There was this chick I ran cross country with in high school. Amber. She had buck teeth and the nicest legs I ever seen.
Ballsiest chick I ever knew. Wildest, too.
One time we’re at this end-of-summer party, right? One of our teammate’s parents had it at their house. There was this huge pond in the backyard. Thing had a diving platform. Musta been a hunnert feet high.
Amber gets there and immediately strips down to a green string bikini. Which was like, holy shit. Most skin I ever saw on a high school chick. And remember, this was back in, what, ‘96? None of the other chicks I went to school with did that shit.
But Amber stripped down like it was nothin’.
And then she goes up the diving platform and executes a perfect dive right into the wooder. Shit was Olympic, man. Didn’t even ask how deep the goddamn pond was.
But that’s how she was with everything. She just dove, man.
#
I was smitten with this chick. So much so that I made a move on her at cross country practice one day.
We were out on a run, and I stuck kinda close to her. Ran just a little ahead of her. I stop and start dickin’ with my eye, pretending like there was something in it, and Amber stopped to see what was wrong. I asked her to look in my eye, and when she did, I kissed her. Just went for it. She kissed me back, and I tasted vodka on her. Like she had a couple swigs before practice. Then she said she had a boyfriend and ran off.
She didn’t say shit to me for the rest of practice. She didn’t say shit to me until right before practice the next day.
There was a bathroom right by the track where we warmed up, right. I sometimes got changed in there because I just wanted a few minutes to myself. Well, I’d just gotten changed when the door opens, and, boom, Amber’s standin’ there. Lookin’ all hot in a pair of running shorts and a tank top. Before I could say anything, she started kissing me.
One thing led to another and, well, I lost my virginity that day. Right there in one of the stalls, man. It was crazy. Fuckin’ Amber just pushed me into one and that was it.
Now, Amber was as mysterious as she was wild. I mean, she’d been at my school a year maybe, something like that. And nobody knew fuckin’ shit about her.
But I’d heard stories about her. Rumors. Like, I heard she was with two dudes at the same time, and they Eiffel Towered her. Shit like that. I didn’t know what to believe.
But that day, in that stall, it seemed like anything was possible. I mean, it did not seem like her first rodeo. Or her second, know what I mean? That girl knew exactly what she was doin’.
It didn’t last long, of course. And, full disclosure, Amber was disappointed. She straight up asked me if I was a virgin. And the second I said I was, she was fuckin’ out. Just pulled on her shorts and walked out the door. Didn’t say shit to me the rest of practice. Didn’t say shit to me the rest of the week. And P.S., I tasted vodka on her again.
Anyway, I kept my distance, too. I was freaked out by the whole thing. I mean, we didn’t use protection or anything, y’know? It definitely messed with my head.
Then a week later, after practice, she comes up to me as I’m about to get in my car. And she’s just like, “Oh, hey. Is this your car? Can I drive it?”
And I was like, “No, you can’t, I gotta get home.” So she asks me to give her a ride home, which I did.
So we’re driving, and we’re god knows where in Charlestown, right, and she starts messing with my junk.
Well, my heart starts jackhammering, and I didn’t know what to do. And then her head was, y’know, in my crotch.
I pulled over real quick, and, uh, full disclosure, what Amber was doing, that didn’t last long, either, if you know what I mean. And then get this. She’s like, “Now can I drive your car?”
At that point I was all dopey, so I was like, Fuck it, sure, why not.
#
Back then I drove a Subaru Justy. Ever heard of it? Well, I’m not surprised. Most people haven’t. They don’t even make ‘em anymore. It was a weird little car. Four-door hatchback. All-wheel drive. Mine was a five-speed manual. Still one of the best cars I ever owned.
I didn’t even ask if she could drive a stick. Back then, not a lotta kids could. Not the kids I knew, anyway. This chick, though? She gets behind the wheel, and the car was like another limb for her. Smoothest driving I ever seen. And the scariest.
She was red-lining the thing, taking turns at speed, it was nuts.
I look over and see her doing something weird with the clutch. Turns out she was double-clutching. I didn’t even know what that was.
So we’re racing through Charlestown, right? Just tearing ass down every backroad.
I’ll never forget it – I was holding on for dear life, and that Smashing Pumpkins song “Zero” came on the radio. And just as I’m fuckin’ praying we don’t get killed, Amber starts singing along, and screams, “WANNA GO FOR A RIDE?!” at the top of her fucking lungs.
