Castration Celebration Page 15

  Olivia looked thoughtful. “You know,” she said, “that’s actually not a bad idea.”

  The church was packed tight by the time they got there, and they found seats near the back. Afterward, they waited outside until Zeke emerged. He was with a few other boys, all of them in suits, looking somber and grim.

  “I feel weird being here,” Olivia said. “We didn’t even know him.”

  “We’re here for Zeke,” Max said. “Look, he sees us.”

  Zeke said something to the boys he was with and walked slowly over.

  Trish stepped forward and gave him a hug, which he barely reciprocated. “We weren’t sure we should come, but it felt weird to stay.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Olivia said, reaching out and squeezing his hand.

  Max looked at his roommate. “How are you holding up?”

  Zeke shrugged. “I’m okay.”

  “You should have told me,” Trish said. “I would have driven you here.”

  “The whole thing is so sad,” Olivia said. “I didn’t even know him, and I still cried.”

  All around them, people were getting into cars and driving off. The boys Zeke had been with walked past, and one of them said they would wait in the car.

  “I’ve got to go,” Zeke said.

  “We can give you a ride to the cemetery,” Trish said.

  Zeke shook his head. “It’s okay.”

  “Well, we’ll follow you then,” Max said.

  “Why?” Zeke asked, his voice tinged with irritation. “You didn’t even know him.”

  “I did,” said Trish.

  “Not really.” Zeke started to walk away.

  “Wait,” Max said.

  Zeke turned. “What?” he said impatiently.

  “Where can we meet you after, then?”

  Zeke shook his head. “I don’t even know why you came.”

  “You left without telling anyone,” Max said. “You took all your stuff.”

  “We were worried,” Olivia added. “I mean, you disappeared right in the middle of us working on the musical.”

  “Fuck the stupid musical!” Zeke practically shouted. “My best friend just died.”

  “Take it easy,” Max said.

  “I’m out of here.” Zeke stormed off toward the parking lot, and they stood there watching him in stunned silence.

  “Well, that sucked,” Max finally said.

  Olivia looked like she was ready to cry.

  “He didn’t mean it,” Max said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

  Olivia shrugged him off. “Let’s just go back to New Haven. There’s no point staying. I don’t even know why we came.”

  Why had they come? Max wondered. If Zeke had wanted or needed them, he would have told them he was leaving. But then, when Trish had reached a friend back home and found out what had happened, it had just seemed so important to come and offer Zeke support. Max had been filled with the righteousness of the venture, as if, somehow, they were rescuing Zeke from something dark and terrible, though, in truth, Max had no idea what.

  “What do you think?” Trish asked, hurt and disappointment mingling on her face and in her voice.

  “I don’t know,” he said helplessly.

  They walked slowly toward Trish’s car. She clicked the locks and they climbed in, with Max riding shotgun and Olivia in the back. “We could go back to my house for a while and try to call him after all of this is over.”

  “What’s the point?” Olivia said. “He’s not going to want to talk to us.”

  Trish started the engine, backed slowly out of her space, and joined the line of cars exiting the parking lot. “So, New Haven then?” she asked.

  Nobody said anything. To Max, the thought of everything ending like this was beyond depressing. Was this really it? He was never going to see Zeke again? How much worse could the summer get? Rejected by Olivia, told to fuck off by Zeke, and now a four-hour car ride back to New Haven?

  “I think we should at least stick around until all the funeral stuff is over,” Max said.

  Olivia groaned. “Let’s just get back.”

  “Come on,” Max said. “We have to talk to him.”

  “So call him tomorrow. He doesn’t want to see us.” Olivia sounded exasperated, like a parent explaining something to a particularly stubborn toddler for the umpteenth time.

  “She’s right, Max,” Trish said in a defeated tone. “We might as well head back.”

  “We’re just going to leave?”

  “We tried,” Olivia said, her frustration mounting. “We drove all the way here, didn’t we? We almost got arrested, which, by the way, would have been your fault. We tried to talk to Zeke and got berated in front of a crowd of people. I’d say that’s enough for one day, wouldn’t you?”

  Max turned in his seat. “You’re just upset because he yelled at you.”

  “Yes, and because we wasted an entire day that I should have been working on my musical.”

  Max looked at Trish. “If you two want to go back to New Haven, you should go. I’ll take a bus tonight or tomorrow.”

  “Come on,” Trish said. “That’s crazy.”

  “I’m not giving up so easily.”

  “Why not?” Olivia said. “You gave up pretty easily with me.”

  Max spun back toward her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  She looked him directly in the eye. “You don’t even get it, do you?”

  “What’s there to get? I did every damn thing you asked me to. It’s not my fault you need a committee to tell you who to date.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Trish cut in. “Both of you need to take a breath and chill out.”

  “Just drop me off at Zeke’s house, and you can go,” Max said, staring straight ahead.

