There is something going on that you do not fully understand.
“Sylvie!” I hear my name called from somewhere behind me. I know that voice as well as my own. It’s Cherise.
She and Nathan shove their way through the crowd toward me. I hear her saying, “Excuse me,” over and over again as they barrel forward.
Cherise wedges herself between me and Bill/Phil. She and Nathan are holding hands and I immediately notice that she’s holding as tightly to him as he is to her. They look like they are actually enjoying the whole handholding thing, sweaty palms and all.
“I thought you’d be out with Adam tonight,” Cherise says. “What are you doing here?” She’s screaming, three millimeters from my ear and still, I can barely hear her.
What am I doing here? That’s a loaded question. There is the short answer: Tyler invited me. And the long answer, which begins the day I lost the diamond out of my mother’s ring and ends here at the Holy Grail watching Silent Knight in concert.
The long answer is too confusing. The truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing here. I’ll shoot for the short answer and see what happens.
“Tyler invited me,” I say simply.
“He did?” Cherise asks. I nod, then in an attempt to get out of any further conversation, I turn to Nathan and say, “Hey.”
With his free hand, Nathan gives me a little hug. I smile. He’s a nice guy and he and Cherise seem good together.
In the pause between songs, Cherise tells me that this is Silent Knight’s first big gig. They hired a manager, who’s doing great things for the band. Once Tyler graduates and the guys can devote themselves full-time to their music, Cherise thinks that they might really have a chance at hitting the music scene huge.
Those butterflies I was feeling have converted to a groundswell of warmth. I’m filled with pride. My best friend’s brother. My friend Tyler Gregory rocks the house.
Silent Knight takes three encores. They play until they run out of their own original music and have to start playing radio covers.
After the concert, Tyler is swarmed by fans. We can’t get near him, so we hang off to the side waiting for the crowd to thin. Most of his admirers are girls, who are thrusting small slips of paper at him with their phone numbers written in lipstick. He pockets the numbers, but I see him look over at me a few times, and it almost seems like he’s gauging my reaction. What do I care if college girls are coming on to him? I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who’s taking me to prom next weekend.
Cherise grows quickly bored with waiting for her brother and tells him to catch up with us at the Corner Café. By the time we leave the club, it’s late. I’ve called my father to extend my curfew. He said that as long as I was in the neighborhood, which includes the café, I could have an extra hour.
I feel better now that I’m not lying to my father anymore. One lie is more than I can emotionally handle at a time. Now I really am out with Cherise. And Nathan. And once he breaks free from his adoring public, Tyler will be joining us, too.
No bus for me. Nathan has wheels. And as fate would have it, Nathan’s car is a hybrid. I run my fingers through my hair and wonder why Cherise and Nathan never got together before now. They are kindred souls.
Dotty shows us to a booth by the window and hands us each a menu. It’s past midnight now and the place is pretty much deserted. Clearly Cherise has been bringing Nathan here pretty often, as she asks us what we were up to tonight and Cherise tells her about Tyler’s big concert.
“That boy’s gonna be famous some day,” Dotty tells us. “Mark my words.”
Cherise agrees. “The band was great tonight.”
“How’s Jonathan Miller’s family doing?” Dotty asks Cherise. “I think about him nearly everyday.”
“Me, too,” Cherise says. A second ago, I though I was part of the conversation, or at least knew what was going on; now suddenly I’m out. I have no idea who Jonathan Miller is. And, by the look on his face, neither does Nathan.
Dotty pinches her lips together and says, “Tell Alex ‘hey’ for me, when you see him next.”
“Will do,” Cherise says, then we all order.
When Dotty retreats to the kitchen, I turn to Cherise. “Who’s Jonathan Miller? Or Alex?”
“You remember Jonathan, don’t you?” Cherise toys with the edge of her paper napkin, tearing off a sliver and rolling it between her fingers into a ball.
I’m about to swear I’ve never heard of him, but then I put it all together. Just to be sure, I ask, “Is Jonathan the same as J.J.?”
A shadow passes Cherise’s eyes and for a minute, I think maybe she’s going to tear up.
