Cait Page 4

  “So Caitlyn,” Leah begins, “what’s the reason that kept you up at this fine hour?”

  “I could not sleep.”

  “Ah, I can relate. I too have been like a zombie for how many days now. I don’t know how I’m gonna make it through the rest of high school if I keep up with this fucked up sleeping pattern of mine.”

  “Yet here you are wide awake. Recklessly continuing that pattern, and on your way to some party, where it’s likely you’ll find the ass hat,” says Charlie. The three of them laugh again.

  “Ass hat?” I ask, confused.

  “Well, the host of the party we’re going to now, one of his buddies seems to always have his head up his ass so much so far it has now become a hat for him. I’ll give you an example: ‘Hanna stop wearing your ass as a hat’.”

  “Remind me again Leah, why is it that we’re still attending these parties anyways, when we could run into ass hats?” asks Hanna.

  “Free booze and entertainment. Just to say I went to parties in high school. Not to mention it makes you uber cool. Oh, and again, all work and no play makes Leah a dull girl.”

  “Hear, hear,” Charlie says, and we laugh again. I cannot remember the last time I’d laughed or had fun.

  Leah stops at a red light, tapping her hand on the steering wheel. The streets are quiet, except for the occasional barking of dogs. I go through my pocket to view the cassette tape from the box. It is labeled in someone’s remotely smudged handwriting and the label reads,

  “1995

  PROPERTY OF APRIL HOFFMAN”

  This cassette belonged to Mom.

  “What’s that?” Hanna asks. She is half-turned from the front seat and her question draws everyone’s attention.

  “Um, it’s a . . . it’s a cassette I found in my moving stu—” I begin to answer, but Leah cuts me off.

  “Hanna mind your own business, please,” Leah snickers while giving her a you-must-not-know-everything look.

  “No it’s fine,” I say. I don’t mind the questions.

  “I’m merely asking out of curiosity,” Hanna glares at her friend.

  “Well, curiosity killed the cat, and it could kill you too.”

  I can’t help but chuckle.

  “Did you say cassette as in . . . a mixtape?” Charlie laughs.

  “Well yeah, I suppose. It was my Mom’s in high school. I haven’t listened to it yet. Ah, the good ol’ days.”

  “How would you understand what it was like, Cait? You were not even there, let alone born around those times,” Hanna says.

  “It seemed around the time our parents were young, they all had such a great time. They listened to great music and did not have the kind of technology we do to get in the way and distract them. I don’t like what it has done to people nowadays. Everyone wants to show off on social media. People do not like being productive anymore.” I do not know where all I just said came from.

  “Do not forget the music. Our music will never be as good. The music of our generation . . . everything now sounds the same. Like robots having sex. Not that I know what they sound like while having sex. I reckon that’s what they would sound like though,” Charlie adds.

  We all laugh at what he said.

  “True,” Leah says. “Somebody just wakes up and gets into the studio with a crooked voice to make noise.”

  Another bout of laughter from us. My night is really looking up. Charlie grabs a bottle of alcohol beside him, opens it, and puts it to his mouth.

  “Charles, did you already get a head start on the drinking?” Hanna reaches her hand to the backseat where Charlie and I are sitting and smacks her brother on the head.

  “Is it your head start?” Charlie retorts.

  “Guys! Guys! No fighting,” Leah admonishes. The twins both look at each other, and then comply.

  “I totally forgot what we were talking about,” Leah continues. “Oh right, cassettes. Yeah, this car can play them. That is how old this car is. But I love it. Old and practical.”

  “Do you have the aux cord? Or at least some CDs. I don’t know . . . something to play. I need some ‘on my way to a party’ music. Ya feel me?”

  “I feel ya Charlie, but sadly, no. I was cleaning out the car yesterday and forgot to put my gear back in the glove box.”

  “Shame. Caitlyn, if there’s one important thing you should ever acknowledge about me, it is the fact that I use music as if it’s the soundtrack to my life. I’m still working to decide on my theme song though.”

  “You could play the tape. I mean, I have no idea what kind of music is on there. But it’s at least something,” I tell him.

  “Thank you! Yes, let’s play it.”

  I hand over the tape.

  “Let me put the hood on, before I forget. I don’t need last time’s incident to repeat itself.”

  “Last time’s incident?” I ask.

  “Last party we went to, some random guy hopped into Leah’s car and slept in the back seat. It is kind of funny thinking about it now,” Hanna replies for Leah.

  “My car, my fault. That was the least worst-case scenario that could have happened. I mean, people could have tried to do other things in there. You know, like get down on each other. Oh man, I gross myself out. Why did I even set that image in my head?”

  More laughter. Minutes later, Leah turns into a street, pulling over to this house, a semi-detached bungalow.

  “Is this it?” I ask, because there doesn’t seem like anything is going on in it.

  “No. The house is three yards away, but there would no room for me to park over there. We will have to walk. But we all have two legs, so it’s fine.”

  “Haha,” I say.

  We pour out of the car, after which Leah brings down the hood and locks the car.

  Like Leah said, three yards later, we can see the house. I know which one it is because of the blare of speakers belting out noisy lyrics. People are milling outside on the lawn—teenagers and young adults. Cars are parked everywhere around.