  “Come on, Max. I’m not really going to leave you here.” “Why not?” Olivia said. “It’s what he wants.” “I’m not leaving him. Obviously the two of you have some issues to work out, and you need to deal with them before I spend the next four hours stuck in a car with you.” She honked her horn at a green Volvo on a cross street that was already stopped at a stop sign waiting for her to turn. “We’re going to my house, and you two can have an empty room to duke it out all you want, because I don’t want to listen to this shit anymore.”

  “Sorry,” Max said. He stared out his window, wondering how it was possible he had liked Olivia so much in the first place.

  “Look,” Max said as soon as they had closed the door to the downstairs bedroom. “I don’t want to fight about this. You go back with Trish, and I’ll fend for myself.”

  “Can’t we just talk for a few minutes? I know you’re angry at me, but I don’t want to spend the rest of the summer not talking to each other.”

  “I thought that was exactly what you wanted. So you wouldn’t be distracted from your precious play.”

  “I don’t know what I want anymore.” She came across the room and sat on the bed. “The last couple days have been really hard, and then when Zeke yelled at me—it was just too much.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t have said anything about the musical.”

  “I know,” Olivia said, tears starting again in her eyes. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.” She put her head in her hands and stared down at the floor.

  Max came and sat on the bed, but did not touch her. After a few moments, he said quietly, “What did you mean in the car when you said I gave up on you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Tell me. I want to understand.”

  She looked up and sighed. “After the interview. You didn’t keep trying. You just gave up on me.”

  “What do you mean?” he said. “It was over. You were the one who made the rules.”

  “I know.” She nodded. “But maybe I wanted you to show that you would keep fighting for me. That you wouldn’t just give up and run away when it got hard.”

  He looked at her, trying to absorb what she had just said. “So you wanted me to keep going even after
they voted against me? To keep trying to get you to go out with me?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe.”

  He shook his head and stared at her. Was she totally mental?

  “You probably think I’m totally mental,” she said.

  A smile crept across his face, and he started to nod.

  “Maybe I am,” she said with a little laugh. “You know, I actually set up the whole interview so there was no way you could win.”

  His smile disappeared. “What do you mean?”

  “It was stupid,” she said, already regretting bringing it up. “I just figured that if you didn’t give up even after you failed the test, then you really must be committed.”

  He stood up and began to pace around the room. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “No matter what I said in the interview, there was no way I could win? The whole thing was already rigged?”

  “Don’t get mad,” she said.

  “And Trish was part of this, too?”

  “It was my idea. She just agreed to play along.”

  “You really are mental, you know that?” he said, turning and taking a step toward the door.

  “Wait,” she said. “Please.”

  He wanted to keep going, to say something harsh to Trish, and then to storm out of the house. But then what? What would he do? Where would he go? He had no idea where Zeke lived or how to get there.

  He took a deep breath and turned back to Olivia. “I can’t—”

  “Just let me explain,” she said.

  “Explain what? Why you fucked with my head? Why you spend all your time cooped up in your room writing a play about castration? Let me guess. Your last boyfriend screwed your best friend, and this is your way of getting revenge.”

  She started to cry, almost silently, her mouth curling down, her eyes dripping tears.

  Max watched her for a moment without compassion. She had hurt him, and he had hurt her back. But now that she was crying, he felt his anger begin to drain away. Maybe she had been right to worry about his commitment. It wasn’t like he had such a great track record.

  He crossed the room and sat next to her on the bed. “Okay,” he said more gently, wrapping her in a hug. “Here. Let’s stop fighting.”

  She allowed him to hold her for several seconds, and then she pushed him away. “That was a mean thing to say,” she said.

  He wiped a tear from her cheek and smiled at her. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said after a moment. “It wasn’t right what I did.”

  They sat there looking at each other, and Max started to laugh.

  “What?” Olivia said.

  Max shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Come on,” she said, starting to smile.

  He chuckled and shook his head. Could he say it? Oh, what the hell? “I was just thinking it would be funny if we had sex right now.”

  She stared at him, wide-eyed in disbelief.

  “Seriously,” he said quickly. “I’ve heard that makeup sex after a fight is amazing.”

  “Makeup sex? We’ve never had regular sex. We’ve never even kissed.”

  “So?”

  Olivia stood up and walked away from the bed. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “It might inspire you to write.”

  “What, we’re going to have sex here in Trish’s house while she’s waiting for us in the other room and her parents might come home at any minute? That’s a great idea.”

  “It is a great idea,” Max said, gaining momentum. “The only thing better than makeup sex is makeup sex with the possibility of being walked in on.”

  She looked at him as though he were some alien life-form. “Are you for real?”

  “Come on.” Max patted the bed. “Let’s do it.”

  “I’m leaving,” Olivia said, walking to the door.

  “It would make a great story.”

  “Goodbye,” she said, walking out of the room.

  Max jumped up and followed her out. Trish was sitting at the kitchen table drinking a Diet Coke.

  “That was fast,” she said. “Are we all friends again?”

  “I don’t know,” Max said, draping an arm over Olivia’s shoulder. “Are we?”

  “Shut up.” She shrugged him off and sat down next to Trish.

