Nighttime

Nighttime

Who: The six of us: Craig, Hank, Kyle, Keeley, Dave, and me. It was a curious sense of “us,” perhaps one that I wasn’t used to, but certainly it felt like an “us.” It was a very chill atmosphere, everyone just lying around, in a comfortable silence. This was nice. For the first time in hanging out with them, I really felt like I was a part of everything. And that was cool. I didn’t really feel too much like a part of the group I was actually a part of, recently. It was uncomfortable to feel like you weren’t part of anything at all, and being part of a second-choice something was better than nothing.



Place: In Keeley’s trailer, specifically on top of Kyle’s bed. Somewhere they had scrounged up a television—you could see it better from one of the top bunks. Kyle was sitting on the end of the bed, with his knees tucked up, to make way for my half-extended legs. On the opposite side of the room, Keeley wasn’t being nearly so kind; she just draped her legs across Dave’s lap, not that he seemed to mind. Hank (was it Hank? I was almost certain it was Hank, but I never could tell those two apart—it may have been Craig) was stretched out on the cot he had to pull out from under Keeley’s bunk. There simply weren’t enough beds for them all.

When: Nighttime. Surely I should have returned by now, gone back to my own bed, with my own friends, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave. If anyone was particularly worried, I had my cell phone in my pocket, and they could have called. Maybe I almost wanted someone to call, to at least show that they cared where I was when I wasn’t home at nearly midnight. Maybe they weren’t home, yet. Maybe they had gone to get something to eat after playing—everyone but straight-edge Ian would have a drink. Maybe they were too busy doing that to notice I was gone. Maybe something horrible had happened to them all. I refused to call and ask.

What: Watching a DVD—there was no regular connection on this television, so anything you wanted to watch had to fit in the DVD/VCR combo that Dave had bought for cheap in town—of My Super Sweet 16, which someone had given Keeley, and was the only thing left that they had never watched. It was sort of a joke, watching episode after episode of rich girl after rich girl get a car for her birthday, but things honestly could have been worse. Things honestly could have been much, much worse.

Why: Because I wanted to. Because I freaking wanted to.

How: The last episode trailed through its credits. Glancing at my phone—yes, I still had battery, and, no, nobody had called me—I checked the time: twelve-fifteen. I still wasn’t ready to leave, but I wasn’t sure if I had overstayed my welcome. But then Keel asked, “Wanna watch something else?” She propped up on her elbow to look at me, and tilted her head like she was asking something else entirely. Kyle rested his hand on one of my shoes.

I looked up, shrugged. “Sure.”

With a gleeful sort of smile, she bounced off the bed. “We’ll watch When Harry Met Sally.”
Dave and Kyle both bolted upright, Dave fast enough that he knocked his head against the ceiling, while the angel twins groaned in a creepy unison. “No,” Dave ordered. “Keeley, I love you, you know I do, but not even for you can I sit through that movie one more time.”

Keel pouted. “But I love that movie. And Sloan wants to watch it, don’t you, Sloan?”

“I do really love that movie,” I confessed. Who didn’t? Kyle moved his hand from my shoe to my ankle; when I looked at him, he gave me an imploring look, the kind of looked that begged me to change my mind. “It’s a good movie,” I defended.

“No,” Dave repeated. “I don’t care if you have a higher percentage of estrogen in this room than usual. If I have to see that movie one more time, I will throw up. Besides, Sloan should probably be getting home.”

I glared at him—so did Kyle and Keel. “You’re not my mother,” I hissed; “She doesn’t have to leave,” Kyle agreed—but he was right, I supposed. I probably should be getting back.

“I just want to watch my movie,” Keeley argued, even as I allowed, “Fine. Maybe I should.”

Kyle grabbed my hand as I sat up. He was being more forward tonight than usual. And more than anything else, that made me feel like I didn’t want to go, but that was—even I could see this was a bad emotion—even more reason for me to leave. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He wanted me to say that I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to.

“I have to,” I said.

And then it was almost as if I no longer existed. Kyle turned his face away from me, moved his hand off my leg, dropped my other hand, and stared at the blank TV. He really was doing an excellent job of pretending I simply wasn’t there. Looking at Kyle, Keel said suddenly, “I’ll walk you home, Sloan.”

That was unexpected. Keeley didn’t usually treat me like some delicate flower, unable to walk myself home alone at night. “Whatever,” I said to her. I touched Kyle’s shoulder. He didn’t look at me. “Goodnight.” Still no response. So I bounced down to join Keeley, waved a little wave to Dave, and left.

We hadn’t gone very far when Keel turned on me. “Is something going on between you and Ian?”

“Excuse me?” I asked. Keeley didn’t often bring up Ian—she didn’t usually even mention him in passing. “I mean, yeah, something is going on, we’re married. What the hell are you talking about?”

She shook her head. “No, something bad—what’s wrong with you and Ian?”

I looked down. Honestly, I didn’t want to dissect my relationship with Keeley. I sort of liked the image that everything was perfect—I was married, on the road with my musician of a husband, living with my friends. At eighteen, I was all set for the future. Things were going well. If nothing else, I liked that illusion. So I dodged the question: “What makes you ask?”

Her look asked if I was really just that stupid. “Kyle?” I wrinkled my nose. Of course. “I mean, I like you, and I’d totally love to see the two of you together, but let’s be honest here. You’re married. He pulls that whole asshole façade, but he’s really going to be fucked in the head if you throw him for a loop, Sloan. If you let him believe and then go back to Ian, he’s going to be really, really screwed up over it.”

I didn’t want to say anything, but I knew she was waiting for my answer. “I’m not going to mess with him,” I promised. “Kyle and I are just friends. Strictly. He knows I’m married.”

Keel bit her lip. “I don’t think he knows that, Sloan. You might want to make sure he knows. Because if he doesn’t, things are going to start to get extremely uncomfortable for all of us.