Chapter 13

Graduation night came at last. We put on our dress clothes and then covered them with gowns. We put stupid looking hats on our heads and filed into the school auditorium where our parents were assembled. We listened to a bunch of boring speeches by the principal, a guest speaker, and the school valedictorian, Carrie Founder, who had an appointment with a good-looking loser and an overdose of anti-depressants in her future. She rattled on and on so long that she began receiving catcalls from her bored peers. At last we filed across the stage where the principal read our names from a little card we each discreetly slipped to him and he then handed us a fake roll of paper with a ribbon attached to it. Our real diplomas, we were promised, would come in the mail in a week or so. Flashbulbs exploded from the audience like strobe lights.

Nina, Mike, and I hung together through all of this, passing the occasional comment under our breaths, Nina and I holding hands for much of the night. We got our fake diplomas and returned to our seats, watching, catatonic, as the rest of our class marched through one by one. Why are these so-called "great memories" that people go on and on about-graduations, weddings, bar mitzvahs-so damn dull while you're actually sitting through them? Most of the students, myself included, were looking forward to what came after the ceremony.

The school was of course sponsoring a graduation party. It was to be at a local community center and was touted as a fun-filled celebration with dancing, music, and food in a safe, alcohol-free environment. Of course no one but the geekiest planned to be there, although many had claimed to their parents that was where they were going. The real party was to be at the falls where three kegs were being brought in for the occasion. Marijuana sales had also gone through the roof in the preceding two days.

When the ceremony was over everyone headed out to the parking lot. Hundreds of students and parents hugged each other, slapped each other on the back, shook hands, posed for the obligatory pictures, and generally congratulated each other on surviving the Spokane Public School System with their lives and sanity intact. Then the parents began to drift to their cars, leaving the students to their own devices. Of course the memory of Lisa Sanchez's untimely death on the previous graduation night was strong among the parents. Admonishments to be careful, and not to drink and drive, and other worried comments echoed through the parking lot followed by the reassurances of those who thought themselves immortal.

Even my dad, knowing what he did about me, was worried.

"You'll be okay tonight, Bill?" he asked as we stood next to his car.

"You bet, Dad," I told him. "I'm going to be the designated driver tonight. I'll get everyone home safe."

He nodded slowly and then climbed into the car, Mom beside him. They drove off and I returned to Nina, who was standing with her own parents.

"Congratulations, Bill," Jack told me, holding out his hand. I shook it and then received a surprise when Mary, repeating his words, actually stepped forward and hugged me.

"Thank you," I told both of them, giving Mary my best hug before she released me.

"Where are you two going tonight?" Jack asked next.

"Oh, just to a party," Nina replied vaguely.

Jack gave her a knowing look. "And will there be drinking at this party?" he asked.

Nina hesitated and was probably about to give him a pathetic lie. Nina was not a very good liar, particularly to her parents. But I jumped in.

"There certainly will be," I said.

Nina looked sharply at me, her expression disbelief. Jack and Mary also seemed surprised.

"It's graduation night," I went on. "I believe that the law states you must drink on graduation night. But have no fear. I'm driving and I take that very seriously. I'll get Nina home safely, I promise."

"You're not going to drink?" Jack asked, skeptical.

"Maybe a beer or two at the beginning," I answered, "but I'll be sober when it's time to come home. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," Jack told me, his eyes boring into me. "Remember what I told you about my daughter. She's the only one I got."

"And remember what I told you about your daughter," I shot back. "She'll be safe with me. Won't you, Nina?"

"Of course," she said softly, watching the exchange and realizing it was taking place on a level she was not a part of.

Jack and Mary finally climbed in their car and drove off. Nina and I went to find Mike, who was explaining to his parents how he was going to the school sponsored party where no alcohol was allowed. His parents were reassured by this and were smiling as they entered their own car. When they were gone we all looked at each other.

"Let's go," I said.

"Fuckin aye!" Mike put in happily.

We climbed into my car and headed for the falls.

