Time for your pills, Andy, Part 4
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By the time Kate showed up at my house that night, it was probably about 10 p.m. and I was pretty drunk, but it was more of a happy drunk than a depressed, angry drunk. So it was all good. In our drunken stupor, Kate asked me if I loved her. And I responded with a sloppy, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” “Good,” she said and she grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my seat. We went up to the attic and made love. This wasn’t our first time by any means. But, it was the last time. Afterwards, I gazed at her beautiful naked form as she lay on her stomach half-asleep on an old cot. The quilt that we used as a blanket merely covered the bottom half of her body exposing her soft back.
All I could think was how lucky I was at that moment and how I needed to preserve it in some way. I put on clothes quickly and ran to my room to grab my camera. I came back up to find her completely asleep and I began taking pictures. Most likely some of the pictures are out of focus or my finger was over the lens because of my intoxicated state. But it didn’t matter; I just needed to preserve it. I’ve never been a lucky person and I figured this was a once in a lifetime deal. Kate was once in a lifetime. Not taking pictures of her.
She awoke somewhat confused. I tried to hide the camera, worried that she’d be mad. Kate didn’t seem to care though. She threw the quilt off and began posing. Being a 17-year-old boy, I, of course, continued taking pictures. Once the roll of film was up, I realized I was sobering up and began to put on my clothes.
“Where are you going?” Kate asked.
“I gotta go check on the party,” I said. What I truly meant was, “I’m sober and I shouldn’t be.”
“Oh ok,” she said with some disappointment.
“I love you,” I smiled and said as I zipped up my jeans.
“I love you too Andy,” Kate responded for the last time.
Teenagers swarmed about my house like ants, looking for any piece of sweet shit they could find. I didn’t even know half the people. But I was getting drunk again, so it didn’t even matter. Stoned kids would come up to me and tell me stories about Adam, the guy who was allegedly throwing this party. By the last set of stoners, I was getting pissed.
“Man, this Adam guy is so fuckin’ cool man,” said stoner #1.
“Yeah. He escaped from like a mental institution and then seized this house and then threw this party,” said stoner #2. “Kickass.”
Rage bubbled inside me and leapt out of my green lawn chair in my backyard and tackled stoner #2 to the ground. I don’t even know why. Everyone told me that, while I was a moderately quiet guy, I still always wanted my moment in the spotlight. Maybe I was fighting for that moment. Maybe I was angered that some fictional person was getting credit for the party of the year. Adults tell you that in 20 years this shit won’t matter. The adults that tell you that, are the people who were never in that spotlight. In 20 years, half these people will sit around on their lunch breaks of their blue collar jobs and talk about things from the high school days and the first that will come up is “that one party.”
I swung at stoner #2 as I straddled him. The poor kid had no idea what was going on. He had no clue as to why I was straddling him instead of the inflated whale or as to why I was beating the shit out of him. Kate, who had come back outside just yelled and yelled. “Stop being a dumbass!” she’d insist. “Andy, please stop,” she’d exclaim as she held back tears. My goal had been to drown myself in Jack, which I did quite successfully. But on that summer night, I took it all out on that stoner’s face. Finally, the kid got me off of him and punched me in the face. We both stood there and as I moved forward to swing at him again, 3 of my friends grabbed me by the arms and legs and threw me in the kiddie pool so I’d calm down.
Ame Rainey loves you all.