“I don’t have anywhere to take it!” I threw my arms up in defeat before hanging my head between my knees.
Owen sat down next to me. "Well," he said, lighting a cigarette, "as I see it you have two options." He took a drag and turned his head to the side to blow the smoke away from me.
"And what might those be?” I asked, talking from between my knees.
"You could either sit around here and have a first class pity party for yourself or you could come and have some drinks tonight at the woods party with me and think about all this—” he motioned to the tarp and the boards on the windows “—tomorrow. Seems like you got it all waterproofed and whatnot, so what's one night? Besides, you look like you could use a little time to forget.”
“That’s probably not the best idea, Owen.” It was an awful idea, actually. I hadn’t avoided being social my entire life for the fun of it, or because I thought I didn’t belong. I avoided them because I knew I didn’t belong. Not only in the town, not only with the kids from my high school.
I didn’t belong anywhere.
“Well, what else you gonna do? Stare at this shit all night until it magically does something different other than be a pile of shit?”
Would it be so bad to pretend for one night I wasn’t the punch line in some universal joke being told at my expense?
“Fine,” I said, giving in. I could think about all this later. I mean, what were my other options anyway?
Did I even have any?
"Well come on, then!" Owen looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he hustled over to his truck and opened the passenger door for me. I stood and brushed the grass from my legs. This time, Owen didn’t offer to help me up. He knew I could do it on my own. And he wasn’t looking for an excuse to touch me, which made me feel better about hanging out with him.
I’d use the night out the same way I’d been using Nan’s scotch, as a way to forget, a way to slip into a state of numbness, even if it was just for a little while.
Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad after all?
***
Smoke rose from the fire in the center of the clearing, hissing like snakes being charmed. It crackled and popped, growing larger and reaching further into the night sky. A shorter boy wearing a white cowboy hat stood just outside the flames, feeding it dried brush and branches. Trucks of all makes and models formed a wagon-wheel, parked with their tailgates facing inward toward the fire. One of the larger trucks held a keg and a huge bag of red Solo cups, while another had all its windows down and was blaring country music from one of the local stations. Groups of girls or couples with their arms around one another occupied most of the tailgates. A group of guys gathered by the keg, talking loudly about truck tires and challenging each other to a game of ‘who can drink more’.
Why on earth did I agree to come here? I thought. I tugged on the long sleeves of my hoodie, pulling them over my wrists. It was a nervous habit. Owen must have been reading my mind, because he stepped away from his man-groupies by the keg and came over to where I sat on the open tailgate of his truck.
“You look like you could use a beer,” he said, offering me a cup.
I took it from him and downed most of it in one gulp.
I was going to need much, much more.
“Thanks,” I said. I gave him my best fake smile. Careful not to spill his own beer, Owen hopped up onto the tailgate in one fluid motion, taking a seat next to me. “You don’t have to be afraid of these folks, you know. Most of them you’ve gone to school with for a long time.” He tried to playfully nudge me with his elbow, but I dodged the contact.
I looked around the fire at the people I had known for years, but really didn’t know at all. Each time I made eye contact with a new person it was met with sneers and whispers.
I held my empty cup out to Owen. “Maybe, I’m just not a group person,” I offered. Or maybe I had nothing in common with these people besides a zip code—although considering I’d just become homeless, I was without a zip code, too. Technically, we didn’t share shit anymore.
I needed more beer.
Being drunk was the only way I wasn’t going to scratch the skin off my face from being so damned uncomfortable, surrounded by all of them. Owen happily obliged and kept the beer flowing all night.
A few hours later and too many beers to count, couples started pairing off and disappearing into the woods. Trucks, which just hours ago brought in fresh-faced kids ready to party, now left with the disheveled remnants of those same kids. Limp, passed-out bodies tangled together in the cabs and beds.