Date: Mon, 7 Dec 2015 23:12:48 -0700
From: Kyle Weaver <krazytop@gmail.com>
Subject: Douchebag and the Hole Part 16

Part XVI


The little Hot Wheels cars I had tried to get rid of were all over the
house.

Billy's voice cracked as he laughed.

It was a little odd seeing traces of his childhood demeanor disappear, in a
totally uneven fashion I might add.  It occurred to me that I wasn't quite
sure when people become really `grown up'—if there is such a thing.

Billy had bought hot wheels track pieces with his Christmas money.  He was
laying the track down everywhere he could, including a launch station from
the top of the stairs.

I watched him send one after another through a loop-de-loop and into the
air.

At one point, after being sniped by a rogue flying car, my dad's glass
Betty Boop statuette exploded, making a vicious noise and summoning my mom
instantly.

She was wearing a sleek red dress, with only one stalking on.  It looked
like she was half-way through clipping her toenails on the bare foot.

Soft wrinkles coiled on her face.  The chandelier cast beads of luminance
onto it.  They seemed to run down the lines, as dew drops swim along the
folds of a leaf.

Billy looked stricken.

My mom bit her lip, surveying the floor.  "It's not the end of the world.
Well...it is for Betty, I suppose."  She smiled, and the lines faded.  "Try
to be more careful.  The broom is under the stairs."

After sweeping, I decided to help Billy set up a less violent track in the
guest room, passing the time and ensuring that my aunt and I would still
have some of my dad's knick-knacks to bet on.  My aunt and uncle were at
the MET and knew better than to take their son, who unlike his father,
didn't need to be drunk to sweep out a disaster radius.

For whatever reason, it was always my job to contain him.

Eventually I felt my phone buzzing.  Joey usually called me on New Year's
Eve, although I figured he might skip it this year.

I looked down at my phone and jumped.

Duke was calling me.

Calling me.

He barely even texted me, and even that was just stuff like, <I'm busy,
bitch> or <Fuckin' be ready tonight>.

Duke was calling me!

I looked at the ceiling, then closed my eyes for a second.

I didn't have time to relax—I couldn't miss the call.

"I gotta take this, Billy.  You'll be good in here for a few minutes?"

"Yeah, Holden.  You can trust me," he said, his eyes alight.

My lip twitched.  I shut Billy into the guest room, stepping across the
hall back into mine.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's Duke."

Silence buzzed on the line for a few seconds.

"I didn't think you'd call me."

The line crackled.

"Roy fucked you."

Duke didn't sugarcoat.  I splayed myself out on the bed.

"Yeah."

"Were you trying to hurt me?"

"Were you trying to hurt me when you had Clarissa over?"

"That's not as bad and you know it.  I didn't even penetrate her.  You
don't go for the best friend, Holden.  That's bro code."

"You told me to make him happy."

"DAMMIT HOLDEN!  It's one thing when we are all together and you know I'm
on board.  It's different when it's a romantic ocean get-away alone
together.  And I never said anything about letting him fuck you.  That's MY
hole."

"It's my body and I'll use it however the hell I want."

"My thoughts exactly."

"Funny," I said.  My heartbeat raced along.

"So let's get serious."

"You mean to say—"

"Not like that, Holden."

"Why not?" I asked, tightening my grip on the phone, smearing the case.

"You're a flake, you know that?" He said.  "Hell, I don't what I saw in
you."

"You saw something in me?"

"Don't twist this, boyhole."

"You just said you did.  And you were right to.  I won't flake out on you
anymore, I promise.  I WANT to be the one for you--more than anything."  My
voice faded to a whisper and broke anyway.  "I--I'll let you do anything
you want to me—I swear."

"You think that's fair payback for what you did, letting me punish
you—but it isn't.  It isn't because you are a little pervert that likes
getting punished.  Remember how hard you shot from your little dick when I
tied you up?  How am I supposed to teach you ANYTHING?"

I'd never been much of a negotiator.

"So then don't think about it like that," I said.  "Think about how you can
make me do what you want me to do.  I'm there for you, Duke.  I—I'd do
anything for you."

"You're a fuckin' fag, hoping you can get me to think with my cock."

"I'm what you want me to be.  Isn't that how you like it?"

"What I'd like is to know what the fuck is going on.  You were pissed at me
a couple days ago...now suddenly you are not, just because I'm mad at you?
That's not normal.  You think you can play me?"

"No Duke!"

"So let it out then.  No more pussyfooting around."

I sighed.  "I'm mad you aren't going to live with me next school year, for
one.  When were you going to tell me about that plan?"

Duke laughed.  "That's still six months away, man.  We were gonna rent a
two-room apartment next year.  He's applied to the University this time
around, too; he keeps butting heads with his dad at the shop anyway.  Do
you really think we can't make room for you?  You can just share a bunkbed
with Roy in his room."

