Meeting the Unusual

By Mark Wolters

Stephen Cryer is a carefree young man who has just graduated from high school and is beginning to feel the freedom of living away from home. Like so many other young people, he is drawn to the partying lifestyle he and his friends are beginning to enjoy too much. Stephen has a girlfriend and a good relationship with his father, and he doesn’t seem to have any worries in his life. That is until he meets an unusual man who is known to everyone by the name of H.

Stephen tries hard to be successful in his classes at college but is constantly allowing himself to be distracted by the nightlife he thoroughly enjoys. During a break from college, Stephen goes home for Thanksgiving and finds out he has to face the demons that remained behind with his father and his brothers.

Upon his return from break, Stephen falls deeper and deeper into an unhealthy lifestyle of going out night after night. His life begins to unravel in ways he could not possibly have anticipated. All the while, H remains his close companion during Stephen’s descent into a madness of his own making.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781662416279

Book preview

Chapter 1

I

How wonderful to be drunk! Stephen Cryer, consummate youthful procrastinator, spent the last night in his hometown of Green Prairie with his old high school buddies in a bar where they drank until their bellies were bloated and their eyes became blurred. The next morning he would drive over ninety miles from his home to attend the university in St. Cloud.

Stephen! a man hollered in his ear. Whoo! I’m twisted beyond compare!

How is it this is so? Stephen asked, laughing.

It’s probably all this booze! the man yelled and stumbled away. For the life of him, Stephen couldn’t remember the guy’s name.

By this time Stephen could barely stand straight. With this feeling pouring strong and fast, he recalled the first time he’d ever tried beer and the exhilaration it gave him. First of all, it was wonderful, marvelous, and miraculous. Never had he felt this good. But the next morning he threw up all over his bed, at which time he made the decision to never drink that much again. He was eight years old.

At nineteen, he was just old enough to get into the bars in Minnesota, thanks to the grandfather clause that allowed him into the Blue Bull, one of the more popular establishments in town that attracted the younger crowd.

Lemme buy you a drink, the nameless face suggested.

And he stumbled to the bar and ordered something Stephen didn’t recognize but drank it down as soon as the man returned. Then it hit him. Feeling so drunk it bothered him, Stephen noticed the floor playing tricks on his legs. The last drink slapped him so hard his eyes blurred and he was unable to focus on anything, especially the clock. He had to be on the road by nine the next morning.

I can’t believe you don’t remember my name, the man who bought Stephen the killer drink said almost in tears. I’m Frank. Frank Anderson. I was in your English class.

And Frank laughed. Stephen never heard such cackling, but he now remembered who this person was and realized why he’d blocked the name from his memory. At some party, one of the few Stephen attended, this Frank got obnoxiously drunk, and Stephen, being just as drunk himself, took it upon himself to pound the guy until two of Frank’s teeth were missing. The fight broke up the whole party, and everyone hated Stephen for about one week. Stephen blamed Frank.

When sickness came like a vicious storm, Stephen raced to the bathroom, thanking God there was no one in it at the time, and he unloaded the last drink in the stained toilet. Feeling much better, he stumbled out of the restroom, seeking the door. While traversing the muddled crowd, Stephen nearly knocked over an unknown man with long blond hair. The man only glared at him for perhaps five seconds, but the shiver Stephen felt flood his spine gave him extra ambition to get the hell out of there.

He precariously drove to Julia’s house. Julia was seventeen and was his girlfriend for the last year or so—he could never remember the exact dates. Stephen drunkenly stepped out of the car after parking it crookedly on the paved driveway. After falling twice on the grass, he finally found her window and tapped on it.

Julia’s face appeared tired through the window like a pale ghost. When she saw it was Stephen, she half smiled and snarled. Stephen hoped he didn’t piss her off too much.

Stephen stumbled to the door and waited. Julia opened open it quietly with disdain on her face.

Hi, Stephen said meekly.

Come in here, honey, Julia said.

She wore baggy sweatpants and a ragged, low-cut gray tank top that revealed the sides of her breasts. Stephen took it upon himself to expose a breast and kiss a nipple before Julia had a chance to say anything more.

Julia softly slapped his face. What if Grandma came out here and saw you do that?

Your grandma’s half blind, so who cares, he said.

And he thrust his hands in her loose sweatpants and grabbed her ass tightly.

Stephen! Julia said and removed his cold hands. You need to park your car straighter than that or Mama will kill you when she gets home.

