Who DOES That?!
I had a couple of friends from high school who reappeared in my life, usually when Gregg wasn’t around.
One was Cherie, with whom I’d roamed the streets of Oakland in our younger days. But Cherie had gotten married, didn’t do drugs, and didn’t go out much anymore.
Our high school friend, Matt, however, had nothing better to do with his life than hang out with me. Matt would come over with one beer in his hand, knock on the door, and come inside. He’d drink the one beer and wait until we found a way to get more beer – usually, me buying a 12-pack or a case, or walking to a bar together where I would buy the beer. He would offer to drive but I would decline.
Matt had a crotch-rocket motorcycle on which we rode only once together. He went a hundred miles per hour on the highway and almost as fast in my brick-street neighborhood. We screamed up and down those Pennsylvania hills, flying up into the air whenever we hit a bump. I spent the entire ride begging him to take me home while Matt laughed and screamed, “Just hang on!” There was no backrest. I was sure I was going to die.
But it was him showing up with only one beer that bugged me. It wasn’t a gift, either. Matt drank it.
Matt brought George over once, another friend from high school, who carried in a whole 12-pack. George knew how to arrive at someone’s house! Also George was exceptionally hot. He’d had a girlfriend in high school so George had not paid much attention to me then.
We all got obliterated and then, after Matt left to continue drinking somewhere else, George and I had sex. He stayed at my place for the night, then showed up the following week at The Pennysaver with Chinese food. For the first time in my life, I was being courted by a hot young guy.
George and I actually dated for a few weeks – meaning, we went out to places to do things. We went to movies and out to dinner. We watched the sunset from atop a mountain in his car. He showed up at my place with flowers and beer and took me spontaneously to a concert. George was the man of my dreams.
Then George just disappeared. He didn’t call or appear for two weeks.
But Matt did. Matt came over with one beer and knocked on my door and we got drunk on my dime and I said, “What did I do wrong?” Because I knew it had to be me.
Matt and George were good friends, so Matt knew.
After I had agonized long enough, or after Matt had gotten drunk enough, Matt finally said, “I think George’s problem is Cindy.”
“Huh? Who’s Cindy?”
“Cindy’s been his girlfriend for two years,” said Matt.
My gut lurched and fell. My first romantic relationship in years and I had been … the other woman.
I didn’t see George again.
Shortly thereafter, Matt showed up with one beer and we ended up getting plowed at a nearby bar where I railed on him for showing up with one beer.
“Who does that?!” I screamed. “Bring a 12-pack or don’t show up!”
Matt’s face fell, then he screamed back at me. “Well if you weren’t such a lush you wouldn’t give a shit about how much beer I brought!”
I stormed out of the bar and never saw Matt again, either.
The last of my high school friends disappeared, leaving me alone again.