38 Carson Avenue

Part One

There are a lot of people here. Even by party standards this house is crowded. I’m sweating my balls off squeezing through people. Where is that jackass, Jared? We’re going to get another citation. There is hardly even air in here to breathe. Music is pounding away, loud and unrecognizable. Someone turned the bass up and it's rattling the window frames of our old house. We may only be renters, but I've come to love this house in a way. For one thing, it's huge. I don't know how five college juniors were lucky enough to get this house in the first place, but the landlord liked us enough to lease it to us again senior year, and we were more than happy to keep our home. I'd seen no other house in this small town with five decent sized rooms, a large living room, a modern kitchen (complete with bar top,) and a full wraparound porch. At least, not one that any college kids inhabited.
I finally spot Tom about five feet away. He’s looking down at the ground, completely disgusted. Tom is one of my more ill-tempered roommates, but right now he'll have to do, as he's the only one I can find. I try to weave in and out of people and end up working my way over to him slowly.
Tom looks like he may have been in good shape at one time, but has since lost some of his physique. It goes well with his redneck persona though. I mean, Tom's the type of guy you expect to have a beer gut and still look good in a t-shirt and stained jeans; which he does. He also has the advantage of being a head taller than everyone else, which I do not.
I stood at my full height so he could hear me, finally realizing why he's so repulsed. There is someone throwing up at our feet. Great.
“Hey," I shouted over the music, "Have you seen Jared?”
“This is out of control Kyle," he shouted back, grabbing a fistful of his reddish brown hair just above his forehead. "I got home an hour ago. An hour ago! And I came home to this! This is ridiculous!” Tom is pissed. Of course he’s pissed. If I didn’t help plan this mess, I’d be pissed too.
“I gotta find Jared. We need to get these people outta here.”
“Yeah. When you find him, tell him I’m going to break his neck!”
I continue working my way through the crowd, keeping as much to the wall as I can. All the while I'm thinking that I might kill Jared before Tom can get a hand on him. When he suggested having a party the first weekend after school started I said it was stupid. However, like always, I agreed to it anyway. Tom was fine with whatever we did as long as it interrupted his life as little as possible, and my other two roommates were happy either way.
Jared ran the show. When things were going well, we all denied it. But when things got fucked up, we were chickenshit. When something felt out of our hands, Jared had a hold on it. Jared could get these people out without getting decked, and he could sweet talk the cops without getting a summons. So where was he now?
I spotted Max, another of my roommates, clear across the room. He’s a close second to Jared in a crisis. He’s calm, and smart, and he knows what’s up with everyone and everything. It’s just that he’s…well, you’ll see.
“Max!” I’m only a foot away from him now, after much maneuvering. “Max,” I tried again. He looked straight ahead with a bemused look on his face, completely oblivious to me. There’s a full cup of beer in his hand. “MAX!” Still no reaction. I step into his line of vision and wait while his grey eyes focus on me.
“Te-key-lay! Here, have a beer!” He thrusts his cup at me and pats me on the shoulder. He makes to go around me, but I stop him. His dirty-blond hair is sticking out in every direction, as are the bristly hairs on his face that never seem to make it to a full beard, but never disappear with a clean shave either. To Max, a mess is a beautiful thing, disorder is interesting, and panic is not a feeling, but something to be observed.
“How come you have a cold beer?” The temperature of the cup he’s just handed me is oddly low for being in a house that stopped serving alcohol two hours ago.
“Why don't you ask our dear friend and roommate, Paul Moore? Now, if you'll excuse me.”
It’s only then that I notice Paul “less is” Moore, my fourth and final roommate, standing over Max’s right shoulder. Paul is short, shorter than me. He looks kind of scrawny at first, but when you look closer you can see the lean body of a runner. His quiet disposition, fair skin, and thin ashy blond hair give him a weak appearance, but he can outrun us all, and probably anyone else who tried.
“Where did he get this? Why is it cold?” Paul shrugged. “Paul!”
“Some kids had their own beer," he said slowly, "Max bet them that they couldn’t solve his riddle.”
“And then what?”
“And then they couldn’t solve his riddle,” he said flatly, as if to say, Duh Kyle!
I chased after Max, determined to bring him back to Earth.
“Max,” I said, grabbing his shoulder, “where is Jared?” His eyes were locked on a small girl with brown hair and brown eyes to match. Physically, she was his opposite. She stared right back at him and I thought, well, that’s that. I turned to continue looking for Jared without help, but Max began to speak.
“Mr. McCall ascended the stairs on the arm of a lovely blonde who had just finished her ninth cup of brew.”
“Shit!”
Max turned to face me. “You shouldn’t worry so much Tekeylay.”
“No? I suppose I should just find some blonde bombshell, cart her off to my room, and fuck her while a hundred people are congregated in my house, breaking my shit!” Max’s brow furrowed. He leaned over to whisper something in the brunette’s ear and she nodded. He took her hand and they walked away.
There was no hope then. Just wait for the cops to come and work overtime next week to pay for the ticket, or citation, or whatever it was this time. I sat down in our big armchair and watched some drunken girls taking pictures. I could feel something wet soaking through my jeans. Five, six, seven pictures later the girls turned around and after a second they put down their cups and headed for the door. The music was lowered until I couldn't hear it anymore. All around people were shrugging into sweatshirts and chugging down the last of their drinks. I watched as, one by one, they filed out. Max caught my eye and winked. He was still hand and hand with the small girl. I shook my head.
When everyone had left, Max walked out after them with that same girl. Paul started cleaning up, but I told him we’d do it tomorrow. There were cups and cans and bottles covering every flat surface. The wood floors were soaked in what could only be alcohol and...I grimaced...vomit. Tom climbed the stairs with a sigh, grumbling about something or other. It probably had to do with his room being right next to Jared’s. Paul followed him. I locked the back door and checked every room in the house for stragglers. I hesitated before locking the front door, thinking about Max. While searching the rooms I had found his keys. I decided to lock it anyway. Max is kind of like a stray dog. Sometimes he doesn’t come home at all, and there isn’t always a girl to take him in. I wonder where he goes on those nights...

