I'm aware Doug's birthday is the 30th.
The 20th fits with something that happens later in the story
November 20, 2005
That night, at about nine, I stood in front of my mirror, fidgeting with the end of my skirt and chewing on my lip. I had been to thousands of parties, but Danny was always at these parties to protect me from the scary jocks and drunken cheerleaders. This time he would be sitting in some fancy restaurant with his parents eating weird French food and talking about life while I gulped down gallons of Jack Daniels and inhaled second hand marijuana with strangers and weirdos. I sighed and briefly debated calling Leah to cancel. I didn't like going it alone. And alone is how I would truly be going it. Although I would arrive with Tom, Leah and Danny, I would inevitably end up alone. Tom and Leah would go off together to make out and Danny would be drawn to the pot like a moth to a flame. So I would spend my eighteenth birthday virtually alone in a cloud of smoke and a sea of hormonal teens.
Ahh, the irony.
A car horn honked outside and I skipped down the stairs and out the front door with a shout of goodbye to my mother. Tom's black car was parked crookedly along the curb and Leah leaned out the window, already half in the bag, to blow a perfect smoke ring into the dark, cool air. I slid into the backseat along with Danny and boy I had seen a few times but never really spoken too.
"Hello." I said to him. He smiled shyly and shook my hand.
"That's Kyle." Leah told me with a giggle; I could see clearly from the backseat that Tom's hand was on her thigh, and I inwardly groaned knowing that they probably wouldn't even get out of the car.
"And she's Charlotte." Danny told Kyle. We both smiled at each other.
"It's your birthday?" Kyle asked me. I nodded. He nodded. We nodded.
"Yes." I said quickly.
"Uh, happy birthday." He said awkwardly. I smiled.
"Uh, thank you."
The rest of the car ride was filled with absurd giggles from the front seat and Danny singing from the back. I don't know if he was tuning out Leah and Tom or if he was already slightly stoned, but his usually beautiful singing was off key and nauseating.
We finally reached the party and I practically leapt out of the car, Kyle only seconds slower than me on the other side. I shot him an understanding smile over the roof and headed toward the house. The minute I crossed the threshold someone handed me a plastic cup of something dark. I stared into and seriously debated drinking it. I already felt like I needed a drink, and not just because I was eighteen and wanted to get plastered, because I was feeling depressed and neglected and annoyed.
Someone pinched my ass and disappeared into the crowd. I set the cup down on the table beside me and moved on, opting for a fresh beer rather than the possible roofie awaiting me in that cup.
The house was extremely crowded. I didn't know very many of the people, but that didn't matter. I smiled at anyone who made eye contact and usually they smiled back or said hello. I didn't bother checking behind me for Danny or Kyle or the others, I knew they weren't there, and part of me wanted to lose them.
I found my way to the kitchen and the alcohol. With a long and dramatic sigh I popped open a bottle of beer and took a thorough swig. The cold liquid flowed through me and seemingly cleansed me of some of the tension in my body. I liked the thought of being cleansed, so I drank the rest of it. And at least four more. I don't know for sure, I didn't even bother counting. Time became something like a stop motion film. I remember setting down an empty bottle and then suddenly I was standing in the middle of the dining room with a beer bong as the gathering crowd around me cheered. I know I saw Danny' s face, complete with red glazed eyes, watching me. He was cheering along with everyone else. I bet if he wasn't stoned he would have stopped me.
After the beer bonging, I found my way into the living room and onto the couch with some boy in a letter jacket with badly groomed facial hair and a tongue stud. I made out with him for a while, and gave him my number before rushing up the stairs and, with some unusual stroke of luck, into the bathroom to hurl into the toilet.
Then there's a long period of nothing, just nothing. I don't know how much time passed, but later I found out it wasn't very long at all. Something like, twenty minutes, before I opened my eyes and got up from the bathroom floor. There was a girl passed out on the floor next to me, and a boy in the bathtub. The shower was running, and he was wearing nothing but a leopard print thong and big plastic Patrick Swayze sunglasses. I averted my eyes and rinsed out my mouth. I felt incredibly sober right then. It's amazing what a good vomit will do for you.
I stumbled tiredly out of the bathroom and started down the hall. I was going to find Tom and Leah, I wanted to go home. I had gone to the party like they wanted, I had gotten my mind off of things. It was great. Sarcasm, it's lovely.
I leaned against the wall for some support, I felt very exhausted, and my body was still shaking from throwing up. As I passed over numerous closed doors I tried not to giggle at the sound of what the occupants were doing. I'm very mature, as you see. At least they're considerate enough to shut their doors, even if they aren't being very discrete about their activities. I thought. My thought was interrupted, however, as I slid passed a door that wasn't shut all the way. It swung open when I leaned against it, startling the couple inside. I fell sprawled across the floor and considered pretending to be unconscious so they wouldn't think I was some creepy pervert.
"I'm sorry!" I began, before even getting off the floor, "I wasn't spying! I swear, I'm not some weird, pervy crack head! I was just wandering down the hallway after puking and--"
"Char?" The boy in the room asked. Something about the way this easily recognizable voice said my name made my stomach plummet. I sat up on my knees and looked up at the couple. I almost threw up again.
"Douigie?" I asked, shocked, "What are you doing here?"
He just stared down at me, and I realized very suddenly that he was not only shirtless but pants less. And he was not alone. I didn't even hide the look of incredulous and painful disbelief on my face as I covered my eyes with my hand and crawled out of the room. As I rounded the corner I reached up and pulled the door shut, ignoring Dougie calling my name as I did so.
