The Trouble Is

Chapter 31: The Dog Days

It's late July, which Skip refers to as the "dog days of summer." It seems like we are in this weird kind of limbo land. Mom is still not cancer-free but is not really so sick now. The nurses are no longer a fixture in our house, and Skip goes to work at his real office during the mornings. Mom's tired by afternoon, so Skip works from the kitchen table after lunch each day. Doug continues on his religious quest and now has a couple of friends who come over from time to time to play Vacation Bible School in the back yard. VBS is a church thing that happens each summer for a week. It can be pretty fun if it's done right—with games and snacks and art stuff. Doug's version includes random sword fights and water balloons. It's as close to normal as he's been all summer, so I'll take it.

Katie is down to Number One and Number Seven for potential boyfriends. I still can't quite separate the idea of sex from a steady relationship. And I'm pretty sure I'll never agree with her audition process. The last couple of guys didn't even get a proper goodbye. She just decided after a couple of dates with each one that they were out, and then she started ghosting them. She won't answer their texts or calls. She literally treats them as if they do not exist.

One guy even sent a Papyrus card to her house, which means he had to go to the mall in another town to buy it, not just swing through Wal-Mart. But Katie just smiled at the envelope and dropped it in the trash without even opening it. It had that little hummingbird sticker on the back that means you shelled out a few extra bucks for that just-perfect card. That girl has some serious dedication to her decisions. I mean, she didn't even open it. I kind of envy her sureness and her avoidance of confrontation. When she's done with a guy, it's just done. There are no kind words of explanation, no texts, no card openings.

"I'm just going to do it again with the next one who asks," she says as if it's no big deal. "It has to be better than it was with Aaron."

We are standing in front of my closet while I straighten the hangers and re-order my shirts. Katie grabs the occasional skirt or hat and tries it on in front of the mirror, only to toss it back onto the floor after checking herself out in the mirror.

"They've all asked you?" I can't quite wrap my head around this. It's just so bold. I can't imagine someone actually suggesting sex as an activity. When I do think about it, I picture something like a private beach, where the sand is sparkling white and the sun is setting over the water. I'd be overcome with love and emotion, and it would just happen.

I know it's kind of ironic, since I'm the one who plans and negotiates, and Katie's the one who just jumps into things. I can't explain it. I just feel like sex should be something more than a transaction to be negotiated. Now that Katie's narrowed down the field, I can't shake the mental image of Katie and Number One or Number Seven standing around in business suits with little briefcases full of legal agreements.

"Most of them do," she says with a "What can I do?" kind of shrug.

I don't even know what to think about that, which is a good thing since Katie doesn't give me time to even begin to frame a question.

"Rumor has it that there's a party tonight at some freshman kid's house," she says. "It's in the land of McMansions. So, let's go pirating."

"I've got a date with E," I say as she nods, already knowing my answer. McMansions are the multi-level houses up in the hills. Those people have money beyond money.

"And what is pirating?" I ask, laughing a little. "Is that like stealing something?" I try to figure out what she is saying. The houses are probably locked up tight with all kinds of security systems. "Or something to do with pirate's booty? Or Johnny Depp? Pirate what?"

"No," she laughs. "You know, you get a bunch of upperclassmen and storm the innocent little freshman party, bringing along a nice variety of cheap alcohol to add to their little sippy cups."

"Why would they let you into their party?" I am so confused. Juniors and seniors usually have nothing to do with mere freshmen. Also, freshman parents do not tend to leave parties unattended. There's no way they are going to allow seniors or alcohol into one of their little soirées. The poor little freshmen might want to open the door wide, but parents tend to slam it back shut quickly in those circumstances.

"We storm the castle," she explains, "as in their parents' houses. We get in any way we can: windows, doors, balconies, whatever. It takes a lot of us to win, but the guys who did this last week said it's achievable."

"Won't the kid get in a ton of trouble?" I ask. "And how are you going to 'storm' it? It seems kind of mean."

"Life goes in a circle, little A," she says like it's some kind of explanation. If this is a thing, if that's ever happened to anyone I know, I've never heard of it. I'm kind of glad that I already have plans.

Also, I'm adding that one to my list of lies. Life doesn't go in a circle. That's a lie. We go in circles.