Mrs. Voss worked graveyard. Stephen stopped to think for a bit, then remembered that Julia’s mother and he didn’t get along, and if the old lady even suspected Stephen drove drunk, he wouldn’t be allowed to see her daughter, let alone stay over at the house.

When he attempted to make his way to the car, Julia stepped in front of him, knocking Stephen to the grass.

I’m sorry, Julia said quickly and moved the car.

Stephen laughed as he struggled to get up without falling down again. I really am drunk, he thought to himself.

Let’s go in, she said, grabbing Stephen’s arm and leading him off the grass to the door.

Good idea, I can’t stand up anymore, Stephen said, holding on to Julia and copping a feel as she led him into the house to her bedroom.

There Stephen sat on the bed while Julia unzipped his pants and helped take them off. She unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the other bedroom along with his pants to make sure they didn’t forget that Stephen had to be in the other room by the time Mama got home. As she did this, Stephen slipped out of his underwear and hurried under the covers, trying hard to stay awake. Julia came back in, took off her sweatpants, and jumped into bed with him.

Stephen! she said softly in his ear.

After that, Stephen removed Julia’s clothes and moved on top of her.

Your breath stinks, she said and moved both of them closer to her bed stand. She grabbed a piece of gum and stuffed it in his mouth.

The next morning, Stephen felt like hell. The desire to leave the house before Julia’s mother arrived became stronger than the desire to wake Julia and make love to her before he left. Without a word to Julia, he sneaked into the other room, put on his clothes, stepped quietly back into Julia’s room, kissed her goodbye, and left.

II

Stephen looked out the window to the ground eight floors below. The day was bright with the green leaves of late Minnesota summer blending with the rich aroma of freshly mowed grass. At eight thirty in the morning, Stephen left his dorm and made his way down the path to his first class of the day. Earlier that week, he met some interesting men who convinced him quite easily to go to the bars later that evening since there would be little or no homework to worry about, and the happy hour prices would still be going strong. Today was Thursday.

The thought of getting drunk the first week of college pleased Stephen.

III

Who’s buying the first round? a paunchy, obnoxious little man with short hair hollered.

I’ll buy, Stephen said meekly, grabbing his wallet.

This is going to be great! the rounded man said. Let’s get wasted!

The evening labored on, and several drinks later, Stephen felt the alcohol in full force. His buddies Joe, Brett, and the little obnoxious man nicknamed Fish because of the odd shape of his lips, tried to show they weren’t the small-town boys they were in a bigger city, but Stephen could tell they weren’t too convincing.

Old rock and roll tunes pounced on the customers as they bought everything from domestic and foreign beer, straight-up whiskey, gin and tonics, sex on the beach, scotch and water, kamikazes, whiskey Cokes, rum Cokes, vodka sevens, screw drivers, slow screws, tequila, various flavored brandies and vodkas, brandy sevens, a plethora of bizarre mixed drinks with funny names, and even a few martinis. A cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air like smog, and the constant chatter of drunk people penetrated even the sometimes screeching music.

Every kind of life imaginable mingled in the jungle. Exotic birdlike women posed sitting and dancing, dressed to kill in order to show off their best features for the snakes to devour. In corners sat deadly plants, glaring red-eyed, hoping to make it to the toilet before the sickness took hold. River life was abundant: piranha, tropical fish with fabulous colors, shy fish, tame fish, sharks. Chattering and howling sounds emitted from gorillas and lions and monkeys, filling the smokey air with a wondrous atmosphere of jungle noises. Mingling with the smell of cigarettes and booze was the sweat and pheromones of all the animals struggling to attract some kind of mate, whether permanent or temporary.

And survival of the fittest ruled.

All these stimuli caused Stephen to smile in his drunken state. His head rolled slightly to the side then to the front.

I would say I’m drunk, Stephen said to no one in particular.

By this time Joe, Brett, and Fish had found some birds to snake with, leaving Stephen alone. Fish attempted to get Stephen to join them. I’ve got a girlfriend, Stephen said. You guys go on.

Fish said, You know she’ll never find out.

Stephen nearly slapped him. So Stephen sat alone in the pub on his little throne, observing people getting annihilated, and his only reaction was laughter that sounded like a hollow log rolling down a small hill.

It is laughable, a quiet voice said.

Excuse me, Stephen said and squinted at the man with long blond hair sitting next to him.

This scene, he said. Laughable.

