Rumble (6 page)

of reliving that day. And, as

always, anger taints it all.

I flip on the light switch

so I can see to straighten

the covers on Luke’s bed.

“Wouldn’t want you to come

back for a visit and think

I’ve lost respect for you,

little man.” Great. Talking

to ghosts now. Out loud, even.

As I reach for his pillow, I can’t

help but notice an evil waft

of stink emitted by my armpits.

Kind of disgusting. Guess I’d

better take a shower after all.

Stench-Free

Hair combed and clothes hanging

mostly straight, I check my phone

for messages, find what I’m hoping

for:
DON’T WORRY. YOUR HEAD’S

PRETTY FROSTY MOST OF THE TIME.

LOVE YOU. SEE YOU TOMORROW.

It’s almost eight by the time I leave.

I’ll catch a burger before I pick up

Marshall. When I open the front door,

the smell of lit tobacco wallops my nose.

Canopied by the porch awning, Mom leans

against the side of the house, drink in one

hand, cigarette in the other, watching

the drizzle. Dad hates when she smokes,

which is why she does it outside. Don’t

think he cares much about the gin, in

or out. Mom glances sideways at me.

Where you goin’?
Not her first drink,

or maybe she did, in fact, use it to

chase a Xanax. “Gonna grab a bite,

then see if I can track Hayden down.”

She Takes a Deep Drag

Exhales slowly. Yellow smoke

clouds the damp evening air.

You’re being careful, right?

I grin. “Caution is my middle name.”

But, wait. “What do you mean, careful?”

She can’t be talking the condom talk.

You know. With that girl. When you . . .

“Now, hold on. Hayden and I aren’t

doing
that.
Go—” Her eyes go wide

and I drop the
d
, modify, “Gosh,

Mom, why would you think so?”

Don’t lie to me, Matthew. All boys

your age are doing
that.
It’s nature
.

“Not lying to you. I love Hayden

with all my heart. But, nature or no,

condoms or no, we are not having sex.”

The furrows between her eyes tell

me she doesn’t believe it. Before

this conversation can devolve, I’m out

of here. “You should go in. It’s cold.”

Those Six Words

Slide out of my mouth,

soft as meringue. I think

we both choke on them

a little. I keep my eyes

straight ahead, even after

Mom calls,
You smell good.

But Matthew, please be careful.

Okay, we’ll call that a draw.

I can’t believe she’s so

positive I’m boinking

Hayden. Of course Mom

doesn’t know my girl

very well. In fact, she

doesn’t know her at all.

I avoid mixing downers

(like Mom) with uppers

(like Hayden). What’s

the point of dropping

low right before working

yourself up? I suppose

that’s what I do, dating

Hayden. Work myself up.

One thing abstinence

education doesn’t teach you

is how hard it is to maintain

an intimate relationship

that doesn’t include actual sex.

Frustrating, that’s what it is.

But I love Hayden so much

I have no choice but to respect

the boundaries she puts in place.

Problem is, the lines she draws

aren’t always real straight.

Gut complaining, I head on

over to Carl’s Jr. No lunch,

so what the hell? I order

the Memphis BBQ Six Dollar

Burger, with Pulled Pork (two

p
words in one) and onion

strings, add guacamole for

vegetable matter. Plus fried

zucchini. I’m in the mood for
z
.

Eight Thousand

Greasy calories later, I’m ready to party.

I pull up in front of Marshall’s and he sprints

to the truck, jumps up inside, bounces on

the seat. “Chill, dude. What’s with you?”

Nothing!
One word and it’s obvious he’s lit.

I borrowed a couple of my sister’s diet pills.

Lainie’s coming tonight and I wanna

be sure I can, you know . . . no problem.

“Lainie Brogan? First of all, in what

possible universe would Lainie want to

‘you know’ a little squeak like you? And

second, do you have regular dick problems?”

I’m keeping both eyes fixed on the road,

but I’m pretty sure he just clenched his fists.

Bet he’s about to pop a brain vein!
My dick’s

A-OK, thanks. Adipex just keeps it up longer.

“Longer than six hours, call your doctor.

But personally, I don’t want to know.”

Freak Lives In

A big dilapidated mobile home,

way out of town on ten acres of trees.

They form two crooked lines on each

side of the gravel driveway. At the end,

where road meets trailer, vehicles

litter the unpaved parking area. Mud,

that’s what it is. Squishy red slop.

It slurps at my shoes as I follow Marshall

to the door, noticing for the millionth

time in my life the incredible scent of wet

cedar. How do people live in the city,

where all you inhale is exhaust and piss

and subterranean steam? Of course, it

doesn’t smell a whole lot better inside,

where it’s booze over BO over a vague

fart stench, all fogged with a blend of

smokes—tobacco, weed, something else.

Eau d’party! Now to figure out just how

much “eau” I’m up for. I’ll start with a beer.

