Track 4 Sad Beautiful Tragic #2
He’d disappeared somewhere between the sixth and seventh grade—in between one of my birthday parties and the start of puberty.
There was no formal notice, no formal talk about why he was leaving; my mom and I woke up one morning—refreshed after our annual family vacation, and realized all of his stuff was gone.
The next time we saw him, he was on TV—heading some huge celebrity divorce case.
The next time we saw him after that was in the newspapers—he’d just won one of the biggest class action lawsuits in the country.
And the last time we saw him was at his funeral; his new, much younger fiancée had been drinking and lost control at the wheel.
To his credit, he gave my mother everything she thought she wanted in the divorce—alimony, child support, timeshares, and two vacation houses they’d bought together.
He sent birthday and holiday cards like clockwork and every now and then, he sent us flight tickets to visit him; flight tickets that never got redeemed.
For me, he called once a week—going down his normal list of questions. “How are you this week, son?” “How are your grades?” “Your mother says you joined a summer league basketball team. How’s that?” “How is Arizona? Is she still your best friend?”
One day, circa seventh grade and tired of his bullshit, I cut off his checklist of questions and asked. “Why did you leave us?”
“What’s that, son?”
“I said …” My voice didn’t waver. “Why did you leave us?”
There was no immediate answer—only silence. After several minutes, I considered hanging up, but then he began to speak.
“I wasn’t happy. We were only getting along for your sake.
We were supposed to stay together until you reached high school, but I honestly couldn’t do it, and I told her that, too.
I should have been clearer and said that I just didn’t feel the same as I used to, and I guess that’s why we should’ve stayed ‘just friends’. ”
“That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Watch your mouth,” he snapped, his tone now glacial.
“You asked me to be honest, so I’m being fucking honest.” He sighed and paused once more.
“I never got to meet anyone new or find who I was outside of your mother. That’s the problem.
We settled for each other and we, in turn, stifled one another. ”
“You’re blaming her for you leaving?”
“I’m blaming us both,” he said. “No way can a man and a woman stay in love from childhood to forties and beyond. It’s unrealistic.”
“So, cheating on her with your secretary was the solution?”
Silence.
“How’s school?” He changed the subject completely.
“Arizona? Does she still have those braces?” And that was the last effort I made at attempting to salvage our relationship.
Which was why I was quite surprised to learn what he’d left me in his will.
In addition to a college fund, a trust fund, and a few of his investment portfolios, he’d left me a condo on the edge of the beach.
I vowed to never use it when it was awarded to me, and even contacted a realtor to put it up for sale. But once I found out that the house was near South Beach University, I changed my mind and moved into it at the end of my sophomore year.
It was my much needed refuge from the hectic campus life and the beach fire parties, which was why I’d never invited more than three people over at a time.
It was why I dreaded the idea of ever throwing a party here, but Josh was slowly wearing me down on the idea for this summer.
He’d even begged me to have a business meeting with him about it at the end of my private graduation get-together the other day.
Sighing, I folded my father’s obituary and returned it to the back of my desk drawer.
I stepped outside my room and headed into the kitchen, where Josh and five of his fraternity brothers were sitting at the bar.
“You all wore suits?” I looked at all of their complementing grey and black suits.
“This is a business meeting, is it not?” Josh took out a folder.
“You’re my roommate.”
“And for that, I am forever grateful,” he said. “And I think, to the best of my knowledge, we’ve gotten along pretty well, for the most part. Right? I’ve never been late with the rent.”
“There is no rent.”
“But if there was, I would’ve never been late with it.”
I rolled my eyes and took out a beer. This was going to be a long one.
“I also think,” he said, continuing, “that I’ve taken great care of the backyard, without you even asking.
I’ve also made sure that the fridge stays stocked with water and protein shakes whenever we run out, and I make sure my company never overstays their welcome.
So, with all of that on the table, I need you to give me three good reasons why you won’t let us throw the party here. ”
“I can give you ten.”
“I’m listening.”
“One, we have neighbors on both sides, neighbors who don’t really appreciate loud parties and have previously threatened to call the cops.”
“We’ve already talked to them.” He smiled. “They’ll be away the weekend that we throw the party,”
“If you throw the party.” I countered. “Two, I don’t want my things torn apart by drunken strangers.”