Yeah, Stephen slurred. It’s funny.

I said laughable, the man said carefully. Not funny.

Oh, Stephen said.

Then there was silence. Stephen hoped the man would go away.

Name’s H, he said. Everyone calls me H. I saw you sitting here, so I thought I’d cheer you up. What you see here is the decline of Western civilization as we know it and the destruction of perfectly good minds who don’t give a shit one way or the other what happens to or around them.

You’re a very strange person, Stephen said without thinking. These people are having fun. It’s their right to do that, isn’t it?

Yeah, it is, H commented. And I suppose you’re having a good time right now?

You bet! Stephen nearly roared. I’ve got such a buzz you wouldn’t believe it.

I believe it. What you been drinking? Wait. Let me guess.

H sat silent for a moment.

Beer.

Of course, that’s all I drink.

The look on Stephen’s face must have annoyed the man known as H. It was suddenly cool in the heat of the jungle, like the sun had gone down quickly.

Tell me tomorrow how much fun you have. I’m outta here.

The glare this blond guy sent him reminded Stephen of something or someone, but he couldn’t recall exactly what or whom.

What a strange person, Stephen said to himself as he slid off his stool onto the floor and stumbled in search of his buddies.

A commotion erupted in the jungle of motion, and bodies fell, beer spilled, and blood ran. Stephen realized in a horrible moment that Fish was getting a pounding most nails don’t experience.

A stream of fucks, shits, and goddams screamed at concert-level decibels spewed out of the chipped-tooth mouth of Fish, who was literally being carried by two gorilla-like bouncers. They dragged the cussing and kicking victim to the door and tossed him outside. Fish sailed through the opening and sprawled on the sidewalk next to some pretty women with an oomph. Stephen, Brett, and Joe followed, their brains burning with curiosity that such a thing could happen to their friend.

They picked him up off the sidewalk and stumbled to the street.

The four men agreed it was time to head back to campus and hopefully find a house party where they could continue drinking. Considering how drunk he knew he was, Stephen decided in his own sludge-thoughts it would be best for him to leave his partners and go to the dorm to sleep.

Bidding goodbye to his beer mates, Stephen finally found his dorm room after the long, meandering stumble home. His roommate John was gone, for which he was thankful. Then he crashed on the top bunk and fell into a dreamless sleep.

IV

The jungle was open again, and this time things were even more insane because it was Friday night. The wild animals involved themselves in a ritualistic form of worship, bowing low before the god of drink and dancing maniacally to the muse of rock and roll. The same things happened, the same liquor was poured, nothing changed. Even the man with the long hair, whom Stephen only vaguely recalled, sat with a dreadful look on his fair features, eyes cutting the crowd in a prayerlike trance.

The four men drank fast and heavily together for most of the evening until Fish decided to search out some woman. Joe and Brett considered this a fine idea and attempted to convince Stephen to join them. It wouldn’t hurt to hang out with a good-looking babe, they said. He was curiously insulted by their words but would not say anything.

I’ll just sit here and wait for you guys to come back, Stephen said, lifting his beer bottle as they saluted and stepped away from him.

For a moment Stephen was alone at the bar once again.

Hello, a man said to Stephen.

Hi, Stephen said noncommittally.

Drunk again, he said.

Feeling fine, Stephen said. This is great.

How was the morning? the man with long blond hair peered directly into Stephen’s eyes, unnerving him somewhat.

Excuse me?

Forget it, man. You were here last night and we met. Name’s H, remember?

No.

That’s cool, H said and looked around the bar, his gaze drinking in the jungle scene with the look of a man expecting death.

So you’re having fun now even though you won’t remember…

Spare the shit, okay? Stephen said. Don’t preach to me. What the hell are you doing here if you think this is a waste of time?

I don’t care if you get drunk. I get drunk once in a while. I’m here because I choose to be here. There’s really no place else to go, and it’s warm and people are here. Love to observe the subcultures growing in a place like this. Things are learned here that a person can never learn anywhere else, you understand. You’re a subculture yourself. Things are great right now, but don’t plan on it staying that way, because when the shit comes down, it comes down hard with no mercy and you won’t have a shovel nearby to dig yourself out.

Look, Stephen said. I came here to have a good time, not to debate whether or not I understand what the hell it is you’re saying. I work hard at school, and I deserve a break.

That’s cool, H said without condescending. Maybe I’ll see you on campus.

Maybe you won’t.

