The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)

Party of Five, Chapter 5

Previously: "Party of Five, Chapter 4" 

"I WAS REALLY STUPID, WASN'T I?"

Alfie gripped the railing around that surrounded the deck and glared off into the dark. The light that spilled from behind made the darkness of the wood beyond even deeper by comparison, and it washed out the stars besides. It was like standing on the prow of a ship as it silently clove a sea of ink.

"It depends on what you want, Alfie," Scarlett replied. "If you want to get it on with Clara, sexting with her in front of another girl's about the best thing you could've done."

Alfie winced, then glared.

Sometimes he couldn't stand Scarlett. All she talked about was sex. And it wasn't even "sex" that she was talking about, like what good sex was or when it was good or maybe when you shouldn't be having it. No, all she talked about was who was having sex with who. About who was getting it and who was giving it. And sometimes, he thought, she wasn't even talking about that, she was talking about who was "lucky" to get it, and who was only "settling" with the other person, and what it said about who was on top and who was on their way down. And even then she treated it like it was just a joke.

But if he wanted to talk about him and Susie, there was no else to talk. Doug would be sympathetic, but he was still a virgin and pretty damn clueless about girls, and Tanya would be too loyal to her sister or something. Scarlett was Susie's best friend, but she wasn't loyal to anyone but herself. And though maybe he hated it about her, Alfie had to give it to her that she knew all about sex and what it meant to people. To particular people, even. It sometimes took his breath away how good she was at reading people.

"So, she didn't just come along so's as to get into bed with me, did she?" he said aloud.

"No, she also wanted to do some canoeing."

"Be serious, Scarlett. If all she wanted was to, you know, she wouldn't be so pissed at me. Would she?"

"If all Susie wanted was just wanted to, you know," Scarlett replied, "she would'a tried doing 'you know' with you before, Alfie."

Alfie squinted sidelong at her. Scarlett was lounging on her hip against the railing. Her bare arms were folded against the nighttime chill, but she was keeping it casual. But not really casual, he thought. She was paying attention. She was interested in his predicament.

"So she was holding out for me and Becca breaking up? Why?" he asked, though he was guessing the answer.

Scarlett gave him a look.

"Did you ever go back to anyone a second time? I'm talking about the side dishes, not Becca."

Alfie winced again, though he shouldn't have been surprised that Scarlett knew the slang phrase he had for those girls he cheated on Becca with. He'd used it with Brad often enough when talking about them. Maybe even in front of Scarlett, but he couldn't remember.

He shook his head.

"Well, there you are. Susie didn't just want you once, Alfie. And she set it up so you were set up to get it two or even three times a day while we were up here."

"God, I was stupid for fucking that up."

Scarlett laughed.

"It doesn't have to be that way, Alfie. You know what she wants now. So give it to her."

Alfie shifted on his feet, squeezing and releasing the railing. When he said nothing, she said, "You can lie to her, Alfie. Tell her one thing tonight, and something else when we get back to town."

"Are you freaking serious?" Alfie snapped. "Oh, fuck, what am I asking for? Of course you're serious!" You were all over me back at the computer earlier, he silently added.

"I'm just telling you what you could do," Scarlett said. She didn't sound the least offended. "You know, what are your options, depending on what you want. What do you want? I mean, aside from five blow jobs a day while we're up here?" she added with a giggle.

And that was the problem, Alfie admitted to himself. He didn't know what he wanted from Susie, or for himself.

"I'm gonna take a walk and think about it," he said.

"It's dark!"

"I'll stick to the road."

Alfie swung himself over the railing and dropped, cat-like, to the ground below. Loose stones slid under his soles as he scrambled for the paved road a dozen feet away.

You're spoiled, man, he chided himself as he strode along. You get it too easy. What does Dad like to say, Suffering builds character? You've never suffered where the girls are concerned. Guess that means you don't got character.

He hung his head.

But Brad didn't suffer either, of course, and neither did Coop. In fact, none of his friends suffered, really. Well, except for Doug, but he was a special case. The other guys, his teammates, they got all they wanted, when they wanted, basically.