I must say that it was very eerie being at the party. You see, I'd attended it before when I'd graduated the first time in my previous life. The only differences were the presence of Mike, who had not graduated before, and Nina, who had not been a member of the party-group before. Aside from that, everything was the same. Everything.

The kegs were scattered throughout the parking lot as they had been before, lines of people, still dressed in their dress clothes, winding their way to the tap to fill their cups. The same cooperative effort with the car stereos had occurred, with everyone agreeing to tune them to the local rock station and not to play any tapes. The music of Van Halen, Foreigner, Dio, Black Sabbath, Ozzy Osborne, and others marched by and I was almost able to predict which song was coming next. The conversations were the same and though I hadn't memorized them on my first trip through, hearing them as I went by it was uncanny how much my subconscious had absorbed seventeen years before. It was a little like being in the middle of a dream, one of those dreams you have of prior events in your life, but never had the sensation of déjà vu been so strong.

Nina, Mike and I paid our money and had our hands stamped. I quickly drank down three beers, giving myself a pleasant, non-dangerous buzz. The alcohol was able to dampen the sensation a little but not completely. It was very disquieting.

Mike of course was hitting the keg as fast as he could, filling his cup and then walking immediately to the back of the line. By the time he reached the tap again, his cup would be empty. He then repeated the process. He also had several joints with him, which he shared with those in line around him. It was less than an hour before he was hopelessly wasted. This was not surprising.

What was surprising was the fact that Nina was sticking with him and doing the exact same thing. She was drinking beer like water and hitting every joint or pipe that was passed her way. I'd never seen her do anything like this before.

"You might want to slow down a little," I suggested to her as she came staggering over to me after her latest trip through the keg line. She was weaving and unsteady on her feet, spilling some of her beer on her arm.

"Fuck it!" she said, giggling. "I'm having a good time tonight. How many times in your life do you graduate?"

I nodded. "Good point. But be careful. If you keep up this pace you're going to be unconscious before too long."

She reached down and grabbed my cock through my pants, making me jump and look around to see if anyone had seen it. A few had, and they turned away, smirking.

"Nina!" I admonished, pushing her hand away.

"I'm not gonna pass out until I get what I want," she grinned, taking a huge drink of her beer.

Apparently Nina wasn't the only one whose inhibitions were being destroyed by alcohol. Every time she walked away from me some girl would come up and strike up a conversation. Most of them were girls that I'd bedded before during my "male-slut" period. Most of them made no bones about what they wanted.

I'd run into this before of course. When I stopped making my rounds and committed myself to Nina a lot of the girls continued to approach me for a while. They always used the line that I was used to, that they needed help "studying" and had heard that I was an awesome tutor. I would tell each one the same thing, that I had a girlfriend now and that my tutoring days were over. It hadn't taken long before the grapevine had informed all but the most aggressive that I was out of circulation. Even the most aggressive gave up after a while. But the party atmosphere and the alcohol had renewed a lot of the aggression. I believe I gave up more sex that night than I ever would have thought possible.

One girl, Jessica Round, was especially persistent. She would not take no for an answer. I remembered her well. A redhead that was a member of the elite, she'd been well versed in sexual technique before I ever got to her. She had been one of my favorites both because of her staggering good looks and because of the fact that she was on birth control pills, which made a condom unnecessary. She had been one of the longest holdouts when I'd dropped out of circulation.

Three times she approached me when Nina was getting her beer refilled or heading off to the porta-can to pee. On the third time she became nasty in her suggestions.

"C'mon," she pleaded, burping a little as she sipped from her beer. "I haven't had my pussy eaten with any skill since I came over to your house that time. Ditch that little lisping, skinny chick you're with and take a walk with me." She grinned. "You won't be sorry."

I bit back my anger for a second and took a deep breath. An idea came to me.

"Listen, Jess," I said softly, conspiratorially, "Nina and I are pretty much committed now so I can't really do that."

"Nina," she scoffed. "What does that..."

"But..." I said.

"But?" she asked hopefully.

"Well, I couldn't really take myself out of circulation without finding a suitable replacement, could I?"

She looked at me fuzzily. "What do you mean?"