  “I’ve never seen so many cars parked near the same front yard before over at Alex’s. More people rocked up than I thought would. I was convinced we and just a handful of others would be the only ones shallow enough to use his event for drugs and alcohol, because that is pretty much what will go down tonight,” Hanna says in a matter-of-fact tone. Then she looks at me.

  “Oh and Cait, don’t be nervous, okay? Just stick with us, and you will be fine. We are kind of the wallflowers anyway, so we will not be disturbed like others. If people really want to see us, they will be few, and maybe because they have not seen you around before tonight.”

  “Alright, I’ve heard you. Will do.”

  “By the way, you should perhaps learn a little about Vic Scumb,” says Charlie.

  “Who’s that?”

  “Leah, should we tell her?” asks Hanna.

  “Whatever,” Leah mumbles, staring at the floor. I wonder why she reacts like that.

  “Okay,” says Hanna, who looked like she was prepared to talk about this Vic either way. “He’s one of the buddies of Alex, the guy who is hosting the party tonight. He’s a senior who is in the same year as our semi-decent half-brother Beau. A pig and as obnoxious as they come. He is not a very good person generally. You know, issues here and there.” Even though I do not know what she means, I nod.

  “You made all that sound so creepy, Hanna,” Charlie says. “Don’t get her scared.”

  “Okay. I’m not scared. I’ll keep all that in mind.” I am more interested in having fun than learning about some stranger.

  We walk up the picket fence and across the well-trimmed lawn. There are some people sitting in different groups, in circles on the grass. Some are talking and laughing around, some are drinking, others are smoking. Tissue papers are strewn all over the well-manicured grass.

&n
bsp; “Parties like this are never truly over until everyone ends up on the ground like a bunch of brainwashed imbeciles, a few girls start dramatically crying in a corner, drunk couples start making out anywhere shamelessly, and someone is bathed in their own vomit,” proclaims Leah, going ahead of us to knock on the door.

  Now, I’m wondering if she really wanted to come to this party or the twins made her. But Leah is not the kind of person you force to do anything. She’s a pack leader, though a softie. And I have noticed that she has a soft spot for me. Always coming around to check on me, getting me sweets and pizza and telling me interesting stories. Two days ago, I noticed that she looked troubled when I went to her place, but she said that I should not worry about it.

  The door opens, shutting the one containing my thoughts. We are greeted by a pair of eyes whose scleras are very red. I’m thinking that this dude must have been drinking since morning.

  “You’re not the pizza man! I ordered pizza and they’re not here,” the guy at the door says. However, he opens the door wider and steps back, letting us walk in.

  As we enter, there are two people making out on the living room couch and few others smoking something that does not smell like cigarettes from farther off, while about seven people watch and cheer them on. Two of them begin to cough vigorously, and I conclude that it is the first time for all of them, hence the watching and cheering.

  “Oh my gosh! Are they waiting for them to choke to death before taking that from them?” one of the guys sitting around asks incredulously.

  “It’s none of your business,” the red-eyed boy tells him. “They are not kids. Moreover, they knew that this was going to happen.”

  The guy has a point. The smokers must have known what happens the first time an individual smokes, which I guess is lots of coughing.

  “What is that they’re smoking?” I whisper to Charlie.

  “That’s marijuana, but we call it pot. It gives an incredible high. Makes you forget everything that worries you for a while.”

  “Hmmm! I see.”

  We keep walking, with the red-eyed boy leading the way. The music is coming from one of the rooms and that is where we are going. He opens the door, and I get momentarily blinded by the disco lights doing a dance on the ceiling. We enter the room that has about twenty people or more inside. It is a very big room, and the occupants are busy, most of them dancing and others talking or drinking.

  “Join the party,” red eye tells us and disappears into their midst. Leah suggests that we should sit down for a while first and observe what is going on, which we all do. Soon, two jocks walk up to us, wearing jackets that say “FADERS” on them. The word jogs my memory. It seems that I have seen or heard about it before. I cannot remember where, and this puts a little damper on my high spirits. Oh, fuck it. I intend to enjoy myself tonight.

  The first guy claps Charlie on his back. “Good to see you, my man.” They exchange pleasantries before he shakes hands with the girls. Then he turns to me with a smirk.

  “And who is your pretty friend?” He is obviously asking them but looking at me.

  “Hey! Back off. Don’t go getting any ideas,” Leah stands up, all protective. I’m touched.

  “Calm down lady. I come in peace.”

  “I’m Alex,” he says to me. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Same here,” I reply, not sincerely. I wonder why Leah comes after him like that. I have no time to dwell on it, however, as the door opens and another jock surfaces. He calls to the two before us.

  “Guys, Jim is in the other room, lying in his own vomit. Silly boy. Come take a look. He’s such a—”

  He stops talking as he sees us. Then he totally ignores us, except Leah, whom he smiles at. Hanna who is sitting beside me says into my ear, “Oink oink.” I realize that the third guy is Victor, the pig. Okay, nice. Keep away from this one. You were warned.

