Rocket Car

Chapter 5

Rocket Car

My head hurts – a lot. I know it's a hangover, although I can't remember the last time I've had one. I try to ease the pain by taking in a deep breath, only to find that the unusual scent tickling my nose adds to the ache. It's an odd mix of pine and sanitizer. I'm not a fan. Struggling to gain the courage to open my eyes, I lay there motionless. At least this is a comfortable bed. Really comfortable. I could stay here all day.

I only open one eye to start. Sunlight is blocked by heavy curtains, but it seeps through just enough to light up the room. Teal sheets are wrapped around me on a queen sized bed; I peak underneath just to confirm visually that I'm still wearing my clothes. Check. Whew. I didn't blackout. I know exactly where I am. Not sure exactly how I ended up in this bed, though. I thought I fell asleep on the couch?

No matter. Finally sick of sitting around, I decide it's time to get up. Tossing the sheets aside, I throw my legs over the edge of the bed and stretch. That first stretch in the morning is always the most satisfying. After I feel like all the kinks are out of my back and torso, I'm ready for the day.

On my feet, my first concern is my cellphone. Not that I'm expecting any calls or text messages, I just don't want to lose a seven-hundred dollar piece of s**t. Of course it's not in any pockets. My eyes travel throughout the stuffy bedroom until they land on the dresser, where my cracked-screen device is waiting for me. It takes all of three steps before I'm there and snatching it up. An open drawer catches my eye; I'm pretty anal about closing drawers and cabinets so I instinctively go to shut it. Something inside catches my eye. I'm not nosy or anything but…

I have no idea what the hell the layout is for this house. Fortunately it's not large enough for me to get lost in. The welcoming smell of maple sausage and bacon yanks me in a particular direction. I find myself entering a decent sized kitchen, counter tops neatly clean and sink free of dirty dishes. Laboring over the stove is Davis. Dressed in beat-up sweats and a t-shirt with a dozen holes, a horrible case of bedhead, and slouching his shoulders something fierce, he's not at all cute.

"Hey," I call out. Jesus my voice is hoarse. I need some water.

"Hey," is his uninspired response. He doesn't turn to face me.

"Didn't know you were into this," I say.

That doesn't warrant his full attention, apparently, as he just glances over his shoulder. I'm holding up a pair of handcuffs by my index finger, tempted to twirl it for effect. I can tell he's embarrassed. Instantly he turns back to the food he's working on. Red colors the back of his neck and I'm sure I can see sweat already forming. Teasing him has always been too easy. I'm already bored with it.

Without being offered I take a seat at his small kitchen table. The handcuffs hit the wood with a loud "clunk." Silence sets and now I'm bored with that. Might as well tease him again. "Interesting that drawer was wide open… You use any of that stuff recently?"

It takes him a second to respond. When he does, I can hear the awkwardness in his voice. "What makes you think I ever used those for anything?"

"Davis. It's cool. We're adults. Everyone has kinks. Besides it's not like cuffs were the only things in there," I say.

He ignores any insinuation and focuses on serving the breakfast he's worked so hard on. I should say thank you, but it seems unnecessary after all these years. Despite my teasing, he's treating me well. A plate with a fried egg, two slices of maple sausage, three pieces of bacon, and one piece of toast is placed in front of me. He's even nice enough to grab me a glass of milk. The hangover cure meal.

I take a bite of sausage before continuing, "So, who's the lucky girl in your life? You said you were single so what are you, more than friends not quite a couple?"

Heat rises to his cheeks. From the tips of his ears to the tip of his nose is completely flushed. He nearly drops his own plate as he tries to set it down. I'm patient for an answer as I watch him take his seat, adjust his glasses, and down a cup of milk.

His voice is nearly a whisper when he answers, "I haven't been with anyone since Alexa. That was a few months ago."

"Jesus, a few months? How are you functioning?"

"You?"

I nearly choke.

What the hell? Who asks that? To make it worse he's genuinely curious. Somehow his eyes cut straight though his glasses and straight through me. I'm frozen. It's not that I find the topic of our s*x lives boring or that I'm embarrassed. Hearing it from him is what's odd.

I stop to think about my answer before I say honestly, "Like a week? It was last Saturday. You know, one last fling before I moved back here."

"Oh, so you have a guy back there?"

"Um, not exactly."

