Sitting in the passenger seat of the Audi, Julie kept fiddling with the radio, trying to find a distraction from how quiet the ride to New Hope was.
The Adam she'd been joking with mere minutes earlier was nowhere to be found, replaced instead with a guy who suddenly seemed very concerned about speed limits and blinker usage along suburban thoroughfares. As he lit another cigarette, she started to re-remember their Warrior days, this time not through the softened glow of nostalgia, but as things actually were.
.
As much as she hated to admit it, they hadn't been a unified team.
Their junior year, as the remaining Ducks were either moved up to varsity or cut entirely, Wilson had made Adam captain with hopes that he could help bridge the divide between them and the Warrior legacies.
And, in a way, he did: Under his leadership, hockey became the sole focus. Unlike Riley or Scooter or Charlie, he didn't particularly care about old loyalties or interpersonal dramas; he expected perfection from every player at every practice.
In terms of creating a winning team, it worked. However, it meant he never received the love those other captains did.
Once his own perfection came crashing down, there wasn't much left.
…
"I think this will be fun." She assured him, double-checking the directions on her phone.
"Yeah."
Looking back over at him, his eyes were glued to the road, his face giving little away. The fingers on his left hand drummed at the steering wheel, leaving his right side to seem all the more frozen by contrast.
"They really did care about you, you know..."
"Yeah."
"You don't say that like you believe it." She spoke softly, chewing at her bottom lip.
"I don't not believe it. Just, you know…"
"They did care. They do care. They're just…things are complicated sometimes."
"Yeah."
"Really. I—I think this will be good for you. I think this is something that you need."
"I think what I need is another drink."
May 16, 2000
"Dude, this isn't exactly the Oscars. People kind of show up if they feel like showing up. There isn't much I can do about it."
Charlie sat pouting on a stool by the kitchen island, while Adam filled a cooler with beer. At the other end of the island sat Julie, doing her best not to roll her eyes at the whole discussion.
.
For the last two days, Charlie and Adam had been at one another's throats over the guest list for Adam's graduation party, with Charlie annoyed that the guest list was filled with guys wore Nautica and smelled like Polo Sport, and Adam wishing that Charlie would learn to stay out of matters that weren't his business.
Julie, meanwhile, found herself more grateful than ever that she was finally going to be getting away from the never-ending Edina drama. After two days of their back and forth, she was starting to lose patience with them both.
.
"You could tell them they weren't invited."
"Yeah Charlie. I'm really going to go out there and tell them they're not invited. Because that would go over well."
As Adam grabbed an armful of Bud Light, Charlie glared out a group of Breck lacrosse players who had congregated in the foyer. All four had the same gelled hair; the same frat bro swagger and the same annoying names like Parker and Conner and Todd.
I can't believe he'd invite those guys and leave out his own teammate.
"You didn't invite Portman."
"I didn't not invite him. It's not my fault that they're here and he's not."
"I think you made it pretty clear."
Adam sighed, pausing his cooler-filling duties to open a beer for himself.
"I didn't make anything clear. I just said I was having people over. Whoever wanted to come was welcome to come."
"Yeah, but you know that's not how it works."
"That's on him. It's not like I sent any of those guys an engraved invitation begging them to come. They just came."
Purposely silent on the matter, Julie looked out the window as the two continued to argue. Arriving in packs, the Banks' yard filled with Abercrombie-clad revelers; a sea of suburban jocks and their perfect blonde girlfriends surrounding the pool.
Though she didn't mind most of them, she had to admit that Charlie had a point.
It was clear who the party was meant for, and it wasn't meant for people who had to work part-time at ShopRite to help support their families.
"They feel included."
"So?"
"So you do a better job of making random Breck preps feel included than your own teammates."
Adam just shrugged.
"Okay, well, sorry if I'm nicer to people who're actually nice to me than someone who calls me a fag all the time."
"You're a bigger dick to him than he is to you."
"And how is that?"
"Seriously dude?" Charlie asked, his eyes growing wide. "Do you ever listen to a word you say?"
"I hardly even talk to him."
"Yeah, that part is half right. The only time you ever say anything to him is to ride his ass for not being good enough."
"And what else am I supposed to do?" Adam argued, setting down his beer. "Send him a fucking singing telegram to thank him for showing up to practice on time? I mean, granted, I wouldn't have to send one very often…"
"I just don't get why you can't be nicer."
"He punched me in the face during a scrimmage. I don't exactly think I'm the issue here."