"Like you'd really want me in a room with Roy."

"Roy will know better by then, trust me."

"I'm sleeping with you, Duke; it's time you got used to that.  I liked
waking up like I did in Holiday Valley."

"With my cock in your face?"

"If that's how you like it."

"With a faceful of my ball-sweat and the taste of my ass on your lips?"

"If that's what you want."

His breathing got a little heavier and he hung up the phone.

I bit my lip.  It couldn't be all over, could it?  Not yet.  I mashed out a
text.

<You should come over tonight for the New Year's party.  It's an old-person
party, so you should dress like you did for the wine and cheese kickback if
you come plz.>

 <Can't come if I don't know where you live, bitch.>

I sent out my address.

<Don't cross your fingers.>

It was too late, though.

The breathing I heard at the end of the call stuck with me--taking me
back—to a time when our voices were connected by a string.  He should
have known all the way back when he made the stupid thing.

What we had would never be one of those fleeting encounters labeled "no
strings attached".


---


A few hours later, my mom put her hands together, sighing and looking the
family room over, as if there might be a stray animal behind the couch.
"This is going to be fun isn't it?  It's nice having you back."

I gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Billy hadn't done as much damage around the house as I feared, and there
were still plenty of knick-knacks for my aunt and I to bet on.

More family arrived, but my greetings were reserved until I saw Erica and
Matt.

I hugged her almost as aggressively as she hugged me.

"You didn't tell me the details about your date with Roy," she said.

"It wasn't a date.  It was just a detour.  I didn't ask Roy tonight—I
asked Duke."

"Duke—here?" Matt said.  "Erica says she's never seen him wear anything
but a towel."

"He has a few different looks," I said.

Erica started to count on her fingers.  "Bath towel, beach towel, no
towel..."

"Hey—he can clean up."

Erica shook her head.

I paired with Billy in Pictionary; we made it our mission to bring down
Matt and Erica.  We took a break after a while to grab plates of
sandwiches, grapes, and cookies, and even got plastic `wine glasses' of
sparkling cider.

Billy was more than old enough to stay up past midnight, and had done it
more than a few times before, but it didn't look like he would make it.
When he finally dozed off, I enlisted Matt to help him into bed.  That gave
me an excuse to step outside with Erica and talk for a few minutes.

"I'm going to be alone tonight, aren't I?" I asked.

"Maybe," Erica said, shrugging.  "If you are, it's his loss."

I felt like I wasn't put together enough to make sentences, but I tried.
"That's nice of you to say.  You always know what to say.  The problem
is—it feels like my loss.  It almost hurts when he's away.  And I try to
stand up for myself, but I'm afraid... I'm not that strong of a person in
the end."

"Strong person...what nonsense.  Like there is some kind of obvious metric
for knowing the times it is `strong' to make sacrifices and the times it is
`strong' to make demands.  People are contradictions, Holden.  The ones
that never let anyone push them around are the ones with a chip on their
shoulder, who hold their issues on the inside instead.  Trust me when I say
they are no happier, and no more complete.  We expect humility following
victories and encouragement following defeats.  Don't worry too much about
impressing people, or even about making sense.  As long as you continue not
to give up on yourself—then that will just have to be enough."

"I told him I love him," I said.  "But he won't say it back.  I don't know
if he'll ever say it back.  He doesn't even like making out.  So do I dig
my feet into the sand, make a demand, and risk driving him away?  Or—is
that a sacrifice... I'll have to live with—that the person I love
most—can't love me?"

"Holden," Erica said, putting her arm on my shoulder.

But she couldn't say anything more.

A fissure of light cracked the sky; for a moment, all was illuminated, a
glimpse of the cityscape etched painfully into my mind; then all went dark
again.

Thunder boomed; I felt the drips and patters and iciness building on me and
all around.

The sky let loose and all the world was hail and rain.

"Inside!" Erica bellowed.

I didn't need much convincing.

I tried to be stealthy when I snuck back inside, but Erica shook the rain
off like a mangy dog.

Matt took one look at us and fetched us a pair of towels.  In his haste to
reach us, he collided with my drunk uncle, who was pantomiming the story
about how he got in a fight with a Mickey Mouse mascot at Disneyland to no
one in particular.

My uncle stumbled backwards, waving his arms, inadvertently punching the
glass California Raisins figurines, and sending them crashing to the floor.

I pumped a fist.

"What?" Erica said.

"Nothing.  Just... my aunt owes me a dollar."

"You two chose the perfect time to go outside," Matt said, handing me a
towel, and then giving one to Erica.