November 21, 2005
3:30 a.m
Ring
I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling. My eyes were red and sore from hours of confused and angry crying.
Ring
Those same eyes shifted painfully sideways to glance in the direction of the ringing. I knew who it was.
Ring
I reached over slowly and curled my numb fingers around the receiver. I lifted it up, and set it back down. Then I picked it back up and let it drop to the floor.
Empty dial tone
I rolled over and stared out my window, closing my tired eyes as more tears began to fall. Eventually I managed to cry myself to sleep
Two Days Later
Dougie called me every twenty minutes. Every time he called I asked my mom to tell him I was sick and losing my voice and that I would call him as soon as I could. She believed me. I knew he would be able to see through it. But he never ratted me out to her; whether it was because he was that good of a friend not to rope my mother into our little spat or if it was just because he was embarrassed...it didn't matter. It would be pretty embarrassing on both parts.
Then finally came the unavoidable physical visit. I guess he got sick of the cold shoulder and decided to just drop by. When the door bell rang I was lying on the couch, my face flat against the cushion, staring at the TV. I could feel a pool of drool begin to mix with the damp stain from my tears shed almost an hour ago.
My mother answered the door and I looked up as he very slowly came into the room. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his hair was slightly askew and he looked very ashamed of himself. For a brief second I felt bad about being angry. A very brief second.
"Hi." He said to me softly. I stared up at him, mentally daring him to say something stupid in front of my mother. He just stood there and looked back at me. Maybe he was trying to share an apology through telepathy. It was all lost in translation.
"Char, can I talk to you?" He asked, glancing back at my mom. I blinked at him and then looked away.
"I'm watching something right now, can it wait?"
Dougie turned and looked at the TV then back at me, "It's not even on."
"'It's not even on.'" I mocked him and sat up. I got up and shoved past him into the kitchen, where I gathered a bowl and a carton of eggs from the fridge before he appeared behind me.
"Why haven't you been taking my calls?" He asked quietly. Now that mom wasn't in the room he had found his voice. I cracked an egg and dropped it's contents into my bowl, but I didn't answer him.
"Charlotte?"
"I was sick." I said simply, cracking another egg. Dougie sighed.
"I know you weren't sick."
"Oh, well, so you're not a complete moron after all." I smiled curtly at the yellow glop in front of me and cracked one more egg.
"Okay, I deserved that." Dougie said and flinched when I nodded. I moved sideways and reached around Dougie to get a whisk out of the drawer. He moved to accommodate me, even though I acted as if he wasn't there.
"Charbear I--" Dougie began, but I cut him off.
"Sorry, I'm a little busy right now."
"Come on, Ch--"
"Too busy to talk."
"Even to me?" His voice went up in an attempt at cuteness. I was too angry for it to affect me.
"Especially to you." I answered.
"Charlotte--"
"Busy!" I sang.
Dougie sighed, "Doing what?"
"I'm whisking."
"Oh, Charlotte, please just listen to m--"
"Whisking!" I shouted in a shrill sing song voice. Dougie shut up and let out a long sigh. I continued with my fervent whisking for a few very long and very silent minutes. Then I pushed the bowl aside and turned around to face him. I leaned back against the counter, my hands firmly gripping its edge behind my back. He was leaning against the opposite counter, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was watching me carefully, and his beautiful eyes looked big and sad. I licked my lips contemplatively.
"You didn't go with your parents at all, did you?" I asked. There was a long pause during which my question hung in the air like a pungent odor. Dougie's eyes stayed locked with mine but he shook his head slowly. I nodded, "So that's why you were acting so weird at lunch. You felt bad because you were lying to me."
Dougie sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and nodded. I felt the pressure of oncoming tears push at the back of my eyes and sting the back of my throat. I forced them down and let out a sardonic laugh.
"God, Dougie, try not to look so fucking guilty." I said quietly, "I mean, if you're going to lie to me don't ruin it for yourself by growing a conscience."
Dougie's mouth opened and closed a few times then he took a slow step toward me and put his hands on my shoulders, "I'm so--"
"Don't!" I pushed him away and stepped out of his reach. The tears were starting to beat me and I wiped at my eyes quickly before crossing my arms over my chest, "You fucking lied to me, Douie! You lied! How am I supposed to just blindly trust you now? You're my best friend, Dougie!" I shouted, "My best friend. That's supposed to mean something."
"It does." Dougie whispered. His voice coming out almost as a squeak.
"Then why did you ditch me to have sex with that...hussy you call a girlfriend?"
Dougie stared at me for a minute before the corners of his mouth began twitching, "Hussy?"
I narrowed my eyes at him, "It's not funny. Don't laugh." I growled.
Dougie's face contorted and he struggled very noticeably for a long time before he snorted loudly. I stepped forward and smacked him. It only made him laugh harder.
"Douglas Lee Poynter!" I scolded, now holding back my own threatening laughter, "Stop laughing, we're having a fight."
Dougie managed to get his laughter under control by taking a long cleansing breath and passing a hand over his face very slowly. Watching him do that, made me snort with amusement. While I was uninhibited by my laughter, Dougie reached forward and wrapped me in a tight, almost suffocating hug. He buried his face in my hair with his mouth against my ear and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I love you. Forgive me?"
I didn't fight him. As soon as my giggles surpassed I buried my face in the crook of his neck and squeezed my eyes shut. Dougie could always get to me like that. There was no fighting him, he was a force to be reckoned with. A beautiful, amazing force of nature. And I was caught in his path, a helpless victim to this unbelievable disaster. But not so much a disaster as a masterpiece. He was a work of art. I was enraptured.