“We met in the fall, when I was down here.”
My trip to the archives. Tyler’s lost hours.
“I don’t remember hearing about that,” Addison said.
“Oh, turn here!” Tyler waved his hand at the window. “Right!”
I cut the wheel, tires skidding beneath us.
“Give a man some warning,” Addison said, laughing. He leaned forward, a hand on my shoulder. “Tyler sucks at directions.”
“Please withhold your commentary,” Tyler said. “It should be just a few blocks, another right.”
The party was in a neighborhood south of the university campus. We turned onto a residential street, low brick apartment buildings giving way to houses set back from yards still laced in last week’s snow.
“There’s a spot.” Tyler pointed to a gap behind a car.
“I think it’s too tight,” I said. “I’m going to block the driveway.”
“You’ll be fine. It’s late, no one’s going anywhere tonight.”
I parked and we got out. The flash of a lighter and Tyler’s face lit up, cigarette at his lips.
“I thought you were quitting this semester.” Addison hoisted a plastic bag from the car, provisions from the liquor store.
“Semester starts on Monday.”
The party was in an old house, sagging roof and dull chipped paint. Despite the weather, packs of partygoers huddled at the lawn’s edge and on the porch. We wove between smokers sitting on the steps. The porch careened to one side, like it might detach itself from the house and slide away. Near the front door, a guy in a red ski cap waved, face shining, and he called out, “Tyler!”
Tyler shouted hello and Addison swooped right in, introducing himself and then me—he called me Mark, not Dr. Lausson, thank god.
“So glad you made it,” the guy said—his name was Connor. “Get in here.”
We walked smack into a wall of noise, dense clusters of people shouting over brash music turned up too loud for the cheap sound system, all punctuated and frizzy. A crooked lamp jammed into a corner glowed orange beneath a piece of fabric slung across the shade. A wide staircase led to a second floor. Guests crammed along the length of it, fiddling with phones, passing down a joint.
“Kitchen is this way,” Connor shouted and took the bag from Addison.
A door beside the staircase opened and a group of girls spilled out, laughing.
I called, “We’ll catch up with you.” I grabbed Tyler’s arm, pulling him into the room and shutting the door. It was small, lit by a bare bulb, meant to be an office perhaps, but used for storage. Rusted bikes stacked against the wall, a battered desk. The air reeked of perfume and weed.
Before I could speak, Tyler jumped in. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear.”
“Well, what did happen? I’m trying to stay calm here.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Addison was being super weird. He’s been in this foul mood because of some stupid shit with Kennedy. And I don’t know, he really wanted to hang out and kept asking what I was doing. He was like pressing and wouldn’t let up. So finally I said I was going to this party. I just needed something to say. And then he asked if he could come and wouldn’t drop it.”
“Jesus, Tyler. You should have called me.”
“I know. I’m really sorry. He was being so needy, I didn’t know what to do.”
“What did you tell him?”
“What do you mean?”
“About us. About me. About what I’m doing here.”
“Nothing. Just—I said we’re friends. That’s it. It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about anything.”
