I even felt slightly guilty about accepting a full athletic scholarship to South Beach University—knowing that I didn’t want to play, and the media attention I was getting reached an all-time high freshman year.
Yet, four games into the season, I tore my ACL and my coping mechanism was ripped away from me within seconds. The media attention that was sudden and swift when it started, seemed to come to an abrupt stop.
Yes, the doctor had told me that I could play again with extensive rehab, that I could take six to eight months to heal and be just fine, but I asked him to write me a “should probably never play competitively again” diagnosis instead; I couldn’t bear to live the life of a college athlete for another day. I had to force myself to find new ways to cope.
Since I had no family to call anymore—only memories could bring them to life every now and again, I relied on my friends.
Just friends.
There was Josh—my closest male friend, current roommate, and fraternity culture obsessed confidante who had an excuse for almost everything. There was my former teammate Dwayne—soon to be a professional athlete and first round draft pick, who still got me tickets to every campus basketball game. And of course, there was Arizona who’d stuck by me through it all—never letting me read what the papers were saying about the “Questionable Diagnosis,” always there when everyone else had left me behind; she was my best friend—the ultimate person I could count on no matter what. And, for whatever reason, she was the only one who was standing in my kitchen when I finally made it home from the awards ceremony.
“You wanted to have a graduation party with just four people?” she asked as I came inside. “You know you could’ve easily gotten one hundred people here, and that’s just me counting your adoring female flock.”
“It just kills you that I’m sexually attractive, doesn’t it?”
“It kills me that you can actually describe yourself as “sexually attractive” without laughing at how ridiculous that sounds.”
I smiled. “Would you like me better if I was modest?”
“I’d like you better if you were honest.” She laughed, and Josh and Dwayne came inside the house at that moment—arguing about basketball stats as usual.
“You were serious about only inviting the three of us?” Dwayne asked, looking around. “No other girls but Arizona?”
“Is there a problem with that?” I asked.
“No.” Josh shrugged, setting a bag on the counter. “After going to ten parties this week that were far too crowded, I think I’d much rather hang out in a small group tonight. Well, minus Arizona. I’m with Dwayne on that one. We can always do without her being here, and since I live in this place as well, I vote for her to go.”
Arizona threw up her middle finger at him.
“I picked up a cake for you, Carter,” Josh said, taking a six pack of beer out of a bag before handing it to me. “I figured you’d want an official one to celebrate tonight. Plus, I got some new alcohol that I need to use on a few of the slices later. Me and a few of my fraternity brothers want to run an experiment we saw on YouTube.”
“Of course you do.” I flipped the lid off the box, shaking my head once I read the lettering on the light blue cake. “Congratulations, it’s a Boy?”
“They ran out of graduation cakes.” He shrugged. “Better than nothing, right? Should I have gotten, Congratulations, it’s a Girl?”
Arizona and Dwayne burst into loud laughter, and I couldn’t help but laugh, too.
I grabbed my own six pack of beer and motioned for the three of them to follow me outside, past the backyard gate and to the beach. This was our last summer before we all would have to chase our own separate dreams, and I wanted to cling to the carefree life for a little while longer. The life where I could get away with being slightly irresponsible and all would be forgiven with an eye roll and slap on the wrist from the campus cops. The life where spending hours upon hours in a diner with friends and talking about absolutely nothing were the norm and not the exception, and a life where the beach was never more than a few blocks away.
Yet, as Arizona sat down right next to me in the sand— and began arguing with Josh as usual, I realized that something felt different about this summer already. But I couldn’t tell exactly what it was yet…
A few days later…
I locked the door to my bedroom and read over my father’s obituary for what must have been the millionth time—stopping on the words “He leaves behind a son he loved more than anything, his ex-wife (a woman who he always considered his “best friend”) and a fiancée…” The “woman he always considered his best friend” was always the part that jumped out at me.
He’d disappeared somewhere between the sixth and seventh grade—in between one of my birthday parties and the start of puberty. There was no formal notice, no formal talk about why he was leaving; my mom and I woke up one morning—refreshed after our annual family vacation, and realized all of his stuff was gone.
The next time we saw him, he was on TV—heading some huge celebrity divorce case. The next time we saw him after that was in the newspapers—he’d just won one of the biggest class action lawsuits in the country. And the last time we saw him was at his funeral; his new, much younger fiancée had been drinking and lost control at the wheel.
To his credit, he gave my mother everything she thought she wanted in the divorce—alimony, child support, timeshares, and two vacation houses they’d bought together. He sent birthday and holiday cards like clockwork and every now and then he sent us flight tickets to visit him; flight tickets that never got redeemed.
For me, he called once a week—going down his normal list of questions. “How are you this week, son?” “How are your grades?” “Your mother says you joined a summer league basketball team. How’s that?” “How is Arizona? Is she still your best friend?”
One day, circa seventh grade and tired of his bullshit, I cut off his checklist of questions and asked. “Why did you leave us?”
