You Can't Break Her

Chapter seventeen: part eleven | October

October 2007
Bayhollow, Ontario

I met some kids I knew, from high school at the store one day. They were going to a party at another guys house and asked if I wanted to join. I really did.

"Stop by my house on your way there. I don't know the way."

He pointed to the back of the store. "An apartment just out there."

I raised my eyebrows. "That's not going to do. Come by my place before you go and show me. It's not that difficult."

"Fine."

A few hours later he was at our apartment, ready to go. "I'll get her home by midnight, Patrick."

"So, who's place is this?" I asked, as we walked downtown.

"Carter Wells. He went to your high school. Do you know him?"

December 2005

My high school held a outdoor fun day. It was the last day of school before Christmas break, and I had hoped to stay home. Understandably, I was not allowed. I did not enjoy winter sports, I have always tried to avoid hurting myself on purpose. Any interactions I had, had with skating and skiing were horrible and I wasn't putting myself in that spot for hours.

For those of us who could afford the outing, or chose not too go, there were video game rooms where they had tournaments. The library was kept available for reading students or those who needed to catch up. The gym was home to a pull down white board and a projector.

I walked around the school for a little while. The dark of the movie area was appealing. I regretted my decision when I sat down and realized that 'Napoleon Dynamite", was playing. I had never seen it, but after watching the commercials I was satisfied with that.

The person next to me, turned to look at me. "Hey, Ama. I'm Carter, you like this movie?"

He knew my name, but I didn't know his. "Not really." I tugged at the bottom of my shirt. "How do you know my name?"

He laughed. "I've asked around. Is that creepy?"

"Only a little." I blushed, because stalker-love was just as valuable to me as any other form of attention.

"I didn't mean for it to be." He rubbed the back of his neck. His muscles flexed, and he seemed amused by the face I made. "I saw you around school. You always seemed busy, and I didn't think I could approach you."

Carter and I, spent the rest of the day talking about our lives. He was a friendly and respectable guy. He seemed pretty bummed, when I told him that we could only be friends. He perked up, when I brought up poutine from the cafeteria. We ended the day, as though, no uncomfortableness had taken place. There had been no rejection, just a conversation and food, between friends.

So yes, of course I knew him. The apartment was gigantic, Carter was proud of himself, as he should have been, it was great place. It was good to see some familiar faces, and meet some new people. The beers, and mixed drinks were handed to me, like I was dying, and they were the cure. I danced with strangers, and tried to seem like I belonged.

Two hours after the party started there was a loud knock at the door. Everyone quieted down, and sat around the living room. I sat next to a guy who was a stranger. He made faces when the conversation between Carter and the officer was going well, and he would wiggle and dance when it went bad. He was a comedic fellow.

His face was serious when they announced they would be entering the apartment. "Give all of your drinks to me. I'm of age. No ones is going to get in trouble, just be cool." He said, and winked at me.

Who are you stranger-man? I don't want you, or need you. However, your confidence, and nonchalance intrigues me.

The cops cleared everyone out. I held the railing all the way down the staircase. I opened the door, and escaped into the night. A hand landed on my shoulder, and I was frightened at first.

"Do you need a walk home?" The winker asked. "I mean do you need help getting home?" He pulled out a pack of smokes and lit one.

"I'm not nearly as drunk as you, and I only live one street over." I stole his cigarette and took a drag. I passed it back, and blew the smoke up at the sky. "Where do you live?"

He spun for a second. When his body stopped his eyes seemed to keep going. He reached for my shoulder and steadied himself. "Somewhere..." he staggered off into the middle of the street.

I linked arms with him to keep him upright. "Did you chug those beers, you got from the others?"

He nodded. I could see his stomach turn, by the expressions on his face. Up close he was an impressive looking guy, he could be mistaken for a high school student.

We made it four blocks, before he grew energetic and began bouncing around. A drunken second-wind can go anyway. "We've been going the wrong way. I don't live over here." He took off down the cross street.

I followed. And dropped him off at his house. I walked the ten blocks home, alone.

"Where have you been?" The panic in Patrick's voice didn't register.

"Out," I answered, continuing through to the bedroom. I took off some clothes and flopped on my back on the bed. "Party at Carter's."

"It's 2:30, in the morning, Ama!" He huffed. "Where have you been?" He furrowed his brow. "I went there to make sure you were okay. Your buddy told me they cleared out the party, a while ago."

I drunk-explained my way through that mine field. The simple description of the situation would lead to more questions. I had zero answers, and my energy was lacking.