I toss a five-spot into the “Keg Donation

Can,” on top of maybe six single dollars.

Considering probably twenty people

are slurping suds out of red plastic cups,

I’m thinking Freak’s going to come up

a little short. Since he earns his keg cash

selling dope, no one’s too worried

about kicking in, but I like to pay my way.

Don’t want to be beholden to anyone,

except maybe Hayden, who would be

horrified at the red mud getting tracked

everywhere. She and my parents would

see eye to eye on that, at least. Personally,

I’m kind of enjoying all the “shoe painting”

going on. It’s so not-neat it gives me shivers.

My eyes are welded to the floor, so when

someone taps my shoulder, my arm

jumps, tossing something-I’m-guessing-

is-Pabst into the air and over my shoulder.

Hey! Not much into wearing beer! Try to

keep it in the cup, okay?
But then she laughs,

and before I can turn to face her, I know

it’s Alexa. We’ve laughed together before.

She Follows Me

Over to the keg, where I rectify the spill,

refilling her cup, too. Someone has turned

on music, if you can call Slayer music.

More like a growl with a beat and some bass.

Whatever. All I know is it’s really loud.

“I’m going in the other room where my ears

can take a vacation.” It comes out invitation-

like and Alexa takes me up on it.

We manuever carefully through a tangle

of partying people and it’s a challenge

to make it to the back room—once a bedroom,

but now set up like a den, with crippled chairs

and a seedy sofa where, unbelievably,

Marshall is tongue-to-tongue with Lainie

Brogan. Guess she was swayed by the promise

of an everlasting boner. I’ll never look at her

the same way again. There’s one open seat,

and Alexa sinks into it. I opt for the arm,

pray it holds. It’s either converse with her

or keep staring at Marshall, who has coaxed

Lainie onto his lap. Oh, hell, no. They’re

not going to get it on right there, are they?

“Holy crow. What got into her?” I ask,

and Alexa knows exactly what

I’m referring to.
Vince broke up

with her yesterday. She’s just trying to

make him jealous.
Sure enough, on the far

side of the doorway stands my ex-good

buddy Vince Rosario, looking unnervingly

like the Incredible Hulk. He’s even a pale

shade of green. “Damn. Hope Vince

hasn’t changed his mind. He could snap

Marshall in two without even trying.”

Instead, he watches the sordid scene

for a couple of seconds, turns, and walks

away. Pretty sure Marshall never knew

he was there. I’m also pretty sure Alexa

was right. Lainie knew. She’s smirking

around her semi-exposed tongue. “Man,

some girls are downright disgusting.”

Alexa laughs.
Ain’t it the truth?

And most guys like them that way.

True Enough

Except, “Not me. Personally, I prefer

class ladies to crass women.” There seem

to be mostly the latter here tonight.

And we class ladies appreciate that.

Alexa’s smile seems more predatory

than classy, but I keep that to myself

and change the subject. “So why were

you in Carpenter’s office today?

Curricula-tory problems?” She cocks

her head, perplexed. “Sorry, lame joke.”

Oh.
Now she looks consternated, but

tells her story anyway.
Believe it or not,

Carpenter called me in because of a post

on my Facebook page. I called Karla Decker

a whack and said I wished someone would

cut off her head so she’d finally shut up.

I guess someone saw it and sent it to Karla,

who told her mom, who reported me for

making threats against her daughter.

Jeez, man, I didn’t say I was bringing

my chain saw over, you know? I guess

zero tolerance isn’t enough with all

the gun violence in the news. Now they

feel the need to investigate any little burp

that might be a sign of stomach cancer.

How about you? Did you burp or what?

“More like a major silent-but-deadly fart.”

I tell her about my supposed infraction.

It takes a while, including a cup refill,

but I get to the end, omitting the “amen”

at home. Alexa listens without comment,

other than a nod or vocalized
Yeah.
I want

her to say, “That’s so fucked up.” I want

her to say, “Why in the hell would they be

worried about a freaking essay dismissing

God?” Instead, she goes to straight to Luke.

Well, Luke, Plus

The first thing she says is:

I kind of hope there is a heaven.

Wouldn’t it make you feel better

to know Luke isn’t really dead,

and that he’s watching over you?

To which I reply:

“Considering I was the one who

always had to supervise Luke,

I think he’d do a piss-poor job of

watching over me. Next question.”

Slightly stung, she continues:

I’m not big on church or religion,

but I want there to be something

more. Wouldn’t it be cool if we

could come back, get another chance?

I’ve considered that, actually.

“I don’t think it’s possible, so I’ve

decided to up the ante on the cards

I’ve been dealt. I don’t need another

chance if I kick ass in the present tense.”

Speaking of Kicking Ass

There seems to be a little row in the other

room. Everyone here crowds that way,

anxious to see what’s up. That action

pries Lainie and Marshall apart, and when

someone yells,
Get him, Vince
, I start

thinking maybe it’s time for Marshall