Everything We Never Remember (Part I)
1.
I stand up straight against the white wall and do my best James Dean impression. “Look this way,” she says. “No, this way.” She moves and motions, hands pointing in this direction and that.
“Like this?”
“That’s good enough. Don’t move.” There’s a flash and a pause. “Okay,” she says, and walks off into the party. I stand there for a moment. My hands are cold and my face is numb, but the lights aren’t bright enough to stop the good time. I walk into the next room and find a place on the couch. It’s darker and the music is loud. I’m in another place, on another plane.
Someone says my name.
2.
There’s a point in the night when everything seems calm, everything is right. The moon is full so the lights stay off. They’re not needed, they’re not required. It’s the motion of the party that everyone remembers. We sit down under the stars. The sky lingers with a fierce glow behind the rising smoke of our cigarettes. The conversations rise and fall, separate and meld together, several into one. Someone talks about their ex-boyfriend. She curses his name and calls him terrible things and some of us wonder how such words could come from such a girl. Another person reminisces about when we were young and stupid, when nothing really mattered and everything was easy - waking up late, irresponsible and with a love for cereal. He says, those were the days, as if they ever really went away.
3.
The lights flash.
“Bodes.” My name again. I take that quick, illuminated moment to scan the room. “Get up.”
Dave’s there in the middle of the room. He says, “Dance.” I get up, reluctantly at first. I’m spaced and in no rightly shape to be moving about, but the music is loud and consuming and before I know it I’m moving with the beat and the flow. My legs are wet noodles, bridges in an earthquake. My body sways without my permission but I do not care. I anticipate a collapse. I welcome it, if nothing more than an excuse to sit back down, back into the haze of the night.
“How you feelin’?” Dave asks.
“Cool, man. Cool as a pool.”
“Havin’ a good time?”
“Havin’ a blast.”
“Good, man.”
Something or other is said but the words are lost in the mixture of sounds.
4.
I’m driving down the freeway, hours earlier, with the windows down and the music up. It’s warm and bright and as I come over the hill the ocean shines with blue that melts into the sky. Picturesque, I think. This is something else. Adam is calling me, wondering where I am and when I’ll be there. Soon, I say. I’m almost there. I get distracted by the phone and by the sea and then I get lost, off the wrong exit, into some random neighborhood. Fuck, I say aloud. I don’t know where I’m at. I’ve never been in this neck of the woods. I figure it out though, because it’s not really a bad thing after all. I’m in no hurry, not yet, and the right songs are coming on at the right times. It’s not a bad thing at all.
5.
The night’s too long
We started too soon.
Not soon enough.
Yeah, alright.
I’m gonna pass out.
You’re gonna pass out? You just got here.
I’m spent already. Long day.
Don’t be a bitch.
Who’s got the lighter?
Drink less.
Why would I do that?
So I don’t have to hear your bitch anymore.
The lighter?
Give me one of those.
Eat shit. No you. Him. Can I get one of those?
Here.
I’m just messing around with you.
Who’s got the goddamn lighter?
6.
There’s someone waiting for the bathroom when I walk into the hall. She’s wearing a short skirt and some shoes that look like sandwich halves underneath them. We have a brief exchange, something about dancing, or maybe the contents of our red plastic cups. I tell her I can’t remember, but that it might be Jack & Coke. Mine, she says, Mine, I think is vodka something. I don’t know. Someone, another person, tries to take a picture. I make a face like a half-smile and she puts her arms out, as if to say, here I am! They take another picture and the person in the bathroom opens the door. Get in this, I say, talking about the picture. She says she doesn’t look good in pictures. I say who gives a shit. Just get in this. There’s another flash and I sneak into the bathroom before the girl in the sandwich shoes has time to notice.
7.
I’m sitting at a table in the back. My eyes take forever to adjust to what little light there it. Six or seven spots of orange and red float in the air like distant stars.
“You have a funny laugh,” someone says. A girl.
“I’m sorry?” I reply, shifting to my right.
“Your laugh. I like it.”
“Oh. Thanks. Yeah, It’s alright.” For a moment I can barely make out a face and, just for a moment, I hope this girl is somewhat attractive. It’s terrible, kind of, but I really don’t want to get involved in a conversation at all, let alone someone unattractive. Sometimes my shallowness knows no depths.
She’s pretty. I can make out a face: pretty smile, cheekbones, dark hair. “It makes me laugh,” She says, “your smile, that is.”
“Well, I’m happy to oblige anytime. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
I think, this, this is how the night is going to go. I’m into it.
8.
I’ll pull up to the house just after six, just before the sun sets completely on what I’m already guessing will be an adventure of a night and as I drive in circles past houses that look far too similar, trying to find where exactly I’m supposed to go, I’m telling myself, everything that happens tonight from this point on will most likely be remembered by someone other than yourself so do your goddamn best not to lose your shit – this, I’m telling myself, this is my mantra for the night, these are the words to be living by, because no one wants to be waking up wondering what the Hell exactly happened, but I’m already feeling the creeping sense of betraying my own thoughts, these things I’m telling myself, because these things never work out the way you plan and, really, all I’m really thinking about it getting here earlier because I’d really like to wear these sunglasses just a bit longer.
9.
“What are you drinking?” Dave asks.
“How far behind am I?” I say. That’s the real question, after all.
“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” Dave says with a laugh. He grabs a cup and pours something into it. I’m scanning the place, not really paying attention to whatever the Hell I’m being fixed, more surveying my surroundings and taking note of who’s here already and who’s still missing, like how real I already need to be or if I can get away with a little bullshit.
“Here you go, man,” Dave says, offering up something light brown and icy. “It’s Jack and Coke, well, mostly Jack. You’re kind of behind.”
“I figured. Nice, thanks.” I take the drink from him and test the taste. “Jesus, alright then,” I say, wincing just a bit. Dave laughs. “Let’s go smoke a cigarette.”
10.
So where is everyone?
Some are here. Some are down at the beach. Some still at work.
Still early though, huh?
Yeah. People are showing up after.
Cool.
You find it okay?
Yeah. Nice drive. No traffic.
Right on.
How long you been here?
Hour, maybe.
You drive?
Yeah. Me and Gil.
You staying?
The night?
Yeah.
Oh yeah. You kidding me? We’re getting’ done.
I figured.
You’re staying, too.
Yeah, most likely.
You work tomorrow?
Yeah.
Drag, man.
It is what it is. I’m not “there” half the time anyway.
Fuck it. Let’s drink.