At that point, we were careening down some road, kinda near the old Devault meat packing plant, but farther out, on some side road. And we come to this long-ass driveway, and Amber jerks the e-brake and cranks the wheel, and we start drifting. Like, actually drifting. Like Fast and Furious shit.
We get halfway down the driveway, and Amber stops the car. She takes off her seat belt and her shorts and gets on top of me. And, well, that time lasted a bit longer but not by much.
She tells me she lied; she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Then she puts her shorts back on and gets out and walks up the driveway toward this big-ass house. I mean, this thing was fucking huge. Ever seen one of those mansions on the Main Line? Like in Bryn Mawr or Ardmore? This thing was twice the size of one of those.
I watched Amber walk toward it, and then I got my shit together and drove home. The whole thing was like a crazy-ass dream.
#
So I get home, right, and then I have to deal with my mom, who’s a massive drunk. She’s sprawled on the living room couch, clothes all wrinkled and shit. Bottle of Red Dog in her hand. Remember that shit? Red Dog? My mom loved that shit. Kept at least a case in reserve at all times. I see her, and she has, like, eight or nine dead soldiers on the floor in front of her.
I was home later than usual, and somehow she noticed. Even though she was drunk. She starts in with me – where were you, I was starting to worry, why didn’t ya call, all that mom shit.
I told her practice went late, and I gave somebody a ride home. She asks who, and I tell her Amber, a girl I run with.
Well, I might as well told her I gave the fucking pope a ride home. She starts in with more questions, and I downplay the whole thing. You know, “Just some girl, she’s nobody.” Shit like that.
I change the subject, ask her where’s Dad, and she says he’s at work.
Dad was always at work back then. Always on some job. He’s still a bit of a workaholic but nothing like he used to be.
Anyway, I sat with Mom for a little bit. Just long enough for her to get drowsy and nod off, which didn’t take long. It never did.
I went to the kitchen to find somethin’ to eat, and the phone rings. I pick it up, expecting it to be Dad, saying he was gonna be late. But it was Amber.
She sounded out of it, slurring her words. Of course I knew what that meant: she was drunk. She said everything I heard was true. Then she trailed off, said she left her underwear in my car. I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was. She says she doesn’t have a boyfriend, and I’m like, “Yeah, you told me.”
Then she asks about the English homework. Then my mom starts calling to me from the other room, asking who’s on the phone. It was like being in a mental institution. You know, just two crazy people crying out for attention. I told Amber I had to go, and right before I hang up she tells me she loves my car. I’m like, “Great, see you tomorrow,” and I hang up.
#
The next day at school, Amber comes up to me and starts talking to me. Really talking to me. I’ve barely talked to this chick, and suddenly I’m her best friend.
She’s asking me about school and my family and all this. I didn’t tell her much about my mom because I couldn’t. I mean, that’s a whole thing, y’know? Just didn’t wanna get into it.
And before you know it, boom, we’re dating. Just like that. She’s cold, then she’s hot. It was heady shit.
One day she takes me to her house, right, and we do it in the pool house. Like Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Afterward, she takes me to her room and pulls out this scrapbook. It’s full of articles about rally car races. And then she shows me an article about how this dude named Bobby Halsey died in a rally car crash.
And then she starts crying like crazy. Like, her whole body was shaking. And I’m trying to calm her down, and then she’s like, “I miss him so much.” And that’s when I put it together.
Bobby Halsey was her dad.
Anyway, once she calmed down, she told me he was seconds from the finish line, and he was hit by another driver who’d lost control of his car. Her dad’s car flipped and rolled, like, thirteen times. And get this: Amber and her mom were right. There. Saw the whole fuckin’ thing.
This happened, I don’t know, a few months before they moved to the area. They were all set to move to Charlestown right after the race, and then he died, and they moved anyway. Hence the humongous fuckin’ house they lived in. Apparently rally car drivers make bank.
She said things got bad after he died, but she didn’t elaborate. And I didn’t ask.
And by the way, that’s how she knew how to drive like a fuckin’ bat outta hell. Her dad started teaching her when she was, like, ten or something.
She swears me to secrecy on all this. Nobody knows but her, her mom, and me.
For a while, we were great. In love, I’d say. I mean, if you can call a high school relationship love. I loved her. I will say that. And I did say that. Thing is, I didn’t tell her until right before we broke up. Timing, right? Life always gets in the way of timing.
#
The whole time Amber and I dated, she tasted like alcohol at some point or another. During school, after school, on the weekends. I kissed her and tasted vodka. Not always, mind you, but a lotta the time. I found out she was filling a wooder bottle with vodka and drinking during school.
