Chapter 4 #5
“Look, we can just go back to Sawyer if you want.”
“It’s not that.”
“What then?”
He picked at something on his lip, tugging. “Just some stupid thing with Addison.”
Ah, of course. I thought back to the fight I’d witnessed between them in September. “Want to tell me about it?”
“He’s just so frustrating. He acts like he’s the center of the universe. Mostly I can handle it but sometimes he just pushes me over the edge. He can be so clueless.”
It didn’t seem like much—teenage concerns. But I nodded and said, “That sounds annoying.”
“It’s not annoying.” Tyler spat the word, startling me, his face splotchy and red with a rush of heat and anger.
“It’s fucking infuriating. He’s had every little thing handed to him in life and he has absolutely no idea.
I just—” His eyes narrowed and flashed, his hand ripped through the air, as if grabbing for the words; a delivery guy dodged out of the way.
“Forget it. Whatever.” He pressed a cigarette to his lips—I hadn’t noticed him pull out the pack.
His face twisted in the lighter’s flare.
We stood there, Tyler smoking, neither of us speaking, pedestrians streaming around us.
And then, as abruptly as the moment had erupted, it passed, as if a curtain had lowered and then lifted, Tyler’s whole body shifting in an instant.
The tightness gone, a looseness returning.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, whisking something away, smiled and laughed.
“Don’t pay any attention to me, it’s nothing, just silly college shit.
I don’t want to bore you.” He laughed again.
I wasn’t sure how to make sense of the sudden shift in mood. “I’m not bored. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Really, I’m fine,” he said, and genuinely seemed it.
“Forget about it.” He swiveled and scanned the block.
“Look at all this.” It was the kind of street that radiated from college campuses across the country: Irish pubs, Thai restaurants serving gooey, sugary heaps of noodles, suburban fast-food imports.
Throngs of students clogged the sidewalks, coming and going with the urgency of youth.
“I forgot what it’s like to be in an actual city. ”
“I think our spot is at the end of the block. Are you up for it?”
“Definitely, I’m starved.”
But we took just a few steps and then Tyler stopped again. We stood in front of a bar. A thick-necked bouncer manned the entrance, flirting with two girls.
Tyler pointed at the door. “Actually, let’s check this out first?”
“I don’t know.” Tyler was underage, I knew that, but I didn’t want to say anything—I didn’t want to set him off again.
“This restaurant is supposed to get pretty busy. We might have to wait.” The door opened as a group exited.
The crowd’s cacophony and the sour smell of old beer rolled out with them.
“Just a quick drink.” Tyler chucked his cigarette and grabbed the edge of the door before it shut. The bouncer turned from the girls but before he could speak, Tyler said, “We just stepped out for a smoke,” and leapt inside. I followed.
Riotous music blasted at us. Bodies packed together into the narrow space, peeling walls slapped in murky black.
“This way.” Tyler edged into an opening.
Before I could say anything, he shouted an order for two beers.
“That okay?” he said, without waiting for a reply.
When they arrived he asked for some cash, laughing—“Sorry, I’m all out.
” Great, I thought—now I’m buying an underage student drinks.
I dug out a twenty and passed it to him.
We shoved back through the crowds, the over-full pint spilling down my hand.
We found a corner, a high table loaded with empties.
Tyler gulped from his glass, draining the half of it.
“That’s perfect,” he said. “I’ll be right back.
” He set down the beer and spun, weaving through the crowd toward the bathroom, leaving me on my own.
Somehow I’d gone from a bad idea—bringing Tyler down to Columbus—to something much worse.
I should have just taken us to the car when I’d found him.
I resolved: When he returns from the bathroom, I’ll get us out of here, and we’ll head back to Sawyer.
As I waited, I looked around. Students filled out the entire space.
Guys crowded below television screens, watching whatever game was on, shouting and clapping each other on the back, as if they had achieved something.
Girls perched at high-topped tables, wrapped in tight dresses too nice for the setting and not warm enough for the season.
I had been to bars like this a few times in college, but not since.
There was nothing appealing about it. I felt conspicuous, and old.
I kept an eye toward the bathrooms for Tyler but apparently missed him, because he returned to our corner from the opposite direction.
His eyes shone glassy and bright, darting around in the dark of the bar, lights blinking off his pupils.
“Sorry, there was a long line.” He lifted his beer and tapped it absentmindedly against mine, head shifting left and right, searching for something.
He finished the rest of his drink. I lifted my glass to do the same; I didn’t really want it, but I wanted to get out of there.
Then Tyler called out to someone, waving. A guy in a baseball cap, auburn curls bursting out. He gripped a pint in one hand, balancing three shots in the other.
“Perfect,” Tyler said, passing a shot glass to me and grabbing one for himself. “This is Jason.”
“You know each other?” Panic seized me; was he from Sawyer?
“How would we know each other?” Tyler laughed, liked I’d asked something absurd. “We met in the bathroom.”
“What’s up?” Jason shouted over the din, louder than necessary.
At the edge of his nostril, a trace of something white.
Tyler, maybe seeing me notice, motioned at Jason, brushing his own nose.
Jason wiped it away. Were they doing drugs in the bathroom?
They tossed back the shots and, unsure what else I could do, I followed.
Tequila. It singed my throat, hitting my empty stomach with a slap.
Jason and Tyler got to talking. I couldn’t make out what they were saying and then I stopped trying.
Jason looked like any frat boy in any college town, and I couldn’t imagine what Tyler would want with him.
I thought of Tyler’s high school photos on Facebook.
I had assumed he hung out with that crowd because he was trapped in North Carolina with no better options. But is this who he would choose?
