Adam (11 page)

“Let's get that shit going,” said Schuyler.

“Y'all a bunch of fiends,” said Jimmy. He rummaged in his pockets.

Fuck. Why did everyone always want to smoke weed? Adam seriously could not tell what anybody saw in it.
Hey, wanna get totally paranoid and make everything you say sound stupid and fake? Awesome!
He looked over at Casey and could tell she was nervous too.

Jimmy packed a pipe and lit it. He passed the bowl to Schuyler, who took a hit and passed it to June on the floor. June inhaled greedily.

“This isn't bad,” she said, exhaling. “I'll have to get your number. All the weed I've smoked in New York sucks.” She passed the pipe to Adam. There goes the evening.

“Where're you from?” said Jimmy.

“Indiana,” said June.

Jimmy laughed as if June had told a joke.

“You're from California, right?” Schuyler asked Casey. “
That's
weed.”

“Yup,” said Casey.

Adam exhaled and passed the pipe up to Ethan.

“You guys from L.A., the Bay, or what?” said Schuyler.

“We're from San Francisco.”

San Francisco?

“We live in Piedmont,” said Adam.

Casey glared at him. “Nobody knows Piedmont. We're from the Bay Area—people know San Francisco.”

Ethan finished his hit and walked the pipe over to Boy Casey. Boy Casey took a hit and handed it to Casey.

“No thanks,” said Casey, waving her hand, and Boy Casey casually passed the pipe back to Jimmy.
What the hell?
Adam didn't know you were allowed to pass. And he couldn't just pass the next time it came around because that would show he'd changed his mind, was weak. He had to commit to getting high now.

“Lodi Dodi, I likes me a shawty, titties D to the double, gettin' crackas in trouble . . .”
Jimmy bobbed his head up and down as he rapped.

June passed the pipe back to Adam. Maybe he could get so high, he'd forget he was high. He took a big inhale.

“Isn't Piedmont kind of rich?” said Schuyler.

“It's near Oakland,” said Casey.

Why didn't Casey want people to know they were rich? At EBP, the richer you were, the cooler you were . . . Isn't that how it works? Adam glanced over at June. For the first time, he tried to imagine what she would look like normal—with long girl-hair and without the bull nose ring. She might not actually be that ugly. He looked around the circle of people and imagined that everyone, including himself, had a shaved head and a bull nose ring. Like they were all in a creepy cult. The weed was a special potion. Soon they would all enter a collective consciousness like the future human-robots in the movie
A.I.
June's thoughts would be Jimmy's thoughts; Casey's thoughts would be Ethan's thoughts. Adam's nose would itch, and Boy Casey would scratch his own nose.

Adam scratched his nose. Was everyone staring at him? No. A conversation was going on. A conversation about . . .

“I like her,” said Schuyler. “I mean, she's hot. But I don't know if I wanna date a femme right now. I feel like she'll push me to be trans, and I just wanna stay genderqueer for a while. I don't know, maybe I'll fuck her.”

“What about Sailor?” said Boy Casey. “I think ze has a crush on you. I bet ze'll be there tonight.”

“Ze's all right. I just feel like I could kind of do better than hir.”

“I met hir. Ze's kinda annoying . . .” said Casey. “Roxanne was dating hir and said all ze ever did was talk about hirself.”

“Ze and I just go way back . . .” said Boy Casey.

“Who's Zee?” said Adam.

Boy Casey, Schuyler, and Jimmy all laughed.

“There's no ‘Zee,'” said Casey. “Hir name is Sailor, and ze uses the pronouns
ze
and
hir.
”

Adam started to open his mouth, but Schuyler cut him off.

“I go by
ze
too.”

Adam looked up at Ethan to see if he was getting all this. Ethan looked totally out of it. He was just staring into his lap, not paying attention at all.

Boy Casey continued, “Ze'll be there tonight. If you want, I can ask hir what's up. I'll be casual about it—”

“Can we change the song?” said Ethan. He was still staring into his lap.

“You don't like Neutral Milk Hotel?” said Schuyler.

“I love them,” said Ethan.

“Hey, pack that bowl again, Jimmy,” said Boy Casey. “I don't feel high at all.”

Adam had never felt more high in his life.