Now, I tried to ignore this. I mean, my mom was an alcoholic, right? I was used to ignoring it. I was annoyed, but I could ignore it. Until I couldn’t. Not with Amber. That’s when I told her about my mom. And when I say “told,” I mean I took her to meet my mom.
But I didn’t tell my mom I was bringing Amber over. Which was on purpose. I wanted Amber to see my mom in her natural habitat. Like Jane Goodall with the apes and shit.
Which, looking back, was really unfair to my mom. I mean, she was a person, not a scared straight program. I should’ve been more, y’know, cognizant of that. Anyway, I take Amber to my house, and my mom is neck-deep in Red Dog empties.
I kept it as innocent as I could. Just a kid bringing home his girlfriend to meet Mom, right? All Leave It to Beaver and shit.
Mom was startled by it, though. But she was sweet as could be. Funny, even.
And Amber loved my mom. She loved that my mom let it all hang out, y’know? And of course my mom told some embarrassing stories about me, which I expected. I figured that was the price of admission.
Afterward I drive Amber home, and she’s talking about how great my mom is, how sweet, how funny. And I’m like, “Yeah, but she’s a drunk.” And I follow that up with how she’s like that every night and how embarrassing it is.
Amber got real quiet after that. And then she said something I’ll never forget. She goes, “Maybe she’s in pain.” And without thinking about it, I go, “Is that why you drink?” That’s when Amber started crying. And then she told me about Drew Drabich.
#
Drew was a typical cliché high school bad guy. He was one of those popular kids who was dicky to the unpopular kids. I was in his gunsights for a while. I mean, shit, a lotta kids were. But this douchebag had a real hard-on for Amber. He loved to pester the shit outta her.
Amber had buck teeth and her last name was Halsey, right? Well, fuckin’ Drew called her “Horsey.” And of course this got major laughs from the other shitstains I went to school with, which only encouraged him to do it more.
Well, that night in my car, the night she met my mom, she told me after her dad died, she lost her shit. Partied like crazy.
There was this spot near my high school, this rock quarry the kids called “Dead Man’s.” It was where kids went to drink. Amber goes there one Friday night and gets totally shitfaced. And she hooks up with Drew. But somewhere in there, she passes out. Somewhere in the woods. When she comes to, Drew and his asshole brother, Nick, are, uh, double-teaming her.
She tried to push them away, but she was still really drunk and out of it so she wasn’t able to. Then they finished and just left her there.
She felt shitty and gross, but she didn’t tell anyone. Shortly thereafter, the rumor about Amber being double-teamed surfaced. And then Drew started in with the “Horsey” bullshit, which is when Amber started bringing booze to school. Just to get through the day. Amber said the really shitty thing was that if they’d just asked her to do what they did, she would’ve done it. She was like, “I’m no prude.”
She tells me all this, and I don’t know what to say. I mean, after a story like that, what can you say? I just told Amber I was sorry and that I had no idea.
Then, like a fuckin’ asshole, I blurted out that the drinking had to stop. If she wanted to be with me, it had to stop. I said I understood why she did it, but I couldn’t deal with one alcoholic let alone two. Then I told her I loved her. I loved her and I needed it to stop. In other words, I made it all about me.
And Amber gave me an earful for it. She was like, “Weren’t you listening? I was raped.”
Now, that should’ve stopped me in my tracks. I should’ve shut the fuck up and just been there for her. But instead, I bulldozed right on, like the fuckin’ prick I was.
I told her we should go to the cops and file a report and maybe then she wouldn’t feel like drinking. And then to top that off, I told her she should’ve gone to the cops in the first place and why didn’t she think of that. And that is when she told me to go fuck myself and got outta the car.
I should’ve gone after her. Apologized. Groveled. Told her again that I loved her. But I didn’t. I drove home, and when I got there, my mom was waiting up for me.
She was at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in front of her. She wasn’t sober, but she was soberer than she usually was. And as soon as she saw me, man, she laced into me. Why didn’t I tell her I was bringing Amber over, she would’ve “made herself up,” how could I not tell her, blah blah blah blah blah. And without thinking again, I was like, “I wanted her to see what an embarrassment you are.”
She didn’t have a fuckin’ thing to say to that. And then I told her to grow the fuck up and stop drinking. And then I stomped off to my room.
