Rapture Practice (30 page)

Our legs are intertwined, and everything is positioned just so. Our mouths are locked together, and I feel her hands trace down my back, then slide under the waistband of my jeans. Her hands are cool on my butt as she pulls me into her even more closely.

This is that moment my dad talks about. I get it now. This is where we’re supposed to back the truck up and park a long way from the brink.

But we don’t.

She grabs me by the hand and leads me downstairs to her bedroom instead. She has an enormous room with the biggest king-size water bed I have ever seen, and as we climb into it, I ask, “Is your dad going to come down here with a shotgun?”

Her giggle is raspy and warm. “Of course not. They don’t care. I mean, they
care
, but they know I’m not going to have sex.”

She pulls my clothes off, first my sweater, then my shirt. She loosens my belt, and I stand there at the edge of the bed.

Frozen.

“Aaron. It’s fine. They trust me.”

Slowly, I crawl onto the bed, onto her. She pulls me close again, arching her back and breathing deeply as I unbutton her blouse. The more time I take, the more she seems to want me to hurry, and I smile as I look into her eyes.

Huh. So
that’s
how this works. I’m going to take my time.

The water beneath the sheets lifts and falls in a lilting rhythm as we obey only the letter of the law. We slip off our underwear, and pull the truck right up to the edge of the cliff.

We don’t make love.

But we make waves.

As I step inside Bradley’s front door I can hear the party already in progress. There is music playing, and Mrs. Westman
meets me at the top of the stairs with a smile, a hug, and a shoebox:

“Keys, please, handsome man.”

I drop my car keys into her shoebox, and she winks. “You can have these back tomorrow morning. Jacob and Bradley are in the kitchen with Drake.”

Jacob is adding an empty can to a stack that is already several feet high on the kitchen counter.

“Hartzler!” he yells, almost sending the cans flying all over the kitchen, and races over to give me a sideways hug. “How was the date?”

I smirk, and shoot an eyebrow up. Jacob lets out a hoot.

“That’s trouble if I’ve ever seen it.” Drake is leaning against the island in the kitchen, stubbing out a cigarette.

“Aaron, don’t let these boys corrupt you.” Mrs. Westman is pouring a glass of red at the island. “Bradley, who are all those girls in the hot tub?”

“They are young women of the public-school variety,” Bradley says. “Paula, Pamela, and Tamara.”

“Where are all their cars? I don’t want anybody driving home intoxicated.”

“Already taken care of, Mom. Tamara’s sister is home from college. She’ll be coming to get them in a couple of hours.”

“In that case, enjoy yourselves, gentlemen.” She raises her glass. “I’ll be curling up with a book. Drake, I trust I’ll see you shortly?”

“If I know what’s good for me,” he says drily, pinching her on the butt. She laughs and heads up the stairs toward her
bedroom. He turns to me. “Wingman, I need to know two things before I follow her.”

“Yes, sir.” I salute.

“First: Where did you leave this Megan?”

“Tucked into her king-size water bed.”

There is a chorus of shouts and catcalls from Jacob and Bradley.

Drake nods his head. “Nice work. Second: What can I get you to drink? Bradley tells me you’ve recently expanded your beverage repertoire.”

“Check it out, buddy.” Jacob swings open the refrigerator door. It is packed with mixers and three cases of Budweiser. Someone has written a name on each with a black magic marker.

Bradley.

Jacob.

Aaron.

“Of course, there’s plenty of vodka if you’d rather.” Drake smiles. “Help yourself.”

I eye the tower of cans on the counter. “Looks like we’re drinking beer tonight.” I open the case with my name on it, pull out a can, and pop it open. There’s an excitement that courses through me as I raise my can to meet the other three that fly up in an impromptu “Cheers!”

We all take long drinks from our beers, and as the, tart, terrible taste runs over my tongue and down my throat, I feel something click in my head.

This is what it means to belong.

This is the closeness I know my dad must be trying for by sharing Bible verses, and singing in church, and talking about masturbation, and all of those other things he does with me. I know he means well, but it feels so embarrassing, so difficult.

There’s something effortless about talking with Bradley and Drake and Jacob. Our friendship isn’t based on sharing a faith or a big plan for eternity. It’s based on sharing a beer, and the big plan for tonight. With these guys, I’m good enough just as I am. I don’t feel self-conscious or strange. I don’t endure their presence, wishing like mad I could be somewhere else.

It feels good to be chosen.

Drake claps me on the back and heads to bed with a smile. “You boys don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

It’s an old line, but I hear it for the first time as the admonition of someone who wants me to make my own decisions and be responsible for my own life.

Jacob grabs a case of the beer as Bradley slides open the door to the deck, and the three of us head toward the public-school girls in the hot tub.

Paula is bright, but not sweet.

Pamela is pretty, but not bright.

Tamara is sweet, but not pretty.

By two
AM
the six of us have finished off the case of beer that Jacob hauled out to the hot tub. The beer and the warm water seem to have had an effect on my brain: namely, I don’t
remember being this funny before. Everyone is laughing at everything I say. I don’t remember ever feeling quite this witty.

Naturally, a game of truth or dare breaks out in the hot tub, and soon Pamela has taken off her bikini top, marking the second pair of breasts I have seen on this particular evening. Bradley and Jacob are eager for dares, but even with three beers in my system, I can still feel how chapped my lips are from kissing Megan for hours.

I decide to stick with the truth.

