They Let Us Play With Markers, but I Keep Trying to Draw Infinity

Time seemed to speed up. Although the spring semester started just that next week, none of us were necessarily dreading it. Being done with our core classes, we began taking classes more closely related to our majors and so saw less of each other now than last semester. Chuck began to delve more deeply into history while Randy began to learn the basics of music theory and switched to taking most of her classes online. Tristan’s classes became more detailed breakdowns of various artistic eras and their most famous works. Mikey’s schedule started to look like it was written in Latin, his economics classes quickly rising above anything I could ever understand.

My classes continued to be a series of repeated things and yet I couldn’t wrap my head around what the teachers were trying to teach me. It didn’t help that Tristan’s teachers apparently weren’t observant enough to realize he was constantly on the phone texting. Every few minutes, my phone would vibrate in my pocket with either some message from Tristan or Chuck.

Randy and I hadn’t really spoken since the fight at my house. We were civil to each other in public, around our friends, but we avoided having to speak to each other as much as possible. Chuck trying to make the peace between us even though it was pointless, neither of us were ready to forgive and forget and not even close to admitting either of us was in the wrong. I knew I wasn’t and she believed she wasn’t.

“Josey, this is getting ridiculous,” Chuck said as we walked toward Mel’s Diner downtown where we were meeting everyone for lunch. “So you guys both think differently of Brendon, so what? Get over it!”

“No,” I said stubbornly. “If she wants to sit on her high horse and fawn over the bastard let her, but I’m not going to pretend to like him.”

“Okay, well, just.. Look at me for a second, Josey.” We stopped on the sidewalk and face each other. “I understand that he wasn’t so nice the first you met him, I get that, I do, but really, what makes you think it wasn’t a real apology?”

I shrugged stiffly. “I don’t know. I guess that he apologized at all. Or that he wanted to do it away from everyone else.”

“Why is that so weird? Would you rather’ve had him not apologize at all? And what’s wrong with privacy? From how your conversation ended, I think it was a good idea he did it outside.”

“I don’t know! I just… It seemed so thought and practiced, like he practiced it the whole way over.”

“Don’t you practice things like that before you say them?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never given a big apology.”

Chuck raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

I thought about it for a second then nodded. “Really. I’m usually in fights with my sisters and we don’t apologize after, we just go into separate rooms until we’ve calmed down and go on with life as usual.”

“And that works great for your family but maybe Brendon’s from a family that does apologize.”

“Why do I feel like you’re taking Randy’s side in this?” I asked, starting to feel the victim.

Chuck looked at me apologetically. “Because you’re the only one who doesn’t like him.” I scoffed and started walking again. “Josey, think about it,” she said, catching up with me. “You were the only one that night who wasn’t getting along with him. Don’t you think that maybe it means there’s something wrong with you and not him?”

“Oh, you know what, fine. I’m just a fucking crazy bitch and I’ll leave you all alone now. How’s that?”

“Now that is enough!” Chuck shouted back. She gestured between us. “We’re not getting in a fight so you can just stop right there. I’m just trying to fix things so don’t get all Prima Dona with me. I’m done with trying to get you figure this out on your own: You and Randy are best friends. I’m not going to say that either of you are right Brendon because I don’t know, but you need to apologize to her for how you handled it.” She held up her hand as I began to protest. “And she’ll have to apologize too, don’t worry. From the sound of it, neither of you were very nice about it. As for Brendon, you need to give him a chance. If you ever meet him again, you need to act like nothing’s happened, it’s the first time you’ve ever met and just see what he’s like. Okay?”

I sighed. “Fine but I don’t think Randy’s going to accept my apology right away.”

“So? That’s the time for you to be stubborn, not the other night, not now, but next time you talk to her.”

“So, explain to me why you’re becoming an archeologist and not a counselor or mediator or something?”

Chuck grinned. “Because I like history.”

When we got to the diner, everyone else was already waiting for us. I sat next to Tristan who immediately gave me a kiss and held my hand. Chuck sat next to me, conveniently across from Jacob, and they fell into conversation.

As the waiter came and began to take our drink order, Randy pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at it curiously then jumped from the table and rushed outside. The rest of us, excluding Leif, exchanged confused glances. Leif never took his eyes off her, his face almost worried.

“You okay?” I asked, leaning toward him. “You look like you’re waiting for Randy to have a baby or something.”

At the word ‘baby,’ all the guys looked at me, wide-eyed.

“Who’s having a baby?” Leo asked.

I laughed and shook my head. “No one but Leif looks like he’s waiting for one.”

“I am not,” he protested.

“Well, you look worried.” Leif rolled his shoulders to relax and sat back in his chair, looking at me. I shrugged. “Better but not by much.”

Randy came back inside, eyes wide and jaw dropped, and sat down next to Leif. She carefully set her phone on the table and blinked.