"A girl?"

"No. It was a guy. It just… wasn't like a relationship or anything. It just kind of happened."

"Oh."

That's the end of that. At least, I thought it was.

"You haven't been able to commit since Jeep, huh?"

I actually choke that time. I can see the smugness in his face as he turns back to his food. The light grin on his lips is about to be wiped out by my fist, but I have to admit he's right. I won't say that out loud, though. Instead, after my throat is cleared, I counter with, "What makes you think there was anything between us?"

"The fact that you just choked on your bacon says enough," he teases. My glare must've been enough as he clarifies, "You guys sucked at hiding it. We had a betting pool as to when you guys would get married. Too bad you were both more interested in being… how did you put it? More than friends, not quite a couple? What is that, some sort of politically correct term for f**k buddies?"

Never in my life would I have ever thought I'd hear those words come out of that quiet, reserved, innocent mouth. "First of all, there was no 'f*****g' between us. I haven't been able to commit since before that. Since Willie, alright? I gave that guy my v-card and half of my youth. After that? I've never been good at commitment," I say. He doesn't stop staring at me, unsatisfied. My only option is to toss another cheap joke at him. "Aren't you the guy that owns a pair of s*x cuffs."

"Like you don't."

Apparently, he's finished eating. I watch as he takes his empty plate to the sink in order to wash it off. That's my cue to chow down. The food is actually pretty damn good, I have to admit. Of course, it's been awhile since someone's cooked breakfast for me. I almost feel like a kid again.

"You work today?" he asks. I can barely hear him over the sound of the faucet. He's clinking s**t together inside the sink, too.

"Nah. I don't start my new job until next week," I say in between mouthfuls of egg.

"Cool. Same here. Uh, I mean that I don't work, not that I have a new job. You want to do something? Movie? Arcade? Racquet ball?" he says.

I want to comment on how stupid that lists sounds and that he really needs to learn how to talk better. Instead, I answer, "I broke my arm last time I played racquet ball, so let's not. Really we should spend the day finding you a girl."

The way he stares at me, I can tell he's not offended. There's a slight tug on his lips that suggests he's trying hard to smile despite it all. Never once do his eyes leave mine. The only time Davis ever forces eye contact is when he's trying to prove that he's not weak. It almost breaks my heart.

"Will you ever get over Alexa?" I ask.

"Will you ever get over Willie?"

Touché.

April 3rd, 2003

"She's cute, right?"

"No."

"You didn't even look!"

"Don't have to. Your taste is bad."

She barely overheard the boys talking. It wasn't intentional. It just is when someone is surrounded by females the sound of male voices tends to stand out. Whatever drills they worked on wasn't as important as getting in on their conversation, so she discreetly slipped away from warmups to make her way to the baseball field.

Whoever thought putting the girls' softball field and boys' baseball field right next to each was an i***t. Without fail, the two teams would have a few members mingle near the small chain link fence that divided them. This particular day found Jeep and Davis rested against the fence as the rest of the baseball team ran laps. Davis had his attention focused solely on a new softball player, while Jeep was more interested in his Nintendo Game Boy.

"What's up?" she greeted.

"Catching Pokemon. Wanna duel?" Jeep asked. He never looked up to actually greet her.

"Duel? Isn't that Yu-Gi-Oh?" Davis questioned.

Jeep snickered, "f*****g nerd."

Kristy noticed Davis wasn't all that interested in the insult or her appearance. Her eyes followed his, and found them lingering on the softball team's starting third baseman. She nodded approvingly and said, "Athletic, but prissy. Probably not smart enough for you."

"She won't date anyone that plays Yu-Gi-Oh if she's as cute as you say," Jeep said.

Both ignored him. Kristy focused on Davis's little crush. "Her name's Alexa. Come by the girls' locker room and I'll introduce you. I said by not in. Just gawking at her isn't going to do you any favors."

"You should take your own advice. I'll bring Waechter with me. The way you stare at him during games is obscene."

For the first time, Jeep's eyes left his game. They shot up just long enough to check Kristy's expression before they went back to the screen. Only Davis notices.

March 3rd, 2004

Before each season started the three of them always tried to get extra practice in. They hit the practice fields before school starts nearly every day. This particular time they had no choice but just to play catch. Rain overnight had swamped the fields. It was chilly enough out that they opted to wear long sleeves. Jeep tried to push them into some sprints but when Kristy refused, Davis politely declined the idea, too.

