Noggin (13 page)

“This your computer from before?” Hatton asked.

“Yeah.”

“It’s a dinosaur,” he said.

“When I first turned it on, it took three days for the Windows Updates to install. I think it almost exploded.”

“Okay, so first we get you a new computer and then a Facebook page. Priorities, you know,” he said, typing in Kyle’s password.

“What would I do without you—”

“Found her,” he interrupted. “She’s at Carrie’s OK Bar. It’s downtown.”

“What the hell is Carrie’s OK Bar?”

“It’s a karaoke bar. Travis, come on.”

“Wait, how do you know she’s there?”

“She checked in there about twenty minutes ago.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh. Right. Since you left, it’s become very important that we all constantly know each other’s thoughts, locations, and birthdays.”

“That’s really stupid. Except for in this one very specific situation. I can’t go if her fiancé’s there, though. That would be too weird.”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she put ‘Girls’ Night’ with about five exclamation points after it.”

“Are people just asking to be murdered?”

“Pretty much. So are we going?”

“I don’t have a license or a car, Hatton. Remember?”

“I’ve got a license.”

“You have a
license
?”

“Yeah. I’ve been sixteen since August. Mom’s just weird about her car. She’d rather cart me around everywhere than let me borrow the damn thing.”

“Wait here. I’m gonna go do some groveling.”

Mom was still on the couch doing what she always did on Friday nights—watching TV and eating a cup of reduced-sugar ice cream. Everything my mom bought, in my old and new lives, was somehow fat-free or sugar-free or some other something free or reduced enough for it not to taste completely terrible, but just right at that level under good or satisfying. And we were “off cow’s milk” because it “has no nutritional value anymore.” Whatever that means.

“What’s up?” she said.

“Nothing. Kind of bummed, I guess.”

“Did Hatton leave?”

“Nah. He’s upstairs on the computer.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

“It’s just that we have some friends who are hanging out downtown, and we don’t have a way to get there.”

“He didn’t drive over?”

“Nah. His mom’s weird about her car. I don’t know why—he’s a stellar driver.”

“Stellar?”

“Stellar. I’ve seen it. It’s like he’s been driving for decades.”

“So you want the car, then?” She set her bowl down and straightened up a little, muting the TV.

“Nah, it’s fine. I know that would make you uncomfortable.”

“Do you want me to drive you downtown?”

“I can’t be the kid whose mom drops him off,” I said.

“Fine. Then just ask me for the car, Travis.”

“Can we borrow the car?”

“No. Are you crazy?”

“Well, that wasn’t nice.”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“Mom, please. I’ve been sitting in this house for weeks. I know you’re scared. I know you don’t want anything to happen to me, but you have to see this from my perspective a little bit.”

“And what’s your perspective?” She crossed her arms.

“That I am
sixteen
years old, and I want things to be the same way they were when I was sixteen the first time. I went out with my friends. You let me go out with Kyle and Cate all the time.”

“I was scared then, too, you know?”

“Yeah, well, what’s the good in being back if I’m just going to be stuck in one place all over again?”

“That’s not fair, Travis.”

“No, Mom, it’s not fair that every single time I wake up, I have to remind myself that you’re all different and that nothing will ever be the way it’s supposed to be again. You’re scared? I’m
so
scared. I’m scared that if something, at some point, doesn’t feel a little normal to me again, then I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

“Travis, I—”

“One night, Mom. One night to feel normal, like I wasn’t sick and I didn’t go away and I’m just a kid riding around and hanging out with his friends. Please.”

“I want to see Hatton drive,” she said, standing up.

“What?”

“Go get him. I want to see him drive. Then maybe I’ll let you take the car.”

Five minutes later we were in her car, in the driveway, with a visibly nervous Hatton behind the wheel. As Mom buckled her seatbelt in the passenger seat, Hatton looked back at me with his eyes opened really wide, like this was the scariest and most important moment of his life.
I really hoped that wasn’t true. But I was scared too. I had to get downtown and we were running out of time. How long does someone stay in a karaoke bar anyway? Maybe she was already gone.

