Jun
7
“Hey what’s goin’ on?”
“Shhh. Freddie’s in there with Rhonda.” Tim moved to the side to make room for Jimmy to listen at the door.
“With Rhonda?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not Freddie. Call me Papa.”
“What..? I don’t…”
“Come on baby. Call me Papa.”
“But…”
“I said call me Papa.”
“Mmmm. Papa.”
“We don’t need to listen to that. Let’s go. There are drinks down stairs.” Jimmy pulled Tim and Andrew away from the door. “Tim. Let’s go.”
“Don’t call me Tim, call me Poppy T.”
The three friends stumbled to the kitchen. The table and counters were covered in bottles and smoke hung thick in the air. People, in varying degrees of sobriety, gathered together into groups and discussed politics, religion, sex, all with the confidence that comes from consuming too much alcohol. There was a couple in the corner awkwardly trying to come to the same point, verbally dancing when sure action was what was needed, a hand on a knee, a toss of the hair, then the diverting of the eyes, signals that were clear in retrospect yet so ambiguous in the present. There was a group of young men discussing religion in a friendly tone, one cocksure atheist and three faithful Christians. There was a mixed group of five arguing politics, not an unslurred word among them, and none of them with a coherent position, but there was much preaching and hammering of fists on the table. There were many others involved in conversations while watching the room, the people, for something of significance.
Tim and his merry band, and merry they were after having consumed no small amount of alcohol, made their way through the crowd and the distractions to find themselves at a length of counter that served as the bar and was crammed with bottles of alcohol and mixer being slowly drained until empty. Jimmy poured the drinks and they all laughed at the inane things the other drunks were doing around the room, believing themselves to be the only ones behaving appropriately. They slammed their shots and Jimmy poured another. Things began to blur and Tim smiled. What a fantastic beginning to what was going to be a great summer. Tim saw his friend Candice walk into the room and slammed another shot. Without any hesitation he bounded over the couch in front of Candice, picked her up and spun her around. Candice gave him a kiss and they walked together back to the bar. Jimmy poured another round. They slammed each other’s shot and Candice dragged Tim into the living room to dance.
The music was loud and people were dancing slow regardless of the tempo of the music. The room was hot. Tim took off his shirt and tied it around his waist. They danced fast causing the others to retreat to the edges of the room where they were safe from flying hands and feet. The room was unstable and Tim felt the result in his throat. Others were joining in the dance now. People were bouncing up and down. Tim made his way through the sweaty bodies to Candice.
“I’m going outside. It’s too hot in here.”
“I’m going to dance I’ll be out when this song is over.”
Tim saw the others, the guys anyway, watching Candice, smiling. God it was hot. Tim walked out of the front door and the cool night air wrapped around him chilling the sweat on his skin. He lay down. The grass was soft and cool. The stars and sky spun around over his head. Tim shut his eyes and felt himself softly spinning around.