“If Leif’s waiting for a baby then Randy just had one,” Leo said, never one to let go of a good metaphor.

“I think the winter air’s getting to everyone,” I said, watching Randy cautiously, ready for her to implode or something.

Instead, she took a small sip of her drink and turned to Leif. “I just got a call from Fueled By Ramen.” She said it slowly, watching him for a reaction, and trying to hold in her own.

His expression matched hers as he sat up straighter. “And?” he prompted.

“Ella Larsson will be here on Friday to help us sign papers.”

“Holy shit!” Leif began to shout, but Randy quickly cut him off.

“We have a slight problem though.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, breaking in. By this time, everyone was paying attention, and the rest of Missing the Ground was trying figure out what Randy meant as well.

“None of us are underage,” Toby said. “What else is there?”

“We don’t have a manager,” Randy explained. "Unless you're volunteering and have suddenly become a qualified, responsible adult and not told us."

“I can help you with that,” Mikey said, sitting contentedly on the other side of Tristan. We looked at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m a fucking business major, man! I was born to do this shit.”

“Dude,” Tristan broke in, “is your mom gonna let you quit school to manage a band though?”

“Mom can fuck it.”

“And your job?”

“They can fuck it too. Actually, they can fucking suck it. I hate it there anyway.” Mikey was so calm that it was hard to believe he was serious.

“I think you should try to keep your job, Mikey,” Tristan said, “just for a little while. You all should because how long is it going to be before you start getting paid for this?”

“Well, we haven’t recorded an album yet, and we won’t be playing shows while we’re doing that, but we’ve got some t-shirts and an EP on the website,” Randy explained. “That will give us a little money. Though depending on what kind of deal we sign, we could get an advance from the label. ...It’s all very complicated.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Mikey said. “No fucking way am I going to let you sign a shit deal and get ripped off. I’m going to make sure you’re set up like fucking kings with a million bitches and hoes, and all the shit you want.”

When Friday came, Mikey skipped his classes to join the band at their meeting. After all, he did represent them now. Chuck, Tristan, and I anxiously ate our lunch, waiting to hear any kind of news. After our classes were over and it was time for us to go to work, we still hadn’t heard anything. We texted each other throughout our shifts, coming up with thousands of reasons for the radio silence, but everything seemed so farfetched and dramatic that they didn’t make sense.

Around ten o’clock – the magic hour when we all got off work – we met at my house, our clothes changed, and waited. We sat in the basement, squished on the couch, pointlessly watching TV. Close to eleven o’clock, just as I was about to nod off, head comfortably supported by Tristan’s shoulder, when we heard the front door open. I looked at the ceiling and followed the footsteps from the front door, through the dining room, the living room, the kitchen, and finally down the stairs. Peaking over the back of the couch, Randy appeared around the stairs, blue hair mussed and cheeks bright pink from the cold wind.

I sat up straight. “Did you walk here?” Randy nodded noncommittally then collapsed into the easy chair. “Well?” I prompted. “How did it go?”

“We leave the 16th for LA to record our first album.”

“Are you serious?” I nearly jumped out of my seat. “It took you guys all day! But everything’s, you know, set?”

“Everything’s set.”

My smile vanished a little as Randy yawned. “You’re exhausted.”

“No,” she waved me off, “I’m fine.”

“You should go to bed,” I encouraged.

“But Serenity is on!”

“You can drool over Nathan Fillion later! Go to bed!”

---

Somehow time had turned against me. The age old curse of dreading a certain moment made it speed up. In three days, Randy, Mikey, Leif, Jacob, Leo, and Toby would leave for Los Angeles, California. We wouldn’t see them for a month, and then after that, we wouldn’t see them until the end of the semester. It didn’t help that the annoying, pessimistic side of me kept whispering in my ear that Randy would realize how much she truly missed the West Coast and would convince everyone never to come back. Not that they’d leave us purposely but just that they’d find a better life, and we, by default, would be left to freeze then thaw and rot in the wasteland that is the Midwest.

The dread made me feel anxious, and the anxiety began to drive me crazy. So much so that Tristan noticed the change in my demeanor but couldn’t place why. Randy, on the other hand, could practically read my mind.

“I’m not dying, you know,” she said.

“I know. California’s just a really long way away.”

“So move there with me! Quit school and come out there with us.”

“And do what?”

“Write!”

I rolled my eyes. “As I have been told many times, ‘creativity does not provide a steady income. Why don’t you channel that into a more practical application?’ Granted, I think Mrs. Berry was just mad that I was a better writer than her.” I shrugged.

Randy rolled her eyes and laughed. “If you change your mind, I’ll keep the couch open for you.”

“I meant to do this earlier but what with your big news and all, it kind of got pushed out of my mind. I wanted to say that I’m sorry. I got a little hysterical the other night and I didn’t want to listen and I let my own prejudices get in the way. So I’m sorry for how I handled things.”

