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

“What’s wrong with jerk?” Leo asked.

“Nothing but double r isn’t a word,” Jacob said.

“Not a dictionary word—” Leo began.

“Those are the only kinds of words,” Randy said.

“It’s not a dictionary word,” Leo repeated, “but it is a sound.”

“That would be ‘grr’ and you’re missing a g,” Toby pointed out.

“No, not ‘grr,’ just rr,” Leo said.

“What kind of sound is that even supposed to be?” Leif asked.

“It’s the sound you make when you’re jerkin’ it.”

“That’s too much fucking information, man,” Jacob complained.

“You have got problems,” Chuck said.

“I would’ve thought that was obvious,” Leo continued, ignoring everyone’s groans and complaints.

“You know what,” Dallon interrupted, “I’ll allow it.”

“Are you serious?” Brendon asked.

“Man, it’s… I mean, we’re playing dirty words but… Come on,” Spencer tried.

“Who objects?” Dallon asked. Everyone except Leo, Dallon and Ian raised their hands. “Overruled.” Dallon smacked his hand on the table like a gavel. “Count your points.”

“Thirty-five,” Ian said.

“Thirty-five points, bitches,” Leo taunted.

“Don’t worry. We’ll still beat all of you,” Spencer promised.

“Care to lay some money on that, Mr. Smith?” Dallon asked.

“Not a chance,” Spencer said as he laid down their tiles.

“Oh, a whopping twenty-four points. At that rate, it’s probably wise.” Dallon flashed him a mocking smile.

“Let’s see what you lay down then.”

“Hold on, hold on.” Dallon held up his hand then gestured to us. “It’s someone else’s turn first.”

“Any ideas?” Leif whispered to Toby and me.

I glanced at the board then our tiles then back at the board. “Moxy off titmouse.” I didn’t care about the game so much anymore; I was monumentally more concerned with Randy being such a home wrecker. It wasn’t right. It didn’t seem like her, and I was confused. Or was it? How much did I really know about Randy? And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, the alcohol wasn’t helping me think very clearly.

The pot was out of tiles and we were down to three; the game was almost over, but that didn’t matter. I watched Randy and Dallon as closely as I could without being suspicious. Their heads were bent close together, whispering and rearranging their tiles with huge grins on their faces. They seemed too close, their heads almost touching, their hair beginning to intertwine. I wanted to rip them apart and scream, “What the fuck are you doing?” but causing a scene wouldn’t be appropriate. It was entirely possible that absolutely nothing was going, and I didn’t have any concrete evidence so innocent until proven guilty, right?

So then why was I so convinced of their guilt?

“Oh, my god!” I said loudly and suddenly, looking around. Everyone stopped and looked at me, incredibly confused. “Where the fuck is Mikey?”

“Oh yeah!” Chuck agreed. “He was around earlier. Where’d he go?”

Randy gave me a weird look. “I keep forgetting you don’t know what’s going on. He went to meet the guy who runs a venue nearby and play our demo and set up a show. He should be back soon.”

“Oh. Cool,” I said, no longer concerned with Mikey’s whereabouts but relieved that my random outburst had made Randy and Dallon break apart.

More than once in my life my mother had told me that I had been born with a very mothering nature. Normally I would roll my eyes at this and try to pretend it didn’t make me feel like a weirdo, but this time – and it’s very possible that it was just the alcohol – I embraced it. I felt proud of it because I was going to use it to my advantage by keeping a hawk’s eye on Randy and Dallon and interfering any time I felt they were getting too cozy. I loved my best friend; I wasn’t about to let her do something so disastrous as becoming the mistress of a married man.

I was knocked out of my rather heroic reverie by the most god-awful sound: Randy genuinely giggling. I think, had she not been drinking so much herself, she might have noticed, but she was pretty content with herself for the moment.

“We’re out of tiles!” Toby shouted, throwing his hands in the air while Leif laid down the word cow, thus ending the game.

“Before we count our points,” Leif interjected, “might I suggest a prize of sorts?” Everyone nodded their nodded. “Shots! Based on placement. For example, those in first take one, those in second take two, etcetera.”

“That sounds more like a punishment!” Leo whined.

“No pain, no gain!” Dallon said. “Now then, count your points!”

The scores weren’t too surprising, to be honest. Though our team was the only one to have zero remaining tiles, we hadn’t won. Randy and Dallon came in first, us in second, then Ian and Leo followed by Spencer and Brendon, and last were Chuck and Jacob. God, we should have thought up names or something.

“Well,” said Leif, eyeing me and Toby as he rubbed his hands together, “are you ready?”

“So wait,” I said, “we have to take two shots?”

“Because we came in second,” Toby said.

“So we have to take three?” Leo whined again. “I’m already pissin’ in the wind!”

I looked at Leo a little bewildered. “That is not how that goes.”

Toby laid a hand on my arm. “Just let it go.”

