That Feeling - 8. The Party, Part I

By the time we got to the party, I was actually ready to get away from Jake. Ever since the kiss earlier he continued to act stranger as the afternoon went on. After we left my house, we went to his so he could change. His mother was home and I was forced to sit on the couch and watch episodes of Grey’s Anatomy with her. She was crying and it was awkward. When Jake came back to the living room, he was no longer withdrawn like he had been earlier. He was smiling at me, and even put a hand on my shoulder as he stood behind the sofa. He even asked his mom if it was okay if he spent the night with me, which I was pretty sure had been off the table at that point. And she agreed, through sobs. Jake kissed her and we left. Jake was acting terribly chipper for a guy who was giving me the cold shoulder only thirty minutes before. Even more chipper than is usual for Jake. On the drive over, he kept talking about a girl he hoped was at the party. But it felt all wrong, because the girl didn’t sound real. She sounded like a prototype he’d thrown together. The kind of girl I might create in my head if I didn’t have Avery. The whole ride over I wanted to say something to remind Jake what we’d done. But I didn’t. Or couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. I don’t know. But I never said a word, just let him ramble on. Jake had always been a rambler, at least around me. I had always thought it was because he was comfortable with me. We were friends and so he was able to let loose. But maybe he rambled because he was nervous. Did I make him nervous? I watched him as he talked. He had high cheekbones, full lips, and a rounded nose that gave him a unique, if not classic, sort of cuteness. He had a muscular neck and thick arms that I could get lost in. He kept glancing at me to see if I was listening. He always did that. But in the car ride to Carson’s lake house, it felt different now. Everything felt different after that kiss and I didn’t like it. Sure, I liked Jake. I’d had a crush on him for most of middle school. And that kiss; it was my first. But I’m messed up and I know it, so if I need anything right now it’s stability. And Jake doesn’t seem stable, he’s acting like nothing happened. He’s acting like nothing is different when we both know everything is. It feels so surreal and I want to get out. Is this how it is? Is this how it is to watch someone actively suppress something that you know hurts them? Because if it is, I feel sick. I feel like nothing is worth watching that, because it’s infuriating. Because it hurts me. I’ve been there and now it feel so useless.

So when we get to the lake house, I want to run away from Jake as fast as I possibly can. But I don’t, I sit in the passenger’s seat, waiting for him to make the first move. He takes the keys out of the ignition and hands them to me.

“Here. At no later than one, find me and make me come with you. I’m sure I’ll be pretty drunk. Don’t forget I’m comin’ home with you.” He drops the keys in my hand and they’re cold. I look him in the eyes. I don’t find what I’m looking for, though. Because I’m looking for that glint or that crack or that twitch that’ll tell me it’s a facade, but I don’t find it. Does he even remember what happened? Does he remember rubbing his hands up my shirt and touching my nipples? Because right now it doesn’t feel like he does. It feels like it never happened. He gets out and walks toward the house, leaving me in the Jeep.

The lake house is huge and fairly private, the perfect place for a party. There are cars everywhere. It’s October, so there’s a slight breeze, but it’s still pretty hot. I can hear the music and the bodies from inside the house. I hear yelling and laughing and I just want to sit in the Jeep, but I can’t. For the first time in a long time, I feel lonely sitting there as the house sways under the pressure. I need to go in if only to know I’m not alone. I’m part of that, even if that is damned to feel harder and love harder and hurt harder because youth can be harmful. There are other people suffering just the same as me, even if I’ve never realized it before. We’re upper-middle class brats who can’t see the world past the tips of our own noses because we were taught all our lives that we’re special, that we are infinitely more important and whatever we want is there for us to take. And take we do, with reckless hope that we’ll be different than the others; that our mistakes are more important and lasting; that our triumphs are newer and better that our peers’ or parents’ triumphs. I am them and they are me and I hate us all. I follow the cement pathway to a large red door. I remember being ten and coming here with Carson and Joey during the summer. I slept in bed with Joey and wondered all night what the knot in my stomach meant as I watched his bare chest rise up and deflate. The next day I saw him naked for the first time as we changed into our swimsuits; it was the first guy I’d seen naked and I stared. We swam all morning and in the late afternoon I caught a catfish that I threw back. That night, we roasted marshmallows and had s’mores and their parents told ghost stories. But those memories felt a hundred miles away as I open the door and the smell of alcohol and sweat and expensive perfume hit me fast. I don’t see the peaceful lake house anymore, all I see are teenage bodies oozing. Girls curled up in boys’ arms. Guys betting which girl will be the first to go down on him. I see everything I hate about myself. As I walk in, Joey is talking to a petite blonde I don’t recognize. He’s smiling and probably hoping to get lucky. I go into the kitchen, but I haven’t seen anyone yet. There’s a keg on the kitchen counter, as well as bottles of various liquors. I go the the refrigerator, pushing a senior girl named Marie Brandt out of the way. She glares at me and leaves the kitchen. I rummage through the refrigerator until I find a can of Coke and pour it into a red Solo cup. I need to at least look like I try. The kitchen is almost empty. The noise seems lower now that I’ve become used to it. I feel like an outside spectator, like I’m observing, but not participating. My head’s a camera capturing the action and I’ll decode it later, at home, in silence.