  Suddenly, there are loud noises in the next room. It seems like a fight has broken out. The three jocks leave us sitting there and go to check out what’s going on. We sit there in silence for about six minutes before Leah asks what we are going to do next.

  “How about going for drinks? Caitlyn, what do you want to drink?”

  “Uhm . . . anything. I cannot remember if I have a preference.”

  “Hanna, what about you?”

  “I’ll take scotch and soda.”

  “Charlie?”

  He holds up his bottle of whiskey as an answer.

  “Well, since I’m driving, I’ll just have soda. Let’s go to the kitchen and find some drinks.”

  And with that, we head to the kitchen. There we see different kinds of drinks on a table there with people helping themselves. Meanwhile, Charlie is chugging down his drink like a fish. Hanna smacks him around the head. “Easy does it! Jeez! You’re going to end up drunk.”

  “I need it. Georgia is here. I saw her on the lawn before we came in.”

  “Oh! But you do not have to drink too much though.”

  “Liquor gives me courage. Whiskey especially.”

  Hanna tells me that Georgia is a girl who goes to their school and whom Charlie likes. In her words, “He has a crush on her.” He had not been brave enough to walk up to her for months now.

  Charlie is busy mumbling to his drink, asking it to give him courage. We sit down around the table and pour out our drinks into glasses. I first take a tentative sip. It’s not bad, so I take a mouthful. It goes down my throat, with a burning sensation, which is no problem for me.

  “How do you feel?” Leah asks.

  “No different. I was probably born for this,” I joke.

  “Interesting theory you have there.”

  I’m on my third glass when I begin to feel strange. My heart begins to palpitate, and though it’s autumn, I am feeling sweaty. I feel nauseous, and my vision is not very clear. Hanna is touching me.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “No, I’m not. I have to use the bathroom. Where is it?”

  “Upstairs. Let me show you.”

  “No, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Leah has a worried frown on her face as she asks me.

  “Yeah.”

  “Alright, honey. We are going to be here till you’re done.”

  I nod in acknowledgment and take the stairs, the panic attack getting stronger. I open the first room I see, but there are people inside. They look up at me in surprise.

  “Sorry,” I say, shutting the door and keeping it moving. There is another door that I open. It is dark and quiet. There’s nobody there. Good. I enter inside and close the door behind me. Then I slowly slide down to the tiled floor. My eyes are closed, and I’m trying to catch my breath. Then, I hear a sound and quickly snap my eyes open. What was that?

  That turns out to be a boy about my age. He is smoking something in a pipe-like container. It smells like that thing they were smoking downstairs. What did Charlie call it again? Pot. Yeah, pot. But how did he get here? There was nobody in the room when I came in. He looks at me and nods, tapping the mattress. As if in a trance, I walk up to him and sit down on the bed next to him.

  “Hi,” I say.

  “Caitlyn,” he replies.

  How does he know my name? I have never seen him before.

  “Do I know you?”

  “No, but I know you. Here,” he offers me the pipe-like thing.

  “What is this thing?” I point at the container.

  “It’s a bong. Pot in a bong. Nice rhyme.” He laughs, the bong still outstretched towards me. I take it and look into it.

  “Go ahead,” he says softly, and I suck into it like I saw him do. The effect is instantaneous. It seems to rush up my brain, and my eyes begin to water. I am coughing like those silly guys we saw downstairs, as tears stream down my face.

  “Easy, easy. Take
a breath and go easy,” he says.

  I follow his advice, and this time, all I feel is a floating sensation. It seems like I’m flying in some nice paradise.

  “This is good,” I tell him, taking another hit.

  “Yeah,” he affirms.

  “Tonight is probably my best night ever.” I pass the bong back from him.

  “Why?”

  “It’s a long story. And it’s depressing too.”

  “Try me.”

  “Oh, okay. You see, I was recently in an accident. An accident I don’t even remember happening. From what I have been told, my aunt was the one behind the wheel. The doctor said that I had overdosed on some pills and she was rushing me to the hospital when it happened. Now, she’s in a coma and it’s all my fault.”

  “You cannot keep beating yourself up.”

  “Yes, I can because it’s the truth. If I had not tried to end my life for some reason, she would be at home with her husband and daughter by now. You know the worst part? I cannot remember what my past life was like. The impact of the crash dealt a blunt force trauma on my head, and it affected my brain. Occasionally, I get flashes, but nothing has added up. It makes me very frustrated more than half the time. Sometimes, I get so depressed I want to leave this world. Do you know how it feels not remembering what your life used to be like and relying on the stories told by other people? It is a very pathetic situation, trust me. I am yet to start school, but I’ll be attending next week. I wonder if I will be able to cope.”

  “I can imagine,” the boy says. “But you have to be strong. What about your family?”

  “My mom has passed, and I do not know where my dad is. I live with my sister and brother.”

  “I’m sorry about your parents. You have to be strong for your siblings then. What about friends? Do you have any?”

  “Yeah. Three. They are the ones that invited me here.”

  “Okay. Things are going to look up soon. Just be easy on yourself, alright?”

  “Alright. Thank you for listening. I needed someone who is a stranger to vent to.”