Bitter [Part 4]

Before I got back to the house after work, they were both gone. I overheard them that morning talking about going to the lake and how all the hood-rats (aka loose girls) were Andrew’s friends. 1

I knew what was going to happen. It made me bitter over the next five days.2

So when they left, I enjoyed myself and proved I was a person to our group. I had deep and meaningful conversations, spoke about intellectual things, and drank myself silly. I mixed up my routine by seeing different groups and starting work later.3

Yet my stomach felt like it was coated with acid and I wanted to vomit every time I thought of what was going on at the lake.4

One of the party crew’s members came up to me the night Ryan and Andrew left. “Hey hun, you started your period yet?”5

Woah. I just stared at him.6

“Ryan told me.”7

“Did he just tell you?” I asked.8

He gave me a hug—this guy I considered a real friend out of the crew. “He talked to me last night after you did.”9

“So you know everything.”10

He nodded.11

“What did he say?”12

The smile he gave me scared me. “He’s going to throw a pregnancy test in your face and take it with you.”13

Well, then. “All right.”14

We went to the hookah bar in a small pack and came back. I took off from my group and visited an old, close girl friend I hadn’t seen since I started dating Ryan. Afterwards, I went to the town over where there was a loud, obnoxious party.15

People were going buck-wild at that party. The music was loud and all the lights were off inside the house for people to grind to. Outback, there were at least sixty to eighty people clutching beers and smoking weed, and only a handful of attractive women. I knew a lot of these people, though, from another time and another place.16

See, I had friends everywhere. I could go to the city of San Bernardino and run into someone, or even go into the ghetto part of Chino and recognize at least a few faces. I was in Riverside for hookah alone twice a week, and in Ontario every Tuesday night.17

This party was a Chino party, for sure.18

My best girl friends had called me over and they were both drunk when I got there. The keg was almost tapped out and I saw a blonde girl doing keg-stands off of it (both feet in the air, the house pumping continuous beer into her mouth upside-down). 19

Cops showed up after I was there for a good twenty minutes. The party started unwinding so I went and found the owner of the house who, of course, I knew. 20

He was with that blonde girl I had seen before. She smiled at me and we started talking, the guy being forgotten.21

“Do you have a boyfriend?” the blonde asked me.22

I’m pretty good at picking up the vibe whenever someone was interested in me, and I found that this girl’s vibe was definitely interested. I wasn’t gay, but I did think women were beautiful and was willing to swear off guys for the night.23

“Sort of.” I finished my beer and smiled. “He’s at the lake.”24

I didn’t know why I called him my boyfriend. We all know he isn’t. But I did have some sort of connection to him that I couldn’t deny.25

“More of someone I’m dating,” I continued lamely.26

Finally she worked up the nerve to ask, “Do you like girls?”27

“A little.” 28

I was playing a role I was unfamiliar with. Usually, I could flirt with girls and kiss my friends—but we all had the knowledge none of us took it for real. With this blonde, she was treating me like a guy she was hunting. I was enjoying the lead, though.29

By the time the police took off she’d planted one on me and given me her number—I did not give her mine. “Call me sometime and we’ll hook up,” she giggled as she left.30

Little did I know, she went with one of my best friends to another party. I found out when I got a text message from the blonde two minutes after she left, repeating the same thing she’d said.31

I never planned to call her.32

I left the party after I made sure my friends were in good hands and went home. It was only 1:30 and I was wide awake. I smoked by myself until my eyes were tired and I tried to block out that queasy feeling in my stomach and passed out.33

Saturday night turned out to be the wildest night I had in a while. My lifelong best friend, Amber, was leaving for Cal State Long Beach, so we had a going-away bash at her house. Our party crew was there—minus Ryan and Andrew—as well as all the people we’d personally known since we started the party scene. There was one-hundred-fifty dollars worth of alcohol purchased on one trip, plus the liquor people brought themselves. In the backyard were two hookahs—one four-footer, the other half it’s size—a heated pool and spa, as well as a fifteen-foot trampoline.34

Oh, and you can’t forget the three-foot, three-hundred dollar bong.35

I was there before five that night to help watch the house while Amber went to dinner. I got high. I got drunk. And then people started arriving.36

Andrew’s ex-girlfriend found me as soon as she was there. My eyes were bloodshot and my body numb, so I kissed her. I kissed to feel—feel love, affection, and compassion from this girl who had been there and back and empathized rather than sympathized.

We had that type of relationship. It meant nothing and everything; I didn’t want to kiss a guy, but I needed that sort of warmth.37

But I spilled to her everything. About how late I was. About how nervous I was. About the stress I felt. Even about how expected to feel when Ryan came back covered in river-rat germs.38

She treated me like her girlfriend and we kept each other company all night.39

I didn’t remember the last three hours of the night. I woke up and stayed with Amber until I went home. Then I didn’t go out again.40

It was Monday before I realized it, meaning the boys were coming back. I felt nervous and thoughtful.41

Was I even going to care when I found out? Or would he even feel bad at all for hurting me?42

I doubted it. But I was still able to say that I had not kissed a single boy since Ryan left.43

(My subconscious, you see, told me only to kiss girls; sometimes I’m a good listener. Or maybe just a heartless bitch.)44

All that Monday, I waited for the chance to talk to him. It was nerve-wracking.45

And gave me time to think about the best ways to make Ryan mine.46