"Yeah, well, maybe God's on her period," Erica said.  "Geez, I feel bad for
the people going to watch the ball drop."

Erica and Joey and I went with the gang a few years back to watch the ball
drop in person, and I have to admit, it really wasn't worth it.  It was
freezing cold and the view was bad.

Now Erica and I just watched it on television like most of the country.

I checked my phone.

No messages.

"It's only an hour away, now."  I pouted.  "I don't think Duke's coming."

"Can't really blame him, now that the weather is like this," Matt said.  We
could still hear it, above the din of the chatter, pitter-pattering against
the building.

"I don't think that's the reason," I said softly.

"Still—it's nice to have a way to save face," Erica said.

Some of my relatives that had avoided us while we were playing with Billy
swooped in on us now.  My aunt started to ask stupid questions about my
first semester at college.  I thought that was bad, but the line of
questioning moved to Joey, and how disappointed everyone was that he wasn't
here, before finally settling on the worst topic yet.

"So what are you gonna do after college?" My uncle slurred.  His brow
furrowed as he reached down and pulled a tiny splinter of glass out of his
shin.

I just shrugged.

I hadn't even declared a major in college yet.

Everyone always expects a plan, a definition, a simplification.  They
expect to be able to put one another into a bunch of little compartments in
their mind, with simple definitions and simple labels, next to all the
other stuff that was categorized just the same.

They believe that some scientists are infallible or that some religion has
all the answers and they fill up their boxes and convince themselves they
know everything.  Or at least enough of everything so that their opinions
can't be wrong.

I didn't know my major yet and I didn't know the answers to their questions
and I just didn't even feel like talking about it anymore.

"You must have some idea," my uncle said, draping his arm over me.  I could
smell the beer on his breath.

"I'll tell you what I'll do.  I'm going to take a roadtrip to the ocean
with Erica and Matt and hopefully one other guy.  We'll go to the
beach—it doesn't matter which one—and we'll learn how to paraglide.
And afterwards, maybe, I'll spend the rest of my life teaching people how
to fly."

"You aren't gonna get a college degree and then go and do that with your
life."

I smiled.  "We'll see."

Time whittled away, the clock on the mantle kept ticking, soon the minute
hand was on the seven, then the eight, then the nine.

I told Erica I was going to turn in.

"Don't be stupid," she said.  "Just wait fifteen more minutes."

"I don't wanna watch you and Matt make out."

"So we won't."

"That's even more stupid," I said.  "Please—I just need to be alone.
Just tell them I felt sick or something."

Erica looked piping mad, but she blinked it away.  "Fine, but if you don't
come back before we leave, I'm gonna be in she-hulk mode next time I see
you."

"I'll make sure she plays lots and lots of air hockey with you," Matt said.

Erica glowered.  "Keep that up, and I'll be more likely kiss Holden's uncle
at midnight."

"You two do have a kind of chemistry."

"Eew."

I smiled, tuning out their bickering as I walked up the stairs.  I stopped
at the guestroom, shaking Billy awake, and sending him down for the
imminent hoopla.

Then, I went to my room, and turned on the little T.V. my parents let me
keep when they bought the bigger one.

I could see the ball on top of the tower, waiting to drop.  The newscaster
started making a bunch of arbitrary `top ten of the year' lists, but they
were so full of pop culture and pretense, they all seemed like the same
list to me.

The top ten things no one will care about in ten minutes.

A chill ran down my spine as I writhed on my bed, and I decided to strip
off my soggy clothes.

What was I to Duke anyway?  A fleeting joyride that he'd forget all about
in one year's time?

He'd never be like that for me.  He was a walking adventure.  He wasn't
always nice or romantic or witty, but he was more of all of those things
then he let on, back when he first told me about his man cave, and
described his thoughts on what chicks dig.  He just didn't give himself a
chance—because no one ever made him feel like he shouldn't give up on
himself.

I wouldn't cry.

Why did I wreck so easily?

I wasn't like normal people, who go day to day showing off their
anxiety-proof faces and fabricating small-talk about how everything except
the weather is going according to plan.

It wasn't in my blood.

Erica said people are contradictions—maybe she'd say most people are
kidding themselves.

She had a way of saying things that would cheer me up.

But not this time.

To hell with fighting it.

I grabbed my soggy jeans and draped them over my face.

Time ticked and ticked away.

Then I started to laugh, silently, till there was a dull ache in my chest.

---

I think I alluded to the halfway point earlier. Now there will be just a
couple more parts to this story.  :)

Feel free to look over my other stories:
Completed: * Favor * Well-bred Friend * Shooting Back
Ongoing: * Taste of Power *
Upcoming: * Slip of the Tongue * Game Player *

Contact:
email: krazytop@gmail.com
tumblr: krazytop.tumblr.com
---