I finally see Jake. He’s in the hall making out with a girl I don’t know. She has brownish hair and she looks young. I roll my eyes, because here it is in front of me. He couldn’t have been in here more than ten minutes and his tongue’s down another girl’s throat. I’m aware of the impossibility of it all, because even if I come out to everyone and it works, this is what’ll happen. I’ll never have anything because nothing stays with me. Because being young is hard enough. Because when you’re sixteen and you like a girl, the worst is she doesn’t like you back. Maybe she has a boyfriend and he beats you up. But no one cares, because it’s normal. It’s the plot of a thousand teen shows, no matter how dramatic they try to make it seem. They’re still normal and it’s okay. But when you’re sixteen and gay, it’s harder. Because it’s not just whether the guy likes you back or not. Because say he’s straight, so there’s no hope at all. Or any hope there is only lies in that off-chance he’s curious or you can get him drunk enough. And then what? Watch him with his girlfriend and friends or whoever, actively ignoring your looks. Or even say he isn’t straight, but then he might be so far in the closet it’s useless to even play those games because it’ll only hurt you in the end. Or maybe there’s no chemistry or he’s a douchebag. Or maybe everything’s perfect. But you’re still sixteen, so nothing will last forever no matter what we tell ourselves, so you break up in a month and ignore each other in the halls.

Even thinking like this seems like a revelation. Like my head has rearranged itself and nothing even matters anymore because we can try and try but we’re all stuck in the same shit-storm with no way out. I stop looking at Jake and walk towards the living room. But I stop, because now the world is playing tricks on me. Because Avery and Knox are on the sofa together. Avery has her legs draped over Knox’s legs and her arm around his neck. She’s practically sitting in his lap. He’s looking at her and talking, a smile on his face and she’s laughing at whatever it is. It feels still in the room all of a sudden. The music is gone; the smells are gone; everything is still. My body feels weak all over because my girlfriend is basically on top of the boy I think I love. She’s laughing and he’s laughing and I feel like each laugh is reaching down my throat and pulling an organ out. This is a party and everyone knows we’re dating and there it is in front of everyone. It feels like I’m falling through the floor. Avery glances at me. Then, so does Knox. But they don’t acknowledge me. She kisses him. Full on the lips and I’m holding back tears, because I can’t cry. I can’t cry here with everyone watching. I thought seeing Jake kiss that girl was bad, but this feels like murder. Like they’ve stabbed me through the heart with a sword and I’ve no way of stopping it. It keeps going deeper until it’s all the way through and then it’s twisting. I want to run but I’m transfixed watching their kiss as it drags out. His hands are roaming her back and hers are fixed on his temple. She’s straddling him now and I want to puke. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I quickly turn around, startled. Carson is standing there. She smells like alcohol and perfume. Her normally perfectly straightened hair is starting to frizz.

“Hurts, huh?” Her voice is low and scratchy.

“Yeah.” I want to say more. I want to say everything but I can’t, not without the tears pouring out.

“What hurts worse?”

I don’t want to understand, even though I think I do. This isn’t happening. “What?”

“What hurts worse? Your girlfriend kissing the guy you like, or the guy you like wanting it?”

I blink fast as the tears finally start falling. So many things are running through my mind at a rapid pace, but all I can think to respond is, “How long have you known about that?”

“I didn’t know. Just suspected. How can we ever know?” She’s not looking at me, but at the people writhing around the house.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?”

She sighs deeply. “It’s hard, Caleb. It’s hard to say what you mean sometimes. Because people get hurt and you want to protect them. But what they’re doing to themselves is hurting them too. It’s just...hard.”

I look back at the sofa. Her head is on his shoulder. His mouth is moving, whispering something in her ear.

“Does anyone else know?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, I didn’t even really know until now.”

I swallow the lump that had been growing in my throat. The tears are still coming, even harder now as I look back at Carson. “Why is everything so fucking hard?”

“It’s just how it is.” She looks at me then away again. She quickly turns back and kisses me on the cheek. “I love you, Caleb. Don’t ever forget that, okay. You’ve been my best friend forever. I love you.”