“But he’s saying the wrong thing,” I said. “I’m not correcting him for the sake of the saying, I’m correcting him for the sake of himself.”

“I promise you no one noticed the difference.”

“Better drink up,” Leif said, handing Toby and me each a shot glass of the clear liquid; I sniffed it tentatively. “Vodka!”

I’d never had vodka before – my alcoholic experiences being very limited and mostly confined to wine coolers and bitter, dark beers – and my mind and body were still trying to adjust to the rum. I wasn’t sure how much I could drink without making a fool of myself, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to test it surround by so many people.

"Bottoms up!" Dallon said, clinking glasses with Randy before downing it in one. I watched him closely, waiting for him to explode or something, but after a terrible grimace he just smiled. I looked around at everyone else, and they were all the same: a horrible face then a drunken grin.

"I think you've had enough of that," Randy said, leaning across Dallon to keep Leo from taking his first shot.

"But I'm fiiiine!" he screeched, pulling the glass out of Randy's immediate reach.

Jacob winced. "Your voice is high as fuck right now. You are not fine." Jacob grabbed for the glass too. Leo leaned away from him and unknowingly back toward Randy who swiped it from his hand and drank it before he knew what had happened.

"Hey--no fair! That one was mine!"

"It's not going to disappear on its own, you know," Leif said. He smiled then motioned for me to tip the cup up.

I eyed it apprehensively then squeezed my eyes shut and knocked it back. It felt like I had just swallowed a mouthful of pure gasoline. The smell, the taste, the fumes -- it was all very overwhelming. It took me a moment to get my bearings back.

"Holy shit," I said hoarsely.

"Puts hair on your chest!" Brendon proclaimed proudly.

I glared, shaking my head, and tried to point out that, as a woman, I didn't really want hair on my chest, but when I opened my mouth I choked on some residual vodka fumes and my chance was lost.

"Salute!" Randy shouted, toasting Dallon.

I opened my mouth to argue that they were only allowed one shot as per Leif's rules but the very same pushed another glass into my hand.

"But I want one too!" Leo pouted, slamming his fist onto his knee and looking ever the temperamental toddler.

"You need water," Randy said. She tossed him a half empty bottle. "Start drinking."

"L'chaim!" Dallon agreed. They both drank another one.

"Drink up!" Leif encouraged me.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" I wasn't too happy with the thought. He just wiggled his eyebrows, clinked our glasses, and drank.

"Sanitas bona!" Randy said.

I swallowed and was unhappy to discover that vodka was not any better the second time around. It took me longer to recover. When I opened my eyes, my vision was blurred by tears, and I felt very dizzy.

"Na zdorovje!" Brendon chimed, glass in the air and smile upon his face. Both dropped, however, at a look from Dallon.

"Excuse me," he said, "but this is between us." He motioned between himself and Randy. Then, "Na zdorovje!"

"Another!" Randy shouted, throwing her glass to the ground. It landed in her lap, and she smiled at her fortune of not having to chase it across the room.

Leif handed me another one.

"No, thank you."

"Just one more," he wheedled. "It takes practice."

I sighed and pinched my eyes shut. I knocked it back, fully prepared for the burn, which somehow eased it; the third time was the charm. It was by no means a simpler process but somehow being prepared helped me enjoy the effects of the alcohol this time. Though it added immensely to my lightheadedness, I felt very happy and free. It was like the weight of my life had been lifted from my shoulders and I was in this bubble of eternal happiness where I could do almost anything, even fly! Okay, well, maybe not fly. Not in the literal sense of the word anyway, more metaphorical, but I certainly felt very carefree.

“Sup, mah bitches!” Mikey shouted, bursting through the door. “And I am very late because you all are very drunk.”

“I pissed in the wind!” Leo shouted gleefully, pulling the water bottle away too quickly and spilling it down the front of his shirt.

Mikey eyed him up and down, eyebrows raised. “Yes, you did,” he agreed.

“Salud!” Dallon toasted.

“We already used that one,” Randy said.

“Did we?” She nodded. “Are you sure?” She nodded again. “Huh. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” she agreed, and they both came up smiling like loons.

“Mikey!” I shouted from the floor, holding my arms out to him. “I forgot all about you! But then Randy reminded me! And you existed again. I was so worried!” I finished in a stage whisper.

“I’ll bet you were,” he chuckled, no doubt completely amused by the spectacle that was me and Leo.

“Bet?” Dallon’s ears perked up. “Did someone say bet? Care to lay money on that, sir?”

“Not tonight, man,” Mikey said, grabbing the glass out of Leo’s hand. “I’ll take that. Thanks.”

“But I was so close!” Leo shouted. “Fuck!”

“Close but no cigar,” I said.

“What does that even mean?” he screamed.

“Oi! Children!” Randy shouted. Leo and I looked her, startled. “Calm the fuck down and start drinking water, both of you.”

“But I’m not—” Leo started.

