After killing the rest of my teeth-chilling brew, I handed my cup to James. He filled it to the white rim. The warming confidence of liquid courage was reaching my ears. A never mind attitude flicked me on the earlobe and I thought screw it.
Looking up to James, a tree among saplings, I asked him for another beer. His tongue clicked and he said, “Better slow down, you drank as much as me now.” I copied the click and said, “I can handle it. If I puke I can come back for more, so chug.”
Cyrus was standing next to George who was holding himself up on a low window sill.
“You trying to find a girlfriend or are you going to play the entire course and not get stuck on your opening drive?” Cyrus asked George.
George’s face flinched and he muffled out, “What are you stupid? Freshman and sophomore guys don’t have girlfriends here. I’m not out hunting because I’m babysitting you dicks. Going out to the deck.”
James and I faced George and said a collaborative, “Fuck you.”
He returned the favor and filled his cup and went up the stairs to reach the second floor deck.
“What was that about?” Cyrus asked and I stepped back.
“I think he is upset because Tim is with Erin. Cyrus, by the way man, you should really think about what you say. Get me a beer please. You are closer,” I said.
James looked at me, chuckled and blurted out, “I got some cans, you want to shotgun?”
I replied with a few jack hammer nods. He gave me a beer out of the hand warmer of his pull-over sweat shirt and I took out my room key to pierce the thin aluminum. I plunged it in and created a large enough opening so the contents did not flow out. Heads back. Tabs break the seal. The beer burned on the way down but not a drop fell to earth. We went outside to the backyard to cool down and the scent of rotting fruit surrounded us.
Time passed in gushes and the party soon ruptured college kids. I had to dig my heels in so I didn’t fall back in the hillside yard. The only level space was underneath the second story deck filled with white wicker furniture, Tiki torches and drunk people. The deck, where George was hanging, creaked and shifted. The crowd cheered each time. I wanted to walk up there and get a good look at the nearby orchard but I didn’t feel risking the deck collapsing under my feet.
Cyrus and James held fast to the strategic position by second keg, the shiny little altar of soma, at the bottom of the hilly yard. I talked to a group of Deadheads and a set of Lacrosse players but I wanted to find Elyssa. Stumbling and bumbling up the grassy incline, I went to the side of the house and looked around the street and a red faced girl in sweats yelled that I had to go in the backyard or inside.
Back down by the keg only James remained.
“Where is Cyrus and did George come around?” I asked as I started to see double images so I squinted.
“George came back and took Cyrus to a party down the street. I’m going to stay here and finish this bad boy off, and then if you want, we can go to the house?” he asked.
“Sure kill it,” I said.
We both began a mission of intoxication, seek and self-destroy. Elyssa could wait.
A half-hour later, I was in the bathroom when the keg kicked. James pounded on the door and said, “Let’s go to that other fucking party.” A smile was sculpted, it was time to find Elyssa and make her mine. I pounced out of the bathroom and said to James, “I’ll race you.” Out the front door, we bowled out to the evening soaked sidewalk. We took off like drunk monkeys through a slow moving caravan of Deadheads wearing Phish t-shirts. They shouted, “Slow down!”
My shoes slapped the unforgiving sidewalk. The houses blurred as I went by and I turned to see James a block away waving for me to wait. No one charged us as we entered the blue Ranch house. A guy fighting to keep his eyes open, who looked like Benny Hill, said, “We’ve been expecting you. Around back.”
At a picnic table in the backyard, a park really, sat my whole group with a whole keg to themselves. Elyssa included. James went and sat next to Cyrus at the end of the table and Elyssa gestured for me to come over so I did.
“Could not fined you add da house I hope you, you aren’t mad I levd?” she said.
“Nope,” I said and scooted next to her, leg tickling leg, and she didn’t move away.
Across the table, I examined George’s condition.
“How are you doing man? You immersed in the pool of polluted thought yet?” I asked a tilted George.
He sneered and responded, “Fuck yeah, I’m polluted and now everyone else has to be dirty. I bought this private keg for us after they kicked the cans so kill em all!”
We stood in an unsteady circle and drank the cups of brew warm as bath water.
“Now the soldiers have perished, it’s time to do keg stands,” George said as one eye began to close.
Hands went on the handles of the keg. Feet were raised into the air. We sucked straight from the tap for twenty seconds or more as the group counted out loud. The slick metal rim was wiped down with a towel. My eyes were being reeled down by a fishing line as I saw Elyssa’s leg held high, all six of them. I felt good but then the atmosphere felt like clay. It collapsed around my head. I needed to wet my face. Inside a few guys were strung along the couches encircling a TV crackling static. The bathroom filled with daisy light. The well water from the sink was cool and metallic. It dripped down my cheeks to my chin. I shook like a dog. With beer in hand, I ambled back to the table. I don’t remember sitting down.