Date: Mon, 18 May 2020 11:16:48 -0600 From: Roman Jeffries Subject: Miles from Home: Chapter 2 Thanks for reading. If your circumstances allow, please consider making a donation to support the Nifty Archives. Feedback, comments, and questions are welcome at romanjwrites@gmail.com ****************************** Freshman Year: Late September I frantically burst out the back door of the party onto the fire escape, praying I'd make it out there before my phone stopped ringing. This was it. The end, I knew it. Tom wouldn't call me now, at this time on a Saturday night when he'd surely be out on a date... Unless. Unless something was horribly wrong. Tom had collided too hard with someone during his soccer game this afternoon, was paralyzed, and had one of our parents holding the phone up to him and his broken, motionless body. No. My parents- both dead. No, the apartment burned down, and we were all homeless... Wylie! Wylie had been run down by a car. Wait... There was some kind of terrible nuclear cataclysm at Los Alamos and the whole fucking state was gone. All while I was here at a stupid party, making out with some girl I barely knew... This was all my fault. "Hello?" I bleated into my phone, lurching to a halt and gripping the metal railing to brace myself for the news. "Yo, Miliano!" "What the fuck is wrong??" "Whoa, nothin’!... I’m just out with Angelica... Hey, say hi to Max..." There was a pause, some shuffling sounds on the other end, and then a light, feminine voice: "... Hey, Miliano!" More shuffling sounds followed until Tom was back on the other end: "... We were just talkin’ about you... You know, like we always do..." Tom snickered over a poorly suppressed laugh. "... And we decided what better way to finish up our date night than to pick up some sopaipillas from Cortez Brothers and drive out to the hills and eat ‘em under the full moon? Just like you always did... You know, like a tribute to you..." He paused, waiting for me to take the bait. "... Look, I'm eating mine right now..." Loud, sloppy chewing noises filled my ear. I remained dead silent. "... Fuck, it's so good!" Tom continued. "... We even got some extra ones for you. Wish you could be here to eat it. It’s, like, way too much for just the two of us... It's a shame, a real shame..." I was still quiet. But Tom, snickering again, was undeterred. "... But hey, I guess I'll just take it back home with me and give some to Wylie before we go to bed... You know, ‘cause he sleeps with me now." With that, I finally found my voice and spoke, enunciating each word sharply as I did: "Fuck you, you rat bastard." I hung up on him and shoved my phone back in my pocket, sighing and finally breathing again. "Hey, Max, you okay?" I knew from the voice who it was, but I couldn't figure out where the sound was coming from. I looked around me until I heard a shuffling noise further down the fire escape. "Oh hey, Pete..." I said, calling down to where I’d spotted him on the landing below. "Yeah, that was just... you know, Professor Knowles... She wanted me to come over for some late-night ‘office hours’..." Professor Knowles was my 68 year-old advisor who all my friends gleefully insisted was trying to seduce me and hold me prisoner in what they imagined would be her S&M dungeon of a house. "Heh. You always do that..." "Huh?" I paused, halfway down the flight to the next landing where I was going to join him, noticing Pete had barely laughed at my joke. His voice also sounded hollow, distant, and without the usual bright energy that by now had become so familiar. "You don't answer questions." "What do you mean?" I was down on his landing now, but Pete wasn't looking at me. He was leaning forward over the railing, his broad shoulders low and his hands gripping the bar at his waist. "You charged out here like you were all upset about something. Then you talked on your phone sounding really pissed at someone, so I asked if everything was okay... You didn't answer the question." "What? I just had to tell Knowles off..." "Max. Bullshit." This was new. Every time we hung out or saw each other around campus, Pete and I were always easily joking around, laughing, jabbing at each other, and sharing the same sarcastic sense of humor. No one here had ever challenged me or called me out like this. "Everything's fine..." Actually, I was confused as hell now. What was Pete’s deal? "... Okay, but then why'd it sound like you wanted to beat whoever that really was with a shovel?" "It was nothing. Really. That was just my brother..." I sat down on the last step, still confused about why Pete had suddenly become such an expert on my behavior. And why was he still half-pitched over the railing? "Hey, what’re