This is Stupid

I.

My mom stared out the windshield on the passenger side of her Pt Cruiser in frustration and a little bit of fear. We had shouted at each other sufficiently for that day of driving and spent the rest of the commute to volleyball two-a-days in silence. I pulled up to the curb out back of the gym and ran inside, leaving the driver door open for my mom.

I held the door open behind me as my best friend since I moved to Little Elm ten years prior, a red head named Megan, performed the same maneuver from her mom’s truck. 

“How far are you?” Megan asked referring to my progress in Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. 

“The Cave. I should finish it tonight.” 

“Crap, Kel! If you don’t, I’m gonna ruin it for you.” 

“It’s been out two days, how far are you?” 

“Done. I don’t read as slow as you dumb-dumb.” 

We sat on the gym floor to put on court shoes. I stretched my quads while I waited, standing on one leg holding my other ankle behind me as we talked. 

She stood up and hopped to get her shoes adjusted. I dropped my leg ready to grab a ball and start pepper. 

“Lindsey! Wanna warm up with me?” Megan said and jogged off with the left-handed hitter. 

Taken aback by the sudden need for a partner, a lump formed in my throat. I looked around at my teammates almost entirely paired off already; the middle blocker with the other setter, two outside hitters. The only one left was the team manager, who practiced with us but only kept our stats during games and April, the substitute right hitter, a pasty uncoordinated girl who was subbed in just long enough for the starting hitter to get a break and then she would come right back out. 

I tossed the ball to her. With wide unblinking eyes she watched it come at her until, at the last minute, she shoved her arms forward and punched it behind me into the open gym. I ran after it, brought the ball back and tossed it again. This time, same face, same late reaction except she caught it, wedged between her elbows in a passing position.  

“It’s alright,” I said. 

She tossed it to me to start the sequence, too high. I stood tall and set it back to her, expecting her to spike it back. Instead, she scrambled backward. She leaned back at the waist and stumbled on shuffling feet. Last second, she ducked and it bounced off the wall behind her and shot back behind me again. I ran after it across the gym, brought it back and tossed. She managed a pass, far to my left. I ran and recovered with one hand. I instinctively got ready for the hit but it never came. The ball bounced where she once stood.

“April, where did you go?” I spotted her turned around staring toward the double doors. 

“What? Sorry, I didn’t think you’d get it,” she said. She gave an airy laugh. I looked over to the other girls carrying long sequences of pepper – pass, set, hit; pass, set, hit. 

“Way to go Linz!” Megan called to her partner. My cheeks burned with some sort of anger – jealousy, frustration, betrayal? 

I was stuck with April until the next practice. A tall blonde named Danielle was moved up from JV and needed a partner to warm up with. She would hit anything I set. Warming up with Danielle was fun. Potentially more fun and effective than any of the other pairings on the team. For the rest of the season, I had a partner who knew her own strengths and mine. 

II.

I had lost. Less than 24 hours previously, I told Charlie that while I like him and he likes me, we shouldn’t force anything and he should be with whomever he really liked. He chose Megan. 

Alone on a bench out the back doors of the high school, slouched on the back rest, bundled in my letterman jacket. There was a volleyball and a musical note on the sleeves.

“Kelsie?” Megan came around the bench to stand in front of me. Her hair had a copper gleam in the fall afternoon sun. It contrasted warmly to the matching letterman jacket she also wore with jeans and Converse sneakers. I looked up, a little disappointed but eager to move on. “Charlie and I are going out now.” 

“I figured,” I said with a sad smile. 

“I’m sorry.” 

I smiled brighter even though my heart was sore.

“Can we still be friends?” she asked. 

“Of course.” I laughed. “I’m not about to let a stupid boy come between us.” I wipe my eyes to be sure the tears were gone. “Sorry, that’s your boyfriend.” 

“He can be a stupid boy,” she said. 

“You need a ride?” Across the now empty parking lot was my Pt Cruiser, a scratch down the side from one of my friends parking crooked at a football game. 

“To Charlie’s?” She gave me an apologetic smile. 

III.

I insisted a dozen times that although Jacob, my first and only boyfriend, didn’t like sending me to downtown Dallas, Megan and I could go to a concert by ourselves. But, when Megan cancelled last minute, he ended up taking me anyways. Megan admitted that she would rather spend the time with Charlie and “wasn’t that into Yellowcard.” 

“The concert was magical.” I described it in gushing detail. “I got to wear his hat and he stood behind me with his arms around me and we swayed to the songs.” 

Despite being on lap two of four around the track, I broke into the chorus of Only One, immediately regretting holding long notes while running a mile. 

“Oh god, please stop singing,” Megan said cringing. 

“It’s a bummer you couldn’t go. They were great live.” 

“I’m just not into Yellowcard. The fiddle thing is kinda dumb.” 

“Well,” I shrugged in a spastic sort of way. “We enjoyed it.” 

