When It All Goes Wrong Again

Quit being a baby and just knock, I chastised to myself. A strange feeling of déjà vu swept over me: the shifting of weight, my arms full, nervously shuffling on the front porch… Except this time, I was alone and on Pete’s doorstep, holding the jacket he slipped over my shoulders when I started shivering the night before, trying to work up the courage to knock.

Yes, knock. Any other person would ring the bell, but with a knock there was a chance that I wouldn’t be heard and then I could leave, assuring my conscience that I at least tried. I couldn’t understand why I was being such a wimp about this. I have Pete’s hoodie; I’m returning Pete’s hoodie. It’s the kind of thing that any well-brought up person was taught as a child.

Besides, Pete was my friend, and friends can stop by unannounced. Friends return the things they’ve borrowed. You don’t get all panicky at the prospect of seeing your friend. And you definitely aren’t imagining just leaving the hoodie on the doormat with a note explaining how “you’ve been mauled by lemurs, catch you next time”.

“I’m worse then pathetic,” I groaned under my breath. Before my thoughts could get more convoluted, I threw my hand out, rapping it smartly against the smooth oak three times, then locked my legs, determined to wait at least a minute before I ran.

One…two…three…

There was nothing but silence from behind the heavy door. Maybe my theory was actually true and no one had heard me. Is this how thing’s are going to be now? I wondered, chewing on my bottom lip in nervousness.

Twenty-nine…thirty…thirty-one…

Am I really going to let whatever-the-hell happened last night change the fact that I actually liked these guys? Especially since nothing happened. Anyone could get caught up in the combination of darkness and lights that fell down like rain. And fireworks were dangerous…

Forty-seven…forty-eight…forty-nine…

I could make out faint barking and my trepidation increased. I slowly started backing away, feeling I needed more time to settle my mind.

Fifty-three…fifty-four…fifty-five…

The barking got louder, soon joined by a heavy thud against the back of the door. A familiar laugh reached my ears and I retreated faster. I can always do this tomorrow, or next week. The thoughts were feeble and hasty, definitely not a noble way to defend my actions.

But my feet failed me; they refused to step off the porch. The door opened with a soft whisper of air and I was met with the sight of Pete. His head was down as the cursed quietly, all is concentration focused on holding Hemingway back with his foot. When he looked up, the smile fell from his face.

“A.J.? What are you doing here?” In his shock he forgot about the dog and Hemingway slipped past him, eagerly rushing to me, jumping up to get closer.

I didn’t even feel Hem’s gentle weight against me as I tried to meet Pete’s eyes. It hurt that he couldn’t even look directly at me – it made me feel like I did something wrong. I held out the jacket like a peace offering, suddenly impatient to get this over with.

“I was just bringing this back,” I said lightly. “Didn’t want you to think I was one of those people.”

He reached out and took it, his hand brushing against mine in the process, and he jumped back as if I’d burned him. “Well, it’s not like I would’ve noticed,” he quickly covered. “I only have hundreds of them.”

I laughed weakly and took another step back. Hem whined and dropped on all fours, nudging me on my calf to get my attention. I bent down and scratched him behind his ears, murmuring softly as I did. A muffled yell came from the house and I narrowed my eyes in confusion.

Pete shifted his weight and ran his hand through his hair. “We’re playing video games,” he admitted a little guiltily. “Do you want… to come in? I mean, if you want to.”

I stood and wiped my damp palms on my pants, taking in his half-hearted invitation. “That’s okay. I don’t want to get in the way and I should probably start home before the traffic gets too bad.”

He finally met my gaze, a desperate expression passing over his face. “Please A.J., stay. For a little while?”

He held the door open wider and I stepped past him into the cool hallway. The pictures lining the walls were becoming familiar; I was still a little shocked to find that I was in several.

“We’re downstairs,” he said, walking deeper into the house. I followed, pausing as he picked Hem up to carry down. Hemingway could maneuver stairs, but he tended to get excited halfway down and usually ended up tumbling down the last few feet. Not that it bothered him – he’d get up, shake it off, and continue on his business – but it was just safer this way.

“Hey guys,” Pete called out as we reached the bottom, “guess who’s here.”

For a moment, I was met with the backs of two heads – one bushy, one dark. Joe turned, gave me a nod and a smile, and went right back to his game. Brendon, on the other hand, jumped up, threw his controller down, and ran straight at me.

“A.J.!” he cried as he picked me up and spun me in a lopsided circle.

The whole situation would have been funny – endearing even – if his face hadn’t been pressed right against my chest. He stopped spinning eventually but he still held that same position. My mind reeled dizzily from the sudden lack of movement and tried to rationalize the somewhat inappropriate, yet enthusiastic, greeting.