Later. H started up and stumbled in the midst of a slow-motion wave of people and sat in a corner by the deadly, ill-looking plants.

I’ve got to get out the hell of this place for a while, Stephen said out loud. What does he know anyway? He’s just some pathetic drunk who doesn’t know anything about fun. He drinks ’cause he’s hooked. Not me! I’m going to live as much as possible before I die. What the hell am I saying, some idiotic philosopher. Think I’ll call Julia up and say hello.

Stephen noticed a few people giving him strange looks when he realized he’d been talking out loud. Glancing at the clock, which read midnight, he stepped down from the stool and made his way out the door. He realized he’d forgotten about Joe, Brett and Fish, but to his pleasure they followed closely behind like a train on a crooked track.

The evening came to a halt, and the night was cold and biting as Stephen, Brett, Joe, and Fish moved in a strange new walk toward campus. Stephen smiled to himself and thought how wonderful it was to be drunk. This time Stephen wanted to find a house party to continue with the evening. Instead they all walked to Fish’s place, a tiny apartment that seemed so cluttered by horrible-looking furniture and paper that Stephen wondered how the obnoxious kid could live here. They all drank the remaining booze Fish had, a twelve-pack and a bottle of black-berry-flavored brandy. Stephen departed soon after downing a few shots of brandy because he was feeling incredulously drunk but also incredibly ill. He bid good evening to the fellows and started walking to his place on campus.

By the time he reached his dorm, it was well after two in the morning. As he fumbled for his keys, the feeling of wanting to pass out ungracefully on the floor hit him so hard he almost fell down.

A voice came through the door that Stephen failed to recognize.

Wait a minute, the voice said.

Stephen finally got the key in and fell through the doorway, and what he saw made him laugh uncontrollably.

His roommate was in bed, naked with a large-breasted woman.

What have we here? Stephen asked, getting a good look at the woman before the covers flew over their bodies.

Can’t you hear, you sonofabitch? his roommate said.

Please, John, the woman said. Let’s just go to my place.

Yeah, Stephen said. I’ll just go to the bathroom. I think I need to go there anyway.

The bathroom seemed a mile away to Stephen, and before he could get out of the dorm room, he threw up on the floor, unable to move. John got up, put on some underwear, and helped Stephen to the bathroom and left him there.

You disgust me, John said and left.

Stephen lay with his head against the toilet, wishing he were someone else.

V

Saturday afternoon shone through the window of Stephen’s dorm like a marine sergeant rousing his troops. A few cluttered thoughts pounded Stephen’s muddled head as he crawled out of bed and put on some sweats. He stepped out of his dorm room, entered the elevator, and while floating downstairs, kept a close watch on his stomach to make sure he didn’t vomit whatever was left from last night. Stephen checked the mail, but contrary to what he’d hoped on the way down, Julia had not sent him a letter.

Shit, he said. I’ll have to call her.

The trip back to his room caused his stomach to swim a rough sea. Once he finally arrived, Stephen picked up the phone, lay flat on the bed, and dialed.

Hello, a feminine voice said.

Julia? Stephen asked.

Stephen, she said. I didn’t expect you to call today.

I’ve got a hangover that’d choke a horse, he said. But how are you? I miss you.

Stephen, she said. Why? Why’d you get drunk?

Oh, come on, he said. It’s no big deal. Just went out with a couple friends to live it up a bit on Friday night.

There was a moment of silence.

How’s school? she finally asked.

Stephen droned on about his classes and his professors, but he found this part of the conversation stilted and forced. God, was he that boring?

Hey, I do have an interesting astronomy class, and I think the teacher is a stoner.

You can’t tell that, can you?

I’m not saying for sure, but he sure looks red-eyed when he comes in, and this class is at two.

God, this was getting sickening, Stephen thought, holding his stomach.

Have you met any girls down there?

Great. Tons, honey. Don’t you worry about that. I did meet some really cool guys though. There’s Brett, who’s a riot. Joe is pretty quiet but pretty cool, and then there’s this guy named Fish.

Fish? Julia asked. Is that his real name?

I don’t even know what his real name is, Stephen replied. I don’t even know why we hang out with him, because he’s so obnoxious. Then there’s my roommate John, but I know he hates me. I walked in on him and his girlfriend last night at very inopportune moment.

There was silence for a moment, and then Stephen heard Mrs. Voss’s voice screaming in the background.

I’ve got to go now, Julia said.