Part Two

I got up relatively early the next morning to start the cleaning. I could smell bacon and a million other delicious things cooking downstairs. I got out of bed and looked out the window. Tom’s car was gone. He was probably picking up extra hours at work. He did that a lot. Tom isn’t happy unless he’s making money.
I walked over to the mirror on the back of my door. I stared directly into my dark brown eyes, thinking for many minutes. The guy who stared back at me had hair the exact same shade as my eyes. It was cut short enough these days that nothing could move it. I ran my fingers through it, watching every hair spring back into place. I sighed and grabbed a pair of sweatpants off the floor, pulling them up over my ridiculous Christmas-themed boxers. My sock drawer was empty so I grabbed a pair from the cuffs of a dirty pair of jeans. Better dirty socks than bare feet on the sticky living room floor. I'd have to add laundry to my list of things to do today. I stole another look in the mirror before heading downstairs.
Max was the one standing beside the stove. That didn’t surprise me. I sat down at the huge, wooden bar that separated the front door and the kitchen, swiping my arm along the surface to clear a space.
“Good morning, Mr. Romano,” Max said with a big, sunny smile. The gleam of his white teeth was almost too bright for my eyes to handle.
“Good morning, Mr. Schaefer.” I watched him jump around the kitchen for a few minutes from stove to counter, from counter to fridge, from fridge to stove. My head throbbed trying to keep up with him so I put it down on the bar. I listened to Max whistle away like a bird. A moment later he knocked on the bar top about an inch from my head. I looked up to find two small white pills and a glass of O.J. “Thanks,” I said.
We heard a creak on the stairs and I guessed it was Paul. It was Jared though, and the “lovely” blonde. She looked like she’d seen better days. Jared held the front door open for her. She looked insulted. Sometimes Jared can be a real asshole.
“Miss, would you like some breakfast?” Jared rolled his eyes at Max's offer. The girl smiled warmly at him though. She was rather pretty when she smiled.
“No,” she looked coldly at Jared, then back at Max, “thank you though. I really appreciate that.” And then she was gone.
“Morning boys,” Jared said, closing the door behind her, “I hope you all had as good a night as I did.” Max looked kind of troubled, but smiled at him. I nodded, sort of. He sat down at the bar and went on and on about his night. I tuned him out, knowing how much Jared liked his details. Then I remembered last night and how he disappeared.
“Hey, asshole! Way to leave us with a houseful of people! You totally broke the rules!” Jared looked taken back.
“Did not,” he said, “What rules?”
“The rule,” I explained, “that states that no man be left behind.”
“Max and Tom and Paul were there! Plus, you seemed to handle it alright. I don’t see any tickets around; no broken furniture either. Now that surprises me.” He laughed. I sighed. Whatever; no sense in being stressed out about it now. Max went back to his whistling. After a few minutes Jared left the bar and turned the T.V. on in the conjoined living room. I found myself hoping that the armchair was still wet.
Paul came downstairs just in time for breakfast, but said he wasn’t hungry. I watched in disbelief as he grabbed a powerbar and walked out the front door.
“There’s no way he just went out running,” I said, still astounded.
“Ah,” Max said, “young Paul is a mystery to us all.” You’re a mystery to us all, I thought. “Mr. McCall, will you be eating this morning?”
“Thanks, man. I’ll take it in here,” Jared called.
“Don’t,” I said to Max as he went to take it to him.
“Oh, I didn’t plan on it.” He smiled and placed the plate on the bar where Jared had been sitting. He took the dish towel from his shoulder and wiped his hands.
"So how was your night? You weren't locked out were you?"
"I had an extraordinary night," he replied, pausing dreamily with my plate in his hands, "And no, I didn't get locked out, thank you though." He placed the plate, overflowing with eggs, bacon, pancakes, and cut up cantaloupe in front of me.
"Geez, what’s the occasion?” Max just smiled. Jared shuffled in to grab his plate. He looked surprised as well, mumbled thanks, and went back to the armchair.
Max placed another plate next to me with slightly smaller portions.
“A slender girl, not very tall in height, with large, beautiful brown eyes and exquisite, golden brown hair will be walking in that door shortly," he said leaning across the bar and pointing at the front door. "When she does, I’d like you to offer her this food and be very nice to her. Do you understand?” No, not all.
“Yes, Mom.” Max gave one short nod and walked through the living room, out the back door. I looked over at Jared for an explanation. He looked just as clueless as me, but more retarded because he had a mouth full of food. He shrugged and went back to watching the T.V.
Sure enough, when I was halfway done with my breakfast, the small girl from the night before walked in. She just waltzed on in without knocking are even saying “hello” before stepping inside. She didn’t say anything when she was inside either. She just walked over to the coat rack and hung up a large sweatshirt I recognized as belonging to Max. She turned around quickly to walk out and I remembered my instructions.
“Hey, you want food?” She looked at me with zero expression on her round face. “This is for you,” I told her, indicating the plate next to me.
“Oh.” She danced over and climbed up on the bar stool. She ate slowly, chewing a lot between bites. I watched her for a minute, and then continued on my own meal. After a while I started to feel kind of awkward.