“So, umm, where to?” Hatton asked. I loved this guy.

“Hatton,” Mom began. “I want you to drive us to the Walgreens on Center Street, turn around in the parking lot, and drive back here. I’m not going to tell you how to drive, I’m just going to make sure you can.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, cranking the car.

We weren’t even down our road yet when she started asking him about his glasses.

“When’s the last time you updated your prescription?”

“I think it was, like, three or four months ago,” he said.

“And your mom can confirm this if I give her a call?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

This was ridiculous, but I kept my mouth shut and I let her keep interrogating. I wasn’t about to ruin our chances after getting this far. He eventually turned into the Walgreens, and Mom told him to pull into a parking spot and then back out of it. I think at that point she was just messing with us. But I didn’t laugh because she never once even cracked a half of a smile for the whole ride.

When we got home and Hatton pulled all the way into the driveway, Mom turned back toward me and sighed. Her eyes were watered over and, without looking at him, she said, “Very good job, Hatton.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Travis,” she said. “If there is one single hiccup, if one tiny thing happens to you or Hatton tonight, I will live the rest of my life in complete and miserable regret. Do you hear me? You will ruin my life if you screw up. Hatton, do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am. Loud and clear.”

“Be back by eleven. Text every thirty minutes, both of you, and you’ll be subject to a Breathalyzer and a drug test when you get home. I have access to these things, you know that, Travis.”

She exchanged numbers with Hatton and hugged me a little too long in the driveway before letting us leave. Then she stood there watching us as we backed out, and I thought that maybe she’d still be there in that same spot when we got home. She’d have that same worried expression on her face, and she’d breathe this heavy sigh of relief when she saw me. That’s how it must have been when I was gone, I guess. Like she was holding her breath for five years.

“I like her,” Hatton said as we made our way down my street. “She’s scary in that sort of sexy-older-woman way.”

“I will kill you. You pervert.”

Since it was already after eight o’clock and there was plenty of Friday-night traffic, I was getting really worried that we’d missed our chance of seeing Cate. Add to that the thirty minutes it took to find parking downtown, and we ended up not walking up to Carrie’s OK until
about nine o’clock. I was so worried that this had all been for nothing. But Hatton kept promising me otherwise, saying that no one in their twenties would leave a bar that early on a weekend. And, you know, it was just nice to be out of the house.

“I’ve never been in a bar before,” I said as we got out of the car and started walking down the street.

“Me neither. Do you think we look old enough to get in?”

“No. Shit,” I said.

“I have a plan. Stop worrying so much. Worry about what you’re gonna say to Cate instead.”

There was a girl at the door with tattoos covering her arms all the way up to her shoulders. She had a lip ring and purple highlights, and I could tell without even asking him that Hatton had just fallen madly in love with her.

“You got IDs?” she asked as we approached.

“Boom,” Hatton said, handing her his driver’s license and my learner’s permit.

“Yeah, okay,” she said, taking a quick look at each of them. “Have a nice night.”

“No, look. We really need to go inside. Please?” Hatton clasped his hands together. “This is a matter of life and death.”

“Are you being chased?” She was trying not to laugh.

“Time, my dear. Time is chasing us. Well, it’s chasing my friend here. He’s running out of time. The woman he
loves is in your fine establishment, and if he can’t see her tonight, then it may all be over. Forever.”

“Did you really think this would get you in?”

“No. But there’s something else.”

“Sorry. Twenty-one and up.”

“Look a little closer.” He pointed to the birth date on my ID.

“Bullshit,” she said. “No way this is real.”

Then Hatton leaned in and started whispering into her ear, and she looked over his shoulder and right at me. I knew what he’d done.

“Hey, come here, kid,” she said.

I stepped closer to her, and she lowered the collar of my shirt a bit. She stared down at the scar and nodded her head with this sinister, fascinated grin on her face.

“Wicked,” she said finally. “Go in and don’t you dare make a scene.”