"You're a punchable guy."
"Whatever."
"Seriously though." Charlie paused, his brow furrowed. "What about our last game? You called him a fuckup in front of the whole locker room."
"Well yeah. He was a fuckup. He'd been playing like shit all night."
"That was the last game. And we won. There wasn't any purpose to what you were doing—you were just riding him for the hell of it."
Charlie leaned back against the stool, taking another drink of his own beer. Julie, meanwhile, stared down at counter, studying the flecks in the granite.
This was not the ending to their days at Eden Hall she'd been hoping for.
"It was the national championship. A Jamaican Helen Keller would have played better."
"You knew his mom was in the hospital."
"For her fucking gallbladder. If he considers shit like that a distraction, it's probably time he cut down on the creatine so he can grow some balls back."
"Yeah, well." Charlie retorted, getting up to go join the revelers outside. "I've always thought you should cut down on the Vicodin so you can grow some feelings back, but I guess everyone's just doing what they want."
"Get fucked."
Turning into the Oak Hills Estates subdivision, Julie had to suppress a giggle at the fact that there were, in fact, exactly zero oak trees, hills, or estates in sight.
There were, however, row after row of tract houses. All of which looked identical, with their beige aluminum siding, flat rooflines, and treeless, postage stamp sized yards. For what seemed like miles, the middle class homogeneity stretched out in every direction, only the occasional summer wreath or pot of geraniums differentiating one house from the next.
"They really do know how to name subdivisions…" Adam mused, sharing her sense of irony.
"I know, right?"
Looking back over at him, his face had relaxed, his fingers no longer drumming frantically at the wheel. A smile was starting to work its way up through his features, his mouth turning up at the corners.
"I'm proud of you, you know."
"Heh, not much to be proud of here." He chuckled, "But thanks anyway."
"You were a good captain.
"You were good at a lot of things."
She smiled as she watched the light return to his eyes, a hint of pink creeping through his cheeks.
"Well thank you. You were pretty amazing yourself."
Reaching over, she took hold of his right hand and gave it a squeeze, their arms resting against the leather console. As the stereo played The Revivalists 'Soulfight', she smiled at the familiar warmth of it all; the fact not escaping her that their hands still fit perfectly together.
…..
Turning onto Sycamore Terrace, Julie could see all of the cars lining the street—a mixture of bland rental cars and aging Nissans and minivans in a row.
As they neared 1604 Sycamore, she could see Connie in the front yard, catching up with Kenny and two Bash Brothers, while Kenny's wife stood a few feet away, tending to the new baby. Looking closer, she laughed when she saw that Portman hadn't completely retired his old high school wardrobe; the aging middle manager dressed in a Metallica tee and black bandana.
Glancing back at the guy beside her, she couldn't help but shake her head at the contrast between the two.
"See, now that's a look you need to try." She joked, eyeing his $300 sunglasses and perfectly tailored oxford.
"Well, I would say that I don't really have the body to pull that off, but then again, I don't think that's stopping him."
"Very true"
"Then again," Adam pointed out, well aware of both the fact that he didn't have room to be judging other men's bodies and unable to resist a bit of harmless flirtation. "Come to think of it, I don't really have the body to pull this off, either. You might have to help me get undressed tonight."
"I can't tell if that's supposed to be a pickup line or a statement of fact," Julie joked, undoing her seatbelt.
Bad Pussycat.
Married.
Extremely married.
"Well, it depends. I mean, I had meant that I'm not always the best with buttons, but if you want to help me get naked and settled into bed, I'm certainly not going to stop you."
"Perv"
Looking over, Julie saw that he'd turned bright pink, even the tips of his ears and the base of his neck flushing magenta.
"That was a perfectly wholesome statement. I can't help it if you have a dirty mind."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure you meant it in a very wholesome way."
"I did. I did," He insisted, a smile creeping through despite his best attempts at a straight face. "I mean, you're the doctor here. I'm sure you do that all the time."
"I think you've confused actual doctors with Naughty Nurses V: Dr. Lovewood and the Boob Exam."
"So many hospitalizations since seeing that movie." He sighed, shaking his head. "So many disappointments."
"It really did create some unrealistic expectations with regards to patient care," She agreed, nodding as he found a parking spot between a rental Kia and what she presumed to be Guy's Yukon.
"I'm holding out hope. One day, Dr. Lovewood will need me. And I'll be there!"
