Short Story / The Morning Routine

The Morning Routine
By
John McIntyre

I awake from a daydream. Not a conscious daydream, but the kind that thrives in your subconscious mind when you are bored; or at work; or watching commercials; or, in my case, at school. To be honest I would feel completely embarrassed if anyone knew what I was daydreaming about. I am staring at a girl and my eyes are anywhere but on her face.
“Talk to her.” Three simple words that I have heard far too many times over a period that seemed to have devoured my entire life. Every day consumed by a blonde wielding thick rimmed black glasses and a folder with the words “Sex can wait masturbate” etched into the soft plastic film holding together its pages.
“You have to talk to her. How long has it been now?” I come to my senses and quickly bring my head back down to my lunch, fearing that I look like a stalker. James is looking into my eyes in a way that tells me that there was no getting out of this conversation. I envied how strong and innocent his eyes were, but despised how he read people like an open book with his telescope eyes.
I look away. “It’s been three long years.” I sigh with obvious annoyance.
“Look at her man, she’s sitting alone no more than fifteen feet from us.” Pausing for a moment, collection strength, I lift my eyes to see her looking in my general direction. My eyes shoot back down to the floor. Her friend Angie walks up from behind us looking for April. April, the cause to all of my life’s problems. The reason for the dark circles under my eyes due to sleep deprivation. The reason why I’m almost always late to first period biology, if I dare to go at all. I cringe at the thought of a sleepless shameful night and a morning filled with unnecessary stress. Stress that I feel is more than necessary, stress that I know is hopeless and pathetic.
“The chance has come and gone.” I hear myself say a little more desperate than I had planned on.
“I don’t get it. You have spent three years obsessing over a girl that you have hardly talked to and more than that you run at every chance you get to have any kind of social interaction with.” His mouth quirks “At this rate you’ll never get more than one of those wet dreams,” the pitch of his voice raises five decibels “that end all too abruptly when she finally touches---” I punch him in the shoulder before he can finish.
My skin turns red with embarrassment “Don’t make fun of me man, she probably heard you.” I hear snickering from a group of future scientists and astronauts sitting between us and the object of my affection. I am filled with fury. I shake my head to get my long blonde hair out of my boring dull brown eyes. I glare at them until the snickering subsides; their eyes trail off back toward one another. James is wearing a wide smirk “You’re an ass hole.”
“Sorry, but you have to do something, man, you’re no fun anymore.” I nod and take a bite out of my two dollar cardboard pizza and chase it with cold refreshing mountain dew. “There is a party tonight. You have to come.” I steal a peek at April; suddenly I’m star struck and unresponsive. Her smooth skin is made imperfect only by the watch on her wrist and her preppy assortment of clothing. Her blue eyes match mine for a split second and I’m terrified. James breaks my coma “Yes, I’m sure she’ll be there. She always is. Maybe you could drunken her up like Scott Peters did at Chubs party last Friday.” My nose flares. I hate Scott Peters. That son of a bitch.
“That rumor better not be true. I’ll fucking kill him,” I take a second to imagine my fist connecting with him cheek bone. “What about your woman?” My apatite suddenly leaves. I look at my pizza and frown.
“Not sure. I can only hope,” James smiles. No teeth, just a blindly happy and intoxicated smile. James was as much of a romantic as I; although he would never dare to admit to it. He truly believed that one day this upper classmate, Emily, would fall head over heels for him. Emily did her best to make it clear to him that this would sadly never be the case, but James was never convinced. “One of these days she will come to her senses and stop fighting with me. This would have happened a long time ago if I hadn’t barfed Spaghetti O’s all over her in the fourth grade.” I crack up. “I stopped eating them for breakfast after that though, which I’m sure was a good thing.” How unfortunate it was for poor Emily on that fateful day when a chubby clammy kid barfed half digested spaghetti circles all over her best outfit on the first day of fifth grade. “Why couldn’t I eat lucky charms for breakfast like every other scrawny little kid?”
The bell rings. It is time to got to fifth period and, if I was lucky, sneak a nap in before sixth period geometry. “So, I’ll call you after school. Don’t puss out on me Nick!” James says as he throws on his fifty pound shell of a backpack. I reassure him that I will not puss out and head to class. The quad empties in less than five minutes leaving the unsuccessful, failure at life, janitors to clean up a five hundred teenager mess littering the cafeteria and grounds that surround it. Poor bastards.