you doing out here anyway?" "Don't change the subject. You do that a lot, too." Pete cleared his throat and finally turned to look at me. Something was different about him tonight. He wasn't smiling his usual infectious grin, and his face looked drawn and tired. He crossed the landing and nudged me over on the stair so he could sit next to me. "What's up with Tom?" Among Pete's many, many great qualities was his almost uncanny memory. He'd often ask about, by name, friends from home I'd only casually mentioned to him in passing in some story. "Tom's a moron." Pete elbowed me in the side and shot me a hard look with his hazel brown eyes. Why wasn't he letting this go? I sighed, noticing how close we were on the narrow stair. His body felt solidly warm by my side, his rounded shoulder touching mine and our hips were pressed together too. If one of us moved, our legs would be rubbing right up against each other. I was quiet for a long minute, feeling our proximity. "I miss him. A lot." I admitted, finally. Pete nodded, but was quiet. The music and laughter and shouts of the party hung in the cool air behind us, but suddenly they seemed far away. "... And my parents. And my dog and my old girlfriend. My favorite restaurant. The mountains. The smell of pinon trees... Shit, I even miss the fucking color of the dirt on the street we lived on five years ago..." "It means a lot to you, doesn’t it?" Pete's voice was soft and low. He was looking straight ahead of him, his gaze fixed somewhere off in the distance. "Yeah, it does..." I felt myself reaching for words, not really knowing how to talk about this since I never had with anyone before. But I felt, abruptly, like I had to. Like I couldn't stop myself. "... Fuck,... I... I always thought we were close, you know, ‘cause my family was the only thing that ever stayed the same, or that went with me from place to place... But I didn't think we were any tighter than any other family... And now here everyone else is, away from theirs too, and it just seems so fucking easy for them... Like they never even think about it... Fuck, I knew I was going to miss them... And that, yeah, I'd probably be homesick... But it's been like a month and a half now, and it's not ... it's not getting any easier..." I exhaled, catching my breath. "... I keep telling myself it'll get better, that I'll start having more fun here, and..." I shook my head, not knowing how to complete the thought. "Are you?" Pete asked, still looking into the distance. "I mean, that's why I’m here tonight... because everyone was making such a big fucking deal about this party ‘cause it's supposed to be the biggest one of the semester... And I kept telling myself that if I just go it'll be cool, and I'll have fun, and I won’t still wish I was somewhere else..." "And?" I sighed. "... And... I don’t know! ... It's just the same fucking party as the one I went to last weekend and the one before and all the other ones... it's all the same bad music, the stupid games of beer pong, with the same people saying the same dumb shit and... And sometimes I feel like I want to fuckin’ scream... But, really, what I want- and what I fuckin’ can't stop thinking about- is how much I wish I was back home, with my family, sleeping in my own bed, with my dog snoring in my face and kicking me in the ribs." As those last words flooded out, I started to move to get up and flee, embarrassed by everything I’d just let spill out of me. Get a fucking grip, man, I scolded myself. But Pete put a hand on my leg above my knee and pressed me back down to my seat on the stair beside him. "I'm... Fuck, I'm so sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean to- ... to just, like, dump all that on you. You didn't need to hear it..." I said, shaking my head in disbelief at how I'd just acted. "Don't be sorry. I don't mind." Pete glanced over at me quickly when he'd put his hand on my knee, but now he was still keeping his eyes fixed somewhere off in front of him. I followed his gaze with my own into the trees surrounding the fire escape. "But I am..." I said, back to groping for words again. "I mean, it's fucking embarrassing... Shit, I should be able to just deal with it. It shouldn't be this fucking hard... I made it here, and... and I should be enjoying it." "It's okay to miss them," Pete replied evenly. "You shouldn't beat yourself up about it so much. They- all of it- it sounds really great... You're really fucking lucky to have that." That was one of the few times I'd ever heard Pete swear. Maybe I was starting to rub off on him after weeks of hanging out with each other almost every day now. "But then, why?... Why doesn't anyone else here seem like they're so... I don't