Kind of a Drag

It’s the middle of the night in the reading room, the lights of a city smear neon lines across the window. Pillows are arranged in a neat line around the edge of the nook. Blankets are neatly folded, as if they’ve just been washed and set out for you. The Book sits atop the stack, its silver green cover waiting to be opened.

Kind of a Drag

Lily jabbed an ice cube with her straw. It sank, trailing fizz, then bobbed back up in a flurry of tiny bubbles. She sighed, looked over at the dance floor, and sucked a mouthful of watery “ginger ale” through the cocktail straw. She’d hoped for the real deal, but, like everything else that night, it was a total letdown. The bartender didn’t even try to hide his deception when she asked for it, he rolled his eyes, shot Sprite, and then a splash of Coke into her cup and set it in front of her with raised eyebrows. Like he was daring her to complain.

She didn’t.

At least the music didn’t suck. Eighties night had that going for it. She wrestled with the idea that she should join her friends on the dance floor. But the thought of sweaty drunk guys trying to get close enough to yell their compliments at her made her uneasy.

She felt weird just sitting there, though. Like she was the only one in the club that wasn’t having a good time. She was, for sure, the only one not drinking. She bit the inside of her cheek. Her knee ratcheted in time with her nervous heartbeat. Her eyes swept the crowd then fell to her hands. Were they looking at her? Was she weird because she didn’t drink? Maybe she’d loosen up a little if she gave it a shot. Maybe she’d fit in. But then, who would drive the drunks? 

She chuckled, bitter. Without her, the streets would be just one more drunk away from disaster. So she sucked up another mouthful of disappointment and watched Mo, Zach, Nina and Andy have their fun.

Wonder if they’d notice if I left, if I just slipped out without a word. She thought and answered herself almost immediately: Oh, they’d notice! They would notice when they wanted to get home.

***

Lily’s cell buzzed against her thigh. She let it go, not wanting to struggle to get her glove off. It rang the whole time she was scrubbing the bristly carpet. And started up again as she sprinkled a thick layer of baking soda over the seat and floorboard. She ground her teeth. The smell of beer and bile, the fact that she had to clean it herself, made her want to throw the damn phone across the street. Because she was ninety percent sure she knew who was calling.

When a call came through for the third time she yanked her glove off and pulled her phone from her pocket. Mo’s name and picture confirmed her suspicion. Lily thumbed the screen, hit accept and tried to sound normal when she said, “Hey, Miss Mo, how ya feeling this morning, friend?”

“Like dogshit,” came the crusted reply. “Did I puke?”

“All over my backseat,” Lily said sweetly, letting the sarcasm ooze through.

“Dude! I’m sorry! I’ll come over and clean it up.” 

“Too late. I already did,” Lily said, grimacing at a spot she missed on the back of the driver’s seat.

“Lil, I’m so sorry. Can I give you money to have it detailed?” Mo asked.

“No, that’s ok. I’m just glad you’re alive. I was sure to roll you on your side when I left you but…” she trailed off.

“So, guess what?” Mo said after the silence started to get weird.

“Huh?” Lily grunted. She used four Clorox wipes to clean the back of her seat.

“Remember that guy, Anthony?” Mo asked, her rasping voice going an octave higher.

“Which Anthony?” Lily swallowed a gag and threw the last of the paper towels and wipes into the trash bag.

“Anthony, from the tattoo place?” Mo told her, impatiently.

“Oh, yeah, that Anthony,” Lily answered. She didn’t have any idea who Monique was talking about.

Which must have come through in her voice, because Mo sighed and snapped, “The guy with the BelAir?”

“Yeah, no. I know,” Lily laughed.

“He had a chihuahua,” Mo deadpanned.

“Ohhh, that guy!” Lily laughed for real this time. His dog was named Rummy and was black and tan and so tiny. “That dog was the bestest boy!” she said, a little too excitedly.

“Don’t yell,” Mo’s voice sounded distant, like she was holding the phone at arm’s length. “For the love of Christ. My head is splitting, Lil.”

“Sorry,” Lily said,  lowering her voice. She gave her backseat a final layer of Febreze and hopped in the front so she could roll all the windows down.