James picks me up at my house at eight. The idea is to show up after the jocks have started drinking, but before anyone found their way to the five bedrooms and started drunkenly rubbing up on each other to the constant bass beat of awful party music. If we showed up too early then girls would find us boring, being sober, and label us as such for the rest of the night. We needed to appear much, much cooler than we actually were. The party was at this baseball player’s house that we went to middle school with. Chris was an ass, but we were almost always nice to him because his parents traveled a lot and probably didn’t love him. An empty house on a Friday night was more than reason enough to casually be nice to a kid when you’re sixteen, even if he was an ass.
All I could think of was her. April. I hoped I could stomach enough to impress her. April parties. She drinks and she holds her alcohol and she never makes it into one of those rooms with beds of sub woofers. She flirts with boys and fights with girls and passes out wherever convenient. I almost never go to parties. James’s crush on Emily forced him to befriend upperclassmen to get close to Emily. Silly James, I would have just studied her body from a distance.
The drive is slow. My nerves are shot. I grab a pack of Marlboro Reds from the glove box and enjoy the relief of anxiety as the pick up truck gains momentum and rumbles through the desert toward Chris’s country club resort of a house.
“You ready to get wasted!” James shouts excitedly. His eyes showing ten times the amount of excitement of his face.
“Hell yeah” I yell over the roar of the trucks engine and the blast of whatever one hit wonder classic rock song is playing out of his blown out speakers. “Let’s do this.” The nicotine starts to affect my head so I lay it against the seat and blow smoke out the window. My mind trails off back to April. I hope she’s there.
When we finally get to the party cars are lined up outside for two blocks. I light another cigarette, take a deep breath, and start toward the house. The music has already started. I curse the jocks and their awful sense of party music. I block it out and follow James to the keg. We grab plastic cups, I fill mine up first. Coors Lite hits my lips; my taste buds tell my brain to drink better beer. I pass my cup to James, he takes it without hesitation, that infamous smirk lines his lips. I find a bottle of cheap rum. I pour myself a double shot and chase it with coke. My first goal is achieved: intoxication. The alcohol starts to slur my thoughts. Now it is time for my second goal: April.
James is already reading the crowd. “I don’t see her. Maybe she’s out back.” He motions toward the back yard. I follow him and reach for the pack of smokes in my pocket. I am suddenly filled with an undeniable urge to have a good time. Damn music is getting to me. I no longer feel somber. The alcohol is flowing through my veins and I feel great. When we get outside my head is immediately turned to the sky. All the stars seam to be out tonight; the moon eclipsed behind the earth. The sky is black, yet shining with starlight. Momentarily I am enamored.
When I finally look down the first thing I see is her face. She is standing in a circle with friends. I do not know who they are. I might know them, I don’t care. She sees me. She smiles. I walk to her all the while looking into her florescent blue eyes. “Hi” I say. “What’s up?” For once I am confident, and I am amazed. Alcohol is eating at my mind and I don’t care.
“Not much,” she smiles. “I haven’t seen you at a party in a while.” I had seen her once. I hid in corners the whole night and left early shit faced. I swore to myself I would never drink and drive again. Then I swore never to, again, three months later. I let my mind go wild with the thought of her noticing my presence.
“Yeah I took a little break.”
“You were pretty fucked up the last time I saw you here” she smiles. “I think I’d need a break after that too,” her lips crack to one side “Maybe not.” She brings her hand to her face as if she is going to tell me secret “I’m kind of an alcoholic.”
I blush with embarrassment “I guess that is a perk of not drinking much, it doesn’t take much to fuck me up.” She giggles. I can’t believe I made her giggle. She pulls out a pack of Camel Menthols from her purse.
“Hi April,” James walks up from behind me.
“Hi James, Emily is on her way.”
“Maybe I wanted to talk to you.’ James raises an eyebrow. We both read his face for expression. “Ok, thanks April. See you later. Be safe,” James says as he turns back toward the house. April and I laugh at him. He frowns and goes inside to wait by the door for Emily. The image reminds me of a dog waiting for its owner. I laugh some more.
“You wanna take some shots Nick,” she says. I know I can’t deny drinking alcohol with her. This is what I came for.
“Of course” I say. She leads the way, weaving between random drunken high teens, some of which I recognize. I see a nerd from my English class waving his shirt in the air and yelling. I laugh and suddenly don’t feel very drunk.
We get to the kitchen. April lines up four shot glasses and we knock them down. I fill up two more. We are laughing, about everything about nothing. “To first period Biology!” I enounce. We raise glasses.
“Wooh someone’s getting laid tonight!” A voice yells from the living room. Suddenly the house is filled with drunken cheer. I catch a glimpse of James following Emily to the back porch. He is smiling. No teeth, just a blindly happy and intoxicated smile. I wish him the best of luck.
She brings her lips to my ear “You wanna get out of here?” My body starts to shake. I look into her eyes and smile. I realize that this may be the best night of my high school years. I am terrified. I need to slow my heart, I need a breath of fresh air, I need a fucking cigarette. She brings her glass up and takes it without changing expression. I follow and cough at the taste. She giggles, the same giggle that has haunted me in my sleep for longer than I would ever dare tell her. My vision becomes blurred. I reach for my coke chaser but get a pair of florescent blue eyes and menthol lips instead.