“Oh my God, I love you. Do you wanna make out? I know you won’t believe this, but I’m very available.” Hatton leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before throwing himself back far enough not to be punched.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Good luck,” she said, winking. “Don’t lose your head in there.”

I wasn’t afraid of losing my head. I was afraid my entire body would shut down before getting to see Cate. I was shaking all over, like I was lying on one of those creepy coin-operated vibrating beds you see in old motels.
Seriously, I had to stop for a second when we walked inside and lean against the wall. Hatton walked ahead of me, and it was so crowded and smoky that I lost him in seconds. I stumbled my way through the noisy crowd and eventually saw him standing by a little stage in the back. He was waving me over with this big smile on his face. I wished I could be more like Hatton sometimes. He always seemed completely unfazed by everything around him. Me? I felt like I’d just walked into hell—only it had worse music and a lot more cigarette smoke than I’d ever imagined.

I didn’t see her anywhere either. She’d probably gone home. This didn’t seem like her kind of thing anyway. I could just see us making fun of a dumb place like that, of all the people drunkenly singing songs with a beer in one hand. I was still wondering about “Girls’ Night,” too. My Cate would never say something like that. Is that what growing older had done to her? Had it made her completely cheesy and ordinary like the rest of these people? If I saw her smoking, I’d probably fall to the ground and start weeping. My girlfriend was better than a place like Carrie’s OK Bar. None of this felt right.

“You see her anywhere?” Hatton asked when I got over to him.

“No,” I said loudly. “This place is so gross.”

“It’s awesome!” Hatton yelled. “I feel like shotgunning a Budweiser and punching someone.”

“Maybe she left already, man. God, this sucks.”

“Travis,” he said into my ear. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have even come here tonight. You want your girlfriend back, right? You want her to see you? Well, make her see you.” He pointed up to the stage.

“What do you want me to do, Hatton? Just go up there and start singing her a love song?”

“Yes!” Hatton yelled into my ear.

“What?”

“You have to go up there! There’s a microphone and everything. Just go for it! Tell her how you feel!”

“I can’t do that! I’ll just find her and maybe we can talk outside!”

“No! Dude, this is zero hour!”

“I don’t even see her! Let’s just go!”

“Weak! You’re weak! Get your ass on that stage and go for it! You are Travis Coates! You kick death in the ass like it happens every Tuesday!”

He was right. I could do this. I could get up there and tell her exactly what I’d wanted to tell her every second since I’d opened my eyes in that hospital in Denver. What was there to lose? It would either work or not work. It would change everything for the better or change
nothing at all. That’s not quite a win/win, but it was at least a win/give in to reality and move on with my stupid life. Before I had much more time to think about it, Hatton grabbed my arm and led me to the stairs on the side of the stage. I still hadn’t spotted her in the crowd. Between the smoke and the noise it was pretty impossible. So I gave Hatton a look that told him I was going for it, and I climbed the stairs.

I stood in front of the microphone and looked out over the crowd. No Cate. I scanned the entire room, hoping I’d see her and that she’d either run out of there as fast as she could and spare me the humiliation I was about to endure, or head over toward me. There were tall, round tables with barstools scattered throughout the place. And people stood around them, mostly drinking and shouting at one another over music being played through the speakers hanging to the left and right of the stage. No one seemed to be anxiously waiting a turn to sing karaoke. But as Hatton had said, the night was relatively young. Maybe people needed a few more drinks in them before they started making asses of themselves in front of a hundred or more strangers. Not me, though.

I looked over to Hatton, and he was mouthing “Do it” and pointing toward the microphone. I was sweating profusely, and I suddenly became super paranoid that everyone could see my scar, that they were all about to stop what they were doing and focus right in on it. But I’d worn a button-down, collared shirt that I knew was doing its job
of mostly covering the thing. It didn’t matter—I felt like an exposed nerve up in front of them like that. I was frozen in one spot when Hatton jumped up onto the stage beside me and whispered into my ear.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really,” I whispered back.