Max - 2008

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Dev flops onto the raft, shaking water out of his hair. Kyle turfs him back into the lake—“What are you, a dog? Use a towel.”

Dev swims up and rests his elbows on the ladder. “What’s it matter? We’re all wet, anyway.”

“Yeah, but you’re diluting my beer.” Kyle takes a swig. “Yup. Coors to Coors Light in five seconds. Gross.” He upends the bottle over Dev’s head, and Rachel cracks up laughing. Dev ducks under the water and resurfaces several feet away.

I finish my bottle and start on a second. The rate we’re going through these, we’ll be dry before Carson gets here. It’s his going-away party, at least in theory. I’m pretty sure most of this is for me: my favorite beer, my favorite place—hell, even the radio’s tuned to the same station as my car. The one everyone’s always trying to change.

I’m going to New York, anyway. I decided last night. Can’t afford the apartment on my own, but there’s a guy on Craigslist who wants to be my roommate, and I’ve still got the car. It’ll suck ass, but at least—

“Hey!” Dev pops up like a cork. “Check it out—they’re coming!”

I squint into the sun. He’s right. Carson’s wading into the shallows like he’s on a mission, thigh-deep already, and Wes—

I laugh. “Look at Wes.”

“Aw, don’t make fun.” Rachel chunks a potato chip at my head. I pluck it out of my hair and eat it.

Wes dips his toe in the water again. I cup my hands around my mouth and yell out, “It’s not even cold!”

He looks up and gives me the finger. Fair enough.

Carson makes his way to the raft in thirty seconds flat. He ignores the ladder and hoists himself effortlessly onto the planks. Fucking showoff. He looks like an extra from Full Metal Jacket, with his freshly-buzzed head and burly physique. He grabs a beer and pops the cap with his thumb. It flips like a coin, straight into the lake.

“Aw, not cool.” Dev dives down after it and comes up empty-handed. “That’ll be down there till the next ice age. Hope you’re happy.”

“On top of the world.” He takes a long pull. “Wes? Hey—where the fuck’s Shrimpy?”

“Right here. And quit calling me that.” Wes holds out his hand and Carson helps him up the ladder. “Do I get one of those?”

“Dude. You’re fifteen.” Kyle fishes a Coke out of the cooler. “Brought this for you.”

Wes rolls his eyes. “You know we’re all underage, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re, like...double underage. You’re an actual minor. I’m not contributing to your delinquency.”

Wes hands his Coke off to Carson, who pops that cap, too. It’s such a normal summer moment, one among thousands, but, shit. When we swim back to shore tonight, we won’t be swimming out again. Not this summer, and maybe not ever.

Carson elbows Wes in the ribs. “So, tell ‘em your news!”

Wes wriggles away. “It’s not really news. It’s probably not even happening.”

“Tell ‘em anyway. Dev—get over here.”

Dev swims back up, but doesn’t get on the raft. He flips his wet hair out of his eyes and treads water. Think he was a fish in a previous life. “What is it?”

“Okay, well....” Wes frowns. “My dad wants to move into a retirement home—”

“A retirement village.”

“Fine—a retirement village. But I’m talking him out of it. No way I’m sticking him in one of those places.”

“Those places?” Dev finally clambers onto the raft, settling down beside Wes.

“Yeah, y’know—God’s waiting rooms. That’s what they call them, ‘cause everyone there, they’re just waiting to die.”

“Naw, man—that’s a nursing home.” Dev slings an arm round his shoulders. “Nursing homes and retirement villages, they’re two different beasts.”

“Different how?”

“Dude! You don’t even know! Nursing homes are like...sick people eating mushy peas. Sleeping in wheelchairs. Dreaming their Alzheimer’s dreams. But a retirement village—that’s summer camp for geezers. Round-the-clock golfing and shuffleboard and old people sex.”

“Ew—that’s my father you’re talking about!”

“Mm, yeah. Old man’s gonna get some....” Dev wiggles his pelvis. “Oontz, oontz...bow-chicka-wow!”

Carson cuffs him back into the water. “Motherfucker.”

“You could go to college,” says Kyle. “Come to Cornell with us.”

“Yeah—that’d be awesome, the three of us going to parties—ooh! You could rush Psi U with Kyle!” Rachel reaches into the cooler and pulls out a beer. “Here. You deserve it.”

I snort at the thought of Wes rushing a frat—any frat. Kyle could probably get him in, with his dad’s connections, but the idea of Wes with douchebag hair, popped collar flopping over his polo shirt...ludicrous.

“How about you?” Dev’s looking up at me from the water, voice pitched low, for my ears only. “Now you’re up and out of bed...what’s next for you?”

“Full steam ahead.” I glance over my shoulder, but no one’s listening. “New York’s still on. Found a place near the subway, a roommate who’s probably not an axe murderer, and I’m leaving after Sunday breakfast.”

He swims closer. “How about we be roommates, instead?”

“You want to come?”

He shrugs. “Look around you. Kyle and Rachel, they’ve got the rest of their lives planned out. Carson’s headed for glory, and Wes...well, it looks like he’ll be okay.” A rare scowl furrows his brow. “I can’t afford college. I’m not army material. I stay here, I’ll spend the rest of my life under cars.” He holds up his hands. “Check out my nails. There’s, like...permanent grease under there. C’mon. Don’t let ‘em bury me with a wrench in my hand.”

It’d be nice to have a familiar face around, but.... “What would you do in New York?”

His expression turns sheepish. “Well, I mean, Uncle Lou’s got a shop down there, so I figured I’d work there, to start with. But it’s New York! I can branch out. Try other stuff. I’ll be out of overalls by Christmas. You’ll see.”

I stretch out my hand and Dev shakes it.

“This is going to rock. I can feel it.” He’s grinning from ear to ear. “Maybe I’ll start a band. Or do standup comedy.”

“What are you even talking about?” Carson splashes Dev—and my knee, a little bit. “You’re only funny in the ‘What the hell’s that guy doing?’ sense. I’ve never once heard you tell a joke.”

“Okay—okay, uh...your mother’s so smelly I put an odor eater in her shoe, and she, like...disappeared.”

Carson bellows laughter. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Like, the perfect illustration of your unfunniness. First of all, it’s yo mama, not your mother. Second, the 90s are over. And—and—hey!” Carson ducks as Dev spits water in his face. He dives in, Kyle hot on his heels, and a three-way splash fight breaks out. Even Wes gets in on the action, churning up the surface with his feet.

Rachel picks her way past the puddles to sit beside me, holding up a towel to keep the spray off her. “How are you holding up?”

She means well. I give her the thumbs up, and even force a smile. But, hell—that was the longest I’d gone without thinking of Kate since she pulled her vanishing act. And it was good.

“Look, I kind of overheard you and Dev.” She puts her hand on my shoulder, and all I can think of is Kate, how she used to do exactly the same thing, how she always knew what to say. “I think it’s great you’re still going. But if you need anything, me and Kyle, we’re only a phone call away. Always will be.”

Kyle nails Carson with a handful of gloopy lakebed mud. Hoots as it trickles down his face.

Carson spits and wipes silt out of his eyes. “Oh, you’re going down.”

“Gotta catch me first.”

I finish my beer, and this time, I don’t reach for another.

I’m still going to climb the towers of Manhattan. And when I look down on Kate from the top, she’ll be an ant to me. Crawling in the gutter.