Touching Melody

2

Kyle

You’re So Lucky





Tonight’s been full of surprises. First, two girls invite me to be the third body in their ménage a trois.

“Ménage a what?” I ask, forking some chicken and sticking it in my mouth.

Evan, who’s sitting next to me at the table, slaps me upside the head. “Don’t be an ass, Kyle.”

The one who introduced herself as Baby slides a hand under my t-shirt and says, “You, me, and Beth. You know. A threesome?”

I set down my fork. Lean back in the cafeteria chair. The room is buzzing with the excitement of new freshmen, and the stench of coffee and garlic bread stifles the air.

“Yeah, you know,” Evan utters, smacking my knee with his.

I’ve known Evan my whole life. He’s my cousin. After my father died his parents took me in, and we’ve been close ever since. He’s an a*shole. Likes his own space. We live in side-by-side apartments instead of with each other or ten minutes away with his mom and dad. Which is cool by me, especially at times like these. Fresh meat. The whole reason we decided to have dinner on campus.

“Right.” Of course I’ve heard of threesomes. It’s not like I’ve been living under a rock. But contrary to what most people think, namely Evan, it isn’t something I care about. Now that the opportunity has presented itself, I’m certainly interested.

Beth chimes in, “Baby is mine, but she likes guys and girls. We picked you together. You’re our number one choice.” She smiles, her eyes on Baby. Baby’s eyes and hands are all over me. I get the feeling Beth doesn’t want to be a part of this, but she’s doing it for Baby.

“You chose him because you haven’t feasted your eyes on this.” Evan raises his shirt and touches himself.

A group of girls, each carrying a tray of food, walks by. They squeal their approval in unison for Evan’s nakedness.

I chuckle. Now he’ll be worse than unbearable. The fact is Evan and I look alike—same dark hair, same square jaw. It’s probably because our fathers were brothers and they looked alike.

Beth scoffs.

Baby laughs. “You’re cute, Evan, but I—we,” she quickly glances at Beth, “want Kyle.”

Evan leans back in his orange chair and snorts. “That’s because you don’t know what you’re missin', ladies.” He proceeds to stand and make obscene gestures.

I can’t help but laugh. Evan’s an idiot, and he thinks way too highly of himself.

Baby and Beth get up from the table. They didn’t have any food. “Later tonight? We’ll catch up with you at the Sigma Nu party?” Baby winks.

I can’t help but wonder why she calls herself Baby. She is nothing like one.

“We on?” Beth asks.

I clear my throat again. “Who am I to deny two pretty girls?” Shrug unapologetically.

“Cool,” Beth adds.

Baby squeals.

Beth puts her hand on Baby’s waist and they walk out of the cafeteria. It’s then that I notice they’re wearing matching outfits: Short skirts, socks that go to the middle of their thighs, and black shirts.

Evan whistles, following the girls with his eyes. “Holy shit, bro. You’re so lucky.”

I shrug and take another bite of chicken.

He slaps me upside the head again. “Have you seen Pudgy Mudgy?”

I drop my fork. Swallow the lump of chicken. It goes down hard. “Maddie,” I correct.

He snorts. “Whatever. She’s registered. A UBS freshman.”

I drop my hands to my thighs.

When we were younger Evan and some other kids called Maddie "Pudgy Mudgy." It annoyed the hell out of me then and it still does.

“I mean it. Don’t call her that.”

“Fine. It looks like she’s going to be taking English with Ms. Spears. How you gonna handle it?” He’s smirking, and I want to punch him.

“Great. That’s great,” I growl between gritted teeth. Because it is great. I knew she graduated this year, and I hoped she would choose to go to college here. It’s stupid, but I’ve thought about Maddie a lot. Especially lately. She was my best friend. We hung out almost every day, up until her parents were killed.

All of these feelings… Shock? Happiness? Anger? All three at once? I can’t even begin to come up with a word to describe what’s coursing through my body. I have so many questions. Like, why the hell did she stop talking to me? Why didn’t she respond to any of my letters? She listened to me moan about not having a mother, about what a prick my father was. All the shit he put me through. I stood up for her when other kids were jerks. How could she just stop being my friend?

“I’ve got to go.” Without waiting for a response, I run to my Jeep. Head back to my apartment.

Inside I walk to the piano. It’s thirty minutes of endless playing before I’m able to calm down. I’ve decided to stay cool. It’s been seven years.