After one horrendously bad throw bounced by Kristy and she failed to put any effort into stopping it, Jeep decided to call her out on it. "Alright, what's the matter with you? That time of the month or something?"

"Yeah, do we need to call it a day? You're really sluggish," Davis added.

She wanted to comment that he was about to be slugged, with that smug expression as he wiped the mud off his glasses. Instead, she picked the ball up out of the dirt and tossed it at him. Davis barely got his glove up in time to stop it from smashing into his face.

"No! I'm just… sore."

Davis sent a strong toss to Jeep. Before anything more was said, the ball was back in Kristy's glove. "From what?" Jeep practically demanded.

It suddenly got really hot for Kristy. Nervous sweat seeped from her pores. A blush rose to her cheeks. "Well, last night I went out with Willie," she said. The ball was passed to the silent Davis. It was out of his hands and thrown to Jeep almost immediately, as though it were dangerous to hold.

The sound of the baseball striking Jeep's mitt was a prelude to his harsh, "You and Willie Waechter go out every night. So?" He reeled back to toss the ball over to Kristy but stopped mid-motion. She wasn't even looking at him. Even Davis was looking elsewhere. The cogs in his mind creaked along until something clicked. He called out, "Hey." It was just gentle enough to catch her attention. With her eyes now on him, he underhanded the ball to her. "Gotta get to study hall. If I don't get my grades up I'm off the team."

Then he left. Alone with Davis, it was awkward as they watched Jeep pack up his things and leave. It wasn't until he was out of sight did Davis break the silence. "Kristy," he said.

She looked over to find his glove up and anticipating the throw. Her aim was perfect. Again, his return was fairly quick. They set a steady rhythm. Fresh rain started to fall but the two friends didn't stop. It was comforting.

"Are you alright?" he asked between throws. She assured him that everything was fine. "Did it… hurt? Was it awkward?"

"Really awkward."

February 19th, 2005

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Hey. It's f*****g one in the morning, why are you calling?" she demanded. Most friends claimed she was supportive, but never after midnight. Calling her was also a good way to get on her bad side.

"Um, can we talk?" he asked. There was an odd apprehensive tone in his voice that would've sent off red flags for anyone else. She knew he was the type that always sounded that way when he was stressed or tired.

Dryly she answered, "We're talking now."

"Open your window please?"

Despite how irritated she was, she still got out of bed, lifted the blinds, and opened her window. Her heart actually skipped a beat at the sight of the silhouette standing outside her window, phone still pressed up to his ear. There wasn't enough light for her to read his expression.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Do you want to… I don't know? Just, go somewhere?"

"Not at one in the morning, no."

Then came the waterworks. Davis couldn't form a complete sentence. Heck, not even a single word. At the sight and sound of him wailing like a child that just dropped his ice cream cone, she popped the screen out and climbed out of her window.

Twenty minutes later and they were suffering the cold winter air together. They'd just drove off, no destination in mind. They didn't talk. Only the radio accompanied them. Davis was driving; he took the gravel roads until they turned into dirt, and kept going until there was almost no trace of a road at all. Then he abruptly stopped the vehicle and left it, only to sit on the warm hood. She joined him, and that's when he unloaded.

Somewhere in between sobs he explained that he and Alexa had been "you know, active?" (his words) for quite a few months before she got "also active" (also his words) with other guys behind his back. Sometime while she was messing around with all these guys, she got pregnant. Davis fretted and proceeded to puke his guts out in fear of what his dad was going to say to him. Alexa must have been more scared, though, because she decided she wasn't having a kid. When confronted, she admitted to Davis she didn't even know who the dad was, "so what difference does it make?"

"Wow. I didn't even know you were f*****g. Good job, man," Kristy said.

"You speak worse than the guys, you know?" he accused. To this, she just laughed.

"Sorry. I guess I'm just upset you didn't tell me," she said with a shrug.

"You're the first person I've said any of this to," he admitted. "Even when the guys rib me, I haven't said a word. But… I was freaking out when she told me, now I'm just upset that she just… aborted it. Without even asking. Even if it wasn't mine, still… I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know what I feel."

Words weren't necessary. They wouldn't have fixed anything. So they just sat in silence until sunrise.