I pointed at Mike, who was standing among a group of guys near the keg. They were all looking at the passing females with admiration and probably explaining to each other which one's they'd fucked, how they'd done it, and when they'd done it. A joint was being passed around while they conversed.

"You see Mike Meachen over there?" I asked her.

"Yeah?" she asked confused.

"He's even better at it than I am."

"Mike Meachen?" she asked, scowling.

"I've lectured him on the proper study techniques so that my name could live on. You get him to go for a walk with you and you won't be sorry."

"Mike Meachen?" she repeated again.

"Trust me on this, Jess. He's good. All you have to do is tell him exactly what you want him to do, and he'll do it. Be specific. He doesn't mind. He aims to please."

She appraised him for a moment. "Well," she said, "he is kinda cute."

"Would I steer you wrong?" I asked. "Sensual pleasure is just waiting for you." I winked. "And of course, he's just as discreet as me. So go get him."

She smiled drunkenly. "Okay," she announced. "Thanks, Bill."

She headed off in his direction. Nina returned a moment later, carrying a fresh beer. Her gait was very unsteady now and her eyes were glassy.

"What were you talking to Jessica for?" she asked with distaste and more than a little suspicion.

I shrugged. "She's kind of aggressive," I told her. "So I directed her attention elsewhere."

"You've, uh... done her before?" Nina asked.

"Nina..." I started, uncomfortable.

"I only ask because she used to come up to me all the time and ask what the deal was with you. And then she started asking me if I liked the 'vacuum cleaner' treatment. She's a ho."

"I agree," I said. "And I'm sorry you had to deal with her. She's from a previous life, Nina."

Nina nodded, kissing my cheek. Her breath smelled of beer. "Okay," she said. "So what's she doing over there with Mike?"

"Watch and see," I said happily, taking the cup out her hand and taking a quick drink.

It didn't take long. Less than thirty minutes in fact. I couldn't hear what was being said but suddenly the attractive redhead joined the group that Mike was a part of. The other guys tried to flirt with her of course but she only had eyes for Mike. Within ten minutes she was rubbing against his arm. Within fifteen she was pushing her breasts into his back and shoulder. Within twenty he accompanied her to the keg and refilled her glass. There was one more whispered conversation and the two of them walked off into the woods, holding hands, carrying their beers with them. Even from my vantage I could tell that Mike was nervous. Again I found myself wondering if he'd ever actually been laid before. Oh well. He was about to get laid now.

"How did you do that?" Nina asked me, weaving a little.

"I can do anything I set my mind to," I told her. "Anything."

She leaned forward and kissed me again. Then she looked up. "I'm very drunk, Bill."

"I know," I said. "But you only graduate once, right?"

Mike and Jessica emerged from the woods about forty minutes later. Both were staggering and holding onto each other, their hair mussed up, their clothes wrinkled. Both were smiling. That was a surprise. Had Mike done a good job on her? Maybe a combination of her drunkenness and her instructions to him had done the trick. She seemed happy, which hadn't exactly been my goal, but so did Mike. They hit the keg again and then split up, Jess heading over to a group of her friends, Mike heading over to his. It wasn't a minute before he began his description of what just happened to him. By morning her reputation would be shot. Cruel? Maybe. But so had been the way she'd talked about Nina.

By this time Nina had gone back to the keg herself and was having difficulty standing. She giggled at everything and her words were slurred. She rubbed her body against mine shamelessly, pushing her breasts into my arm, grabbing my butt.

"I think you'd better lay off the beer," I told her carefully, holding her up.

"Everything is starting to spin a little," she admitted. "But I'm having such a good time."

"When things start to spin," I suggested, "that should be your warning sign that you've had too much. Believe me, you want to quit."

"Then take a walk with me," she said. "Let's go into the woods like the other couples have."

"I don't think that's a good idea," I told her.

"Why?" she burped, nearly falling. "I want to make love under the stars. Come on, Bill..." she kissed my neck, nipping at it, "... let's go."

"Not tonight," I insisted.

"Don't I turn you on anymore?" she pouted.