“You heard her, young man,” Dallon interrupted, giving him a stern look.

Leo’s face dropped and he brought the bottle to his lips, holding it with both hands like a baby. I giggled. He set it back in his lap, looking at me a little scared. “It’s empty,” he whispered. I giggled again. Leo was adorably funny when drunk.

“There’s more in the kitchen,” Spencer said.

“Go.” Randy pointed toward it. “Now. Both of you.”

“Yes, mommy!” Leo whimpered.

We both got up and walked quick as we could to the kitchen. Leo immediately grabbed a new bottle of water and went back into the other room.

I don’t know if it was being yelled at – it probably was – or being back in the kitchen where I was previously sad but my happy buzz was completely gone. I stood staring at the counter, eyes switching between the water and the beer, butterflies jumbling through my tummy at the fear of being caught should I choose the latter.

“I am a grown ass woman,” I said to myself, and in a moment of daring, I opened a bottle of beer and took a big gulp. I paused for breath then chugged the rest of it. I instantly regretted it. It was a light beer that tasted like piss which upset my stomach, coupled with the butterflies, and made me have to pee really badly.

I closed my eyes and tried not to groan; I had no idea where the fucking bathroom was, and I couldn’t go in the other room and ask because Randy would know I hadn’t just drunk a bunch of water. I opened my eyes and found myself looking down a hall off the kitchen. I took an adventurous step forward, and as I kept walking, I discovered the bathroom was the second door on the right – the first being a rather tiny, empty closet.

Being not quite myself, I found I was doing things not quite myself and began to snoop around Spencer’s bathroom. After I’d finished my business and washed my hands, of course.

His bathroom was only tidy because it was practically empty. I could only guess that he was so used to living out of a suitcase by now that he kept his things habitually packed. There was only a razor and a toothbrush on the counter. The walls were white with a solitary, generic picture of a lighthouse. His curtain was blue and white striped with a solid blue towel in front of the tub to match his lighthouse theme. His shower was quite a comfy size though. I had been standing in it, just checking out the surrounds, when someone knocked on the door.

“Just a minute!” I called, trying to quietly climb out of the tub, but I tripped and almost pulled down the shower curtain. “Shit,” I whispered, giggling and trying to put it right. I opened the door looking back at the curtain to make sure it was straight and ended up bumping into the person on the other side.

“What are you doing?” Brendon asked.

“I’m not doing anything,” I said defensively. “Why, what does it look like?”

“It doesn’t look like anything. You’re just acting weird.”

“Well, I’m drunk!” I said. “What do you expect?”

“All right. Calm down.” Brendon held up his hands, and I smacked them away.

“I am calm!”

He furrowed his brow, partly bewildered but mostly angry, probably because I hit him. “No, you’re not. You’re shouting at me.” His voice began to rise as well.

Suddenly it hit me to whom I was yelling at and a fresh wave of anger and frustration – and ridiculousness – washed over me.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” I asked, now intentionally shouting at him.

“Get what?”

“You never give anyone else the chance to explain!” I continued.

“Explain what?” He a paused a beat then, “You can’t still be mad about that night. I apologized!”

“That’s no longer the issue! The issue is you being a rude asshole who thinks humanity should follow your logic alone, but that’s not how the world works!”

“What the fuck are talking about?” he begged.

“Scrabble,” I growled.

He stopped and stared blankly at me, blinking. “What?” he asked weakly.

“You played a proper noun and that is against the rules!”

“We weren’t playing by the rules! It’s Dirty Scrabble, there are no rules!”

“Yes, there are, and you broke them!”

“You beat me so why does it matter?”

“It’s the principle of the thing!”

“You’re fucking crazy,” he said, dropping his shoulders as all the fight went out of him. He turned and started walking away.

“I am not crazy!” I shouted after him. “And I thought you had to pee!” I followed him out into the living room, getting there in time to hear him tell Spencer that he was going home. I’m quite sure I charged in looking like a madwoman because all eyes were on me as he left.

Spencer, though we had been getting along earlier, was looking at me highly disappointed. “I think Josey’s had enough for tonight.”

I slowly looked over to Randy, and she looked pissed. I swallowed heavily and didn’t feel quite so lightheaded anymore.

“Man, I just fucking got here!” Mikey complained, completely unaffected by awkward silences. "Anybody need a ride?"

“Yes,” Randy said, still glowering at me. Without another word, she stood up, and Dallon and Mikey followed her out.

They were gone by the time the rest of us had gotten Leo into the van.

“What’s up with Randy and Dallon?” I asked after we rode in silence for a while.

“What do you mean?” Toby asked.

“They’re just friends,” Leif said firmly.

“Are you sure about that?” I asked. “They were really chummy, and I’ve never seen Randy giggle before. Ever.”

“Dallon’s married, Josey,” Toby said evenly. “And I think you’ve caused enough trouble for a while so just let it go.”

I sat in shameful silence for the rest of the way.