I wake up. I don’t recognize anything. My hands find their way to my face. My head hurts. My body hurts. My stomach is churning. I close my eyes and hold my head. Soon my pupils adjust to the light and I make out the blurs of color around me. There. I get up and look around. I am still at Chris’s resort of a house. I find my pants and find my phone. I have yet to find my shirt or shoes. I dial James and eyeball the room for my missing clothing. I hear James’s phone ring through an open window, I follow the ring outside to find James passed out face first on the grass in the front yard. His shirt also missing; His fingers are trailing the grass looking for a nonexistent alarm clock. I kick him until he starts to move. “Wake up you fucking drunk,” I laugh.
His eyes open in amazement “What the fuck?” He lifts his head to look around only to let it fall back only the grass. His face covered in mud. “Well that was fun,” he says, eyes now closed. I laugh and help him up. We go back inside, James washes his face and throws a shirt over his grass stained love handles. “You look like shit,” he says as he faces me.
“You don’t look too good yourself,” I laugh. The laughing hurts my head. The laugh turns into a moan.
“That party was fuckin bomb,” Chris roars as he walks into the living room. James and I both grab out heads simultaneously. “Can you guys start cleaning something? I’m lucky the cops didn’t come this morning.” He motions toward all the beer bottles littering the room and glares at James. “How the hell do you go about passing out on a front lawn half naked, ass hole?”
I start to laugh but stop when Chris shoots me his I’m serious look. “Fuck if I know.” James says as he rubs his eyes with both hands.
“And you, dick,” Chris’s eyes shoot to mine “Slipping into my little sisters room! Real funny fucker.” He shakes him head and storms outside with a bag of trash.
A vivid image pops into my conscious. “Oh shit!” suddenly I remember. “Oh shit!” I remember her lips. I remember her eyes. I remember her body. Oh shit. I remember a phone number. I reach into my pockets. It has to be here. I remember the paper, I remember the pen. I pull out a condom wrapper.
“Nice!” James says. His eyes now their familiar probing size.
“I don’t know,” I start to get scared “I hope, I lost her number.”
“Just get it Monday man, it’ll be cool.” James reassures me. “Look at my man, the pimp. Did you at least have a full sized bed?” He laughs, I try to remember.

The hours crawl. I throw up four times before I feel well enough to go home. I chain smoke all weekend trying to remember things that the alcohol had stolen from my memory. I don’t accomplish much. Monday morning finally rolls around. I stay up most of the night with anticipation. I hope she isn’t mad at me for not calling. I race to school and for the fist time I’m the fist student to walk into first period biology. Mrs. Thomas looks upset. I wonder if I should leave. She sees me stand uneasy at the door and motions me to come inside. “I just received these fliers from ASB.” She holds them up. I grab one for a better look. There before my eyes is a picture of April. My Heart skips a beat. My hands start to shake, my vision blurs. I shake my head. I read the words “R.I.P. April Park.”
“What” my mouth drops. My eyes water. Mrs. Thomas starts to cry. I start to get angry. Mrs. Thomas always cried, she didn’t even like April. She routinely sent her to the principles office.
“Why would God take someone so young and beautiful?” She sobs. I am in shock. My body is still shaking. No. no this can not be happening. After Friday night, no, I wouldn’t let this happen. I run. I run out of the room. I run until I am in the middle of the school and people are all around me. Some of them are crying, some of them are looking around unsure of the commotion. I hear my name, I can’t move. My legs are shaking and I can’t fucking move. The commotion turns into an uproar and I can’t stand it. I run. They can’t make me stay here today. There is no fucking way, not today.
“Nick, wait,” says a voice behind me. I don’t know care. I keep my pace. I’m almost out, just a few more steps. My legs are shaking. Someone grabs my arm, I turn around. It is Angie. She collapses in my arms. She is crying, huge tears and loud sobs. I feel my eyes start to open up. I picture April’s eyes hidden behind those thick rimmed glasses. I can see them and I can’t get them out of my head.
“What happened to her?” I ask. Angie lifts her head and I could see the despair burning in her red eyes.
She just cries. We sit on the grass out front of the school. We sit until she calms down. Wind blows through the autumn trees and taunts us. Each second that passes my stomach feels worse and worse. I feel sick. I feel like I’m dying. “After the party on Friday she left with Jason and Miles. Miles rear ended a car at a stoplight going forty five,” She starts to sob again, “I saw her. I was driving home from work and I saw the cars,” She cries uncontrollably. “I saw her body!” Tears stream down my face. “She went through the windshield and flew twenty feet. She was bleeding so much,” an ocean builds up on her cheeks and down her neck. “She was bleeding from everywhere,” Angie cries. She cries for so long that tears no longer come out of her eyes, just a dry heave. My chest burns, my eyes burn, everything hurts.
Finally a faculty member makes us go to the gym where other friends of April’s are sitting in circles. Some cry; some tell stories; some, like me, sit and watch everyone and don’t say anything at all.
The funeral was held the following Saturday. I stood and watched her mother cry and her dad take gulps from a flask hidden inside his jacket. None of them know me, and I don’t know most of them. I stay at her grave after everyone else leaves to the reception. I don’t care to comfort anyone, and no one comforts me. I sit at her grave and I cry. I cry for hours. I try to talk to her, and then I laugh at myself. I laugh at God. I curse him.
After the reception James came back for me. He brings a dozen red roses and he places them on her stone. He puts his arm on my shoulder and his innocent eyes cry. Sleep never again comes easy. Life goes on, everyone eventually stops crying and teachers fill in April’s seat with someone else. Not much changes for me. I still lay in bed awake at night with images of her flashing through my brain. I still think about her when my eyes open in the morning, and I still think that we were meant to be.


 

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