"With wood?"
"With all the wood a beaver could dream of!"
May 16, 2000
"Come on, I will if you will." Adam laughed, looking over at Charlie.
"No way. You're crazy."
"What? I've done it like, 100 times," He reassured him, stretching the truth just a tad.
Twice. A hundred times.
Same thing.
The two were standing atop the Banks' second floor balcony, overlooking the pool. A few minutes earlier, Crawford Wellesley had decided to impress the female guests by shotgunning a beer with his teeth. Never one to be outdone, particularly by a guy like Crawford, Charlie had decided that he needed to upstage the performance. He needed to do something bigger. Grander. More likely to drop panties and/or land himself in the emergency room. In a fleeting moment of male pride, he looked up, and as he saw the sun shining over the sprawling Tudor, inspiration beckoned from the great above.
He would jump off the balcony into the pool.
He would show the world that he was way more of a man than Crawford Wellesley.
Unfortunately, this declaration was made before realizing just how high up the balcony really was…
With each step, Charlie could feel his heart sinking further, the Banks' house somehow tripling in size by the time he made his way up the stairs. Now standing at the railing, it felt like he needed binoculars just to see the pool, thousands of acres of bone shattering concrete between him and the water. He could already see the funeral playing in his mind, poor Casey sobbing by the casket as Crawford enjoyed a threesome in the bathroom with the Bergjorn twins.
This…hadn't been his finest move.
And, for better or worse, the one guy who didn't have to worry about impressing girls had followed him up.
"No. Not doing this."
"Come on. You know you want to."
"I don't want to die!"
"Dude." Adam laughed, his Abercrombie model smile gleaming even whiter in the sun. "You're not going to die. I'm pretty sure like, a zillion people have done this, and the only one who ever missed was Scott."
"And what happened to him?"
"Okay, well, he shattered his femur. But on the upside, now when he goes through metal detectors, he has a card he can show them, so they never even suspect that he has a gun. So…I guess that kind of worked out in the end."
"That's the least reassuring thing I've ever heard."
"Nah. It'd be less reassuring if he died." Adam pointed out, his humor hiding growing the lump in his throat.
After all, it was a rather long jump. And the concrete below was rather hard. And he was kind of scared of heights. And there wasn't really much point to the whole exercise.
But, a real man never admitted to being scared.
"You're warped."
"Well, yeah."
"You're going first."
"So you can see if I die?"
"Yup."
"Fine. We'll do it together."
"If you make it and I don't, tell my mom I loved her."
"If you make and I don't, tell my mom to fuck herself."
….
"Julie!" Connie squealed, the first to notice the new arrivals. Running towards the parked SUV, she nearly tackled Julie as she got out, the passing years having done nothing to dampen her enthusiasm.
"How have you been? Oh my gosh I've missed you so much!"
"I've missed you, too!" Julie crowed, the two swaying back and forth in delight.
"It's been too long!"
"It's been much too long!"
"Also, it's not fair how hot you still are!"
"Umm, yeah. Coming from the woman who still looks 18?"
"I. Wish."
"I love you."
It wasn't until Kenny and the Bash Brothers headed over to greet the other new arrival that Connie's focus shifted, finally realizing that Julie had not simply materialized out of thin air. As she looked over, her face once again lit up, happy to see that a certain reclusive Minnesotan had made his way out of Edina.
"And how are you?" She asked, making her way over to the driver's side to give him a hug.
"Heh, I can't complain." He shrugged, wrapping his good arm around her and pulling her in tightly. "And how about you? Does it feel good to finally have your husband back after seventeen years?"
"I still can't believe that he's actually retired! It just makes me feel so old to say it."
"You are old, Ms. Germaine." He laughed, that mischievous twinkle back. "Practically ancient."
"Thanks."
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm still a year older, so if you're ancient, I'm basically just a corpse with a job."
Stepping back, she looked him up and down, seeing him in person for the first time in almost two decades.
"It looks like you're doing pretty well for a corpse."
"Thanks. I had a good mortician."
May 16, 2000
"See? I said you'd live."
"I'm never doing that again, Cakeeater!" Charlie gasped, still trying to catch his breath after the plunge.
Even after having landed safely in the water, he could feel his heart beating in his ears and the stinging in the bottom of his feet, his whole body eager to remind him of what a stupid thing he'd done.
He did not feel cool.
He did not feel proud of himself for upstaging Crawford.
He felt like a moron.