“What’s that, son?”
“I said…” My voice didn’t waver. “Why did you leave us?”
There was no immediate answer—only silence. After several minutes, I considered hanging up, but then he began to speak.
“I wasn’t happy. We were only getting along for your sake…We were supposed to stay together until you reached high school, but I honestly…I couldn’t do it, and I told her that, too…I should have been clearer and said that I just didn’t feel the same as I used to, and I guess that’s why we should’ve stayed ‘just friends.’”
“That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard…”
“Watch your mouth.” He snapped, his tone now glacial. “You asked me to be honest, so I’m being fucking honest…” He sighed and paused once more. “I never got to meet anyone new or find who I was outside of your mother. That’s the problem. We settled for each other and we, in turn, stifled one another.”
“You’re blaming her for you leaving?”
“I’m blaming us both,” he said. “No way can a man and a woman stay in love from childhood to forties and beyond. It’s unrealistic.”
“So, cheating on her with your secretary was the solution?”
Silence.
“How’s school?” He changed the subject completely. “Arizona? Does she still have those braces?” And that was the last effort I made at attempting to salvage our relationship. Which was why I was quite surprised to learn what he’d left me in his will. In addition to a college fund, a trust fund, and a few of his investment portfolios, he’d left me a condo on the edge of the beach.
I vowed to never use it when it was awarded to me, and even contacted a realtor to put it up for sale. But, once I found out that the house was near South Beach University, I changed my mind and moved into it at the end of my sophomore year.
It was my much needed refuge from the hectic campus life and the beach fire parties, which was why I’d never invited more than three people over at a time. It was why
I dreaded the idea of ever throwing a party here, but Josh was slowly wearing me down on the idea for this summer. He’d even begged me to have a business meeting with him about it at the end of my private graduation get-together the other day.
Sighing, I folded my father’s obituary and returned it to the back of my desk drawer.
I stepped outside my room and headed into the kitchen where Josh and five of his fraternity brothers were sitting at the bar.
“You all wore suits?” I looked at all of their complementing grey and black suits.
“This is a business meeting, is it not?” Josh took out a folder.
“You’re my roommate.”
“And for that, I am forever grateful,” he said. “And I think, to the best of my knowledge, we’ve gotten along pretty well for the most part. Right? I’ve never been late with the rent.”
“There is no rent.”
“But if there was, I would’ve never been late with it.”
I rolled my eyes and took out a beer. This was going to be a long one.
“I also think,” he said, continuing, “that I’ve taken great care of the backyard without you even asking. I’ve also made sure that the fridge stays stocked with water and protein shakes whenever we run out, and I make sure my company never overstays their welcome. So, with all of that on the table, I need you to give me three good reasons why you won’t let us throw the party here.”
“I can give you ten.”
“I’m listening.”
“One, we have neighbors on both sides, neighbors that don’t really appreciate loud parties and have previously threatened to call the cops.”
“We’ve already talked to them.” He smiled. “They’ll be away the weekend that we throw the party,”
“If you throw the party.” I countered. “Two, I don’t want my things torn apart by drunk strangers.”
“We plan to rent a U-HAUL overnight and place all of your furniture and TVs inside of it. We’ll put it right back the next day.”
“Three, you don’t know how to count. You told me you were thinking about fifty people last week, but I saw the “secret” Facebook event this morning and it says three hundred people are coming.”
“Three hundred seventy five.” The guy next to him coughed.
“Yeah, so…” I took a long swig of my beer. “Hell no.”
“Come on, Carter. Man…” Josh stood up. “It’s not like you don’t have the space, and it’s not like everyone will be inside anyway. We have ideas to keep half of the people inside and outside.”
“It’s a no.”
“You can’t tell me you’re not slightly interested in the thought of Jell-O pools and Slip N Slides. Or a wet T-shirt contest in your own backyard. This might be the last big party we’ll ever have in our youth. We must protect our youth with memories like this, so when we’re married with kids that we can’t stand we can at least say ‘Hey, once upon a time I actually loved my life’ you know?”
“Do you ever think before you speak or do you just let everything come out randomly?”
“A little bit of both, actually,” he said, smiling. “Don’t make me beg you.”
“Why can’t you throw the party at your own fraternity’s house?”
“Yeah…About that….” He cleared his throat. “After certain events that transpired last semester, Epsilon Chi is banned from throwing any parties on campus for the next five years.”
“So you honestly think that shit gives me confidence in you throwing one here?”
“No, but I think if we do everything we said we were going to do a few minutes ago and offer you eight hundred dollars on top of that, you’d agree.”
“You’d be absolutely right.” I tossed my beer bottle into the trash. “Done deal.”
He rolled his eyes and took off his tie while his frat brothers gave each other high fives. “Okay, since we have like two weeks to get everything together, would you mind helping us this weekend? We need to make multiple runs to pick up the tiki torches, some weed, and we have to start loading up on Jell-O and alcohol. It takes four people to hold the torch pieces though. They’re supposedly fragile…and we kind of need to pick them up in a few days…So, unless you want to help us out by driving…”
“I don’t. Ari can drive.”