“I do have tickets to see a band we both like. Avenged Sevenfold? December?” 

“Sure.” While luke warm toward heavier rock music, I accepted any chance to go on an adventure with friends. Megan could invite me to a polka rap battle and I’d still be up for it. 

I flip open my phone under my desk, a text from Megan. 

My mom won’t let me take the truck. Can you drive?

I look up at the board to appear to be listening. By muscle memory, I type a response on the number pad. 

Need gas money. 

That’s stupid. 

 I drive us everywhere!

I got tickets - you should get gas. 

K. Charlie gas money?

No

I’m not a taxi. 

You charge a fair. 

Before I could reply, Megan messaged me again. You’ve changed. 

The words struck how she intended. They left a sting for the rest of the day.

 Just growing up. Try it. 

The next day Megan texted me back. 

We’re both being stupid. Fighting over text. 

The adjective rang through my life like tinnitus. Years of being called dumb and stupid for liking different things, thinking differently, doing things differently. It hit me that day with the force of every time she had spat the word in the decade we had been friends.

After school, another text from Megan. 

This is Charlie. Megan gave me her phone because she’s so upset. She doesn’t know why you’re being so difficult. Wants to work this out.

All I did was ask for gas money. I don’t see why that’s difficult.

I stare at the tiny envelope icon, afraid of what I’ll find. Another nail in the coffin. The apology I want, the acceptance I need, will never come. Finally home after a never ending day, I stand in the foyer not ready to announce my presence to mom. 

I had changed since I got a boyfriend. For once I wasn’t available. I didn’t come when called. I feel the tears burning behind my cheekbones now, ready to burst. I’m only a friend of convenience.  

Truth is, we haven’t been friends in months. I think it’s best you don’t come. 

My heart shattered. 

“When is Megan picking you up for the concert?” My mom said. She had found me. Her voice was gentle, like she knew what was happening before I told her. 

“I was uninvited.” Looking down to hide my face, I sobbed.

IV.

Mrs. Turnbull’s class was a haven. She started every day by making everyone name a good thing that happened in the last 24 hours. She hugged me in the hallway when I was upset over a grade, assured me it’d be okay. Jacob even asked me to be his girlfriend in that class. 

After graduation she invited all her English seniors to her house for a party. There was soda and seniors all through her back yard. Jacob behind me, standing a foot higher he can scope out the crowd. 

“I see Megan and Charlie,” he said. I instantly see the message flash in my mind. We haven’t been friends in months. It cuts through my chest again, like a bullet. 

“Is Danielle here?” 

“Negative.”

I towed him away toward the ice chest to get drinks. Megan caught up with us there.  

“Hey,” she said. I look up and smile but don’t speak. In the past seven months she started wearing mascara and her face had an odd orange tan. She’s still wearing a black Pantera shirt even though it’s close to 100 degrees out.

“Congratulations.” Her voice is shaky. Her face is hopeful. 

“Thanks,” I said. We haven’t been friends in months. “You too.” 

“I’m really sorry for everything that happened. I think I took you for granted.” 

“I’m really sorry too,” I said. She pulled me into a hug. We migrated from the cooler onto a bench on the side of the yard. A song by Nelly has everyone comically dancing in a mass. “So you going to play volleyball anywhere?”

“Austin College,” she said. 

“Nice.”

“Go Roos!” 

“Your birthday’s coming up.” 

“Yep. Finally, legal. I’ll get to commit murders and go to real prison for it.” 

“Wow, we are so old.” 

We tap our coke cans together as if to cheers and take a drink together. 

“Can I maybe come to your birthday party?” she said. 

“Oh course!” I said with no hesitation. 

“I finally got on Facebook,” she said as we were leaving. The sun was setting beyond the fence and behind the hills. We swapped friend requests and promised to keep in touch. 

We didn’t. 

V.

Through college, Megan only popped up on my newsfeed twice. The first time she had finished a 1960s Mustang she and her dad had been building since she turned sixteen. It only took five years to get it drivable. 

The second time stung. I could still hear her saying I’m just not into Yellowcard, as I scrolled through a dozen photos of her, Sarah and a new boyfriend on the floor of a Yellowcard concert.

We haven’t been friends in months. 

“What’s wrong?” Jacob asked from the opposite end of the couch in our apartment. “You suddenly flunk or something?” 

“A possibility,” I said. Our final grades for our final semester in college had just come in. In two days we walked the stage. After five years, I wouldn’t be surprised if they snatched my diploma back and yelled “PSYCH!” before I could throw my hat in the air. 

“No, it’s not that,” I said. 

“Then what?” 

“Megan.” 

“Who?” 

“From high school.” 

“I’m with you,” he said. 

“She went to a Yellowcard concert.” 

Jacob didn’t seem to follow. 

“In high school we were supposed to go to a Yellowcard concert and then last minute she suddenly thinks they’re dumb because their drummer doesn’t use a double peddle. Led Zeppelin didn’t need a double peddle so... Anyways, I was really excited to go to this concert with her and she bailed on me last minute to be with Charlie.”