Nathan gives me a questioning look and I explain, “J.J. Miller was one of the original members of Silent Knight.” I know the story, even though I never actually met J.J. “He was the drummer. Jonathan was two years older than us.”
Cherise jumps in, reminding me that the band’s members were from Tyler’s junior high school soccer league. Jonathan was one of the oldest players on the team, Tyler, one of the youngest. She leans her head onto Nathan’s shoulder for support as she continues the story.
“Right out of high school, J.J. joined the army.” Cherise gets that moist-foggy look in her eyes again. “His unit was taken directly from basic training and dropped in the middle of Baghdad.”
“Go on,” Nathan gently prods.
“He was killed by a roadside bomb less than a month after he deployed.” Cherise says all that on one breath, as if the words themselves are so painful that they need to be said quickly and gotten over with as fast as possible.
It comes back to me in a flood of memory. At the time, I was visiting my mother’s cousin in Kentucky. It was the one week I’ve ever taken off from work. By the time I got back, J.J.’s death was old news, the funeral was over, and Cherise didn’t want to talk about it.
“Those Miller boys used to come in here all the time with their dad,” Dotty chimes in as she returns to our table carrying our drinks. “The parents were divorced. Mr. Miller would have the boys two weekends a month. They’d drop by for Sunday brunch. It was a tradition.” Dotty sets the waters on the table and puts her hands on her hips. “After Jonathan died, Mr. Miller stopped coming in. Now and again he’ll pop by, but I think there are too many memories in this place for him to handle.”
“Who’s Alex?” I ask after a respectable silent pause. For me, the story began and ended with Jonathan’s death.
“J.J.’s kid brother,” Cherise answers as Dotty goes to welcome new customers. “He took over the drummer position for the band.”
There’s a question niggling at the back of my mind. It’s been there since Tyler told me to “ask Cherise,” a couple weeks ago. I never did and now, it feels somehow connected.
“Why does Tyler wear only black?” I ask slowly, as if the question is as big and important as “What is the meaning of life?” In my head I can distinctly see the other members of Silent Knight dressed the same as Tyler.
“When Jonathan shipped out,” Cherise says tossing her little napkin ball and ripping off another strip from the tissue, “the band agreed that they would only wear black until Jonathan came home safely.” Cherise snuggles in tighter to Nathan. “None of them is willing to break the pact. Even after the funeral, the guys have kept on wearing black.”
Has it really only been two years that Tyler has been dressing in black? Funny how the memory can play tricks on a person. I’d swear it was forever. But now that I’m thinking about it, maybe it has only been the last few years. I am bringing up a picture of Tyler, sitting on his living room rug, reading a book, wearing khaki pants and a striped T-shirt. It must have been the beginning of our sophomore year because I’m certain that Cherise and I were on the couch reviewing notes for our first algebra exam of the semester.
Cherise pulls herself away from Nathan and leans forward. “Do you know how hard it is to find organic fabric dyes in black? The stuff has no holding power. One wash and his shirts fade to gray.” She smiles and the tension is broken.
“Does he have any plans to add color in the near future?” I ask.
“No,” Tyler answers. The conversation was so intense that nobody noticed he had arrived. I wonder how long he’d been standing by the booth, listening. He sits down next to me, saying, “I might go on dressed like Zorro for the remainder of my days.” He tells me that when the guys made the pact, they’d tacked on wearing the requisite black cloaks as a joke. They never expected that J.J. wasn’t coming home.
“J.J. would love knowing that he single-handedly ruined the individual fashions of his three best friends and brother, too.” Tyler shrugs. “I regret that pact every day since we made it. What I’d give to wear white underwear!”
I nearly laugh. I had wondered about Tyler’s underwear once before.
The conversation moves from Jonathan Miller and the war in Iraq to the band’s big news. Apparently their new manager got them another gig next Saturday night. Tyler will find out the details in a few days.
Cherise and Nathan immediately remind Tyler that next Saturday is prom night. He knew that, but since he’s not going, it doesn’t matter. “You’re a great sis,” he tells Cherise, “but you don’t have to be at every gig.”
