It’s easier tonight, but I’m not going to count on it. Not even going to think about it. Anything can go wrong in a single instant.
In the shower, the water’s warm the entire time. I start to calm down, maybe getting a little excited about the date, but then when I dry my hair, I see that my hair spray is gone.
And it’s always where I leave it.
I don’t know what to do except to not acknowledge it, so I sit down to use the toilet and think about ways to make my hair not puffy and stupid looking without hair spray. It’s all I’ve ever used so I’m kind of lost.
Here’s what really messes with me. The hair spray, sure, okay, it’s missing; I’ll figure something out. But this…
I finish and reach for toilet paper and there’s nothing left. Like one little sliver hanging to the cardboard roll. No one uses this damn bathroom but me and I replaced the thing last time I used it.
I know it’s you.
I know it. It has to be, and it’s trying to ruin everything.
I’m not going to say what I did to make do with the fact that there was no toilet paper, but I’ll say that it wasn’t pretty and that towel is now in the garbage outside. I go back to my room to get dressed.
Good dress shirt and these designer-style jeans, the kind of jeans that are faded gray, yeah. They’re simple but I think I look good in them.
This is me actually trying.
I go back into the bathroom, looking for something else to use in my hair, go through the cabinets — random cold medicine and old prescription pills, cleaning products — but then I see a thing of cologne I’ve never seen before. I don’t remember buying this. Did I get it as a gift? Push that thought aside until I find a bottle of hair gel that I definitely didn’t buy.
Yeah, so maybe my reaction wasn’t right, especially if today — of all days — I wanted to just ignore the symptoms and feel normal.
“Stop fucking with me!”
My words, which I didn’t really mean to shout, seem to hold there, right in front of me, instead of echoing out the way normal sound does. I can’t explain it, but it felt like the area around me sank lower, packed in so that sound wouldn’t travel the way it usually does. I wish I’d paid more attention in class. I feel like we learned about the speed of sound and other frequencies.
But the important thing is that it’s definitely messing with me, and I was stupid enough to lose my cool.
I took Father Albert’s words about being true to myself in a way where I have to keep everything I care about, everything I know, close. That means pushing away all the other activity, the stuff that’s supposed to get a reaction from me.
So here’s what I’m going to do—
I’m going to use this hair gel.
I’m going to use this cologne.
I’m not going to admit that the hair gel works better than the hair spray ever could.
I’m not going to mention anything about how good the cologne smells.
I’m not going to notice that I’m locked in this bathroom.
No.
I’m not going to notice.
I’ll just try the doorknob. Once. Twice. A third time.
So what if the lights go out and I’m cold, really damn cold? I’ll shiver and keep trying the doorknob until it opens.
When it does, I head out, turning on the heat in my car, just for a little, to warm up. I don’t leave it on for too long though, because Nikki won’t like that. And I also don’t want to start sweating.
Along the way, I feel better. I was able to just keep cool and not get worked up when activity started to really get in the way. Maybe that’s all I need to do. I can’t be sure, but at least it worked.
All I want to think about now is what’s ahead. All I want to think about is Nikki and making sure this date goes well. Oh shit, I forgot the laptop in the car. Minor problem. But I don’t think it got hot enough to scramble the chips and stuff. I’ll have to try it later.
Maybe a little worried, but not going to think about that right now.
Nope.
I park in front of Nikki’s house and I text her, figuring this is probably the better way to go about it. Really, I don’t want to meet her parents. That’s just too much pressure.
She texts me back: “Be there in a few.”
Thinking: “Good, this is going to be good.”
Really feeling: nothing. I’m not nervous. Well, kind of nervous about the laptop. If it’s dead, that’s going to cost me more than I have to spend. I don’t work a job and I’ve always been a little sensitive about that part. A lot of people at Meadows have part-time gigs. Some are full-time. I don’t know how they manage it, but they have money to spend. I don’t have money to spend. I don’t like talking about it. Really don’t. Worse is the fact that I still get an allowance. I used to quantify it as my mom and dad’s way of saying, “Sorry we can’t be around. But here’s money for food and stuff.” Like, that makes a lot of sense. But I’m eighteen now. I’m about to graduate, and yeah: Still an allowance? I can’t let Nikki know that this date is being funded by my parents’ money.
What time is it? She said a few minutes. It’s been fifteen.
I think about turning on some music but I don’t really want to listen to the radio. Nothing on the radio is any good. I sound bitter. I guess I just don’t like the type of music everybody likes.
Waiting, not letting my thoughts wander. This is hard.
First thing I’ll say to Nikki: “You look great.”
No, that won’t do. Um, how about “You smell nice.”
What am I, a serial killer?
“It’s a nice night, huh?”
Yeah, that’s better. Casual, kind of like I don’t really care. Just being myself. Man, I’m really trying hard to be nervous, excited, or something. But yeah, this will be good.
I don’t even see her walk up to the car.
She’s right there, tapping on the glass, smile on her face, looking amazing — what else should I expect? Nikki’s wearing a pinkish-red dress. It looks like she’s ready to go to some lavish restaurant when really I’m taking her to a franchise place. Hope that’s not a problem. The way her house looks from the outside, and the cars in the driveway, her family is probably loaded.
When she opens the front passenger door, turns out she gets the first word: “Hunter, oh, Hunter, so excited!”
She leans in and kisses me lightly on the lips. It’s closed-lipped and kind of like a tap, a peck.
I fall back on the least weird of choices: “It’s a nice night, huh?”
Nikki nods, energy on high. She’s acting different tonight.
“So what do you wanna do?” she asks.
I tell her that I planned to go to this restaurant, then either a show, some concert some kid told me about at school, or maybe just a movie.
She seems to dig the idea but then says, “Wanna just get a quick bite and then go for a walk?”
A walk? In a dress like that?
“Sure, if that’s what you want.”
She winks. “I’m simple. And a concert isn’t my thing.”
Well, all right then. I do my best to drive all cool and casual, making small talk, but really I can’t help noticing that she keeps looking in the backseat. I don’t want to say anything but I also can’t help but, well, notice.
We end up at a fast-food place, her choice, and I order one of those family-feast-sized combos. She laughs and says, “It’ll be our little secret.”
I park the car in the back of the fast-food parking lot, as far away from the other cars as possible, because, like I tell her, “We can’t let anyone spot us.”
She calls the fully loaded nachos. I pretend to make a big deal out of it so I get two extra tacos than her share. We’re fighting over who gets what and it’s kind of funny. I know I’m laughing, having a good time.