What Happened at East Houston Street

Chapter 19

The remainder of the car ride through Rhode Island was quiet. Sarah looked out the passenger side window, lost in thought. Tip leaned back against the headrest as he drove down the dark highway. He was exhausted after having spent the better part of the day behind the wheel. The physical exertion coupled with his concern for his missing friend was starting to catch up to him and he struggled to keep his eyes open. He cracked his window a little, hoping the cool air would keep him alert. He turned the radio up, scanning the stations until he found a familiar rap tune that they used to play at the Kappa Sigma house. His thoughts lingered back to his freshman year at BC.

The Kappa Sigma party was well underway. The frat house on this particular night was at full capacity. It was the official initiation celebration of the newest freshman frat brothers and the older brothers made it a point to make sure that they invited everyone they knew, even some students from other area colleges.

Tip was relieved that it was finally over and he could just relax now, knowing that he was officially a Kappa. His father and grandfather had both been members of Kappa Sigma during their college days, so it was a requirement that he keep the legacy going.

Walking through the living room to refill his beer at the keg in the kitchen, he'd been greeted with high fives and ass grabs from all of the brothers he'd passed. Filling his red plastic cup at the keg, Tip looked around at the people in the room. Some were familiar faces, but still being new at the school, he didn't know the majority of people there. A small group of coeds gathered in the corner near the hard liquor table, chatting to each other. They were dressed in very short skirts and tube tops. One of the girls looked in his direction and he gave her a smile and a nod, still pointing the beer nozzle into his cup. She gave him an uninterested expression and quickly looked away, going back to the conversation she was having with the other girls. Tip shrugged and focused back to his cup. The beer had stopped flowing and left a layer of foam. "Goddammit," he cursed under his breath.

Brent made his way through the crowds in the kitchen holding an empty plastic cup. "Dude! You know the rules! You kicked it, you swap it!" He shouted at Tip loudly, drawing attention toward the empty keg. "Let's go, rookie! People are thirsty!" Brent turned and left, heading towards the hard liquor table, opting not to wait for the beer to be restocked and poured some vodka into his cup instead. He ogled the group of coeds by the table as he downed his drink in one swig.

Tip made his way to the back porch where the extra kegs were stored. It was quiet back there, so he took the opportunity to check his cell phone. Earlier in the day he had texted Stephanie, his new friend, to invite her to the party. After they had returned from winter break, he had seen Stephanie in his English class the first day of spring semester. He couldn't believe his luck when he realized that "Phoenix50" was taking the same Creative Writing class as him and he wasted no time in breaking the ice with her.

"Hey, Phoenix," he said teasingly, taking a seat at the desk next to hers.

A shy smile appeared on her lips and she replied, "Hey, Tipwell."

They became each other's sounding boards about their ideas for writing assignments and would sometimes share their short stories with each other, soliciting feedback before turning them in to the professor. He would pour his all into the stories he'd write, hoping to impress her. She was always very positive in giving him constructive criticism, being extra gentle in explaining why she disliked a certain paragraph that he had written. She would always follow it up, though, with something that she really liked about his story. "You're so smart!" she would add, making him blush as he smiled at her.

"Thanks," he'd reply. "I think you're really smart too."
And beautiful and sexy and your voice is like butter and your eyes are like sunshine, he'd silently add.

They were becoming closer as the semester went on and Tip couldn't be happier about it. Though he had a lot of new friends at the frat, none of them had the effect on him that she had. He would drink and laugh at absurdly immature things with his new frat brothers, but he would discuss things like books and movies with Stephanie. Sometimes after class, they would get coffees and take walks around the reservoir. While strolling, they'd share stories of their upbringings and their hopes for the future after college.

