Never Always Sometimes. Adi Alsaid
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will be to start a dance-off.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love me for it,” she said, smirking.
o o o
The Kapoor house was near school, about a fifteen-minute walk away. It was a route they were deeply familiar with, having driven it, walked it, and ridden their bikes down it countless times. But the streets took on a strange feel that Friday night, like walking into your own house and finding the furniture rearranged. The trees looked funny somehow, leafier than usual, or taller, or ominous. Okay, they looked pretty normal, but it felt weird noticing them while on the way to the Kapoor house for a party. Even walking next to Julia joking around felt a little strange in this context.
When they arrived, Dave rang the doorbell, confused by the relative silence coming from inside the house. He’d expected the rhythmic thumping of what passed for pop music. He crinkled the tinfoil covering the tray of cupcakes as they waited for someone to answer. Julia leaned on his shoulder as she stepped into the high heels, the soles of her feet gray from the sidewalks. Once she was in them she grimaced at him. “Why,” she said, not a question, he knew, but a complaint.
One of the Kapoor triplets opened the door, the collar of his polo shirt popped up, the sight of which always caused a dull ache somewhere in Dave’s chest. Julia let out a short “Ha!” at the sight of the red plastic cup in his hand.
“Beer’s in the fridge, the sink, and the bathtub. We’ve got a game of beer pong going if you guys want next. Shots of tequila start once someone brings tequila.” He closed the door behind them and then peeked under the tinfoil of the cupcake tray. “You guys made cupcakes?”
“Um,” Dave said, eyeing the closed door with an increasing sense of regret.
“Cool,” the Kapoor said, letting the tinfoil drop back down. Then he walked past them through the empty living room and toward the kitchen.
“I think we’ve made a terrible mistake,” Dave whispered.
“Of course we have,” Julia said. “That was the point.” Then she started making her way across the shag carpet, gingerly stepping ahead as if tiptoeing through poisonous bushes. She held out her arms for balance, and Dave walked by her side so she’d have him to lean against.
“I’ll have you know that I’m about to start a dance-off.”
“Oh, shush. We’ve only had one interaction. And he wasn’t all that amusing.”
Dave stopped walking, nearly causing Julia to tip over. “Julia. A red plastic cup full of beer and a popped collar. On a polo shirt. The only thing that would have topped that introduction to the party was if he WOOHed at us.”
“Your standards are too low. This might be the only high school party I ever go to. I want to see plenty of it.”
“So you can look back fondly at the glory days?”
Julia poked him in the stomach, which he kind of took as the equivalent of when he grabbed her head and shook. “Goof.”
They stood there in the empty living room for a second, mostly just smiling at each other. Dave imagined that if anyone walked into the room at that point it might look like they loved each other in the same way.
“Come on,” Julia said. “The night is young. We have a lot of people to make fun of.”
In the kitchen, the two other Kapoor triplets stood at one end of a plastic lawn table. They were setting up red plastic cups into a triangle on the table, pouring little measures of beer into each one. They, too, wore polo shirts, though each a different color and with the collars blissfully kept down. Three other guys, vaguely recognizable from school, lingered by the table, arguing about who had called “next.” A girl was at the speaker system choosing songs. She was wearing sneakers, not high heels, but Dave decided not to point that out.
“Not exactly what I’d imagined,” Dave whispered to Julia.
“Pretty underwhelming,” Julia agreed.
They waved hello to the six people at the party, and after casually obliterating a couple of cupcakes, they each grabbed a beer and stood near the beer-pong table, listening to the Kapoors trash-talk the two guys who’d won the argument and taken next game. Every now and then Dave would help by picking up the Ping-Pong ball and handing it over, then wiping the dirt-flecked remnants of beer against his jeans.
“What about this did Brett feel we couldn’t handle?” Dave asked.
“The excitement, I’m sure.” Julia sipped from her beer can and looked around the room, disappointed. Good, Dave thought. Next week they’d be back to their movie night.
It wasn’t long before more people started showing up and the Top 40 hits started blasting. The beer-pong players kept getting louder, the trash talk unraveling into something a little more ridiculous but, Dave had to admit, a lot funnier (“My mom could have hit that shot while conceiving me!”). In came Grant Stephens, wearing of all things his letterman jacket. “I didn’t even know those existed in real life,” Julia said. The rest of the football team showed up, too, some of them hulking inside their striped polo shirts. Juan and Abby, the longtime basketball couple, arrived with their arms around each other. Dave had always thought that they pushed the limits of the school’s PDA policies, but in comparison to their performance that evening, they apparently held back quite a bit of affection on a day-to-day basis.
All the recognizable cliques came by, and so did those ungroupable stragglers who were known by their little circles of two or three, friendships that were fairly similar to Dave and Julia’s; people they knew the names of but not much more. Every one of them was pulled in the direction of the beer, then they regrouped into their little planets of social comfort, slowly orbiting around the room and briefly interacting with other planets before making it back to the beer and then hurtling away from it again, their voices louder and their arm gestures more erratic with every trip. Here they were, all these people gathering to drink in abundance and in a variety of ways, chugging beers, taking Jell-O shots from tiny cups like the kind they gave you in the nurse’s office, writing with Sharpies on Melvin Olnyck’s face as soon as he passed out on the couch, Alexandra and Louise from Dave’s economics class making out against the wall right by family photos of the innumerable Kapoor children, even though Dave had never guessed that they were friends, much less a couple.
“This is kind of weird, isn’t it?”
Julia nodded. “I can’t believe this has been happening the whole time we were in high school.”
“I was just thinking that,” Dave said. He finished off his beer and took a few steps to place it atop one of the many beer can pyramids that had started popping up around the house. “I’m gonna try to find the bathroom. Don’t get swallowed up by this madness.”
“Wait, Dave, before you go.”
“Yeah?”
God, she was beautiful. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of so many people inside the house. She stepped out of her high heels, suddenly the height he’d always known her to be. Relief visibly washed over her. She closed her eyes for a second, her toes curling and uncurling against the sticky kitchen floor. “That felt so good I might start wearing high heels just for the pleasure of removing them.” She sighed with a smile. “Okay, I just wanted you to witness that. You can go pee now.”
He smiled at her, then made his way through the groups of increasingly drunken classmates to find the bathroom.
DAVE FLUSHED AND washed his hands, drying them off on his jeans since the single hand towel was clearly soaked through. He glanced briefly at himself in the mirror, wondering what he would look like in a polo shirt and then shaking off the thought, or more like shuddering it away the way he did with