And I break down. For the hundredth time in months, I start to cry uncontrollably. Everything that’s built up inside me feels like it’s coming out of my eyes. Because everything I’d built up is coming out and I thought it’d be bad, and maybe it is, but now it just feels like nothing. Like Carson’s voice has cracked the last bit of the facade and everything is rushing out into the open, but it’s leaving me empty. Because there are no more faces, no more dead feelings, no more fictions; just the truth flying free because it’s escaped. And the truth is hard because it means letting go of everything I’ve tried to keep close. My emotions feel like a tangled jumble of flesh being ripped out of my stomach, but I’m trying to push them back in. I feel weak. I feel like I might fall. I want to die. I want to live. I want to punch Knox in the jaw. I want to kick Jake in the balls. I want to fall on the floor in the fetal position. I feel heavy, like I am sinking through the floor. I feel light, like I’m floating to the ceiling.

“Oh Caleb.” Carson hugs me, but I pull away. I look at her and shake my head.

“I just- I can’t do this anymore.”

People are staring at me, but I don’t care. I run past the sofa. Avery calls out my name, but I ignore her. I’m out the doors on the back deck. It’s lit by tiki torches and flood lights and the faces are swimming in my eyes. I can’t see because the tears are still coming out. I feel dizzy. I make my way to the steps that lead down, bumping people on my way. I feel empty. I feel full. I feel unreal and hyperreal. What has happened? Carson knows. Jake kissed me. Avery and Knox made out. This world is different than three days ago. This world is shit because it doesn’t make any sense. Everything I built up as true is dying. My head’s falling apart and I can’t put it back together anymore. I sit on the bottom step, but I’m done crying. I just sit and stare at the moonlight hitting the water and think how easy it would be to walk out there and jump in and never come out. To be engulfed by the water and the moonlight seems like such a perfect way to end it. I ponder it for a few minutes. Who’d miss me and what would they say about me at my funeral? I laugh, because it’s all so absurd. My fake girlfriend and the guy I’ve obsessed over for months kissed right in front of me. They looked at me and kissed, like as a punishment or something. It’s so fucked up it’s funny.

A body sits down next to mine. I don’t bother looking at who it is. A lot of people saw what happened. Any one could want to comfort the poor, humiliated Caleb out of pity.

“Earlier, I was flirting with this guy, right. He was ugly as fuck, but I thought he might’ve had a big dick and I’m horny as hell. So we’re talking. He’s as dumb as he is ugly, but I don’t care because I only want his dick. He asks, ‘what are you?’ I know what he means, but I play dumb. He says, ‘like, you Mexican or sumthin’?’ I say, ‘No, I’m porteña’. He looks at me funny and I say, ‘like from Bueños Aires...in Argentina.’ Then he tells me his dad can’t find work because all the Mexicans are taking the construction jobs. Like what the actual fuck, I just said I wasn’t even Mexican. He asks if my dad takes construction jobs away from Americans, like he’s gonna confront me about it. I say, ‘No, my dad’s a rich ass doctor and I wanted to fuck you, but you’re ignorant as fuck and my pussy ain’t gettin’ near that shit’ and I walked off.”

I look over at her sitting there. Her hair’s curled and has bronze streaks on the silky chocolate. She’s pushed it behind her ear, her dangling feather earrings moving in the breeze. She’s looking at me with her dark brown eyes and smirking. She always had a way with words and I can’t help but laugh. It feels free, like all the feelings are bundled up in the tiny sound waves as they come out of my mouth.

“You’re such a whore, Sara.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a jackass, so we’re even.” She’s looking out at the lake. It’s silent for a few minutes before she brings up a cigarette to her mouth and lights it. The smoke billows into the darkness. “Sometimes I think we’re aliens, Caleb. Like, fuck creation or evolution or whatever. The ship just dropped all the crazy, messed up people here to just let them fester and kill each other off or whatever. And now we’re here, the experiment gone wrong, trying to figure it all out on this God-forsaken planet when we belong in the stars.” She takes another drag of her cigarette and looks over at me. “You know?”

I look into the darkness and lean my head against her shoulder. “Sara…”

“I saw, Caleb. That was wrong of her, to do that, here.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s just confused.”

“We’re all confused.”

“Not her, not usually. She doesn’t know how to handle it.”

“It just hurts, you know?”

“Oh, I know. It only gets worse the more complicated it gets.”

“It’s already pretty complicated.”

“Yeah. Wanna tell me about it?”