Next morning, Dad wakes me up, tells me to meet him downstairs. He gives me a lecture about how I upset Mom and I shouldn’t talk to adults like that and all this. And I told him that if she wants me to talk to her like an adult, she should fucking act like one. And I left him sitting there.
Then I got ready as fast as I could and went to school.
At that point, I already have a headache. I hadn’t slept well the night before and then I had to deal with my dad, which only made things worse because I love my dad, okay? I adore the guy. He doesn’t bother anybody, doesn’t make a fuss. He just keeps his head down, goes to work, and that’s that. And I know dealing with my mom’s bullshit wasn’t easy for him. It couldn’t’ve been. It was probably ten times worse for him than it was for me. But he never showed it. Fuckin’ guy is a rock. Still is. So busting his balls about Mom’s bullshit felt terrible. I didn’t feel bad about Mom, but I did feel bad about Dad.
So all that’s in the back of my head, right? I get to my locker, and it’s just before first period and who shows up but Amber. And she is wasted off her fuckin’ ass, man. Just sloppy drunk.
And she’s got her hands all over me and trying to make out with me and telling me she loves me and all this. And people are staring, man. Like the world stopped and all eyes were on us. And I’m trying to calm her down, trying to handle the situation when guess who pipes up. Fuckin’ Drew Drabich. That motherfucker.
He was like, “Gabe’s having problems with his horsey.” Well, just as I’m about to say something, Amber goes off on him, calling him a piece of shit, an asshole, all this.
So I grab her arm and literally drag her into a bathroom. I try to calm her down, but she starts crying. I hold her and hold her, but she keeps crying. Then the first period bell rings. But we just ignored it and stayed in the bathroom, and I wanted the world to fuck right off, man.
#
After all that shit, I gave Amber an ultimatum. I told her she had one week to get her shit together or that was it. Not exactly the picture of compassion, I know. But what could I do. It was a lot to take. I’ll admit, I should’ve played it differently. But hindsight and all that, right?
Anyway, Amber, to her credit, stayed off the sauce for a few days. But that was it. Then she was right back on. So we broke up.
Ironically, my mom stopped drinking around the same time. She went to AA and everything. Got rid of all the Red Dog. So things started looking up. At home, anyway.
And get this, Mom even joined a gym, which surprised the shit outta me. You ever see those stickers on gym equipment? You know, like, “Consult your doctor before starting an exercise program”? Well, she never consulted a doctor. Instead, she hit the gym hard and then had a massive heart attack. Literally dropped dead on a treadmill.
And then I lost my shit. I started drinking. I went to school drunk. I quit cross country, my grades dropped. Typical downward spiral.
One day I’m in class, and Drew Drabich is like, “You lost your horsey, and then you lost your mommy.” And then the motherfucker starts laughing.
Well, I fuckin’ lost it. I clocked the motherfucker and then kicked him when he was down. Teacher broke it up, and then I got suspended.
Amber tried to reach out, but I wasn’t havin’ that. I just drank my fuckin’ ass off. I just kept sliding down, farther and farther. I barely graduated.
But Drew Drabich, boy. He never said fuckin’ shit to me or Amber after that. I’d call that a silver lining. Maybe the only one.
#
My dad’s the one who finally pulled me out of the tailspin. He came at it subtle, though. He didn’t take me to an AA meeting or give me some dramatic talking-to. No intervention-type shit.
He just asked me to help him make an armoire. Custom job for some Main Liner in Wayne. Cherry construction, intricate inlays, the whole bit. This thing took us a few weeks to complete.
And when it was done, he asked me to help him with some cabinets. Then a kitchen remodel. Pretty soon I was matching his rhythm. Work, eat, sleep, repeat.
I didn’t have time or energy to drink or think about Mom or Amber or what a fuckin’ train wreck I was. I just worked.
Come to think of it, that’s probably why Dad worked so much. I mean, all that work, he didn’t have time to think about Mom and her drinking. Which ain’t the healthiest way to deal with an alcoholic, but. I don’t blame him. People cope how they cope, man.
And that’s how I dealt with my bullshit. I worked it off. It’s also how I became a carpenter.
I heard Amber went on to bigger and better. She went to UPenn, got a full ride on a cross country scholarship. Which is ironic, considering she of all people could’ve afforded the tuition. But whatever. She earned that shit.
I’m glad she pulled her shit together, y’know? I am. I’m not regretful of what happened or how it happened.
I’ve thought about reaching out over the years, but what’s the point. I mean, my life went one way and hers went another, and that’s it. Nothing else to say. Besides, I can’t imagine we’d have much to talk about. I think she became a lawyer or something.