Eventually, both Jacob and Bradley have kissed all three girls, Pamela has licked Jacob’s left nipple, and Bradley has made a lap around the backyard sans swim trunks. After this brazen show of masculinity, Bradley decides that if he has to be naked in the hot tub, all of the guys should be naked in the hot tub. Jacob protests loudly, and I shock him by sliding off the trunks Bradley loaned me and tossing them at his head.

“Holy shit!” Bradley dissolves into laughter, forgets that he’s naked, and stands up to give me a high five. The whole jacuzzi gets an eyeful.

“Aaaaaugh, jeez!” Jacob covers his eyes, laughing. “Put that thing away!”

At that moment, Tamara’s sister shows up to drive the girls home. She is sweet, bright,
and
pretty. She is also easily convinced by Jacob to let him ride along in her car while she drops the girls off.

“I’ll be back later,” he says to us in a voice that’s meant to be a whisper. Bradley and I snort with laughter as they all pile into Tamara’s car and pull out of the driveway.

Then it’s only Bradley and me. Naked. In the hot tub.

It’s quiet, and the outside air is cold. I slide down so the water comes to my chin, and as I lay my head back against the edge of the tub, a jet blasts me full-on in the crotch.

I sit up. Quickly.

“Whoa—What’s up, man? Something bite you?” Bradley cracks open another beer, and hands it to me.

“Um, well…” I smile. “I sort of… found a jet.”

Bradley laughs. It’s dark, but the light from the kitchen bounces off the water and I can see that his eyes are glassy and bright.

I wonder how many beers he had before I got here?

“Hot-tub jets are the best, man! Have you ever held your dick up to one?”

“I think I sorta just did.”

He laughs. “See? Did it make you hard? Sometimes when you’re drunk you can’t resist a hot-tub jet, you know? I’ve been sitting next to this one for the last ten minutes.”

A mischievous grin spreads across his face, and Bradley thrusts his hips up letting his legs float out in front of him. His erection breaks the surface of the water. “Woo-hoo! “Hot-tub boners!” Bradley laughs like it’s the most hilarious thing ever, and I join him.

Maybe it’s the beer, or the thrill of being
part of
, or simply a crazy night—I’ll never know why—but I follow suit. Bradley hoots again when I flash him my hard-on.

“Woo-
hoo
!” Bradley is a little loud for two
AM
, but we can’t stop laughing. He raises his beer to me. “Hartzler,
you’re awesome. I don’t know how I would’ve survived this year without you.” Bradley’s words are starting to slide into each other. “So! Tell me what happened with Megan tonight. I want
details.
”

My face is flushed. My heart is pounding. My whole body is electric right now. What just happened feels somehow more intense than what happened with Megan earlier—and that was
intense
.

Maybe it’s the beer.

When Jacob finally comes back we all crash: Jacob on the couch in the family room, me on the bed next to Bradley. I wake up to a Spanish omelet and a steaming mug of coffee from a smiling Mrs. Westman. My car keys are next to my plate.

This is the way the rest of the summer goes: dates with Megan, late nights with Jacob and Bradley. I get a job at the mall selling suits and ties. At some point, we have one last party, and the next morning as I’m helping Bradley load up his car, I promise his parents I’ll still stop by to visit while he’s away. After everything is loaded up, Bradley pulls me in for a hug, kisses his mom good-bye, and gives his dad a high five. Then he drives away toward Iowa City.

As I watch his car disappear around the corner, I wonder how I’ll survive my senior year without him. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop replaying that scene from the hot tub in my head, or if the awful empty ache in my stomach will ever go away.

It hasn’t happened yet.

Years ago, Mom stitched two small embroidered needlework samplers. Both are framed, and hang in the corner of our living room. One reads:
THERE ARE TWO GIFTS WE GIVE OUR CHILDREN: ONE IS ROOTS, THE OTHER IS WINGS
. The second reads:
PLAN AHEAD. IT WASN’T RAINING WHEN NOAH BUILT THE ARK.

As the window of my brown Toyota Tercel breaks against the asphalt, the glass slices through the sleeve of my white shirt and cuts my elbow. The car tumbles end over end in slow motion, and the windshield crinkles like an accordion. Strangely, I’m not afraid. All I can think about are Mom’s needlework samplers.

Plan ahead. It wasn’t raining when Noah built the ark.
But it
was
raining when Josh and I left the school after our final Saturday rehearsal, and I should have planned to take that curve more slowly.

There are two gifts we give our children: One is roots. Tthe other is wings.
This car has wings right now. I hope we find our roots again, soon.

The car has made a complete revolution, and we land right-side-up, facing the opposite direction. For a moment, there is complete stillness. I feel dazed, but nothing seems to be broken.

“Aaron, I
told you to slow down
.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I ask. Josh isn’t bleeding anywhere I can see.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just feel like I have something in my eye.”

Josh and I both look at each other, strangely calm for just having survived my car rolling end over end. “That was close,” I say.

“Too close,” he agrees.

My knees are so weak from the adrenaline I can barely stand up when we get out of the car. The driver of the sedan we narrowly missed hitting looks as if he’s seen a ghost. A woman in the house at the corner calls the police and my mom. Josh keeps his eye closed until the paramedics show up. When they arrive, they clean out Josh’s eye and check the scrape on my elbow. Other than that, we are unscathed.

We stand and stare at the crumpled brown Toyota, and I am stunned. The driver’s seat where I was strapped in skews at a strange angle, and the roof of the car over my head is creased only a few inches from where my head must have been.