“We plan to rent a U-HAUL overnight and place all of your furniture and TVs inside of it. We’ll put it right back the next day.”
“Three, you don’t know how to count. You told me you were thinking about fifty people last week, but I saw the “secret” Facebook event this morning and it says three hundred people are coming.”
“Three hundred seventy-five.” The guy next to him coughed.
“Yeah, so …” I took a long swig of my beer. “Hell no.”
“Come on, Carter.” Josh stood up. “It’s not like you don’t have the space, and it’s not like everyone will be inside anyway. We have ideas to keep half of the people inside and outside.”
“It’s a no.”
“You can’t tell me you’re not slightly interested in the thought of jello pools and Slip N Slides.
Or a wet T-shirt contest in your own backyard.
This might be the last big party we’ll ever have in our youth.
We must protect our youth with memories like this, so when we’re married with kids that we can’t stand, we can at least say, ‘Hey, once upon a time, I actually loved my life,’ you know? ”
“Do you ever think before you speak or do you just let everything come out randomly?”
“A little bit of both, actually,” he said, smiling. “Don’t make me beg you.”
“Why can’t you throw the party at your own fraternity’s house?”
“Yeah, about that.” He cleared his throat. “After certain events that transpired last semester, Epsilon Chi is banned from throwing any parties on campus for the next five years.”
“So, you honestly think that shit gives me confidence in you throwing one here?”
“No, but I think if we do everything we said we were going to do a few minutes ago and offer you eight hundred dollars on top of that, you’d agree.”
“You’d be absolutely right.” I tossed my beer bottle into the trash. “Done deal.”
He rolled his eyes and took off his tie, while his frat brothers gave each other high fives.
“Okay, since we have like two weeks to get everything together, would you mind helping us this weekend? We need to make multiple runs to pick up the tiki torches, some weed, and we have to start loading up on jello and alcohol. It takes four people to hold the torch pieces though. They’re supposedly fragile, and we kind of need to pick them up in a few days.
So, unless you want to help us out by driving … ”
“I don’t. Ari can drive.”
“Ari?” Josh’s eyes widened. “Arizona Ari?”
“Is there another Ari we both know?” I looked at him. “Yes, that Ari.”
“Dude, you’ve never let me drive your car.”
“What’s your point?”
“Ari is a girl.”
“And you’re a boy. Now that we’ve established what genders are, are we done here?”
“My point is, why does Arizona get to drive your car when I, your male best friend—best friend since junior year of high school—has to beg you to let me throw a goddamn house party. In a house we both practically share no less?”
I shook my head. Once a month, like clockwork, Josh brought up something about Arizona. Like a little child, he would ask why her and not him.
“You’re not going to answer me?” Josh shook his head. “And you seriously have to wonder why everyone that comes around thinks you two are fucking?”
“First of all,” I said, annoyed, “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. Even if we were fucking—which we’re not, it wouldn’t be anyone’s business. Second of all, my car is a stick shift, and I would be more than happy to let you drive it, if you knew how to drive one, but you don’t. Do you?”
“Oh, yeah.” He tried to save face. “Right. I forgot. Ari can definitely drive tomorrow. I have no issues with this at all. Glad we could have this discussion.”
“Likewise. I want the eight hundred dollars a week before the party.” I said goodbye to him and his friends, and returned to my room.
I opened my drapes and looked out at the ocean, at the people who were taking a late-night stroll along the beach. Remembering that I was supposed to call Ari’s friend Tina for sex later, I pulled out my phone and saw a message from Arizona herself.
Arizona
Get ready to eat crow! The Chris guy (Told you there was a spark!) is taking me out to the movies tonight. Take that!
You’re just supposed to have sex with him, Ari. Not go on a date. (Not eating crow.)
Yes, well some of us NORMAL people like to get to know someone first before having sex! Sorry we’re not moving as fast as you and Tina are.
Tina and I haven’t had sex yet.
Having problems getting it up?
Having problems getting across the bridge at rush hour.
Well, I’m sure you’ll succeed tomorrow. Meet up for waffles after my date? Ten-ish?
Eleven-ish.
Great. See you there.