"Very much," I told her. "But I want your first time to be special. Doing it in the woods on a bunch of pine needles while you're drunk would not be special. Do you want your life-long memory of your first time to be, well, nothing? Because believe me, Nina, you won't remember anything that's happened tomorrow."

She looked at me for a moment and was about to say something else when her face suddenly soured. "I'm gonna throw up," she said matter-of-factly.

She was right. I led her over to the edge of the woods, out of sight of everyone else, and she began vomiting up great gluts of beer. It went on for several minutes and I held her up while she did it. For the first time I began to worry about what her parents were going to think when I brought her home. Her dad would kill me.

I led her over to my car and placed her in the passenger seat.

"Sit right here," I told her. "And if you need to throw up again, just do it outside, okay?"

She groaned in reply, but it was an affirmative groan. I headed back to the party to try and collect Mike.

Mike wasn't in much better condition. He was sitting on one of the picnic tables with his eyes closed, concentrating intently.

"You okay, Mike?" I asked him.

"I feel sick," he said. "I'm trying not to barf."

"C'mon," I told him, grabbing him by the arm. "Let's get you back to the car. I'll help you."

He leaned heavily on me as we walked.

"Guess what, dude?" he burped, tripping and nearly falling.

"What?"

"I fucked Jessica Round tonight."

"Yeah?" I asked, knowing I was hearing a true pussy story for once.

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "I ate her pussy and everything. That bitch was hot for it. She kept tellin' me what she wanted me to do."

"Did you do it?" I asked.

"Goddamn right," he affirmed. He then went on to describe the encounter in greater detail. By the time we got to the car I had the high points.

"Oh, dude," he moaned as we reached my trunk. "Take me home."

"You need to do something for me first," I said.

"What's that?"

"Stick your finger down your throat."

"What?" he demanded, holding onto the trunk to keep the world from spinning out from under him.

"Stick your finger down your throat."

"That'll make me throw up!" he cried.

"Right," I acknowledged. "You're going to do it anyway so you might as well get it over with here instead of in my car. Besides, you'll feel better. Trust me."

"I don't know man," he said doubtfully.

It took a few more minutes but finally I convinced him. He staggered over a few paces, got down on his knees, and stuck his finger down his throat. A moment later he was regurgitating beer all over the place. While he did this I went to check on Nina. A fresh puddle outside the passenger door told me that she'd had another bought of vomiting. She was currently curled up in the seat, her head against the doorframe, asleep. I elected not to disturb her.

When Mike finished I loaded him into the back seat and buckled him up. I buckled up Nina and then started up the engine. I headed back to the city.

Mike was easy to get home. A few quick shakes in front of his house and a helping hand getting out of the car and he went staggering up his walkway, giving me a slurred farewell. He had some trouble getting the door open but finally figured out he was using the wrong key. Once this was rectified, he was inside. I drove off towards Nina's house.

The Blackmore house was darkened as I pulled to the curb and shut down my engine. I breathed a sigh of relief at this. Maybe I could get her inside without awakening her parents. Beside me Nina was unconscious, snoring softly. I began to shake her gently, trying to wake her.

"Nina," I called, using a louder and louder voice. "You're home."

She stirred a little but would not open her eyes. She batted at me once when I shook her a little too hard.

"Shit," I mumbled.

I began patting down her pockets, looking for her keys. Feeling the telltale bulge in the right front of her pants, I put my hand in, having to force it the pants were so tight, and finally felt the cold metal of the keys. It took a few moments of stern yanking before they popped free. Using the dome light I searched through the ring and finally identified a likely house key.

I got out of the car and walked up to the door, quiet as a mouse, and inserted the key into the deadbolt lock. It wouldn't turn. With a curse I pulled it out and searched through the ring again, locating another prospect. This one did the trick. I released the bolt and pulled the key free. I then tried the doorknob, finding it to be locked too. Using the first key I unlocked that and gave the knob a quick turn to make sure it would open. Knowing that Nina had a cat that was not supposed to be outside, I did not open the door just yet, although that would have made my task easier.