Except they didn't have side dishes, the way he did. Oh, Brad sometimes slipped off to do something whenever he got fed up with Scarlett, and Rick would hook up with someone at a party if Amy couldn't make it. But even Coop, who spent most of his sophomore and junior years treating the high school girls like trays at a buffet, had settled down with Yvette.

And it was about that time, too, now that he recalled, that Alfie told Becca he wanted her to be his steady thing. ("The Alf-a-Beck," as Scarlett and a lot of other girls started calling them.) But from the start he couldn't think of himself as "exclusive" to her.

Like, the Saturday after he told her they were going steady, she had a family dinner date and couldn't make it out to a party at Coop's, so he had called Trish to confirm that she'd be there, and he'd picked her up and they'd wound up at the quarry instead and didn't make it to Coop's until around eleven, her with her bra left hanging on his rearview mirror and him with her lipstick all over his face and neck and chest. (And lower, where he'd have to unbutton his shirt to his belt and unzip his jeans in order for you to see.) And the following Monday at school he talked about it in class, with some of the other guys, with Becca sitting right there next to him.

And when she didn't make a federal case out of it, he knew she'd be cool with him, you know, going with other girls for a laugh and a blow job so long as he came back to her, which he had every intention of doing because (let's face it) Becca was hot.

So, even next to Brad and Coop and Rick and them, Alfie felt like he lacked character, because they at least were mostly exclusive to their girls and didn't just do it with any girl who smiled at them.

As he paced along, unseeing in the dark, he worked himself into an even darker and dour mood.

Maybe Doug was really the lucky one, he found himself thinking. Still a virgin, with that first time in front of him. Oh man, wouldn't it be great to still have that rush in front of you, to look forward to? Alfie thought. And when Doug finally did it, he wouldn't screw up by running out on her. Doug was loyal. Doug understood gratitude. Doug would love the girl he lost his virginity to, before and after. And wouldn't that be a happier thing than just banging this girl and then that girl and then some other girl, before coming back to the one you'd promised you'd—eventually—come back to?

But it was too late for him now. Even if he found a girl he wanted to devote himself to, he wouldn't be able to have that fresh and unspoiled sense of joy with her that Doug was going to have.

Alfie had come to a turn in the road, and that made him aware that he'd been walking for a good long time. He should probably turn back.

And as he turned, he saw someone standing under a tree near at hand. He squinted at the figure. It was probably just a local, or another vacationer. But he didn't like the way the person seemed to be ... skulking. "Hello?" he called out a firm, clear voice.

The person stepped closer, into the road, and Alfie frowned. He looked like an Indian—he had the narrow, severe features of one, and long hair that fell straight past the top of his shoulders. A day laborer or something, Alfie thought. Someone brought out to dig a septic tank or repair a roof.

Unconsciously, on instinct, probably, Alfie hitched his hands onto hips and put out his chest. The other stopped in mid-step, and hung back warily.

Then, when Alfie lifted his chin, the man stepped back into the shadows and melted into the wood.

Alfie stared after him. Then he shrugged and resumed his walk back to the cabin.

* * * * *

Oh, son of a bitch!

Like yesterday, you waited until you have written and posted a new chapter of the story before checking the stats on the others. Your heart leapt when you saw that there was a comment on Chapter 4, and eagerly you clicked on it. Then your heart crashed when you read it.

Whens something going to happen?

It takes you a few minutes to master your temper—can't the asshole see that you're setting the situation up?—and when you reply you pretend cheerfulness: Lol just hang on.

But the jab lights a fire under you, and in a burst of energy that leaves you exhausted and strung out, you push out and publish two more chapters, finally getting to a body-jacking in chapter 7.

It's a good thing you went ahead and wrote some more, because Chapter 5 (the first one you published) now also has a comment when you check, and it is morale-crushing:

Loosing interest.

Next: "Party of Five, Chapter 6" 

*
"Table of Contents (Vol. 4)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 4)"