“I’ve missed you so much!” came the muffled cry from my breasts. Impossibly, Brendon hugged me tighter. “It’s been so long! We shouldn’t be separated for that long ever again!”

I came to my senses and smacked him on the back of his head. “Put me down doofus. I just saw you yesterday! It’s been, what, fifteen hours?”

“Seems like longer,” he said sheepishly after setting me down. I caught a glimpse of a satisfied smirk on his face before he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards Joe. “Come on! I have good news. So much to tell you!”

As he yanked me across the room I looked back over my shoulder, hoping to see that Pete was following. But he had disappeared, and in his place, Hem laid on his side, panting happily.

Before I could even begin to wonder where Pete went, Brendon had pushed me into one of the comfortable recliners and squeezed in beside me. His lips moved continuously and he never stopped to take a breath as I glanced around, eyes probing the dark corners, hoping for some sign of the tattooed reason I was here.

“A.J.!” Brendon huffed, snapping his fingers in front of my face. “Focus! I’m trying to tell you something.” His face formed one of the patented puppy dog expressions (complete with pouty lips) that must have been perfected by these boys.

“Sorry Bren,” I apologized, reaching over and ruffling his hair. “You know, you should probably cut back on ‘Sad Brendon’ face. I think I’m starting to get immune to it.”

“Pfft, that wasn’t ‘Sad Brendon’, it was ‘Displeased Brendon’. You have so much to learn. Now, are you gonna start listening?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied, mocking his prim schoolteacher’s voice. “You absolutely have my full attention. Tell me your news.”

He leaned forward, excited again. It always made me wonder about his sanity, how he could bounce from one emotion to the next, dropping and picking up feelings so seamlessly. Somehow, though, it didn’t feel like a façade. I really think he was one of those people who didn’t let things get to him. Happy-go-lucky, as my mom would say. Or, according to Andy, acute ADD. Either way, I couldn’t help but be a little jealous of that freedom.

“In a few weeks, we’re gonna have visitors.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. Can you guess who?”

I sighed and leaned back, resting my head on Joe’s shoulder. “Probably not Bren. You know a hell of a lot more people then I do.”

He chose to ignore my lack of enthusiasm and started bounding up and down, releasing enough excitement for the both of us. “Jon!” he cried, eyes sparkling. “Jon’s coming! He says it’s cause he misses us, but I know it’s really cause he wants to steal you away from me.” He let out an annoyed puff of air. “Like that could happen! But Aaron’s never seen L.A. and we’re gonna take him everywhere!”

My ears perked up at the unfamiliar name. “Who’s Aaron?”

“Jon’s cousin. He just graduated high school and this was Jon’s gift for him.” He quit bouncing and leaned back, resting his elbows on the armrest. “It’s gonna be so great. They were supposed to come this month, but we pushed it back so your sister would be here—“

“Wait, Bridgett?”

“Yeah. Pete thought it’d be nice for her to have someone here her age so that when she gets tired of us ‘old’ people, they can go off and do ‘young’ things.”

“Trust me,” I said with a sharp laugh, “that won’t be a problem. But you might have to use him so you guys can get a break.”

I zoned out as Brendon rambled on, talking about all the places we’d take them, and even hinting at a possible romance. Over my dead body, I fiercely speculated as Brendon’s words blurred in my brain. No way was I going to let my baby sister get involved with a complete stranger, no matter who he’s related to. What was Pete thinking?

The long-forgotten feeling of protectiveness lifted from around me as reality snapped back. Pete. I got up and boldly decided that if he wasn’t going to come to me, then I would go to him. I wasn’t going to sit back and let him slip away – wasn’t going to avoid confrontation – like I always tended to do in these situations. I need to fix this. I need to tell him exactly how I feel, that—

“A.J.?” Joe asked, looking up at me curiously. “You alright?”

I glanced around, belatedly realizing that the television was off and Joe and Brendon had been talking around me – apparently, for quite some time. They exchanged worried looks while they waited for my answer.

“Bathroom,” I muttered while walking away. Their conversation resumed so I must’ve been convincing enough to pass off my abnormalness for a full bladder. Or I’ve had way too many stare-off-into-space moments and they’ve adjusted.

Now, if I were Pete, where would I go? As it turned out, I didn’t have to answer my own question because when I rounded the corner, there he was. Standing, back facing me, in the makeshift kitchen that was used to store snacks and drinks for when someone felt too lazy to trek upstairs.

“Hey,” I said softly, almost afraid to disturb the stillness.

Pete jumped as he turned around, his face quickly forming a mask to keep me from reading it. “Oh, hey A.J. I was just on my way out.”