“It’s fine,” her friend said, quickly. “Anyway, you remember him right?”

Lily turned the key in her car, powered down all the windows and got back out, blowing out a breath. Febreze scented puke! Lovely.  “God that stinks,” she muttered, and then to Mo she answered, “Yes.”

“Well, he’s having a barbecue today,” Mo informed her, and Lily swore she heard a grin in her voice.

“Oh?” Lily stood there, frowning. She knew what was coming.

“Annnd, we’re all invited!” said Mo.

“Oh, yeah? Cool.” Lily bent, picked up the trash bag full of puky paper towels and wipes.

Her friend made a sound of impatience, “Do you wanna go,” she asked.

“Aw man, I would, but I have work at two,” Lily said, relieved to have an out. 

“Two? That’s fine, it starts at one, you wanna hang for an hour before you go in?” Mo asked.

“Nah, I have to give my car time to air out,” Lily said with a laugh, she didn’t want to start a fight, but really, she’d just cleaned buckets of vomit from the backseat, she was good on parties for a couple weeks.

“Okay, well,” Monique drew the word out, giving it at least ten extra “l”s, paused, then went on slowly “we’ll go in Andy’s car -they offered to drive anyway- we’ll head to your place, pick you up, you can hang for an hour, take Andy’s car to work, and come pick us up when you’re off.”

A spark of anger popped in Lily’s chest.

“Why can’t Andy just drive?” Lily asked, she tossed the trash bag in the big can and headed inside.

“Because, Andy is going to drink and they don’t just have one or two. Lil, come on, Rummy wants to see you!” She coaxed.

The spark smoldered. Laughing nervously, because this felt like foreplay to confrontation,  Lily said, “you guys just saw me last night, aren’t you sick of me?”

“No, Lily! we love you!” Mo sang out, stretching the words. 

Lily didn’t like the way Mo sounded like she had already convinced her. Like she knew Lily would cave.

The smolder flared, becoming a flame.

“Well, I wish I could, Mo-mo, but I won’t be ready in time. I just got done cleaning my car and still have to shower and stuff. It’s noon, sooo,” she bit the inside of her cheek.

“Well,” Mo said, again adding a line of extra “l”s. Then she made a humming noise, like she was trying to solve a puzzle, but Lily had the idea that Monique had already thought all this out. “What if you just come after work, you could rescue us again. I mean, I don’t want to be driving around drunk…”

The flame exploded into a blaze, it burned all the way up Lily’s throat and stung her eyes. Calmly she said, “No, I don’t want that either,” her chest clenching.

Why did she let them do this? Why was she so afraid to say no? She bit the inside of her cheek and sighed heavily through her nose.

Mo heard the sigh and said with renewed vigor, “Pleeeease. I’ll love you forever!”

Lily put her phone on speaker and laid it on the bathroom counter as she stripped off her clothes. She couldn’t stand to look in the mirror. She was disgusted with herself, no, with everything today. But mostly her stupid self.

“Lily-Bell? My very best friend, are you there?” The smile in Monique’s voice made Lily want to scream.

Instead she asked, “I get off at eleven, won’t that be too late?”

“No! Not at all, Lily! Oh my god! You’re my hero!!” Monique almost squealed, probably would have if she weren’t hungover.

“Yeah, yeah. I have to get in the shower now, Mo…” She sighed.

Her friend ended the call without another word.

*

All the lights were out in the house, but the backyard was lit like a stadium. Lily glared at her phone, there weren’t any check marks next to the half a dozen texts she’d sent, nevermind an answer. She wasn’t surprised. It had taken Monique a full fifteen minutes to text Anthony’s address earlier. 

“Damn it,” she slammed her hand on the steering wheel. Should she go in? What if it were the wrong house? Lily snorted out a laugh, she knew this was it. And, she couldn’t just sit in the fucking car all night waiting for her stupid friends to text back. So, why was she waiting? She should just leave! Tell them “tough shit, call an Uber or whatever.”

