The Rules of Attraction

Harry’s room was dark. Light came from a small metallic black Tensor lamp on his desk, below a poster of George Michael. Harry was laying on his bed, his eyes closed, wearing typical Freshman garb: Bermudas (in October!), Polo sweater, Hi-Tops, his head lolling back and forth. Donald sat by his side trying to make him throw up into the wastebasket next to the bed.



“I brought Paul,” Raymond said, as if that was going to save Harry’s life.



He walked over to the bed and looked down.



“What did he take?” I asked, standing in the doorway. I checked my watch.



“We don’t know,” they both said at the same time.



I walked over to the desk and picked up a half-empty bottle of Dewar’s.



“You don’t know?” I asked, irritated. I smelled the bottle as if it were a clue.



“Listen, we’re taking him to Dunham hospital,” Donald said, trying to lift him up.



“That’s in f**king Keene!” Raymond shouted.



“Where else is there, ass**le?” Donald cried out.



“There’s a hospital in town,” Raymond said, and then, “You imbecile.”



“How am I supposed to know these things?” Donald cried out again.



“I have to meet someone at seven,” I told him.



“Fuck the meeting. Get your car, Raymond,” Donald shouted in one breath, lifting Harry up. Raymond rushed past me and down the hallway. I heard the backdoor of Fels slam.



I went over to the bed and helped Donald lift Harry, who was surprisingly light, from the bed. Donald raised Harry’s arm and for some reason took the cashmere vest he was wearing off and tossed it in the corner.



“What are you doing?” I asked.



“That’s my vest. I don’t want it ruined,” Donald said.



“What are we doing?” Harry coughed.



“See, he’s alive,” I said, accusingly.



“Oh Jesus,” Donald said, shooting me a look. “It’ll be okay, Harry,” he whispered.



“He seems fine to me. Maybe drunk,” I said.



“Paul,” Donald said in his maddening lecture tone, seething yet the lips barely moving, “He called me up before dinner and said he was going to kill himself. I came over here after dinner, and look at him. He’s obviously taken something.”



“What did you take, Harry?” I asked, slapping him a little with my free hand.



“Come on, Harry. Tell Paul what you took,” Donald coaxed.



Harry said nothing, just coughed.



We dragged him, reeking of Dewar’s, down the hallway. He was passed out and his head hung down limply. We got him outside just as Raymond pulled up in his Saab, next to the backdoor of Fels.



“Why did he do this?” I asked as we tried to get him into the car.



“Donald, you drive,” Raymond said, getting out of the Saab and helping us lay him down in the backseat. The motor was running. I was getting a headache.



“I can’t drive a stick,” Donald said.



“Shit!” Raymond screamed. “Then you sit in back.”



I got in the passenger seat and Raymond started moving the car before I could shut my door. “Why did he do it?” I asked again, when we were past the Security gate and halfway down College Drive. I was considering asking them to drop me off in North Camden but I knew they’d never forgive me, so I didn’t.



“He found out he was adopted today,” Donald said from the backseat.



Harry’s head was on his lap and he started coughing again.



“Oh,” I said.



We passed the gates. It was dark out and cold. We were going in the opposite direction of North Camden. I checked my watch again. It was a quarter past seven. I pictured Sean sitting alone at the uncrowded bar at Casa Miguel, nursing a frozen Margarita (no, he would never drink that; I pictured some Mexican beer instead), disappointed, and driving back (wait, maybe he didn’t have a car, maybe he walked there, oh Jesus) alone. There were very few cars out now. There was a line in front of the Cinemas I & II, townies waiting for the new Chuck Norris film. Housewives and professors’ wives walking out of Price Chopper, wheeling carts. Shoppers at the Woolworth’s on Main Street, huge shafts of fluorescent light pouring onto the parking lot. The Jam were on the cassette deck and, listening to the music, it struck me how small this town actually was, how little I actually knew about it. I could see the hospital that I had never been to before in the distance. We were almost there, a smallish brick structure that sat next to a vast, empty parking lot, near the end of town. Beyond that, the woods, a forest that stretched for miles. No one was saying anything. We passed a liquor store.