“So, uhh, I’m Kyle,” I said to her.
“Kyle,” she repeated, “That’s a nice name.”
“Umm...thanks?” More silence. “And your name is…?”
“Ordinary, like yours.” Thirty-seven chews later she said, “Better to call me by my last name, Devaney. Everybody else does.”
“Devaney… that’s…nice.” After that I gave up.
When I was done eating I took my plate to the sink and cleaned it off. Max had already cleaned up the cooking mess. There was still a whole lot of party mess that needed to be sorted out. When I turned back to the bar the small girl, Devaney, was gone. I never even heard the door close.
“Pretty weird girl, huh,” I asked Jared.
“Was she?” His empty plate sat on top of a layer of beer cans. He was watching some kind of game show.
“Didn’t you hear anything she said?”
“No, not really.”
I grabbed the tall garbage can from the corner of the room and changed the bag. It took four bag changes before all of the empty cans were cleared from the downstairs. Paul came back and started helping. Jared got up eventually and helped also. Between the three of us it went faster than I had originally thought. I went to the back door to take out the recycling and grab the mop and bucket. There was a barrier of T.V.s, amps, guitars, lamps, and all of our other valuables in the way. We always locked these things in Max’s room, (the only bedroom downstairs,) during parties. Max emerged from there now pushing the largest amp we had.
“Hey, help me with this, will you?” I helped him arrange all of our stuff in the living room. This was a pretty habitual process by now and took less than three minutes.
“I’m going to mop,” I told Max, who was carrying our rolled up living room rug. He offered to do it instead, having missed the initial clean-up, but I told him not to worry about it. After all, he made breakfast; not to mention almost all of our other meals.
By the time the house was cleaned, (every carpet unrolled, every surface washed, and every foul smell deodorized,) my hangover was gone. I settled down to enjoy a peaceful Sunday full of football, laundry, and last minute homework.

…To Be Continued…