My date with Bob went smoothly. We talked about school on the way to campus, didn’t talk at all during dinner because the production was going on, and then talked about the play on the way home. It was a stupid play about a pair of dysfunctional sisters who were trying to find themselves, but it made for good conversation on the ride back. Bob and I both agreed that as punishment for being annoying, the characters should be forced to relive high school. That way, they wouldn’t have to worry about finding themselves because there were always so many people in high school who told you exactly who you were.
When we got to my house, Bob walked me to my doorstep. “Sorry the play was such a bomb. I hope you had a good time anyway.”
“I did. Thanks for taking me.”
“We’ll have to do something again sometime.”
“Sure.”
We looked at each other for a moment, and I wondered if he wanted to kiss me. Then I wondered if I should let him. What exactly did a goodnight kiss mean? That you were boyfriend and girlfriend? I didn’t want that. Not yet. Maybe never. How did people know enough about each other after two dates to make that sort of decision?
A voice in the back of my head said, “If this was Josh, you would kiss him.”
I hated the fact that I was letting Josh, who clearly didn’t want to kiss me, intrude into my date with Bob. But there it was. The truth never cares whether it’s a convenient time to present itself. I liked Josh. A lot. Which meant it wasn’t right to kiss Bob.
I took hold of the doorknob before any more time passed. “Well, good night.”
Bob nodded. “Good night.”
I went inside. As I got ready for bed, I tried not to think of Josh anymore. I didn’t succeed.
* * *
On Saturday afternoon, my parents drove an hour and a half to Spokane for an art show. Mom had a few of her paintings featured in the show, but I knew from experience that going to this sort of event meant spending hours walking around staring at obscure paintings, then spending the rest of the evening listening to my parents discuss them. I opted for a night at home with a microwave dinner instead.
At ten o’clock Elise called to ask for a ride home from Darren’s party. Chad had driven her there, but Elise said he wasn’t in a condition to drive anymore. I hesitated before answering her. My parents would be back anytime. I knew they expected me to be home. “Can’t you call your house?” I asked.
“No. Then my parents would know I’ve been drinking.”
“Won’t they know when they see you?” After all, I could tell just by her voice.
“I’m only one of eight people living in the house. Mom is throwing up. Dad is busy keeping the little people happy. They don’t pay close attention to me. But if you can’t come pick me up, I’ll have to risk it and make Chad take me. Of course, we might crash and die—might even plow into a few innocent bystanders . . .”
“All right. I’m on my way.”
I thought of texting my parents to tell them where I was going, but I wrote a note and left it on the table instead. A text they would read right away. With any luck, I’d be home to throw away the note before they had a chance to see it.
I drove to Darren’s quickly, jogged up his front walk, and knocked on the door. When no one answered, I rang the bell. A guy I recognized from the football team opened the door.
“Hi!” He turned his head and yelled back into the house, “It’s more chicks!”
A general hurrah went up from the living room.
“I’m here to pick up Elise,” I said.
The guy turned his head again. “Nope, it’s just one chick!” He turned back to me. “Don’t just stand there, come in.”
I took two steps into the entryway. “Is Elise Benson here?”
“Sure. I saw her around somewhere.”
“Could you find her for me please?”
“I’ll see.” He threw his head back and yelled, “HEY ELISE!”
No one answered. No one even looked up. “Can’t find her,” the guy said. “You might want to try in the kitchen.”
“Thanks.” I navigated my way across the living room, trying not to step on people sprawled around on the floor. It was dark and a hard to tell which blobs were bodies and which were coats. I noticed people cluttering the hallway and sitting on the stairs too. I wondered if I’d have to search the whole house for Elise.
As I wandered through the dining room, a guy came up and offered me a beer.
“No thanks,” I said. “I’m just here to pick someone up.”
He stepped closer to me. “Wow, you don’t waste any time, do you?”
“I mean, I’m here to pickup my friend, Elise, and take her home.”
“Wouldn’t you rather take me home?”
“Excuse me,” I said, pushing past him. “I need to find Elise.”
A few minutes later, I did. She was sitting on Chad’s lap on one of many chairs set up in the kitchen. She saw me, called, “Cassidy!” and stood and hugged me. “You know, I really love you, Cassidy.”
“That’s nice. Let’s go home.”
She turned and chimed, “Hey everybody, this is Cassidy Woodruff. My jerky brother broke up with her Thursday, so she’s suffering from a broken heart. Be nice to her.”
A collective “Ahh” went through the room.
I put my hand over my face. “Can we go now?”
“I have to finish my beer. Sit down. Enjoy life. Carpe diem. If you don’t seize the moment, the moment will never seize you. ”
Seize? That sounded like what happened when you had a heart attack. I sat down and glared at her. She didn’t notice. She was back on Chad’s lap. He had his arm around her waist.
“So Cassidy,” he said, “how’s your poetry going?”
“Fine.”
“You want something to drink?”
“No.”
Elise held out her glass to me. “It won’t bite you, you know. This beer is perfectly tame.”
“Elise, I thought you called me for a ride home.”
“I did. But you might as well have a good time while you’re here. Think how jealous Josh will be.” She turned and motioned to someone. “Hey, Brandon, come here. I want you to meet my friend.”
A tall guy with light brown hair and a football-player strut came over. He grinned. I tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt.
“Cassidy, this is Brandon, super stud extraordinaire. Brandon, this is Cassidy, or—as she’s sometimes known—Cassi-Diem.”
Brandon sat down beside me. He spoke louder than he needed to. “So, you’re on the rebound, huh?”
“Sort of. I mean . . . actually I’m here to take Elise home.”
He took a sip of his beer. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”
“Well, I plan on putting her in the car and driving to her house.”
I glanced over at Elise. She was messing up Chad’s hair and laughing about something. I knew she wasn’t about to leave. She had set this whole thing up.
I sent her psychic kill vibes.
“No,” Brandon said, “I mean tell me about yourself.” He put his arm across the back of my chair. “I’m very compassionate—emphasis on the passionate. Tell me how you need someone to comfort you.”
“Thanks for the concern. I’ll be fine.”
He took a sip of his beer and gazed at me. “You have beautiful eyes. Kind of greenish, brownish—”
“Hazel,” I said.
The stereo system, which had been blaring loudly ever since I came inside, switched to a song Brandon apparently knew and liked. He looked at me and sang along. Almost on key.
I tried to catch Elise’s attention by staring at her, but she was completely occupied with Chad’s blond hair. I wondered how long she would take to finish her beer.
Three minutes. I would give her three minutes and then we were going.
While trying to ignore the second verse of Brandon’s song, I gave the room a good overview. The kitchen connected with the family room, so I could see a lot of people. A guy was stumbling out a version of Dance, Dance Revolution, while a few people cheered him on—probably waiting to see if he’d fall over. Everybody had drinks in their hands. Some people were talking and laughing. Some people looked bored. Some people appeared to be on the final lap of the race to unconsciousness. One guy lay under the coffee table—just lay there—staring up at the underside of the table.