I love you, Stephen said.

Silence.

I love you, Julia, Stephen repeated.

Oh, I’m sorry, she said. I love you too.

The click sounded, and Stephen silently swore to himself. Should have asked when she’s gonna send a letter. Might as well wander the campus and see what’s out there. A good sit down by the river would do me good too, and besides, I’ve got to get the hell out of this room.

He didn’t even bother locking the door as he left.

The chill of early autumn fell on Minnesota like a cloud, but it didn’t bother Stephen because he loved this time of year, particularly when the leaves changed and nature revealed her beauty. The feeling of change and good things to come covered Stephen until he felt incredibly warm. The hangover was going away. What a beautiful day!

The walk to the river was cool, but the jacket he wore kept out any chill. Stephen peered over the bridge to the dam where a few geese floated around not really doing anything, just waiting for something to happen, perhaps challenging the dam only one hundred yards in front of them. Positive thoughts occupied his mind all the way across the majestic Tenth Street bridge to the little park that glowed with the beauty of thousands of flowers still clinging to life like a stubborn chunk of ice in spring left over from winter. Stephen observed older couples strolling on the dirt paths, runners with tiny headphones stuck in their ears, and young couples holding hands and stealing kisses when they thought no one was looking. Those little scenes brought a smile and thoughts of Julia to his mind, which was thankfully clearing from the alcohol haze of the previous evening.

When he arrived at the river, he sat on a rock positioned a few feet in the water. From this vantage point he watched mothers clean up picnic paraphernalia and give pieces of bread to grade school children who ripped off chunks and threw them at the ducks. The mallards scrambled to get to the food, causing the children to laugh gleefully and giggle even harder when an entire flock moved toward them, expecting a meal.

Stephen didn’t notice the man with long blond hair and intense eyes walking toward him with intent until the man stood right next to him.

Hello, came a soft voice that sounded like a funeral.

Stephen looked up and didn’t recognize the person.

It’s certainly a beautiful day, Stephen said.

I used to think the same thing.

Something about that statement brought a look of recognition to Stephen’s face.

I remember you, Stephen said with a little note of disgust in his voice, which he didn’t even try to hide. You’re the one at the bar. Mister Negative. What’s your name again? Something unusual. Q or something.

It’s H, just plain H, he said. How was your morning?

I didn’t get up till noon, Stephen said. I still have a bit of a headache.

You’ve got to learn not to drink so much, H said. It can be habit forming.

Get outta here! Stephen said. I don’t go out that often, and I’ve only been drunk a couple times in my life, so what’s the big deal?

No big deal, H said quietly.

Something in that voice told Stephen there was more to that statement, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was.

What do you do? Stephen asked.

I’m what some people call a survivor. Others call me a bum. It doesn’t bother me either way because I know who I am and what I want, and I’m willing to bet you can’t say the same thing.

Challenged, Stephen thought for a second.

I know what I want, he finally said. I want to graduate from college, marry my girl who still lives in my hometown, get a job, have kids, and enjoy life.

The man with long hair laughed. Stephen looked rejected, even a little hurt.

The breeze picked up, leaving the chill of autumn to settle in Stephen’s veins. The ducks moved downstream, and the children followed, still throwing the remainder of Mom’s crumbs. The ground felt cold.

Let’s go to my place and have a beer, H said. I live close, so it shouldn’t be a bother.

I suppose, Stephen reluctantly said.

The question was so unexpected Stephen had no time to think of an excuse not to go. He stood up and followed.

The house H lived in was a colossal affair, two stories, white with black trim, and a very meticulously shaped landscaped yard, which was neatly mowed. The trees were ancient and green and looked like they had arms reaching to the ground as if to grasp on to some unaware passerby and swallow him up. Inside there was plush carpeting and two fireplaces on either side of the house. The furniture was perfect, and the paintings that hung on the walls told Stephen that incredibly wealthy people owned this. Whose is it? he thought. It can’t be his.

The owners left me in charge while they tour Europe for a year or so, H said as if listening to Stephen’s thoughts. I can’t wait to see them again. They’re wonderful, caring people.

The tone H used suggested the opposite.

Stephen said, They must have the bucks!

They’re wealthy enough, and you’re probably wondering why they let me, a scoundrel in your opinion, look after their possessions.

The thought did occur, Stephen said cautiously.

I’ll tell you after we’ve had a few beers. What do you prefer?

What do you have?

Miller.

