Never Eighteen (12 page)

"So, what're you gonna do?"

"I don't know. Keep doing what I'm doing. Keep the secret, at least a while longer. Chris's friends and family don't know either. We're not ready for people to find out. I know Suz would be okay with it, and Kaylee, but my parents? Justin? I don't think so."

"Your secret is safe with me," I assure him. I go to leave, but before I do, I say, "I don't know for sure, but I think everyone who cares about you will understand and accept you for who you are. I know I do."

"I don't know, Austin. You really think so?"

"Yeah, I really do. I also think it's important for people to be who they are inside. Otherwise, it's like they're not being true to themselves, their true nature, and in the long run, the sneaking, the hiding ... it'll make you crazy."

"You're probably right," Trevor says. "It's just not the right time. Not yet."

"I get that. Just know that there are people out there for you. I'll be here as long as I can."

"Thanks. I appreciate that." He approaches, gives me a quick hug, and pats my back like guys do.

"I have to go. I'll see you around, Trev."

"Hope so." I head back up the stairs, sneak out the door before Suz sees me, and get back into the car with Kaylee, who removes the buds from her ears.

"So?" she asks.

"It's all good."

"That's it? It's all good? You're really not going to tell me what's wrong with one of my best friends?"

"There's nothing wrong with him, Kaylee. He just needed someone to talk to, one person he could confide in so he doesn't feel so alone."

"What? Is he gay or something?"

This catches me off-guard, but when I look at her, I realize she's joking. "Right. We're talking about Trevor here, the guy who used to get it on with Shelly Baker? Get serious."

"All right. Good enough," she says as we once again hit the road.

"Where next?" Kaylee asks.

"Bertram Brewster," I answer.

"Who?"

"He used to go to our school, left in third or fourth grade. Everyone called him Bertie," I answer.

"Nerdie Bertie?" she asks, her voice lacking any sympathy at all.

"Yeah."

"So what's his dilemma?"

"I hope he doesn't have one."

"Why? What's he to you?" she asks, now eyeing me suspiciously.

"I just need to talk to him."

"All right, Mr. Button Lip. Do you even know where to find him?"

"I think so," I reply, giving her the last address I could find.

Bertie Brewster was in my class from kindergarten until he left Skyline Elementary. With his small frame, glasses, high-waters, and lisp, he was a prime target for bullies. Unfortunately, for him, I was in my bullying prime at the time. I picked on all kinds of kids, but for some reason Bertie was my favorite. Maybe I was scared of what he was, afraid to be like that: small, weak, inferior. Now look at me. I'm pretty much there. The reasons don't matter anyway. What I did was wrong. I want to make it right.

We pull up to a house, but I'm not sure if you can even call it that. It's more of a shack, really, paint peeling, roof caving in, one window boarded up. If I blew on it, it would probably fall down. I double-check the address to make sure it's correct. I exit the car and head up to the dilapidated house. One of the address numbers on the front falls off when I knock on the door.

"Bertie! Get the door, God damn it!" At least I know I'm at the right house. The door opens moments later. I recognize him immediately: still small, but he's lost the glasses and is way more muscular.

"Yeah?" he says.

"Are you Bertie Brewster?" I ask, just for clarification.

He laughs. "No one but my mom ever calls me that anymore. It's Double B now. What do you want?"

"Well, Double B"—it sounds stupid coming from my lips—"my name's Austin. We used to go to school together. Do you remember me?"

"No," he answers, too quickly to have given it any real thought.

I breathe deeply. I was hoping he would recognize me so I wouldn't have to explain too much. I say, "My name is Austin Parker. We went to Skyline together."

"Nope, still doesn't ring a bell."

"I was kind of a bully. I used to pick on you."

Now he studies me carefully, every feature, every detail, up, down, round and round, side to side, until it becomes clear. Anger spreads across his face.

"I remember you. What the fuck do you want?" he says.

"I've just come to apologize. I want to say I'm sorry for the way I treated you back when we were kids."

"You should be sorry, asshole!" he yells. "You used to kick my ass every day. Kids made fun of me, and when I came home with a black eye or bloody nose, my parents couldn't even look at me. Do you know what it's like to disappoint your parents like that? How it feels to have them look at you and just shake their head, knowing they wished you weren't their kid? No, you probably don't, Mr. Perfect. You don't look so tough anymore. I bet I could kick your ass now—how would you like that?"

"I wouldn't like that at all. I just wanted to apologize. I don't want to fight," I say, trying to remain calm.

"Of course you don't want to fight. Look at you," he says, sizing me up again. "I've been working out. I'd wipe the floor with you." He puffs out his chest, beats it with closed fists like a gorilla. I almost expect him to belt out the Tarzan yell.

"Yeah, I can tell you've been working out," I say.

"Are you being smart with me? Huh?"

"No, really, I'm not, I mean it. I really just want to say I'm sorry. That's all." I back away slowly. Apparently, Bertie feels a latent hatred for me that has been awakened. Without warning, he punches me right in the face, tagging my nose and eye with one blow.

I hear Kaylee's door open. She flies out of the car screaming, "Stop!"

"Who's this, your bodyguard?" Bertie jokes, then gives me an uppercut to the chin, followed by a quick left hook to the mouth.

"Please," Kaylee begs. She grabs his arms, trying to pry them from me.

Bertie shakes her off and she tumbles to the ground. I hold back tears of frustration. I can't control anything. I have to watch Kaylee fall instead of protecting her. I'm useless and pathetic. Kaylee gets back on her feet and jumps on his back just as he's grabbed my shoulder and is about to punch me again. "Stop! You don't understand. You could really hurt him," she cries.

Bertie finally looks at her. I mean, really looks at her. He immediately lets go, backs off as if I've become hot to the touch. I become lightheaded and fall to the ground. Kaylee bends over me as I bleed out my nose and mouth.