Which leads me to the conundrum I’m currently in. If I don’t want to talk to her, then why did I show up to my twenty-year high school reunion in the hopes that I’ll see her?
I’m a walking contradiction, I guess. Then again, who isn’t.
**********************************
A sagging royal blue banner stretches from wall to wall in one corner of the Fox & Hound. “WELCOME CLASS OF ’97,” it proclaims in white block letters.
The dude I’m sitting next to at the bar holds up a hand. He’s a corporate America drone, gingham-shirted and khaki-clad. “Hold up.” He leans forward, and his loosened tie hangs limply, grazes the edge of the glazed wood bar top. A wooderlogged slice of orange bobs in his half-drunk beer. “You haven’t seen this broad in twenty years?”
I shake my head no.
“And she’s here tonight?”
I shrug.
“Well is she?”
I scan the section of the bar where my twenty-year high school reunion is being held. “Nah, doesn’t look it,” I say. “What I get for being sentimental. Anyway.” I slug the rest of my beer, slap some cash on the bar. “I got your drinks. See y‘round.”
#
I weave my way through the reunion. Only way out is through.
Nobody recognizes me. Not even Drew Drabich, who ain’t exactly lookin’ his best. Then again, neither am I.
Hair long gone to seed, the remnants shaved clean off. Half-moons under my eyes. Crow’s feet. Varnish stains on the sleeves of my beige Carhartt, on the toes of my boots. Didn’t even bother to dress up.
I push through the front door. A crisp, late-November wind kicks up in the parking lot, blows dead leaves in front of me. They crunch under my boots.
Sepia light from the lot lamps reflects off the hood of my truck. I open the door, step on the running board.
“A truck?” a voice says. “Doesn’t suit you, Zoshak.”
I turn toward the voice. It’s Amber.
She’s filled out a bit. Gained five pounds maybe. Has a few wrinkles, nothing crazy. Looks a few years older than when I last saw her.
She looks fucking great, is how she looks.
My mouth is dry as the leaves that whisk across the lot. “Hey.” I smile. Or try to. Doesn’t feel like a proper smile.
She walks toward me, drags a finger along the side of my truck. “Not very sporty.”
“Purely utilitarian,” I say.
She stops right in front of me. Smiles. She still has the buck teeth. Which look even better on her now. “So it’s a useful piece of shit.”
I grin. “Yeah.” Motion to the bar. “Here for the reunion?”
“Nah,” she says. “Reunions are obsolete. I have Facebook. Which, by the way, you aren’t on.”
I shrug. “No reason to be.”
She shakes her head, grins. “Still hiding.”
I shrug again. “So, um, what are you driving these days?”
She jerks her head at a blue Subaru parked diagonally from my truck. I walked right past it on the way to my truck.
“A WRX.” I smile. “Nice.” It’s got a hood scoop, alloy wheels, the works. And a child seat in the back. “It’s no Justy, though.”
She smiles. “That it isn’t.” She puts her hands in the pockets of her puffy black parka. “My husband said I was nuts for getting it. He’s not a car guy, though. He drives an Accord.”
I nod. Stare at the Subaru. She puts a hand on my arm. Opens her mouth to speak.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Her mouth closes.
“When you told me all that stuff way back when. About Drew and his brother. I, uh. I didn’t. I mean, I wasn’t.” I lick my lips, exhale. “I was a dick, and you deserved better. That’s all.”
She kisses me. Just like that. Pulls me close and kisses me. Full on the mouth. Tongue and all. She tastes like…I don’t know what. But not alcohol. Not vodka. Just…Amber, I guess.
She pulls away, but still holds me close. “You were a dick,” she says. “And I’m not gonna lie, that shit hurt. But I don’t hold it against you. I mean, you kinda helped me stop drinking.”
“Seriously?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, you were kinda like a mirror,” she says. “I saw what a mess you were, and it freaked me out. And I quit drinking. Like, for good.”
“Yeah.” I look at the ground. “I was in a bad place.”
“We both were,” she says. “But we were kids. We didn’t know what we were doing. So, you know, what happened,” she shrugs, “I can’t be too mad about it.” She pauses. “This why you came out of hiding? To apologize?
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess it is.”
She hugs me. Presses every inch of herself against me. I hold her tight.
She lets go, steps back. “What are you doing right now?”
“You’re lookin’ at it.”
She smiles, jerks a thumb at the Subaru. “Wanna go for a ride?”
END