I’ll have a Miller.

H stepped down a short hallway, opened a refrigerator, pulled out two cans of Miller, walked back still staring at Stephen, making him sit down, tossed one to Stephen, sat down on an incredibly overstuffed chair next to the couch where Stephen sat, and stared at Stephen for a full minute. Just as Stephen was about to stand up and leave, H popped the top of his beer can and began talking.

Let me guess, H looked at Stephen with fiery eyes. You’re about nineteen, unsure of a major. You never really drank much until college, you have a girlfriend at home, but you’ve already mentioned all this, so no mystery there, and you think optimistically about the future, yet you don’t know if you can really trust that feeling.

Silence.

Am I far off?

Stephen began to feel a little uncomfortable and had difficulty opening the beer H handed to him. The night before still clung to him like manure on boots, causing him to think of excuses for leaving. It was spooky to have a stranger read that much into him.

You’re pretty close, but all it means is you’re a good observer, Stephen said, proud to have thought of that sentence.

Ah, I note a tiny bit of skepticism there, H said like a professor. The young man doesn’t trust me, and I guess I can’t blame him too much. Therefore, he doesn’t like me, yet he still has fears and maybe even a little intrigue that keeps him here even though he’s thinking of excuses for leaving. My friend, you are no prisoner here. You may leave whenever you wish. I won’t hold you back.

H took out a cigarette and lit it. He eyed Stephen carefully.

"So many times people are afraid to say what they really, and I mean really, mean, especially younger ones like you. Hell, people that reach that magical age of thirty would have told me to go fuck myself if I bothered them in the least bit. I don’t mind at all. It just shows what age can do for a person. I’m no youngster myself according to people your age, but I’m not old by any means. You can guess my age and you’d probably be correct, but I don’t pay attention to norms about aging. There are appropriate ways to act in any situation regardless of age, unless you’re running from the police, then it usually helps to be spry and not some sixty-year-old with a heart condition. By that time you’ve normally stopped running from the police. But I digress. You might be able to tell I haven’t talked to anyone with an intellect in a long time even though yours needs some developing."

Meaning you think I’m stupid, Stephen interrupted.

Ah, there is life in the man after all…

Cut the shit, okay? Stephen said without thinking because he had no idea what this man was like or how he would react.

You’re right, H said quietly. Perhaps I should cut the shit, as you so eloquently state. You really want to know what I think right now?

Not particularly, Stephen said, face growing red. It’ll probably be depressing anyway. You said yourself I’m an optimist even though it appears the pessimist always gets in the last word.

I agree, H said, half smiling.

What are you smiling about?

Drink your beer. I’m going to have another one.

What does that mean? Stephen called after H stood up to retrieve more beer.

Just what I said.

You bug the hell out of me sometimes. Why am I listening to you in the first place? I thought you were interesting at first, and now I don’t know.

Have a beer. Hurry up, finish that one, and start this one. We don’t have all day.

Stephen ferociously grabbed the new beer and slammed it down his throat, sat farther back in the easy chair, and then finished the first.

That was good, Stephen said, eyes watering a little. Cold.

He stared at H for a moment, not knowing why. What is he trying to accomplish? What’s his game? What the hell am I thinking? I just want another beer.

Another beer! Stephen said.

Finish that one, H said and pointed.

It’s finished, Stephen said, lifting the can off the arm of the chair. H brought another beer.

You will get drunk, H said. Good sir, you will blame it on me. Yes, sir. That you will do.

Thanks.

The two sat drinking beer after beer, barely saying a word to each other. Usually it was some insignificant bit of banter about music or a subject in school. It wasn’t long before the beer began to speak through Stephen.

When I start to get drunk, I get this buzzing around the back of my neck, Stephen said. And when I stand up… Stephen stood. Whoa! He fell into the chair. When I do that, I know I’m drunk.

Do you want another one? H asked.

No. I’ve had plenty.

You love this stuff, don’t you?

Give me a break, man. Look at you. You’re drunk right now.

True. But what I want to know is why we keep doing it when we know it sucks.

Because it’s legal and relatively cheap.

For some reason, I knew you’d say that.

Well, since you’re so goddam smart, you tell me what it is!

All right, here it is. You’re drinking because you can’t get enough of something you can’t even define, even though you’re sicker than a dog the next day. You’re just not handling your alcohol skills properly. I bet you’d drive wasted.

Forget this shit, Stephen said. I’m outta here and just don’t say anything.

