6
ROLAND
I needed to quit drinking.
Or at least, drink less.
The hum of the airplane was muted, but even that noise was enough to make my head pound. The dryness in my throat hadn't been obvious in my rush to leave my apartment, but now it was all I could think about. The scratchy feeling, the difficulty swallowing.
I knew it with the knowledge of someone who'd learned the hard way three dozen times. Drinking hard after a fight was a mistake. My body was too dehydrated, my muscles aching and sore. I needed water, and electrolytes, and protein for recovery. Alcohol greatly inhibited the body's ability to heal, especially in the immediate aftermath of strenuous exercise when it was doing everything it could to stimulate blood flow and restore glycogen.
But where I came from, it was bad luck not to buy a fellow a drink after knocking them on their arse. That's how disputes were settled in Belfast: a few punches, some bruised ribs, and then everyone shaking hands and telling jokes over a pint.
I couldn't not buy that big fucken oaf a drink after I'd embarrassed him in front of the whole damn bar. And if one drink turned into ten, well, that was tough to avoid.
But that didn't stop me from regretting it the day after, especially on a plane somewhere over the Eastern seaboard.
I shook the ice in my tiny plastic cup and drank what little water had melted, then pulled out my phone to re-read the texts from Harriet. Now there was something I didn't regret. She wasn't like the other girls who threw themselves at me after a fight. Her shyness was cute. Endearing, in a way. And damned if I couldn't keep myself from saying hello to someone with orange curls like those.
My sigh held the regret of a hundred old relationships. This feeling was nice for now, but it would fade. Because they never lasted long with me. As soon as they found out who I was, things changed.
And not for the better.
Still. While I sat in my seat trying to coax the last few drops of water from my complimentary drink, thinking of Harriet and the way her hair smelled made the plane ride a degree more tolerable.
The Belize airport (who the fuck was Philip S.W. Goldson?) looked more like an elementary school than an international airport, and the control tower was barely 30 feet tall. The concourse smelled musty and salty as I slung my duffel bag over a shoulder and wandered toward the exits. Andy, who'd coordinated the whole trip, mentioned something about taking taxis from the airport to the hotel, but I didn't know where the latter was, and my phone was still spinning while looking for signal.
My stomach grumbled in anger. Getting some food inside me before the chaos of our college reunion was a good idea, I decided. I'd just be grumpy until then, and I didn't want that to be the first thing my old pals saw, especially since it had been so long--
I slowed to a stop in the baggage area.
Across the room stood a cluster of four guys I recognized. Each of them held up a cardboard sign that said, "UGLY IRISHMAN" in black letters, and they wore the shit-eating grins of men who thought they were clever.
A smile broke through my own face as I approached. "Excuse me gents," I said, "did you mean to write handsome fucker on your signs? Because I know where one of those is."
"No, I'm fairly certain our signs are accurate." Andy looked like Barbie's perfect husband, with perfect black brown like a dollop of chocolate frosting and an easy smile.
Orlando stood next to him, skin dark and eyes sparkling. I could see a joke forming in his mind.
Sam and Ethan lingered to the side with their signs, both introverts whose awkwardness at seeing someone for the first time in ten years was plain.
I hugged each of them in turn, and Orlando held me tighter than the rest. We'd been roommates back in the day. "Christ, it's good to see you," he said with a flash of white teeth.
"You fuckers didn't all have to pick me up at once."
Andy waved it off. "Our flights all landed close together, especially since yours was delayed. Plus this way we can grab some lunch on the way back."
"Lunch sounds like a good plan. I'd murder a nun for a cheeseburger."
"Dude," Andy said with a self-deprecating grin, "don't take this the wrong way, but you smell awful."
I followed them to the exit doors. I was prepared for blasting heat to hit me in the face, but it was a pleasing warmth that smelled like the ocean, and the warm sun felt fantastic on my face. I inhaled it all deeply.
"Last night was a fight night." I showed them my knuckles, and then lifted my T-shirt to reveal the grotesque splotch of purple and yellow up my side. Sam visibly flinched, and Orlando whistled through his teeth.
"You know, they have these things," Andy said, snapping his fingers like he was trying to remember something. "With water and soap, and you stand up in them... what's the word?"
"Showers?" Ethan said.
Andy pointed at him. "Bingo! Showers. Sort of a new invention to civilization, so I don't know if they've made it up to Boston yet..."
I shoved him in the arm as we walked toward the parking lot. "Yeah, well, I had a busy night after the fight. And was late this morning."
I didn't intend to brag ab out my sexual exploits, but that drew oohs and jeers from the group.
"Same leprechaun accent," Orlando teased, "same bare-knuckle boxing, same success with the ladies. You haven't changed a bit in the last decade."
"Guess not," I said, hoping they wouldn't find out just how wrong that statement was. How much in my life had changed.
I couldn't handle them treating me differently for it too.
Andy had rented an SUV for the week, and we drove with the windows down and took in the sights. Belize was obviously more tropical than New England, with as many bicyclists and walkers as there were cars. Coconut and palm trees were everywhere we looked, and the roads were a haphazard assortment of dirt and pavement. We stopped in Belize City proper at a little restaurant that Andy already knew everything about--he'd done all his research ahead of time, apparently. But they had sandwiches and burgers, and I chowed down on the latter with a plate of chips and a coke, and felt a million times better after.