“While you’re playing the clubs, I’ll come when I can, but mostly be with you in spirit,” she says. “But when you hit it big, you’d better save me a seat at the Grammys,” Cherise adds with a laugh. She glances at Nathan, then amends, “Two seats.”
I want to go to the Grammys, too. But it seems silly to throw that out there. I mean, not that Tyler might not make it to the Grammy Awards, but because Tyler and I don’t really have a relationship. It would be too weird for him to include me on his VIP list.
The café is closing. It’s time for us all to go home.
Cherise walks Nathan to his car. Tyler and I start walking toward our apartment building together. That usually comfortable silence between us feels heavy. There are things that need to be said, but how to begin?
“Thanks for inviting me tonight,” I say, letting Tyler know that I figured out he was the one who hired the mysterious delivery guy at Gavin Masterson’s party.
“You’re welcome,” Tyler says simply. With that, the conversation about the invitation is opened and closed.
Speaking of Gavin Masterson, Tyler and I are about three blocks from our apartment building when we run into him. Not literally, but pretty darn close. He pops out of a bar almost at the exact same time as we pass the doorway. And to my great surprise, Adam’s with him.
“Hi,” I say sheepishly, looking from Adam to the sign above the GLOBETROTTER BAR. I’m experiencing that horribly uncomfortable flushed feeling that you get when you’ve been caught in a lie. Wait a second! What’s Adam doing at a bar? And why’s he alone with Gavin?
“I thought you were going to the movies tonight?” I ask, after Adam has returned my “Hi” with an awkward one of his own.
“I did,” he tells me. He’d told me he was going with some guys from the swim team. Unfortunately, I didn’t ask who. “Afterward, Gavin and I went out for a drink.”
Gavin, who is leaning very heavily on Adam, bends toward me. He reeks of beer and his eyes can’t seem to focus on me. “I made us fake IDs,” he brags. “Worked like a charm.” His eyes finally meet mine, though just for an instant while he adds, “I’ll make you one too, if you want, Sylvie.”
“No thanks,” I tell him, stepping back out of the path of his breath.
Shifting his feet to gain better balance, Adam straightens Gavin up, glances at Tyler, then asks me, “I thought you were staying home tonight.”
“I—” I don’t know what to say. Even coming out of a bar, where he’s been drinking on a fake ID, Adam is still more honorable than I will ever be. At least he went to the movie first, just like he said he was going to. I—well—I knew I was going out when I told him I wasn’t. I completely lied to him.
“I—” I begin again only to be cut short by Gavin who has peeled himself off Adam and is now wobbling toward me.
“Sharing!” Gavin slurs as he grabs onto my shoulders for support. “Swim team is all about sharing, right Adam?”
“Sure, Gavin,” Adam agrees as he tries to pull Gavin off me. “Whatever you say,” Adam is placating Gavin while coaxing him to let me go.
“We share towels, goggles, and now,” Gavin grabs me more fully, hanging on with his arms practically circling my neck, “let’s share Sylvie.” It happens so fast, I don’t have time to duck. Gavin slams his lips against mine.
I’m not scared. Really. I’m just grossed out.
I don’t for one second think Gavin is going to rape me right here on the street or anything like that. I believe with all my heart that Gavin’s a bully, not a criminal. With one gross kiss, he’s letting Adam know that no matter how good a swimmer Adam might be or how popular Adam is around school, Gavin’s still the boss. And I’m an unfortunate pawn in his superiority game.
Disgust propels my struggle to break free, but Gavin’s an athlete and I’m a science geek, and a girl. He easily overpowers me. Then again, he’s drunk and I’m not, so I bring up my knee, slamming it into his crotch as hard as I can.
“Oof.” Gavin instinctively bends over to protect himself from further assault and in doing so, stumbles. Trying to regain his footing, he grabs me harder and the two of us tumble to the ground.
I hear Tyler shout. And Adam, too, but I can’t make out what they are saying.
The whole thing lasts no more than a few seconds, but a few seconds with Gavin slobbering on top of me seems like a lifetime. If we’re rating kisses, his don’t even approach human. I’m completely repulsed.
Next thing I know, Adam’s pulled Gavin away. And Tyler’s helping me up.
