The House Of Yes [Excerpt]

“Are you sure?”1

“Yeah. I just really don’t feel like going out tonight.”2

I heard rustling over the line. I could perfectly picture Emilia, tousled and in a pair of plain underwear, sorting through her closet and looking for an outfit. “Bullshit. You’ve been using the same excuse for the past three months.”3

“And it’s applied every single time. Listen, I gotta get off. I am in desperate need of a warm shower.”4

“You don’t get off the hook that easy.”5

“Don’t use that metaphor. I hate that metaphor. It makes me sound like a trout.”6

“Listen you scaly, crazy-eyed fish of a woman. You can’t just suffer one rejection from a girl and become the Hermit of Mink Hollow for an entire Summer. You have to get over it eventually. Everybody does.”7

I was quiet for a moment. Everybody who had ever had their heart unceremoniously beaten to a bloody pulp had told me more or less the same thing: you cry, you feel like a steaming pile of shit, you buy up your local CD store’s supply of Tegan and Sara albums. But you get over it. “That shower’s really calling me, Emi. Next week, for sure.”8

“Damn straight.”9

We hung up without saying goodbye. I flopped onto my stomach and hugged my pillow. I thought about Emilia going to the concert, probably with Evans now that I had bailed. I thought about Elizabeth, as seemed to have been the norm for the past three months, and felt the familiar shitstorm begin to brew in my stomach. 10

'You have to get over it eventually. Everybody does.'11

I closed my eyes and hugged my pillow tighter.12

----13

“What’s your next class?”14

“Lit. I think.”15

“You think? You don’t have your schedule down?”16

“I have it written down. Somewhere.”17

“You’re hopeless.” Emilia rolled her eyes, watching wearily as I sorted through my amassed pile of junk. One week of high school and already my locker paid shocking resemblance to Howard Hughes’s Los Vegas penthouse. Go figure. 18

“Found it! 3rd period: lit. See? The ‘ol memory ball is still working nicely.”19

“I think you calling your brain a memory ball is my cue to go to class. I’ll see you after school for the party, yeah?”20

“Sure.”21

“Don’t flake out on this, Hess, or I’ll send Evans out looking for your butt. To kick, I mean.”22

“Oh Jesus, I’m shaking.”23

“Shut your trap and go to class, Sarcasm McBitterpants.”24

----25

The party was to be a big blowout at Brandon Compton’s family plantation in the swamps. There was, in true New Orleans fashion, the promise of booze, slave ghosts, and a teenager being maimed by a crocodile. 26

Rumor was that Evans had given Brandon head and scored us the invites (so to speak). I didn’t know, nor did I care if what Emilia had told me was true, and Evans did not confirm or deny the story. Either way, by 4:00 that afternoon we were in the back of Mary-Rose’s car, heading out to the swampy bowls of the bayou.27

“My baby sister’s first booze hound party.” Swooned Mary-Rose, chomping loudly on a piece of gum. One hand was placed loosely on the bottom of the steering wheel, the other texting at lighting speed. “Just don’t get eaten by a crocodile, okay? Trust me, that shit puts a mad damper on the party.”28

“Okay.” The three of us chorused. 29

“Jesus Mary, could you watch the road? Evans is going to be sick.” Said Emilia.30

“I’m going to be sick.” Said Evans.31

--32


“Sweet Limping Christ you guys, Henry just got fucking eaten by a fucking crocodile.”33

“The joke’s only scary the first three times, Evans.”34

“Go back to the living room, Evans.”35

It turned out that Henry Benoit had in fact been fucking eaten by a fucking crocodile. As the story goes, he was playfully dangling a beer in front of it when it playfully bit off his arm and dragged him playfully into the murky depths of the swamp to be devoured. Years later, at a reunion, I would talk to one of the boys who witnessed it. "Crocodiles, man." Lani Peters would say "Those bitches don't like to be fucked with." He would then take his fifth shot of whiskey and stumble into the bathroom to vomit.36

I was on my first that night, which had already managed to find itself halfway done. Emilia was only half conscious, Evans tailing closely behind. We had taken up post in the nearly deserted kitchen, the din of the still wild party pressing against all walls as if it was trying to seep in.37

“I jus' don't know where I'm gonna go from here, y'know? It's like...it's like crazy. My childhood was lies. 12 years of lies. Blue can't be a girl. He's...blue.” Said Emilia.38

“’F’pj;LKFAkfjds.” Replied Evans, promptly passing out.39

“He didn’t hit his head on the counter or anything on the way down, did he?” I asked. Emilia shrugged. For all I knew, Evans very well might have been slipping into a booze hound coma at that very moment. 40

I took my second shot. 41