"Here's what we've got planned," Andy said. Apparently our lunch wasn't the only thing he'd planned out; he had an itinerary for the entire week. I shouldn't have been surprised; that's just who Andy was. He probably had to plan out his trips to the bathroom.
We drove north out of the city, and soon we were on a road with the Gulf of Mexico to our right. I felt myself growing excited as he pulled into a gated resort neighborhood, with a curved parking loop that ended in front of a huge villa.
"Holy fuck," I muttered as we walked inside. The living room and kitchen were one enormous space, leading out to a back deck that overlooked the beach. The wind coming off the ocean was stronger here, blowing my straight red hair around my face.
"If any of you are worried about price, don't be," Andy said reassuringly. "I know we agreed to split it five ways, but I splurged a bit when choosing the place, so I'll happily cover the extra cost of anyone who wasn't prepared to spend this much."
"I've got the money," I muttered, admiring the view.
Andy put an arm around me and pointed back into the villa. "The shower's that way, down the hall. First door on the right. You know, the shower? That thing you so desperately need?"
A smile spread on my face against my will. "Fuck that."
I threw down my duffel bag and leaped off the back deck, landing in sand as soft as pillows. I pulled off my shirt and tossed it over my head as I sprinted down the beach, toward the endless spreading blue tipped with white, and I cheered over the sound of the waves crashing as I reached the water.
I stopped long enough to think about what I was doing, and to look up and down the empty beach, then thought fuck it and stripped my jeans off. Bare-ass naked, I charged into the water, high-stepping through the shallow parts until the sea floor dropped off and the water covered me to my chest. The water was cool, not cold, and paired with the hot sun on my head the entire thing felt amazing.
I dipped my head under the water, then came back up in a splash, savoring the salty taste on my lips.
My buddies were on the beach watching and laughing. Ethan stepped close enough to dip his feet in the water, and sighed up at the sun with his eyes closed.
"Look what I found," Orlando said while picking up my jeans. "Guess I'd better take these inside..."
"If you think a little nudity is going to embarrass me, mate, you don't know me at all!"
They all laughed as I floated on my back, letting all of it--the water, the sun, the wind blowing across the surface--wash over me.
We spent the day on the beach, which it turns out was our own private beach. After I went in to change into swim trunks, Orlando and I kicked a soccer ball around on the hot sand. Ethan sunbathed, while Sam read a book in a deck chair.
Then came the drinking.
First it was just drinks on the beach; ever the host, Andy made batches of margaritas with enough tequila to strip the skin off a potato. Then we went to dinner at another restaurant Andy had hand-picked, where we had another three rounds of drinks, and then we went back to the villa and played beer pong with glasses from the cupboard.
It felt just like college again. Loud music, casually hanging out while playing drinking games. I couldn't believe I'd been dreading this trip; we all fell back into our old college relationships with ease.
"No fucken way," I said, jabbing Orlando in the chest. "Are you mad? Root for the English?"
Orlando held up both hands, one of which held a shot of tequila. "Hey. I'm just saying. Since Ireland didn't qualify, who are you pulling for in the World Cup?"
"Anyone!" I shouted. "Literally anyone other than England! Let me tell you this, mate. If England were playing ISIS in the first group, I'd have to sit down and think really hard about who to cheer for."
"Alright, alright, sorry I asked."
Sam stood over the kitchen table, balancing a ping pong ball between two fingers. "Feels good to get away," he said, tossing it across the table, where it bounced off the rim of a glass. "Work's been hectic lately. We've got this big new contract that starts when I get back..."
"No work talk!" Andy said. "This is a vacation!"
"...missing a lot of the prep work," Sam said. "I hope my boss can handle it without me."
Ethan retrieved the pong ball from the ground. "Can't they get on without you? We use a temp agency at my office, and they always fill in nicely."
"If you know a temp agency that specializes in radio astronomy engineering, I'll hug you so tight you break a rib."
"Hey," Ethan said, looking sideways at me, "Roland's the only one who can pull off the bruised look. I'm just a fragile computer nerd."
"I'm not so sure he pulls it off..." Orlando teased. They roared with laughter, and I bombarded them with a flurry of middle-fingers.
"You still got a big boner for trains?" I asked.
Orlando's eyes lit up like a little kid, which was answer enough.
"They just renovated most of the Amtrak cars around the country! Completely refurbished, with a bigger viewing car that's almost entirely viewing glass."
"Wow," I said, but Orlando took my mockery for genuine excitement.
"Right? I'm looking forward to taking a trip. No idea where, though. The Cardinal line is probably my favorite route, since it goes through the mountains of West Virginia before curving up toward New York. I bet that route would be gorgeous this time of year, especially with..."
I let him talk and nodded along. Being back with friends was something I'd needed. It was comforting, and normal, and reminded me of a simpler time. Back when my life hadn't changed so drastically.
They knew the real me. The me from before.
We drank, and made fun of one-another, and when they asked what I was doing these days I deflected the question by play-boxing the tall plant in the living room. For the next five days, I would be myself again without any fear of what people would think. It would be relaxing, a true vacation that I hadn't allowed myself in years, and I would go home recharged and fresh.
I had no idea how wrong that assumption was.