“That was a fun concert,” Jacob said. 

“It was fun! But, now she’s suddenly all into them. Why couldn’t she be into them with me?” 

I think it’s best you don’t come. 

“So we’re graduating college, engaged and have a super cute puppy and you’re upset because your high school friend, you haven’t talked to in five years went to a concert that you already went to years ago?” 

“Yep,” I said and closed the Facebook window on my laptop. 

VI.

We gathered in my parents living room for our first Christmas as a married couple. My brother and his wife sat in the middle of the floor flanking a six-month old boy named Leo. My mom came from the kitchen with three wine glasses balanced between her fingers. She passed one to me, one to David’s wife Alice and kept the third for herself. My dad came in from the garage with three Shiner beers for him, Jacob and David. Mom sat next to me. 

“So, Kelsie,” she said in a tone that made my blood freeze in my veins. It was how she started every line of questioning for every single thing I had done wrong my entire life. “You’ll never guess who I ran into the other day Christmas shopping.” 

“Santa…Dali Lama…President Obama?”  

“No. Megan’s mom.” 

“Oh,” I said and took several gulps of wine in one swig. “You were right I would have never guessed that.” 

“She said Megan’s going for her master’s degree, she’s single right now and living in Denton.” 

Hearing about it gave me heartburn. 

I’m not really that into Yellowcard.

We haven’t been friends for months. 

I don’t know why you’re being so difficult. 

“Have you heard from Megan recently?”

“Not at all,” I said. 

The conversation targeted David. Jacob draped an arm around me and pulled me closer on the couch. I leaned against him and looked at phone, opened Facebook and searched. 

How many times would I let her hurt me? How many times would I let her reject me? 

Staring down at her picture, the icon below said “Add Friend.” 

I had been deleted.

We haven’t been friends for months. 

VII.

“Guess what.” said Leo sitting across from Kate. Kate giggles in anticipation of the joke they have been telling back and forth for the whole weekend. At six and three they were in a golden age for cousins. Kids that had everything in common and only fought over who got to sit in Grandpa’s lap during story time. 

“What?”

“Chicken butt!” 

Leo and Kate laughed uncontrollably for at least the one hundredth time that day. 

“Pig butt!” Kate said.

“Here we go,” I say stirring the frozen slush of my margarita. 

“Dog butt!” Leo said. 

David and his wife are across the table from me and Jacob, margarita glasses circled around bowls of chips and salsa. 

“Cat butt!” 

“So what’s wrong with your head?” David asked. At the base of my scalp where my thick brown hair parted to one side as it had for fifteen years, thin threads of silver formed a thin shimmering streak. 

“The same situation that’s taking over your beard!” He had a thick brown beard peppered with white strands of coarse hair.  

“Touché.”

I slurp the frozen margarita until it gives me brain freeze. 

“Hey Kelsie!” said a red headed woman in a jean jacket who appeared by our table. Her face is familiar, her smile friendly. Staring at her was like finding your way through your house in the dark. You know the way but then find the kids left a Lego out to trip you. 

She was petite and her skin is artificially tan for someone with red hair. Something in her eyes raises a question in the back of my mind. 

“Hey!” I say politely trying to match her enthusiasm as I search for a name that matches the face. 

“How long have you been in town?” 

“Just a few days. We’re visiting the family for the birth8day month.” 

“Right, you were always big on birthdays. The twelfth right?” 

I nod still wondering who this woman was. “Yep, and we have the tenth, fourteenth and sixteenth.” I motion to my brother, daughter and nephew in turn of their birthdays. 

“How exciting.” 

I’m searching for clues as if they will appear in the air before me. Recognition starts to form. I can feel the file in my brain opening to reveal the identity of this strange woman.

“Do you still live around here?” 

“I’m in Denton. I have a cute little house near downtown with my doodle, Ozzy.” 

“Very cool. Sounds cute.”  

I nod. Kate, behind me, has started start banging her spoon against her cup again as if to make a toast. She just wants to make noise. 

“It was great seeing you.” 

She pulls me into a hug and politely disappears. I grab Kate’s hand and lower it to the table to get her to stop her current noise making. 

“Haven’t seen her in ages,” David says. “How has Megan been?” 

The name clicks into the place and matches the face of the red-headed woman, a stranger in the Taco Hut. Can I maybe come to your birthday party? 

I feel the need to say more, to see her more but what would I say after fifteen years of forgetting and being forgotten. I searched the restaurant and see her grabbing a bag to-go from the bar and head to a vintage blue Mustang. It takes a few tries to start and she drives away back into my memory. 

We haven’t been friends for months. Hurts less when it’s decades in the past. 

“I have no idea,” I said and take a sip of my margarita. 

Kate giggles at Leo and they start again. “Guess what.”

“What.” Leo can barely say it through laughing. 

“Chicken butt!”