  “This is a nice house,” Max said, looking around.

  “You want a tour?”

  “Sure.” He looked at Olivia. “Or are you in a rush to leave?”

  “It’s okay,” she said.

  They followed Trish out of the kitchen. On the way through the house they learned that Trish’s dad liked dead British writers and pipes, and her mother had an absurdly large collection of dolls. They ended up in the attic, a large carpeted room with a home office, a treadmill, and assorted remnants of Trish’s childhood, including three regional spelling bee trophies.

  “This is where Zeke and I wrote most of our musical,” Trish said.

  Olivia looked at the stack of board games in the corner. “Maybe we should stay and try to talk to him.”

  Max looked at her. “Zeke? Really?”

  “I don’t know,” Olivia said. “I guess if I’m going to get mad at you for giving up on me, it would be pretty stupid for me to give up on Zeke.”

  “I haven’t given up on you,” Max said.

  Olivia rolled her eyes and turned to Trish. “Is it okay if we stay and try to see him later? You’re the one driving.”

  Trish looked from one to the other and smiled. “It’s okay with me. We can always stay here tonight and head back in the morning.”

  “Cool,” Max said.

  “Are you sure that will be okay with your parents?” Olivia asked.

  “They’re in California until next week.”

  “Interesting,” Max said, looking meaningfully at Olivia.

  Olivia ignored him, and they started back downstairs.

  “Do you think there’s any chance Zeke might come back for the end of the program?” Max asked as they settled in the living room.

  Olivia shook her head. “He took all his stuff, remember?”

  “I know,” Max said, “but maybe we can convince him.”

  “I wish,” Olivia said.

  “Well, just don’t start talking about the musical again when we see him,” Trish said.

  Olivia gave her an irritated look. “I’m not an idiot.”

  “I have an idea,” Max said. “You know in The Blues Brothers when—”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Olivia said. “Here we go again.”

  “No, this is good, listen. You know the scene where they’re trying to get Mr. Fabulous to rejoin the band, and they go to that fancy restaurant where he’s the maître d’ and act all crazy to embarrass him?” He jumped into character. “I want to buy your women … the little girl … your daughters. Sell them to me. Sell me your children.”

  Olivia and Trish laughed, impressed by Max’s spot-on imitation of John Belushi.

  “So what if we do the same thing? Just hang around Zeke’s house making a nuisance of ourselves until he agrees to come back to New Haven with us?”

  “That’s so mean,” Olivia said. “His friend just died. Could you imagine if someone did that to you?”

  This silenced them for several seconds.

  “I’m going to call over there and see if Zeke’s mom is home,” Trish said, pulling out her cell. “I didn’t see her at the funeral.”

  Max leaned over toward Olivia. “Thanks for doing this,” he said.

  Olivia nodded. “What are you going to say to him?”

  “I don’t know. Just improvise, I guess.”

  “Oh, right,” she said. “You’re an actor. You can do that.”

  “Most of the time,” he agreed. “Though you didn’t seem too impressed when I tried in the bedroom before.”

  She smiled. “You just need to work on your timing.”

  Twenty min
utes later they were sitting in Zeke’s living room, which had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a framed Andy Warhol print over the couch.

  Max heard the front door open, and Zeke walked in.

  “Surprise,” Max said.

  Zeke took in the scene and frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your friends came over to see you,” his mother said. “Come sit with us.”

  He glared at her, then pulled a chair from the kitchen and sat down.

  “How was the cemetery?” Max asked.

  “Fine.”

  “Who was there?” his mother asked.

  “A lot of people you don’t know.” He reached out, took a walnut from the bowl on the coffee table, and cracked it loudly with a nutcracker.

  “I’m sorry about bringing up the musical at the funeral,” Olivia said.

  Zeke shrugged. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

  “Olivia was telling me about it,” his mother said. “It sounds hilarious.”

  “It is,” Trish said.

  “I loved the one you and Zeke did for school.” She smiled at her son. “Remember that, honey?”

  “No, Mom, I forgot.”

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and then his mom said, “Must be all that pot you smoke.” She winked at Max and got up. “I’ll leave you all to talk. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

  She walked out of the room, and Max turned to Zeke. “Okay, I get it. If my dad was that cool, I’d want to stay home, too.”

  Olivia looked stupefied. “Did she really just say that?”

  “Is she seeing anyone?” Max asked.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Zeke said.

  “I’m just kidding around. Seriously, though, your mom is awesome.”

  “She is,” Trish said.

  “You don’t have to live with her.” Zeke took off his jacket and undid his tie, leaving it draped around his neck. “So you guys decided to come all the way up here and track me down?”

  “Pretty much,” Max said.

  Zeke nodded. “I guess I should have said goodbye before I left.”

  “We were worried,” Max said. “Every time I called your cell, it went straight to voice mail.”

  “I had my phone off,” Zeke said. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell, turned it on, and put it in the pocket of his pants. “I just wanted to get home without having to talk about it.”