I took a few steps closer. “Have you been in here the whole time?”

“I was getting you a drink,” he fastidiously said, pointing at a glass of Kool-Aid. The ice cubes were half-melted and condensation made a puddle on the tile. He crossed his arms defensively – almost defiant, really – like he was expecting some jab about his obvious dawdling.

Of course I said nothing of it. How could I? The one who wanted to flee from his porch? The one who had to pep talk herself to just stop by? Saying anything would make me a hypocrite, and that’s definitely not something I’ve always wanted to think of myself as being.

Instead, I took a few steps closer, sucking in slow breaths to calm my nerves. “We need to talk.”

Pete’s hands came up and covered his face. “About last night,” he stated with a muffled groan.

I made it to the counter and leaned back. Within arms reach, but it felt farther. “Listen, I’m sorry you had to leave so early. And I’m sorry I froze up like that. But I wasn’t expecting fireworks. I know, I know, it’s crazy – it was the Fourth of July and all, how could I not expect them? – but I’ve been living my life so precisely, extracting the things that remin—“ I cut myself off as I realized that my rambling (an octave higher than usual) was headed into dangerous territory. Pete had dropped his hands and was giving me that sympathetic expression I had come to loathe.

I looked away and tried again. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry and that I don’t blame you.”

“You don’t blame me?”

“I know you didn’t mean anything by it. I know I’ve said it before, but fireworks are dangerous. It’s like they have some sort of power over people – holds them in awe like kids at a magic show, puts all sorts of goony ideas in their heads that they wouldn’t normally have – like the falling ash is fairy dust that makes people do things that they don’t mean.”

“…don’t mean?”

I faced him, fully realizing that my erratic speech sounded crazy and had gone on long enough. “Pete, can we just forget this ever happened? I mean, we were obviously not thinking, and as much as I’ve tried to fight it, you’re pretty important in my life. I don’t want to lose you.”

My voice fell silent and I waited, watching him closely, hoping I hadn’t scared him off.

He ran his hand through his hair, a flicker of some strangely familiar emotion filling his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you either,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on my shoulders. “And if you say nothing happened, well… then I guess nothing happened.”

Only my subconscious caught the slight flatness to his voice and another one of those flickers in his eyes; the conscious side of me grinned in delight as I threw my arms around him. Seconds later, he was returning the hug with as much enthusiasm as usual. I felt like a weight had been lifted – all was right with the world.

We pulled apart and I still couldn’t stop smiling. “I say we go back in there and help them plan my sister’s visit before they get out of hand.”

“You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute. I just want to… to clean this up,” he said, pointing to the now warm glass of Kool-Aid sitting in its own personal swimming pool.

I left – after getting a reassuring smile from Pete that he would soon follow – and rounded the corner, pausing when I heard a strange sound: the squeak of a disbelieving voice.

“I can’t believe you actually did it!” Joe cried, not bothering to moderate his voice.

“I told you I would,” replied Brendon rather smugly.

“It shouldn’t count – she smacked you. I mean, I figured she’d kill you, but still…”

“No way man!” Brendon argued. “I totally face-planted her – it so cancels out the smack.”

Joe nodded his head, giving in to Brendon’s logic. He bit his lip then asked in a hushed tone, “How was it?”

Brendon paused theatrically then let out a long, happy sigh. “It was wonderful.”

He went on, explaining the specifics of the wonderfulness while I just stood there, stunned. I knew Brendon wasn’t as carefree and innocent as he seemed! I’d always suspected that he played up on the goofiness to feed some ulterior motive – but I never thought it would be this. No more hugs for him, I fumed, feeling more angry and embarrassed with each second.

Joe chose that moment to look up and the amused grin dropped from his face. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” he muttered quickly while smacking Brendon’s arm.

Brendon ignored him at first, too into the detailed description of my chest, but finally looked up at Joe. “What the hell, man?” he asked in an annoyed tone. “That hurts! I was on a roll, and I haven’t even told you about how she smelled—“

He cut himself off when Joe started pointing rapidly in my direction. Brendon whipped his head around; his eyes grew huge and his face went white. “Oh shit.”

“That’s what I said!”

“You…are…so…dead,” I vowed through gritted teeth, putting emphasis on each word.

For one brief moment, everything stood still. It was like we were waiting for a catalyst to set everything off. And then…

“Hey guys,” Pete said as he walked in the room. He looked confused as he took in our frozen poses. “Why does it look like a Mexican stand-off in here?”

That’s all it took.

Joe pushed Brendon off the chair and screamed, “Run Bren! Run for your life!”

He was up and out the door like a shot, but I was right behind, peals of laughter (and Hemingway) chasing after us.