“Ari?” Josh’s eyes widened. “Arizona Ari?”
“Is there another Ari we both know?” I looked at him. “Yes, that Ari.”
“Dude, you’ve never let me drive your car.”
“What’s your point?”
“Ari is a girl.”
“And you’re a boy. Now that we’ve established what genders are, are we done here?”
“My point is, why does Arizona get to drive your car when I, your male best friend—best friend since junior year of high school—has to beg you to let me throw a goddamn house party …in a house we both practically share no less?”
I shook my head. Once a month, like clockwork, Josh brought up something about Arizona. Like a little child, he would ask why her and not him.
“You’re not going to answer me?” Josh shook his head. “And you seriously have to wonder why everyone that comes around thinks you two are fucking?”
“First of all,” I said, annoyed, “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. Even if we were fucking—which we’re not, it wouldn’t be anyone’s business. Second of all, my car is a stick shift, and I would be more than happy to let you drive it if you knew how to drive one, but you don’t. Do you?”
“Oh yeah…” He tried to save face. “Right. I forgot…Ari can definitely drive tomorrow. I have no issues with this at all. Glad we could have this discussion.”
“Likewise. I want the eight hundred dollars a week before the party.” I said goodbye to him and his friends, and returned to my room.
I opened my drapes and looked out at the ocean, at the people who were taking a late night stroll along the beach. Remembering that I was supposed to call Ari’s friend Tina for sex later, I pulled out my phone and saw a message from Arizona herself.
“Get ready to eat crow! The Chris guy (Told you there was a spark!) is taking me out to the movies tonight. Take that!”
“You’re just supposed to have sex with him, Ari. Not go on a date. (Not eating crow)”
“Yes, well…Some of us NORMAL people like to get to know someone first before having sex! Sorry we’re not moving as fast as you and Tina are.”
“Me and Tina haven’t had sex yet.”
“Having problems getting it up?”
“Having problems getting across the bridge at rush hour.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll succeed tomorrow. Meet up for waffles after my date? Ten-ish?”
“Eleven-ish.”
“Great. See you there.”
Track 5. Sparks Fly (3:23)
Subject: Tina.
Want to know what she’s saying about you behind your back?
—Ari
Subject: Re: Tina
No, but I would like you to hurry the hell up and get out here so we can get this over with. I thought you got off at noon today? (Why the hell do you still work here anyway? You barely show up and the manager hates you…)
Sincerely,
Carter
Subject: Re: Re: Tina
She’s telling all of her friends that you have one of the filthiest/sexiest mouths she’s ever experienced on the phone, and that she can’t wait until you finally “fuck her brains out.” (I honestly have no idea why I still work here…Give me a second to figure that out.)
Do I really have to drive?
—Ari
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Tina
No comment on any of the Tina shit.
Yes. HURRY UP.
Sincerely,
Carter
I leaned back in the passenger seat of my car—continuing to wait on Ari with Josh and two of his fraternity brothers at the marina. I was hoping today would pass by quickly, as I wasn’t sure if I could deal with the three of
them for more than a few hours at a time.
“Did I tell you I started a private cannabis club in my fraternity, Carter?” Josh asked.
“No…” I immediately shot Ari another “Hurry up” email, and looked at him through the rearview mirror. “Did you already smoke too much weed today? It’s kind of early for you, isn’t it?”
“For the record, there’s no such thing as smoking too much weed,” he said. “Back to the topic at hand though, I have made it my personal mission to tell the new seniors that they are not to let my weed dreams die next year and to let my goals live on.”
“Let me get this straight, you’re happy about starting a secret club that promotes an illegal drug? Don’t you want to be a governor? ”
“Okay, first of all, weed is not a drug. It’s an herb,” he said defiantly. This shit grows from the ground, just like a goddamn carrot.”
“What about the side effects?” One of his own fraternity brothers countered. “The warnings?”
“What warnings? This herb may relax you and make you overwhelmingly calm, peaceful, and happy? Oh, yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “The side effects are practically lethal. Weed cures glaucoma, helps the blind, and the only reason it’s illegal is because the government knows that if they make it legal it’ll be hard to tax because people might attempt to grow their own untaxable stashes in their backyard.”
“Do you really believe this or are you actually high right now?” The other frat brother asked. “I’m honestly starting to worry about you...”
“Ha!” Josh laughed. “Trust me, when I do become governor—after they expunge my record for all the shit I did freshman year, making weed legal in America will be my number one goal.”
“Will cocaine be your number two?” I asked flatly.
“Screw you, Carter. Hear me out…”
I didn’t bother. I shut my eyes and leaned back in my seat.
Never agree to help Josh with a party again. Never again…
“Look…” one of the frat guys whispered. “I would totally fucking hit that.”