I quickly returned back to the car and opened the passenger door. I shoved the keys back into Nina's pocket and then reached down and picked her up, cradling her like a baby. This was easy since she only weighed about a hundred pounds or so. Even in her stupor her arm automatically went around my neck.

Tiptoeing, I walked up to the door and, after considerable twisting and stretching, managed to get my hand on the doorknob. With the layout of the Blackmore house in my mind, giving me the fastest route to her bedroom and back out, I turned the knob and pushed open the door, prepared to make the dash.

A loud sound blared through the house. "BEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

My eyes looked up to the lighted box next to the front door. An alarm code box. As soon as I heard the noise and saw the box a memory came to me, a memory of the days before our breakup, when Nina's mother used to drive us to this house after school to study. I remembered either Nina or her mother punching in a code as soon as the door was unlocked. A code that shut off the infernal beeping before the alarm would start to ring. How in the hell had I forgotten about that?

I shook her up and down, trying to rouse her. "Nina," I whispered frantically into her ear, "what's the code for your alarm?"

"Huh?" she croaked, her glassy eyes creaking open a quarter of an inch or so.

"What's the damn alarm code?" I asked desperately.

She giggled. "That's funny." She went back to sleep.

"Nina!" I barked louder.

A bedroom door opened from down the hall. A light clicked on.

"Nina?" came Jack Blackmore's voice. "Turn off the damn alarm! What's the matter with you?"

Footsteps began to approach. Mary's voice spoke up. "Jack? What's wrong? Why is the alarm going off?"

I could only stand there as Jack came around the corner. He was dressed in gray sweatpants and was shirtless, the surgical scar on his chest standing out like a zipper. His eyes locked onto me standing there and holding his unconscious daughter in my arms.

"Christ almighty," he muttered, tromping over. He punched in a code and the beeping fell silent.

"Jack?" came Mary's voice from the bedroom. "Is everything all right?"

Jack looked at me carefully for a moment and then at Nina, who was snoring drunkenly again. I wondered if he was going to go get his hunting rifle and blow me away right there or if he would at least give me a running start.

"Is she okay?" he asked tonelessly.

"Uh..." I stammered.

"She smells like a damn brewery. Is she okay?"

"She had a little too much to drink," I finally admitted.

Mary came around the corner. She was dressed in a long cotton nightgown and pulling a robe around her body. She took in the scene before her and walked carefully into the living room.

"What's wrong with her?" she asked.

"Too much to drink," Jack explained.

"I tried to get her to slow down," I offered weakly. My arm muscles were starting to cry out as I stood there. I wondered if we were going to end right back up at step one again because of this?

"And you?" Jack asked me. "Have you had too much to drink too?"

I shook my head. "No," I replied. "I only had three beers all night, and those were when we first got there. I told you I take driving very seriously."

He nodded. "You seem sober enough," he pointed out. "Well don't just stand there. Go put her in her room. Mary, can you take care of her once she's there?"

"Of course," Mary said, shaking her head sadly and looking at her intoxicated daughter with something that looked almost like affection. Strange.

"C'mon," Mary told me, leading the way.

"Aren't you guys mad about this?" I finally had to ask.

They both stopped and looked at me. "Mad?" Jack asked. "Why would we be mad? You got her home safely just like you said."

"Yeah," I stammered, "but..."

"You mean because she's drunk?" Mary asked next.

I nodded.

They looked at each other for a moment and chuckled knowingly.

"Bill," Jack told me, "we'd be about the biggest hypocrites in the world if we got mad over this. Why back in our day I drug Mary home many a time carrying her just like you're carrying Nina there."

"And I've dragged Jack into the house more than my share too," she added.

My mouth was agape as I tried to picture what they were saying.

"Drinking is a part of every young person's life," Mary said, reaching out to stroke Nina's hair. "She's free and eighteen and if she wants to drink until she vomits, that's her prerogative. Did she vomit?"

"Uh, yeah."

"You were a lot more responsible than we used to be," Jack told me. "Why we used to go out to parties and when it was time to go we decided who would drive by whoever had to carry the other. A couple times we woke up the next morning and the car was in the garage and we had no idea how we'd gotten home."