Ethan was speaking really soft. “It just . . . reminds me of my ex. Can you please switch it?”

Schuyler cocked her head at Jimmy. Jimmy picked up the remote and the song changed.

“Dude, I feel you on that,” said Schuyler.

“Word,” said Boy Casey.

“No. It's different,” said Ethan, looking up. His eyes were bloodshot. “It's not that I can't listen to it because it reminds me of her. I can't listen to it because I save it.” His eyes fell back to his lap. “I don't want to ruin it. I only listen to that song when I'm alone, when I want to think about her. If I listen to it too much, it won't give me that feeling anymore.” His voice was slow and monotone. “The world means more if you compartmentalize. Songs belong to different people. A food can taste like a person. Put on the shirt you wore when you met, and she's touching you. You only wear it when you want to wear her. But if you overwear it, you lose that. Everything fades. Before you know it, your world's just a washed-out wasteland.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I know what you mean, man,” said Boy Casey. “I used to have this shirt I
loved
—I just looked
good
in it. Losing that shirt was like losing a person—”

“I gotta go,” said Ethan, standing up. “I'm sorry. I'm a dumb-ass. I shouldn't smoke pot.”

“Are you sure?” said Casey. “Do you want another beer?”

“You're sure?” echoed June.

“No, I really just gotta go. Thanks, though.” He turned to Schuyler and Jimmy. “It was cool meeting you.”

“Yeah, man,” said Schuyler.

Ethan looked at June and Adam. “I'll see you guys later.”

Adam started to panic. Ethan was the reason he had wanted to go to this club. Ethan was his ally. He couldn't go there alone.

“Wait, I think I'm gonna go too . . .” Adam said. He stood up.

“No, man, go out, have fun,” said Ethan. “Don't be lame just 'cause I am.”

“No, I'm . . . tired anyway,” said Adam.

“Bye,” said Casey. She shifted awkwardly on her lap perch.

Adam nodded and looked at June. She gave him a nervous smile, like she wanted to ask him to stay. Adam felt kind of bad but waved goodbye. He followed Ethan outside.

Adam and Ethan walked down the steps of Boy Casey's building into the night. A motion sensor went on, and the stoop light lit up. Ethan paused.

“You really don't have to go home just 'cause I am,” said Ethan.

“I know . . .” said Adam.

Ethan turned the corner and leaned up against the wall of the building. He slid down till he was sitting. Adam did the same.

“Jesus, I really wigged out up there. I'm such a retard. I wish I still smoked. I need a cigarette.”

“We could go to the store . . .” said Adam.

“Nah,” said Ethan. He paused, staring at a crack in the ground. “I texted her at, like, four in the morning last night. Fucking stupid.”

“Rachel?” said Adam.

Ethan nodded. “I just feel so guilty. I fucking hate myself.”

“I thought she broke up with you?” said Adam.

“She did.”

“Did you . . . cheat?”

“Hell no. You do
not
cheat on Rachel.”

Adam wanted to know what had happened, but for some reason, he felt like he shouldn't ask.

“Fucked-up thing is . . .” said Ethan. “What I really wanna do when I feel like this, like if I could do
anything
, is cry. You know? But I just can't.”

Adam did know. At some point in middle school, he'd decided that crying was not a thing he was going to do anymore. He knew it felt good though. He was eleven when they'd put their dog Lucy to sleep. She had tumors all over her face, distorting her expression, and smelled so bad their dad wouldn't be in the same room as her. Adam had forced himself not to cry in front of the vet and his mom and Casey, but had done it alone in his room when they got home. It had made him feel better.

“It's cool to cry,” said Adam.

“I know, man,” said Ethan. He smiled at Adam.

They sat in silence for a moment.

“How about that Jimmy?” said Ethan.

“‘Titties D to the double, gettin' crackas in trouble,'”
recited Adam.

Ethan laughed. “You really should still go out,” he said. “Seriously, you're never gonna meet a girl staying home, watching TV on that scabies futon all night.”

Adam laughed. “I know . . .” He paused for a moment, and then, “I have this idea of this redheaded girl I'm supposed to meet in New York. It sounds stupid but . . .”

“Redhead is at The Hole right now, as we speak!” said Ethan.

“She is?”

“She totally is.”

