about her had changed. Something about
us
had changed. I was afraid to say that out loud. I decided to change the subject. “How are things in
your
life?”

I could tell she wasn't sure how to answer. When your own life has gone completely down the toilet, the last thing you want to hear from someone else is how well their life is going. Yeah, maybe I wanted her to tell me what a lost soul she'd been without having me around school and hanging out with her more often. Instead, she answered with one word. “Better,” she said sheepishly.

“I'm glad,” was all I could muster. I looked at her face for a few seconds. I studied her. The glasses, the hair, the clothes. My advice and gifts had made a difference in her. But it wasn't just that. She was a different person. The schizzy look in the eyes was gone. The slouch was missing. Beyond her concern for me was an air of confidence. Someone who was not afraid of the world. I now didn't want to hear any more about how things were “better.” I was afraid it would open up a wider chasm between us. And, right now, I needed her badly.

“So what do you do now?” she asked. “Today?”

I decided it was time to stop wallowing. I'd have to face up to all the crap ahead eventually. But for now, I had to get on with my own life, see if I could pull myself together, and begin to repair whatever damage I had done.

“Come back to the apartment with me?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Do we have to go there? What if there are people from the party still crashed out there? What if the party is still going?”

I knew I couldn't face going back there on my own and I was starting to feel panic rise up in me. I just wasn't ready to face any sort of new problem today on my own. I needed Kayla. I guess my face said all that. My lips didn't need to move.

“Okay,” she said. “I guess I can. But I'll have to go in the library first and make a phone call. I didn't bring my cell. I need to tell someone I can't make it for what we had planned.”

“John Gardner?”

“Yeah. He'll understand. I won't tell him why. Stay here. I'll be right back.”

Kayla walked into the library and again I was alone with my thoughts, tangled and convoluted as they were.
Just get through today
, I told myself.
Don't think about the future. Not even tomorrow. Find one small thread to hold onto for now. Hang onto that until you've had a rest and can think straight.

And that one small thread was Kayla.

The condo had been royally trashed. There was water from the hot tub all over the place. Bottles and cans scattered around the floor. Leather furniture stained and ripped. The refrigerator door was open. In the bedrooms, it looked like a war had taken place. But the partiers were all long gone. There was a foul smell to the place, and I discovered the toilet had been plugged up and that, too, had flowed out onto the floor. I wanted to cry again. But didn't.

I went to the sink and poured myself a large glass of water. I realized I was dehydrated and feeling nauseous. As I stood there, leaning against the kitchen cabinet, Kayla went into the smelly bathroom and grabbed some towels. She threw them onto the water on the floor, pulled the drain plug on the tub. Then she started picking up bottles from the floor and putting them into a box. “Nice friends you have,” she said, letting some real hostility slip through in her voice. Mad at them, yes. But also mad at me for being such a stupid shit to let my life come to this.

The look on her face was fierce determination and anger. She picked up garbage, mopped the floor. I started stuffing leftover food and garbage into a garbage bag. I found a couple of used condoms just lying there on the floor. My new life, I was thinking. My new, stinking life. Kayla watched with disgust as I picked them up with a paper towel and threw them into the garbage bag.

I really wanted to just crawl into bed and fall asleep. I wanted Kayla to lie there and hold me until I woke up and could begin to piece myself back together. But the bedroom was a disaster. Everything was a disaster. When Taylor and Chelsea and all the rest had left, they obviously had no thoughts in their head about me and what I'd come home to. They would not have known I was in jail. Maybe they thought I'd sneaked off with that young woman, Stephanie, and deserted my own party. Maybe Chelsea or Taylor was really pissed at me and this was done on purpose.

Or maybe no one had noticed I was even gone and they partied until the place was trashed. I tried to stop thinking about it as I yanked the sheets off my bed and found another used condom.

At that point, Kayla and I were working away at the chaos in different rooms. I needed to stop and talk to her before the silence between us made me crazy. When I left my bedroom, I found her in the bathroom with rubber gloves on, hauling full rolls of toilet paper from the shit-dirty water of the toilet bowl and putting them into garbage bags. The look on her face said it all.

I swallowed hard and said, “I'm sorry. I should have cleaned this all up myself.”

Kayla flushed the toilet then and it worked. She grabbed some more towels and threw them onto the dirty, wet tiled floor and then ripped off the rubber gloves. “Brandon,” she said with a new fierce edge to her voice, “if you don't make some hard decisions in the days ahead, that's going to be you, flushing your life down the toilet. When you started hanging out with Taylor and then Chelsea, I felt really hurt. Those two had always treated us like we were dirt. And then things changed for you. I got over it but I felt abandoned. I watched you let them draw you in, attach themselves to you, change you, mold you, use you.

“And you accepted it all without question.” Kayla's eyes were wild now. “You claimed to still be my friend and maybe you were. But, for me, it was like I'd lost the one good thing in my life. And recently, even though you and I still talked to each other, still hung out, everything kept shifting. And I tried to go along with it. I really did. Taylor's remake of you. Then you, having learned from the expert, trying to remake me. Into what? Something more acceptable to them? Maybe I liked being me. Sure, the whole world scared me. I was trying to hide out from it. But maybe a smart part of me didn't really want to be part of that shallow, mindless world.”

“Kayla, I'm sorry. I didn't know that's how you felt.”

She took a deep breath. “Brandon, I'm not going to say anything more. I've said too much already. When I came here today, I promised myself I would not get mad at you, but I couldn't help myself. I know you're feeling weak right now, but you needed to hear it. And I'm not sure anything can be the same between us again.”

I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I felt a hollowness well up within me.

Kayla was washing her hands now. “You need to sleep,” she said. “You're exhausted.” Then she went into my bedroom, kicked at the pile of dirty sheets on the floor, found some clean ones and made the bed. She nodded to the bed. “I'm going to just sit out on your balcony for a bit and get some fresh air until you get to sleep. Then I'm going to head home. I'm having a hard time just being here. I'll let myself out after you're asleep. When you wake up, find something to eat. Then call your parents. I think you need to tell them what happened. The sooner the better.”

As I climbed into bed, I felt a great wave of sadness and defeat wash over me. I wondered how my good luck could lead to so much loss and hurt. I beat myself up for screwing things up so badly. I cursed myself over and over.

And then I eventually just stopped caring and gave myself over to the blissful unconsciousness of sleep.