know... so fucking hung up on it?" This time Pete exhaled slowly, still looking ahead of him and not at me. "Maybe that's their own problem. Not yours." We were quiet for a few minutes then, listening to the party noises, sitting, touching even, but still not looking at each other. No matter what Pete said, I still felt embarrassed and awkward. I didn't know what to make of what just happened. I never did this, just blurting things out like that. Even if I sometimes wanted to or thought I should, I never could. It was never this easy, not for me. I wondered, again, what the hell was going on out here. Then I realized: "Hey, you never answered my question." "What question?" "What were you doing out here?" "I was sick," he said, shrugging as though it were the last thing on his mind. "I had too much to drink, so I came out here and I puked." "Shit! Dude! And you let me go off like that?? Are you okay? I can go get you something- maybe some water if you want... or do you need to head back to your room?-..." "- ...No, it's fine. Don’t worry. I feel... alright now." Pete turned to look at me quickly, but then looked forward again when my eyes caught his. "I just had a little too much, and-..." "-... Yeah, so you should probably go crash if you were sick. Come on, I'll walk with you. I'm ready to go back to my dorm anyway, a- " "... -Max." Pete's voice was quiet but firm. He'd reached out a hand to my shoulder, cupping the top of my chest with his palm and pressing me back down again when I’d leaned forward to get up. He was looking me in the eyes now, holding mine with his until I settled back next to him, touching like we were before, but with our thighs now pressed against each other, too. "I had too much to drink." He shrugged. "No big deal... It’s what I'm supposed to be doing back in there. And I can handle it... I'm fine now, really." "Wait, what? ... What do you mean you’re ‘supposed to be doing’?" "People..." Pete nodded his head back in the direction of the party, "... they assume I'll act a certain way... I was just doing what’s expected of me." "Dude?... Why?... You were making yourself sick. That's just fuckin’ stupid." I was trying to understand, but this didn't make any sense. And I knew Pete really was a hell of a smart guy. Pete chuckled hollowly. "Yeah, it is stupid. But people here... they only see what they expect to see in you. Even if that's not really what's there... They look for things that fit what they already think and don’t bother to see anything else... and... And, God, it's just easier to go along with the script..." Pete said faintly, staring ahead and trailing off without completing the thought. The profile of his square jaw set tightly against the night sky. I wished he was looking back at me. "But, fuck, drinking like that... Making yourself sick... that's not good for you..." "No, it's not..." Pete looked over at me quickly, then dropped his eyes down, staring at his hands that were clapped together between his legs, his elbows resting on his knees. "... But it’s not like there’s much alternative to just playing along..." He glanced back up at me briefly. "... It's like with you, and why you came tonight too..." "What do you mean?" "Well, you keep coming to all these parties too, right? And didn’t you just say they were all dumb?-..." "...- Yeah, but-..." "...- Why?" He asked, looking at me squarely once again. "This is college," I shrugged. "That’s what you’re supposed to do here..." "Yeah, ‘supposed to’..." he nodded. "There’s shit you’re just playing along with too..." "Fuck off, I’m not-..." I shook my head defensively. "... Like, what else would I be doing tonight? Sitting in my room alone? I should at least give it a chance..." "That’s kinda my point... it’s not what you want, but then what else is there?" "Uhh..." I fumbled for a response and came up empty. "Yeah, exactly... And it's not just showing up at things like this either... I mean, it’d be weird if I was at this party and I wasn’t drinking and cracking jokes and making out with someone... that’s what everyone expects me to do... And if I didn’t... well, then they’d think I’m some stuck up snob who believes he’s better than everyone else." "Dude, I know you’re not like that-..." He elbowed me in the side to cut me off. "... -Hey, I wasn’t fishing for compliments... I just meant that if I don’t play along in there, then the other story is that I’m like this aloof asshole... And neither one of those options is great." "Yeah, I guess so... but I thought you were having a good time?" It’d certainly seemed that way to me, anyway. The last time I’d seen Pete inside, he was laughing and had his arm around a pretty Sophomore who’d been hanging on him all night. "It was fine," Pete sighed. "But-..." "...