And I do. Because this is Sara. This is Sara the bitch and the whore, but she’s real. She can handle it better than anyone and I’m ready to get it out. So I tell her everything. About Knox and the feelings and all the shit I’ve never told anyone. I explain everything as we sit on the dark bottom step. It pours out like it’s never done before. I pull out the truth I’d hidden strand by strand and lay it out. And she listens and inspects and understands but doesn’t comment or say anything. I cry and she puts her arm around me. I laugh and she smiles. And then the story is today. I want to tell her about Jake and the kiss because it still confuses me, but I’d be betraying a trust. Because nothing happened. I had said that to him, but it was a lie. Because something did happen. I want to tell Sara, but I skip over it. It’s not my secret to tell, not yet. I stop and take a deep breath.

She’s looking at me and smiling. “I never would’ve thought you were a ‘mo.”

I screw my face and shake my head. “I pour out my soul to you and that’s all you have to say?”

“I’m kidding, Caleb.” Her arm is around my shoulder and she leans against me. “I’m glad you told me. I didn’t suspect or anything. I’ve been pretty checked out lately. But I’m glad you told me. It’s good. To get things off our chest is like having really good sex.”

“I don’t wanna hear about your sex life.”

“Sure you do. Homos love to talk about sex.”

“I’m not a ‘homo.’”

“Semantics, Caleb. You’re a homosexual; ergo, you’re a homo.”

“But it sounds so...gay.”

“You’re that, too.”

“Ugh, this is frustrating. I like guys, but I’m not like gay gay.”

“I know, mi querida muñequita. It’s a hard life. Sure it’s not a phase?”

She’s teasing me and I like it, because that’s what Sara does. Teasing means she’s good. It’s good. “No, definitely not a phase.”

“Avery has no idea, of course.”

“I know.”

“But Carson does. That’s good. And Jake. That’s...interesting. That little shit probably doesn’t even know what gay means.”

“You’d be surprised.”

“What did he do when you told him?”

“Nothing. Just said ‘Oh’ and then we went about our business.”

“That’s bad.”

“What’s bad? ‘

“When Jake doesn’t want to talk about something.”

“I didn’t want to admit that.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine. It’s Avery we have to worry about.”

“Why? She looked pretty cozy with Knox. I’m sure she’ll be glad to get rid of me.”

Sara sighs. “I don’t know what’s gotten in to her. Normal Avery would not do that.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I’m gonna go find her.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna find her and talk to her. You okay?

“Yeah, I’m f-...getting by.”

“Bueno. Okay, adios, muñequita.”

She gets up using my shoulder as a boost. She looks down at me, smiles, and walks up the steps, back into the mess. Watching Sara go is strange. On that list I made I had put her in the unsure column, because I thought she’d go with Avery. But it’s all fucked up now. Nothing is going like I thought, because no one fits into the nice, neat boxes I’d fixed them. Everyone is amorphous and complicated and maybe that’s just how it is. Maybe that’s how we’re made. Maybe Sara is right; maybe we’re really the shittiest of an alien race that got sent here to die and it didn’t work so we just kept going and the longer we’re here the shittier it gets because we just can’t get it together. It’s like entropy: the whole system just tends toward degeneration and there is nothing I can even do about it on the bottom of the steps. It’s depressing, thinking that everything has to be hopeless to even make sense, so what’s the point anyways. But when I think about it, the point has always been to get by. We give meaning to these moments and expect them to mean something again. I used to think that was pointless; I used to think that it was all just shit, but it’s not. It’s meaningful because we’re human and we’re all shitty and we need something to look at or read or hear and know that something beyond us, something out there means something more than our shitty lives. Maybe it’s Art, or Beauty, or the Universe, or Humanity, or maybe even God, but it has to be there or we’re lost. I felt lost, but as I’m sitting here on the steps staring at the moon I feel completely aware of my place. I feel found in a kind of way I can’t even understand. Everything feels less hopeless and less hard. Oh, it’s still hard and shitty, but less so in the kind of way I think I can grasp; that’s not slipping through my fingers. I feel enlightened and I’m not sure how to handle it.

I get up off the stairs and walk back to the deck. The party is thinning out and the deck has less people than when I bursted through earlier. Some are out smoking and others just talking. I sit on a chair in a corner. I just watch. People are strange. I’ve never watched people before, because I was too worried about me, but now, it seems invaluable. There’s two girls sitting on the rails talking, puffing on cigarettes. I imagine what they’re saying. They’re talking about a boy that was supposed to be here that isn’t. He’s blowed off the party to go to dinner with his estranged dad, but they don’t know that. They think he’s with another girl. I few feet away, there is a boy passed out. I make up his story, too. He drank too much because his dad was abusive to him and his mother before she called the cops and he went to jail. He’s emotionally damaged and needs alcohol to escape. If he wasn’t passed out here, it might be on any street corner. There’s a girl sitting alone, maybe she’s crying, I can’t tell. She’s upset because her boyfriend just broke up with her. He’s in college and thinks she’s too immature and dramatic-

“Hey, this seat taken?”