Lily’s hand was on the key ready to turn it, but she couldn’t do it. Maybe Mo’s phone had died, maybe Andy’s had too. She sighed and rolled her eyes. It was more likely that they’d lost them stumbling around or puking in the bushes. 

She swore again and threw open her door. Her stomach a riot of butterflies, she got out. A nervous tremor shook her legs, shot up her back, landed in her hands. “Fuckin’ assholes,” she hissed, pulling her flannel closed and crossing her arms over her chest.

Once out of her car, she could hear music coming from the house and it eased her nerves a little. A bark of laughter, high and sharp, rose above a classic rock anthem that she couldn’t name, she knew that keening donkey’s bray, Zack was in there. So now she knew that this was the place, at least. She slunk across the street, her heart skittering around in her throat like a trapped beetle. Goosebumps prickled up her arms, her breath puffed out in ghostly clouds.

She stopped at the door and scowled at a piece of lined notebook paper taped there. In big block letters it read: “Party in the Back!”

She glanced sideways. No path, no stepping stones, not even a worn rut marred the pristine lawn. Should she knock anyway? Was it okay to walk on the grass? Biting the inside of her lip, she turned and followed the walkway to the middle of the yard, scanning both sides of the house. Nothing. Just perfectly thick, garishly green grass. There was a gate in the wooden fence to the right, so that’s where she headed, even though every inch of her rebelled.

She was trespassing.

Or at least, it felt that way.

She was at the gate, about to pull the little cord that she presumed would open the latch, when she heard Mo’s slurred voice.

“You know, everyone should have a friend like Lil,” she proclaimed.

Guilt pinned Lily’s heart still. The things she’d been thinking.

“You just said she was kind of a drag!” someone pointed out, loudly.

“Oh, she totally is,” the word “is” came out “ish”. “I just mean, I can totally have fun and get all fucked up with you guys and I don’t have to worry about getting home. Ya know? Everyone needs to invest in a sober friend.”

Lily’s guilt evaporated.

“Yeah, at first I thought she might be a narc, ya know, but I think she’s cool to have around now.” That was Andy.

“So, you guys don’t actually like her?” the too loud man asked.

“No, I mean, I do, kinda. I’ve known her my whole life, soooo,” Mo said.

“Fuckin’ tell the truth, Monique,” Andy blurted. They were laughing. “Fuckin’ liar!”

“I feel like I have to like her, because she’s been around since I was seven, but I don’t like hanging out with her. She doesn’t like to do anything. She doesn’t drink, or smoke, or do anything fun… She is a drag.” Mo admitted, her volume fluctuating.

“The truth will set you free!” Andy laughed out.

“That’s really fucked up, guys,” too loud guy said.

“No!” Mo snapped. “That’s smart.”

“So she’s not your friend, she’s your ride. That’s fucked up,” he said again.

“NO.” Mo almost yelled. “It’s called having a purpose in my life. Lily’s lucky that I am her friend. If it weren’t for me, she’d be a boring, nobody.”

Lily, stomach in her toes, tears burning her eyes and anger hardening her heart, turned from the gate. She crossed the street and got into a car that smelled of Febreze and bile. For a second, tears crowded her throat and she took three sharp breaths that wanted to be sobs. But the moment passed, and all at once, she felt…..relieved.

She wasn’t happy, this didn’t feel good. But it felt right.

This wasn’t going to be some dramatic blow up. Or over the top weeping conformation. This wasn’t goin to be anything anymore.

Hands finally steady, Lily swiped her phone awake, pulled up their group chat and, with a tiny smile hit, “leave conversation.”

Note:

If this, or any of my stories spark something in you, please feel free to make your own art in response! I’d love to see what you create, whether it’s a sketch, a snippet of writing, or something entirely different. I’m eager to feature original art in place of the stock photos I’m using for now.

Just keep in mind, my pieces are creative sketches, rough drafts that I don’t stress over. So if you want to share, know that your sketch is equal to my writing “doodle”. I’m not looking for masterpieces (though I won’t turn them down). Just scraps.

You know.

The things that get stuck in your head and have no bigger picture to fit into. Yeah, those are my fav.

Thanks for reading.
—K