-And I thought you liked Jaclyn. She’s, like, way into you..." "Yeah, she’s fine too..." He shook his head, redirecting. "But it’s not about her... It’s kinda like you and Erin tonight." "What do you mean?" I didn't follow. "Erin likes you. And I saw you kissing her in there before I came out here... but you weren’t really going to hook up with her tonight, were you?" I shifted uncomfortably. "Uhh, probably not," I admitted, thinking back to how I ditched her the minute my brother called. "Yeah," Pete nodded. "I mean, you never actually do, even though there’s always girls at these things who have their eye on you-..." "...-Wait, you’re so fulla shit. I’m not-..." "...-Don’t be so modest. I know what I’ve seen," Pete interrupted, shaking his head again. "And for a lot of those girls, yeah, it’s because you're a great guy, but you're also...," Pete swallowed thickly, "you're really good looking too..." He dropped his eyes back down to his hands at this point and continued quickly. "... But you never really go for it with any of them because... I don’t know... maybe it’s ‘cause you’re still into that ex-girlfriend of yours back home... Or maybe it’s ‘cause your head is still hung up about other stuff at home like you said, and you’re never really here..." "I mean, yeah, I probably am distracted..." "...But whatever it is, you still show up at these parties. And I think you get what people expect you to be doing back in there... That's why you play along too, even though you never take it any further than that." "How so?" "Like whenever some girl gets too close to you at one of these things, you just make up those same jokes about Professor Knowles and blow her off by the end of the night, acting like it’s all just some big joke like that one..." "Shit, dude, I’m just trying to not take myself too seriously here... And, fuck, I don’t know... it stuck with me when some seniors on my team warned me during orientation not to get too involved with anyone right away here... like you don’t want to end up having to tiptoe around an ex you can’t stand for four years. There’s no hiding at a school this small..." "Yeah, good advice..." Pete nodded. "... But even so, you're still here at these parties you don’t really enjoy, and-..." "... -I mean, they’re not all bad..." I stammered over him, not sounding convincing. "And isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at college though? Try shit out? Fuck, I’m just feeling things out here..." "Yeah, and that’s what you get to do here... No one knew you or where you came from, so you get to come here and make this a place to figure out who you want to be..." "But that’s, like, college, right? It’s like a blank slate to start out on your own..." "Yeah, if you’re lucky... But I didn’t get that here... people already knew me, or my dad, or my family name, so they expect me to be whatever it is they wanted this place to be... I never got the chance to be who I am without those expectations... And even for people like you, maybe it’s not as much of a blank slate as you think it is..." "Why not?" "I mean, it sounds like there’s a script you’re following too..." I thought about it for a few seconds as I listened to the noises of the party behind us. "Yeah, maybe..." "... and maybe you don't like the script either, and that's the reason you bolted the minute you had the excuse of your brother calling because... ‘cause you've been wearing yourself out too, trying to go through the motions of what people tell you college is supposed to be about..." Once again, I didn’t know what to say. No one here had ever talked to me like this. And my instinct was to play it off, to deflect with a joke or some other bullshit to keep the surface light, just like Pete had pointed out earlier. Suddenly, though, that felt like a childish response to how direct Pete was being. I felt like I needed to switch gears on my bicycle, but the chain wasn’t clicking into the one that would let me keep pace with Pete. Instead of responding, then, all I could manage to do was stare dumbly at Pete while he looked down at his hands. A few seconds of empty silence stretched between us, and then Pete jerked his head back up to look at me, his face ashen. "Shit... I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that! God, I'm stupid..." He fumbled a bit by my side to pick himself up off of the stair. "No, Pete! You don't have to go! Dude, seriously. It’s cool..." Pete settled back down, a little uncertainly, next to me, looking at me as if he were afraid of what I would say. "No, it's not. I-... I'm a dumbass. And I'm sorry... You've never been anything but good to me. And now here I am