Randy smiled. "That's alright. My response wasn't exactly mature."

"I had a rather good telling off from Chuck, and she made me realize that I need to give Brendon a chance, so should I ever meet him again, I promise I will be civil and I will try."

"Lovely!" Randy exclaimed.

I smiled as much as my depressed countenance could manage and followed her out the door. We were headed to Leif’s for everyone’s farewell party since they would leave Tuesday and the rest of us couldn’t afford to party on a school night.

Chuck was meeting us there as Jacob had asked if he could pick her up, so when we got to Leif’s we were the last ones to arrive. Music was thumping loudly through the speakers, and the boys had rigged a rather fancy lighting system including multicolored rotating balls and soft strobe lights lining the floors. The kitchen table was covered in snack foods and alcohol. All of the furniture in the living room was pushed against the walls to leave room for dancing – and thrashing, in Leif’s case. Tristan was standing out on the balcony, his back to the city so he could watch everyone inside. I kept my coat on and stood next to him, leaning against the railing.

He put his arm around me and pulled me close.

“You doing okay?”

“So far,” I said honestly. “I just wish I could get out of going to the airport. Tuesday’s going to fucking suck.”

As soon as Randy had stepped inside, she stripped off her coat and began “dancing” with Leif. Since it was only a Saturday night, none of the neighbors could really complain about the noise. Well, they could, but not until ten o’clock.

“You’ll see her again, you know. It’s not like she’s dying.” Tristan chuckled.

I scrunched up my face, annoyed. “That’s really not as funny as everyone thinks it is.”

“What?”

I shook my head. “Nothing.” I sighed. “I think I need a drink.”

Even though the back door was open, the kitchen was hot, and I nearly started sweating the moment I stepped inside. I pulled off my coat and threw it over the chair in front of me, studying the very wide array of drinks splattered over the table. There was a small collection of hard liquors: Malibu Rum, Grey Goose Vodka, and Captain Morgan’s. Then there was mostly beer ranging from dark and bitter to light and tasting like piss. And in the middle of the table, untouched, was a six pack of wine coolers. My favorite. Being ever the prepared ones, there were two bottle openers on the table as well as one nailed to the wall next to fridge; I nodded in approval as I took a small sip. It was going to be a long night.

After a few drinks though, the night quickly became fun. It’s hard to be morose with no inhibitions and surrounded by happy, laughing people.

The song changed and The Matches began to blare from the speakers.

“I fucking love this song!” Randy shouted.

I turned to laugh with the person next to me only to discover it was Chuck. I slung my arms around her neck and squealed with delight.

“When did you get here? Why is your hair messy?”

“We just got here,” she said, completely ignoring my second question, but the blush on her cheeks and the sly glance back at an equally red-faced Jacob answered it for me.

I could feel my eyes grow wide and a grin slip across my lips. I pretended to zip my lips, lock them, and tuck the key down the front of Chuck’s shirt. “I won’t tell a soul,” I solemnly swore.

“Won’t tell a soul what?” Tristan asked, appearing behind me after his return from the bathroom.

“I can’t tell you. I shoved the key down Chuck’s shirt.”

“I’ll fish it out for you.” He grinned lopsidedly and pretended to reach for Chuck’s chest.

She moved back quickly, a hand covering her cleavage, and looked at us disapprovingly. “That won’t be necessary,” she promised. “I think the key is safest where it is.”

“Key? What key?” Leif asked.

“The key I put down Chuck’s shirt! It’s the key to my locked lips which hold a secret I’m not supposed to tell!”

Although I was a little out of control, I couldn’t make my mouth stop moving, and thankfully Chuck didn’t mind. At least, she didn’t blatantly appear to. Had I been a bit more sober, or rather a little less gone, I might have caught some subtle signs telling me to shut up, like the fact that Chuck wasn’t exactly smiling at the situation so much as grimacing as well as quickly moving away from us and back toward Jacob. He sneakily reached out and grabbed her hand for a second, squeezing it, before he slid his arm around her shoulders.

“They’re so cute!” I whispered loudly to Tristan.

“So are you,” he said. Tristan had a few more years of drinking experience in his belt and so it took a while longer for him to get as “tipsy” as I was. The same with everyone else actually, but despite this, Tristan kissed me. And those damn butterflies.. A surge of adrenaline kicked up, and I could feel myself sinking back to earth a little bit. And I felt better because I realized that although Randy would be about two-thousand miles away, she wasn’t dying. I would easily see her again, and Chuck and I had already promised to come visit during Spring Break. And I wouldn’t be left home alone. I would still have Chuck, who would no doubt be missing Jacob like no other, and I would still have Tristan who could kiss like the heavens were falling and you only had fourteen hours to save the world. Flash! Flash, I love you!