They looked at each other affectionately again. "It's a wonder we didn't kill ourselves back then," Mary said nostalgically. She turned to Jack. "Remember that time we woke up in someone's house in the morning and we didn't know where we were?"

Jack laughed fondly. "Oh yeah," he said, turning to me. "It was back in the late fifties or thereabouts. We went to this Christmas party and got drunk out of our minds. The next thing we know, we're waking up the next morning in chairs at someone's dining room table. Never seen the house before in our lives."

Mary actually giggled, to my astonishment. "And the kid!" she said. "Remember the kid?"

"Oh yeah," he said. "There was this kid eating breakfast at the table. A bowl of cereal. We'd never seen him before, had no idea who he was. He just kind of looked at us and said hi and then went back to eating. Were we hungover? Oh boy I guess we were. Our car was out front so we got into and tried to drive home but we had no idea what part of town we were in or anything."

"It took us about twenty minutes to find a street we were familiar with," Mary laughed.

That this story would be one of their fond marital memories seemed strange at first but I finally realized I was dealing with the alcohol generation here. In their youths alcohol use did not have the stigma it would develop in mine. Drinking was a part of every social function and was seen as a rite of passage almost. The Blackmores seemed almost proud of their daughter for having her first vomitus trip through the land of intoxication.

"This is very weird," I couldn't help commenting.

They offered no reply to that. Mary led me to Nina's bedroom where I gently laid her down on her bed. She shoed me out and closed the door while she began attending to her comatose daughter. When I returned to the living room, Jack was holding two bottles of beer in his hands. He handed one to me.

"Since you didn't get to drink at the party tonight," he said, "I thought you might like a cold one before you headed home."

I took it and looked at him, at the surgical scar on his chest. "You're not supposed to drink, are you?" I asked lightly.

"Screw those doctors," he told me. "If the beer knocks five years off my life than I consider it five years I wouldn't have wanted to live anyway. Drink with me."

"I won't insult you by saying no," I said, borrowing a line from Fiddler on The Roof. I popped open my beer.

Nina spent the majority of the next day in bed, leaving it only to throw up in the nearest convenient toilet. I did not go over to see her, only talked to her on the phone. She sounded miserable and she vowed she would never drink again. I believe everyone has made such a vow a time or two in their lives, usually a few days before breaking it. The following day I visited briefly but she still wasn't quite right. I could sympathize. Two-day hangovers are the pits.

Instead of coming home for the summer, Tracy elected to enroll in summer classes to knock out a few more general education requirements. She told us on the phone that she knew there wasn't a lot of money for a plane ticket anyway and besides, summer was the most pleasant time of year in the Bay Area. No sense coming back to sultry, hot Spokane when she could be basking in 80-degree days and furthering her degree. Mom and Dad were somewhat disappointed, going so far as to assure her that they had the money for a plane ticket, but Tracy was undaunted. She wanted to stay.

The testing process for the Spokane Fire Department began. On June 12 Mike went down to the Spokane Community Center to take the written test. It was this portion of the process that I worried about since I knew that Mike was not the strongest person when it came to written material. But my worries turned out to be unfounded. He'd picked up study guides at the bookstore and had gone over them obsessively in the weeks preceding the test. He called me shortly after he returned that day and told me it was in the bag. Though the results wouldn't be mailed to him for a week, he knew he'd passed. I couldn't doubt the confidence he displayed and I was right not to. When he got the letter the first word on it was "Congratulations". His score was 91 percent. He was scheduled to take the combat challenge at two o'clock the afternoon of June 20.

I didn't believe he would have any problems with the combat challenge. As I've mentioned, the majority of the test was leg muscles and endurance. The exercise regime that Mike had been following had strengthened both of these attributes to a level that I could only dream of. His thighs and his calves bulged with runner's muscle. He had worked his endurance to the point where he could go full out at a run for nearly five minutes. He could carry sixty pounds of weight up the library stairs at a jog and barely break a sweat. His resting heart rate hovered at around fifty. He not only intended to pass the test but to threaten the record time while doing it. I had every confidence he would do so.