being all... all presumptuous talking about shit that's none of my goddamn business, and-..." "- Dude. I said it was okay. And you're not a dumbass!... Actually,... you're a hell of a lot smarter than I am. Even if it's not your business, you... well, I think you get it a lot more than I do." "But that’s no excuse for being an asshole..." "You’re not an asshole!... Fuck, what you said... It actually makes a lot of sense... It explains a lot of shit that I guess- well, yeah, it's been bothering me about stuff here... And I hadn't really been able to figure out why until just now..." I exhaled a long breath. "Fuck it, I am tired of the parties and the bullshit and acting like this is just some fucking summer camp ... 'cause I'm not here for that... I'm here for fucking school and to finish college. And it seems like I'm the only one here who even worries about that." Truth was, Pete had landed a bullseye and pretty much summed up everything that I, unconsciously, had been doing for the last month and a half here while I tried to fit into the mold of what I thought college life was about. Sure, Pete and I had become fast friends almost as soon as we met, but how did he know me this well, so much better than I even did? And why? Was this some weird, drunken clarity talking or had he really been paying this much attention all along? "How... how do you understand this so well?" Pete exhaled slowly and went back to looking down at his hands. "Like I said, I... know what it's like to just play along with what you’re supposed to do." I realized then that Pete had done exactly what he'd called me out on earlier tonight: changing the subject, throwing up a distraction to shift things away from himself. But if he wouldn't let me do that, there's no way in hell I'd let him get away with it. Besides, I could tell there was a lot more to this than what he was saying. I was worried about Pete, and I wanted to help if I could. "But... whatever it is you think you’re supposed to be doing... you don't have to do this. It doesn’t sound like you’re having fun, so why... why’d you make yourself fuckin’ sick tonight?" "I can tell you weren’t really making yourself happy at this thing either. But you were still here too..." Point taken. But I wasn't going to let him get away with this. "I thought I asked you a question." "I don't know... I honestly don't know. This isn’t me... and it's not... it's not fun. But it is what there is here..." It suddenly dawned on me: "Fuck, you hate it here..." Pete let out a slow breath as his shoulders dropped a bit. "Yeah..." he whispered, the word hanging in the air between us. "... Jesus, it’s pretty shitty of me to say that, huh?" "No..." I shook my head. "Dude, how does that make you shitty?" "I basically had this place handed to me on a silver platter when most people here have busted their ass their entire life for the chance to be here..." "Either way, that doesn't mean this place is perfect..." "But the least I can do is like it..." "Shit, that's not, like, required." "You don't think I'm an ingrate?" "Hardly... you didn't get to pick what was handed to you... same as anybody else." "Yeah..." Pete snorted under his breath. "... Hardly." Pete looked back up at me again as he finished, and I could tell from the edge to his voice on that last point that I’d ventured into territory he didn’t want to go further into. It sounded like whatever more there was to what was bothering him than just drinking too much tonight, it must not be something entirely new. And by the way Pete was now visibly collecting himself and straightening up his shoulders, it seemed pretty clear he wanted to handle this on his own. He wasn't out here fishing for sympathy. Still, I wondered why Pete was afraid people would see him like this if it was in fact closer to what he actually was like. Sure, he didn't have the sweeping, confident charisma I'd always seen in him before tonight. But somehow, I liked this side of him even better than the almost larger-than-life Pete I had thought I'd known- something I would have thought impossible only a few hours ago. The Pete sitting beside me was perceptive and honest and, I suddenly realized, a truly great friend. We'd been quiet for a few minutes, and I was sure Pete could feel me looking at him just as much as I could feel his warm body pressed against mine. "Max?" "Yeah?" "I'm sorry I pushed you earlier. I know you don't like talking about stuff like this." "Don't worry about it. I'm glad you did." We were quiet. "Max? Thank you for sitting out here with me." "I wanted to." We didn't move. Behind us, the noises of the party grew louder and more rowdy. I stayed there, with Pete. **************** To be continued.