"Austin, are you okay?" she asks. Her tears spill onto me, mingle with my blood, drip down my face.

"I don't know. I think so," I choke out.

She turns on Bertie. "You fuck head! What's wrong with you?"

Bertie says, "He deserved it."

"We're even," I say weakly once I fully regain my voice. Kaylee helps me to my feet and to the car.

"You had some nerve coming here, asshole!" Bertie yells after us.

Just as she's about to get in the car, Kaylee flips Bertie off, then peels away. He chases after us shouting obscenities until he runs out of steam and gives up. When we're well away from Bertie's neighborhood, Kaylee stops by an AM/PM for ice. My entire face and body ache, the ice stings my forming wounds, but to lighten the moment I say through my hugely fat lip, "I know I've already plastered her with puke, but do you think Scarlet will mind if I get blood on her upholstery?"

Kaylee stays silent for a moment; she's taking long, decisive breaths. Suddenly, she unloads on me. "Goddamn it, Austin! What the hell are you doing! That guy could have killed you if he wanted to."

"Kaylee, we're all gonna die someday," I say.

"Yeah, we're all going to die someday. I didn't realize you wanted to do it today. Why don't I just drive you straight to the morgue and get it over with? And can you stop it with all your meditative 'Confucius Say' bullshit? What's the point, Austin? We all know you're a great guy. You don't have to prove it to anyone. Maybe you should just mind your own business. Let these people fix their own problems, live their own lives."

"But they're not, Kaylee. They're standing still while the world passes them by. It's not fair. They have a life to live. They have a future. I want for them what I can't have for myself."

"Austin, you can't take on the weight of the world. You can barely carry your own," she says, softer now.

"I know, but maybe I can make it a little bit lighter."

She expels a heavy breath, a deep sigh. She knows I'm right, knows this is something I need to do. She doesn't respond, and by saying nothing she agrees with me.

We drive a few miles in silence before Kaylee says, "Austin, I..." Then she pauses.

"What? What is it?"

"I, um..." She's struggling, whether it's to find the right words or any words at all, I don't know. "I worry." She sighs. She looks disappointed in herself, as if she wants to say something else but can't. "I don't like seeing you hurt. I, uh, care about you."

"Kaylee, can I tell you something?"

She completely ignores the question. "I mean, we're best friends. I just want you to be okay."

The
F
word again, the ultimate blowoff. "The stuff I'm doing, it's not just for them, you know. I have my own goals, my own needs."

"I get that, but no more of this stuff, okay? I can't bear to see you hurt. I lo—" She stops herself short again, thinks, then says, "I loathe it."

"You loathe it?"

"Yeah, I loathe seeing you hurt." I raise one eyebrow at her. "What?" she says.

"Is that really what you were going to say?" I'm ribbing her, I know, but it seems like she wants to say so much more.

"Yeah, sure. Why?"

"It just seems like a weird thing to say. 'I
loathe
when you get hurt'?"

She looks at me and giggles. "Shut up."

"Fine. I'll shut up." For the first time that weekend, our entire relationship in fact, I think maybe, just maybe, Kaylee might like me as more than just a friend.

I stare out the window admiring the Tacoma skyline as we head back to the more familiar parts of town. I pull out my camera and start filming video aimlessly as the sights speed by. We pass the Tacoma Dome. The once pride and joy of downtown Tacoma was host to now defunct Sabercats hockey, Tacoma Stars soccer, and even one season of the Seattle Supersonics. A bit rundown these days, but grand still, it now sees home and garden shows, art and craft fairs, concerts, and high school sporting events.

We take the 705 toward the north end, over the railroad tracks, past the museums, homes to history, art, and glass. I look over the Thea Foss waterway, new condos lining the west side, though nearly empty, having been built right before the recession. I look back over my shoulder at Mount Rainier. It seems like days instead of the few hours since Kaylee and I have been there.

I ask Kaylee to take the Stadium Way exit so I can absorb mighty Stadium High School, the castle on the hill. We drive back down to the waterfront, where beyond the docks, restaurants, and the Puget Sound sit Federal Way, Browns Point, and Vashon Island.

We pass through a tunnel under the old smelter site, the aluminum smokehouse, once a landmark of Tacoma's waterfront, now just a fading memory, demolished just a few years back. That smelter was vital to many families in this area, including mine. It paid the bills for my grandfather on my dad's side. After it closed, he drank himself to death.

We enter Point Defiance Park and roll down the long, windy hill to Owen Beach. We get out of the car to walk across the beached logs and stick our feet in the icy water. Kaylee, Jake, and I used to come here a lot during the summers. We would just sit on the logs and talk, or walk down the beach and carve our names in the clay cliffs. Sometimes Jake would climb the steep hill leading up and away from the beach and try to ride his skateboard down. He crashed every time, even broke his arm once.

With daylight fading fast, we climb back into the Mustang. I have Kaylee drive me through Five Mile Drive, where we take in views of the Cascade and Olympic Mountains, the Narrows Bridges, and Gig Harbor. A sadness sets over me as we cruise past the now empty, rundown Never Never Land, once a fantastical haven of life-size nursery rhyme and storybook characters. I brighten a little as we pass its neighbor, Fort Nisqually, an interactive living history museum that was once a Hudson's Bay Company outpost. This park holds many memories for me. They come rushing at me, full force, the picnics, the bike rides, the trips to the zoo. I begin to cry, to weep for them, these memories soon to be lost.

Kaylee pulls into a parking spot near the end of the park, next to the rose gardens and duck pond. She turns to me, puts a hand on my shoulder, and waits silently until she thinks I'm calm. "Are you okay?" she asks.

"I'm scared."