“Are you okay?” Tyler asks as I spit onto the sidewalk and then wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
I tell him I’m fine. “Do all drunk guys slobber like that? Or is it just Gavin?” I ask, trying to lighten the moment and assure Tyler that I’m okay at the same time.
He gives a small laugh, saying, “I can’t say as I’ve ever kissed a drunk guy before, so I really wouldn’t know.” And with a grin, he adds, “And I’m not planning to plant a big, juicy one on Gavin anytime soon.”
Tyler puts his arm around me protectively and gives me a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m so sorry, Sylvie,” Adam tells me as he props Gavin back up, leaning him heavily against his side. “Gavin talks about ‘sharing’ at all the swim team meetings; I had no idea you were part of what he meant.”
From the night at Gavin’s party, I knew exactly what Gavin had in mind. I just never expected Gavin to jump me on the street, or anywhere else for that matter. But I don’t tell Adam that. I simply accept his apology with a nod.
“He’s so drunk, he won’t remember this tomorrow.” Adam is clearly taken aback by his friend’s behavior. “I’m Gavin’s designated driver tonight. Even if he is acting like a jerk, I promised I’d make sure he got home safely.” Always the gentleman, that’s my Adam.
“I’ll call you in a little while.” Adam has an indescribable expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Sylvie,” he repeats. And with that, Adam starts to head off, dragging Gavin away from us.
“Hey Adam, you’re not the one who needs to apologize,” Tyler calls to Adam’s back.
Adam turns, repositioning Gavin, who’s teetering on the edge of consciousness.
“What?” Adam stares at Tyler with a surprised look on his face. “What’d you say?”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Tyler says firmly, pointing at Gavin. “But Gavin does.”
Recognizing his own name, Gavin straightens up on his own legs. Adam isn’t letting him go, but Gavin has returned to the land of the lucid. At least for a moment.
Gavin spurts out, “I’m not apologi—” But then, something stops him midspeech. He looks up and for the first time seems to notice Tyler’s presence.
Cherise tells me later it apparently wasn’t a phone call from Cherise’s father that stopped Gavin’s harassment in fourth grade. It was a “meeting” between Gavin and Tyler in the boy’s bathroom after school that did it. I didn’t notice that Gavin took a few “sick” days before the end of the term that year. I do, however, vaguely recall Tyler having a long scratch under his eye, but I’m pretty sure Cherise told me it was from flipping off his skateboard (Tyler was a skatehead in elementary school).
Whatever transpired between Tyler and Gavin that day, I’ll never know for sure. But by the time spring term began, Gavin had found new prey. He never bothered Cherise again.
And, I have to say, judging by the look that Tyler is currently giving Gavin, Gavin won’t be bugging me again either.
“Sorry, Sylvie,” Gavin mutters, diverting his eyes, staring down at his feet.
Tyler clears his throat.
Gavin raises his drunk eyes up to my sober ones and repeats, “Sorry.”
At that, Tyler smiles and says to Adam, “Now, you can take him home.”
Adam simply agrees, then says to me, “I’ll call you in a few.”
“Okay,” I reply. I’ll be glad for the conversation. Even with all that’s happened tonight, I still feel the need to explain why I wasn’t at home, like I said I would be. I suppose I’ll tell Adam the basic truth: I was invited to hear Tyler’s band play.
Tyler and I walk the rest of the way home together, in silence.
Imagine my surprise to find Madame Jakarta sitting on the front steps. She’s wearing a full black skirt, a lavender wrap sweater and, would you believe it, panty hose. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a barrette. It’s a bit like when I saw her that one time in the grocery store, wearing jeans. I feel thrown off by her appearance. I think I’m more comfortable when my psychic advisor wears a muumuu and turban.
Madame Jakarta stands as Tyler and I approach. She greets us each by name, then turns to me. She isn’t looking at Tyler at all. All her energy is focused in my direction.
“I see you’ve finally begun your quest,” Madame Jakarta says with a smile. Then, with a toss of her head and a swish of her skirt, she disappears around the building and vanishes into the shadows.
“Quest? What quest?” I call after her retreating figure. Then I remember that she mentioned a quest the day she did my palm reading.
I suppose I really have been paying attention all along.