Jason finally left—he said something I couldn’t hear. I turned to Tyler. “We should probably get going.”
“Yeah,” Tyler said, looking around. “This place is so funny.”
“What do you mean?”
“Everyone looks exactly the same.”
It was true, they did. Or most of them did. There was a guy, older than the rest, in a button-down and tie, sleeves rolled up, talking with the bartender and looking our way. Beside him stood the bouncer.
“Tyler”—his name felt funny in my mouth, or maybe it was the tequila and beer—“are you ready?”
Before we could move, the guy in the button-down approached.
“Good evening, gentlemen. How’s it going?”
“Fine.” Tyler said. “How’s it going with you?”
“Seems like maybe there was some confusion at the door earlier.” He wore a nametag—MATT, MANAGER. His eyes roamed between us. “Just wondering if I could see some ID?” It was addressed to Tyler, and not really a question.
Tyler looked about to speak, then took his time. “Why?” He chewed on the word, gummy in his mouth.
Matt’s face flinched, in surprise or annoyance. “It’s not a problem, is it?”
“No, it’s not a problem.” Tyler pulled out his wallet and passed him a card. “I’m just asking.”
“Thanks,” Matt said. “I’ll be right back.”
He started to walk off when Tyler spoke again. “Wait.” Matt turned and Tyler pointed at me. “You didn’t ask for his ID.”
“Tyler.”
He ignored me. “Well, you didn’t.”
Matt gave a sharp smile. “I am sorry, sir. Do you have some ID I could see?”
I handed over my license, humiliated. Matt the Manager walked back to the bar.
“Tyler, what are you doing?”
He ignored my question and a few moments later Matt returned. He looked at Tyler. “We have a policy of confiscating fake IDs.” Matt stepped aside, making space in front of him. I was conscious of the eyes around us, tuning into the fact that something was happening. “I’ll need you both to leave.”
Tyler pushed off from the wall, spring-loaded, storming to the exit.
“Mark, right?” Matt glanced at my ID then back at me. “I’m going to do you a favor and assume you didn’t know you were accompanying a minor to a bar. But, honestly, this doesn’t look good.”
Across the street, Tyler stormed in a tight, furious circle. I dashed through the traffic. A car honked, the driver shouting.
“So stupid,” Tyler said, waving a cigarette. “I’ve been going to bars since I was fifteen. Now I have to pay a hundred bucks for another ID.”
“Tyler—this isn’t a joke.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“Are you kidding me? We could have gotten in serious trouble.” Rage and panic coursed through me. “Do you understand?” He said nothing. “Tyler, are you listening to me? This isn’t a fucking joke.”
“Mark.” His voice had changed, gone soft and low. His eyes widened. “You’re hurting me.”
And then I saw. I had grabbed him, gripping his shoulder. I didn’t even remember reaching for him. I let go, my fingers humming with the afterburn of strain. I looked at my hand then down. Tyler had dropped the cigarette, or I had shaken it from him; it smoked at his feet.
“Let’s just get back to Sawyer,” I said, and turned from him, already walking away. “This is a goddamn mess.”
We drove home, the drone of silence cut only by the low whoosh of an occasional car passing by. My hands were shaking and I squeezed the wheel to steady myself.
I had been a complete fool—and for what?
What did I think was going to happen today?
Tyler’s disappearance from the library, his lost hours, that idiot from the bar, cocaine or something on his face—how had any of this become part of my day?
I didn’t know what was going on between Tyler and Addison, and I didn’t want to.
He said it himself, it was silly college shit.
What did that say about me? I couldn’t shake the image of the bar manager taunting me, holding my license like it was my fate.
I could have been seriously fucked. And I had gotten so angry, I’d grabbed Tyler without even knowing it. What if I had done worse?
We reached our exit. I retraced our route back to the parking lot.
The doughnut shop was closed, and the laundromat, too.
Only the liquor store was open, its neon sign casting a lurid green across the lot.
I parked and shut the engine. For the first time since we’d gotten in the car, I turned to Tyler.
He looked at me, calm and expectant, the curve of his cheek pulsing in the lights.
“Listen,” I said. “I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t mean to grab you—”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t.” And when he tried again to interrupt, I cut him off. “It’s not. I’m sorry. I lost my head.”
“Don’t be upset. Really, it’s okay, I get it. I know I can be a lot.”
“I didn’t think this day through. I shouldn’t have brought you along.”
“Don’t say that. It was my idea.”
“Okay. But I’m the adult here.”
He snorted. “I’m nineteen.”
I let out a long breath and closed my eyes. And then I felt a hand on my arm—my eyes sprung open: Tyler’s fingers, light on my sleeve. I looked from his hand to his face.
“Let’s just pretend it didn’t happen, okay?” His voice wavered and cracked, eyes holding mine. “Everything turned out fine, right?”
“I don’t know.” I wanted what he was offering: forgiveness, reprieve. “Maybe it did.”
He sighed and pulled his hand away, his smile a shot through the dark. “Okay, good. We’re good.” I could feel the soft press of his fingers on me still. “I’m telling you, last time I got busted with a fake ID, it did not go that well.”
I laughed, I couldn’t help it. “I do not want to know.”
“You really don’t.” And Tyler laughed as well. “I never asked how your research went. Did you find what you were looking for?”
The archives seemed a lifetime ago.
“I did, actually. It was a good start.”
“That’s great, that’s what matters.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about tonight.”
After Tyler left, I stayed in the parking lot. Hunger clenched my stomach but when I thought about returning to my apartment, standing alone in the dim kitchen light, I didn’t want to go. So I sat in the car for a long time, doing nothing.