I’ll see you later, okay, man? H said.

Yeah, Stephen said to himself as he left.

The walk he invented the other night became even more intricate as he moved toward campus, wondering why the hell he was drunk this early on Saturday.

The sonofabitch! Stephen yelled out loud. That rotten sonofabitch! I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it. He made me do everything. He controlled the entire situation. He’s the one who made me leave. I didn’t decide it was time, he did.

He let the anger melt down his brain on his way back to the dorm room. It was about six now and he was hungry. The beer was still with him when he finally reached the dormitory nearly in tears from whatever drunk thought was pushing his mind. Thoughts of Julia caused him to miss her greatly as he opened the door to his room.

He noticed a figure lying in his bunk.

Stephen? the person said.

Julia! Stephen exclaimed.

I just got here, Julia said. Are you drunk?

I had a couple beers, Stephen said and climbed into his bunk with Julia and shut the curtains. I’m extremely glad you came.

They removed their clothes in the dark and held each other very tightly.

VI

Julia left on Sunday afternoon, much to Stephen’s dismay. It would have been great if she could meet Brett, Joe, and even Fish so she knew he was getting along with some people in college. Since she seemed to be in such a hurry, he didn’t press the idea.

On Monday after class he met Brett at the Espresso Plus coffee shop located in the mall down town St. Cloud. It was originally a bar, and the owners of the coffee shop converted it into a pleasant, eclectic meeting place for artists, poets, and musicians. When he looked at his watch, he noticed it was about three in the afternoon.

Stephen did not wait long before Brett walked in the place. They both ordered a couple of lattes. This was the first time Stephen really noticed what Brett looked like. He was tall, about six feet two, very masculine build, obviously a farmer, very little hair on his face, with a short haircut that made his dark blond hair seem lighter than it was. They both sat down on a couch near the window that faced the street.

This is just incredible, he said. You sit on your ass. I sit on mine. What ever happened to exercise?

Time to get a little lazy, Stephen said.

Lazy! Brett exclaimed. "On the farm lazy is defined as only working a ten-hour day!"

You got that right, Stephen said.

You know I got that right, Brett said and sipped from his cup. Let me tell you this much. When I was in high school, I ran cross-country, wrestled, ran track, lifted weights, and worked on the farm. That’s why I’m so strong. It’s not bragging. There was no one who messed with me in school.

I was the same way, Stephen said. Though my favorite exercise is sex.

That and lifting the twelve ouncers to the mouth. Brett laughed.

What about your family? Stephen said.

"Fuck my family!" Brett said bitterly.

Surprise rolled on Stephen’s features. This was not what he expected, so he decided not to press the issue.

My dad is a lazy sonofabitch, and for what he did to Mom, he should be shot. Brett looked down at the floor and pulled out a cigarette, Vantage Ultra Lights.

Stephen didn’t want to hear any more about Brett’s family. As long as he’d lived, he’d never heard such bitterness coming from anyone toward their own flesh and blood. He hoped Brett turned the topic to something a little more pleasant.

What about Fish? Stephen asked after a long bout of silence.

Fish is a loser, but fun to party with, Brett said. And Joe is too quiet for his own good. Still a virgin I bet. There’s no doubt about Fish. I doubt he could pay a woman to fuck him.

That’s pretty harsh, Stephen said.

Bullshit, Brett said. Don’t be going saintly on me about that fat, obnoxious drunk.

Why do you hang out with him if you don’t like him? Stephen asked.

Then Stephen choked on his coffee. Sitting at a table only ten feet away was H, looking at him with terrible eyes.

Let’s get out of here, Stephen said suddenly.

To a bar! Brett exclaimed.

Let’s call up Joe and Fish.

Can we forget about—

Before he could finish, Fish walked through the doors, yelling out both their names and swearing.

Goin’ to the bars tonight? Fish asked.

We’re just on our way, Brett said.

I can’t really go, Stephen said. I’ve got an assignment for my English class, and if I get drunk, I’ll never be able to finish it.

Fuck that, Fish said. You’ll pass.

As they left the coffee shop, Stephen felt helpless, but he also noticed Fish glaring at the man known as H. He wondered what that meant.

Across the street the happy hour specials called to the three at an open bar. Again Stephen lamely protested this venture because of the unfinished assignment, but both Brett and Fish nixed the idea with a wave of their hands. Stephen decided to only have one beer, maybe two, and then head out,