I look up. A guy is standing there, pointing to the chair next to mine. He’s tall and big, not really fat, maybe muscular, I can’t exactly tell. His hair’s brown and mussed. He’s wearing a gray military style button up and khaki shorts. He’s smiling. I don’t recognize him.

“Um, no.”

“Thanks.” He sits and sticks his hand out towards me, “I’m Ethan.”

“‘S’nothing.” I shake his hand. “I’m Caleb.”

“Well, Caleb, it’s nice to meet you.” He’s smiling and I’m intrigued. He has huge hazel eyes and his teeth are really white.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, too.”

“So, what brings you out here this nice evening?”

I’m confused. Does he mean the deck or the party. He seems too nice. I don’t know how to react. “Um, the party or the deck?”

He chuckles. “Either.” He’s still smiling.

“Um, well, I came to the party because I’m friends with Carson and Joey. We go to school together. And I, um, came to the deck because I don’t like, uh, parties.”

He laughs. “Good answer. So you go to Greenbrier?”

“Uh, yeah.” I assumed he didn’t go there, “Where do you go?”

“Evans. Let me guess, you’re a junior?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Senior.”

“Fun.”

“Hardly. Anyways, so you know Joey?”

“Oh, yeah. We play football together. And I’ve been friends with his sister, Carson, for, like, ever.”

“Hmm, okay. Well see, I don’t know him. My friend Chloe likes him, so we came so she could try to seduce him to be her boyfriend.”

I’m surprised for some reason. Ethan just seems so open. He’s still smiling. I remember the petite blonde from when I first got here. “Is she blonde, petite?”

“So you saw them sucking face?”

“Um, no, but close, I guess.”

“Yeah, I think she’s getting her way, which is why I’m finding something to preoccupy me.” He makes a weird facial expression and I feel nervous, but I’m not sure why.

“Oh. Yeah. Well, good for her.”

He’s still looking at me funny and smiling. “Yeah, good for her.” He shakes his head.

“So, Caleb, what kind of stuff do you like to do for fun?”

I panic. I haven’t had fun in a while. I want to tell the truth, but I find myself wanting to impress him. “Oh, uh, nothing much. Hang out with friends. Um, I play football. And...yeah.” I suddenly feel embarrassed.

“Fun stuff.”

It feels like he’s patronizing me. I feel offended. Something in me wells up because I’m tired of feeling inadequate. I’m tired of feeling like I’m not good enough. “You know, it’s not that fun. I hate football. And I barely hang with my friends at all anymore. So yeah, I get forced to come to parties and watch my girlfriend make out with a guy I li-” I stop suddenly. What am I doing? I don’t even know this guy.

“No, go on. This sounds fun.” He shimmies his shoulders. I suddenly hate him.

“...Make out with a guy I like.” I say it low, only enough for him to hear.

His smile is about to get bigger than his face. “Oh, juicy! So your girlfriend made out with the guy you like. There is so much information in just that one little sentence. For starters, you’re not straight. Gay, bi, non-labeling, I don’t know, but something. The guy isn’t interested, obviously. He’s making out with the girlfriend! I assume he knows you two are dating. And that girl! Making out with him. Tsk, tsk on her. Sounds like a slut.”

I want to attack him. I want to rip his throat out. But everything he says in true. He’s basically right. He’s just so smug. We don’t even know each other. “You’re a dick.”

He laughs. “Maybe. I’m brutally honest. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Our little secret. I like to munch the cock too.” He wiggles his eyebrows, glancing toward my crotch.

I grimace. “I’m not interested.”

“I didn’t ask if you were interested. I was simply stating a fact.”

“So, you’re gay.” He shook his head. “You don’t look-”

He frowned. “Don’t go there. I’m not a flamer, but that don’t mean shit.”

“Sorry.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

He looked away, towards the house. “Look, I didn’t want to argue with you. I thought you were cute. Thought I’d give it a try. You never know, right. You seem like a decent guy.” He looked back at me. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m a little drunk. Um, wait.” He leans and takes something out of his pocket. He has his phone in his hand. “Can I have your number? Maybe make it up to you when I’m not such a dick.”

I hesitate. Then say out my number anyway. And there it is. A guy has my number.

He smiles. “Catch you later, Caleb.”

He gets up and walks off. At the door he looks back and waves goodbye, then disappears into the house.