Adam was getting that recklessly impulsive feeling again—the one he'd had on the street after the
L Word
party the first night they'd moved in. A feeling like anything was possible—all he had to do was act.

“You really think I should go?”

“I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't go,” said Ethan. “Now get back up there.”

***

Adam, June, Casey, Boy Casey, Schuyler, and Jimmy walked to the end of the line outside The Hole. When Adam imagined a “club in Manhattan,” he thought of red-velvet carpets and roped brass barriers and big bald bouncers in suits. This was not the case with The Hole. The Hole didn't even have a sign that said:
THE HOLE
. How everyone found it was beyond him. It was a concrete wall covered in competing graffiti and old peeling posters with a fat butch lesbian checking IDs at the front. At least the burly bouncer part was right.

“Wait, there's a cover?” said June.

“It's only ten dollars,” said Schuyler. “Anyway, Riley always lets me in for free.”

“I thought you said I would be able to get in?” Adam whispered to Casey. “They're checking IDs.”

“They usually don't do that,” said Boy Casey. “This place is getting too popular.”

“June and I have fakes,” said Casey, “but we need something for Adam.”

“Just come back out and give him yours after you're stamped,” said Boy Casey. “You guys look enough alike. It's just like you got a haircut.”

“She's a girl!” said Adam.

“Half the guys in here have girl IDs,” said Schuyler.

“You could use mine,” said Boy Casey, “but I'm taller than you.” Boy Casey was about a half-inch shorter than Adam.

“He and Jimmy kinda look alike,” said June.

“Watchoo say?” said Jimmy.

Boy Casey grabbed Jimmy's Orioles hat and put it on Adam. “Ahhh! Fuckin' doppelgängers!” Jimmy barely cleared Adam's shoulders.

“Gimme that!” Jimmy jumped up and swiped the hat back.

Boy Casey continued, “OK, so Jimmy'll go in, get stamped, then bring his ID back out to Adam. Adam, you go hide behind that building.”

Casey gave him an encouraging nod.

“Uh, OK,” said Adam. He walked in the direction Boy Casey had pointed.

Waiting in the alley between two buildings, Adam watched girls get on line for The Hole. Unlike the
L Word
party, a lot of them were hot. Like
really
hot. One girl noticed him staring, and Adam whipped his head around. He fixed his eyes intensely on the dumpster in front of him, as if he were waiting for someone to jump out. Maybe some of these girls
were
straight . . .

Jimmy slapped his ID into Adam's palm. “Wait ten minutes or I'ma
kill
you!” Then he turned around and ran back into The Hole.

Adam looked down at the ID. It was Jimmy's photo, but the name was “Francesca diSessa,” and she was a girl and she was twenty-six years old.

***

Inside, The Hole was dark, pounding pop music, and clogged with cigarette smoke. It was also completely packed with girls. Most of them were butch lesbians, but there were a good number of straight-looking girls as well. The interior walls were the same as the outside ones, concrete with spray-painted tags everywhere. It was like someone had gutted a building, stuck a bar in the middle, and called it a club. And for whatever reason,
this
was the place to be.

Adam scanned the club trying to get a glimpse of the Caseys, Schuyler, or Jimmy. He couldn't find them anywhere. It was better this way, right? He was on his own. A man in a giant pulsing throng of women.
Something
had to happen. A butch dyke with giant breasts rammed into him.

“Sorry, dude,” she said.

A drink. First things first, he needed a drink. Whether he was going to meet a girl was yet to be determined, but at least he could get fucking wasted. Adam pushed his way through the hordes. The closer he got to the bar, the tighter everyone was packed in. He stood on his tiptoes to get a glimpse of the bartender. She looked like she was making five drinks at once, and everyone was leaned in toward her with money in their hands. Adam swiveled his shoulders, trying to squeeze in closer. He was almost to the edge of the bar when a lesbian wearing a beanie and a backpack shoved him out of the way.

“Hey! Su Jin! Two whiskey sours for me and Ramona! You're awesome!”

Adam glared at the back of the girl's head.
Fuck this.
He couldn't even get a drink. He couldn't even get a fucking drink.
Fuck everything.
His eyes fell down to a button pinned to the beanie girl's backpack that read:
THAT'S WHAT ‘ZE' SAID
.