Tip would tell her about his plan to work in finance, indifference in his tone. Stephanie noted his lack of enthusiasm, but didn't press him on the issue. She was learning quickly that a lot of the BC boys already had their futures mapped out and were expected to uphold family tradition. Still, it upset her that Tip wasn't excited about it. Though she had only just started to get to know him, she had seen how sweet and kind he was to people, to her especially. She realized that he wasn't just a typical, horny frat boy. He really listened when she would talk about her past. Always self-conscious about being so open, she would make light hearted jokes about her meager upbringing. He'd laugh enough to make her feel comfortable, but would always ask follow up questions with a gentle tone, wanting to learn more about her life.

Five months ago, Stephanie would have taken one look at a guy like him and would have written him off as a cocky, superficial, rich boy with a superiority complex. In reality, Tip Wellington was a genuinely sincere person, a talented writer, and a really good friend. Stephanie was happy that he had proved her wrong.

Tip stood on the dark back porch of the frat house and looked down at his cellphone. He had been waiting for a response from Stephanie about his invitation to the party that night. His heart sank when he didn't see any messages from her. Putting his phone back into his pocket, he leaned down to the extra keg in the corner. It was a double barrel canister. Tip pulled it up by the handle, but it wouldn't budge. He'd need to ask one of the other guys to help him carry it into the kitchen. As he made his way back down the hallway, his cellphone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out quickly, hoping it would be a response from Stephanie, his heart sank for the second time that night when he saw it was only a text from his mother, reminding him that his father's birthday was the following weekend and that they had dinner reservations for 6pm at L'Espalier that Saturday.

He leaned his head against the wall, trying to recover from the letdown that it wasn't a text from Stephanie. He wanted to see her. He wished that she was there to celebrate with him.

Initiation had been very intense for him. He had almost gotten hypothermia during one of the nights when he and three other rookies had to sit in the middle of the football field in their underwear all night. Another time, he was required to dig a large hole in the middle of the dark woods to bury a Kappa Sigma time capsule for the new rookie class. As he dug, using only his hands because a shovel hadn't been provided, a junior frat brother shouted at him to hurry his pansy ass up. He lost his watch that night, a gift that his grandfather had given him for his high school graduation. It was engraved with his initials. When he got back to his dorm that night, he cried in the shower.

He was proud that he made it through. The past few months had been hellish for him. He wanted to celebrate his achievement with Stephanie, not 200 people he barely knew. Fuck it, he thought and composed a text to Stephanie.

I'm currently drowning in a sea of drunk ogre bros and tube tops. Send help!

He received her response a minute later.

Lol! It can't be THAT bad! Wait, this is a BC frat party. I'm sure it's even worse than what you're describing and you're just trying not to worry me. I'll be right over to rescue you.

A giant grin plastered Tip's face, as he eagerly typed his reply.

THANK YOU! Blueberry pancakes at IHOP are on me as a sign of my appreciation.

Just when he didn't think he could smile any wider, he read her next text that came through.

Deal.

After Tip had gotten in touch with Stephanie, he decided to go back into the kitchen to get some help to replace the keg. His fellow freshman frat brother, Roger, carried one side of it as Tip held the other. He removed the nozzle from the empty barrel and placed it onto the full one. Once it was ready to go, he clapped his hands together and turned toward the hard liquor table. He was craving a rum and Coke.

"Come on, Rog!" He said, slapping his hand on his friend's back. "I'll buy you a drink."

The two downed the first drink quickly and Tip got busy mixing two more for he and Roger. He was excited and nervous to see Stephanie. The drinks were helping to calm his nerves. Brent, who had been leaning against the kitchen wall while talking to a group of girls, noticed the two new frat brothers at the makeshift bar. Broadening his shoulders, he sauntered over to them.

"What are you two? Girls?" he teased loudly for everyone in the room to hear. "You don't need Coke! Just drink it straight, ladies!" He chuckled as he landed a hard slap to Tip's rear end. Some of the guys in the kitchen hooted and hollered at the two freshman, shouting things like, "Pussies!" and "Candy asses!"

The top of Tip's ears turned red and he exchanged an embarrassed grin with Roger. Brent poured two long shots of rum and handed a cup to each of them.

"Let's go, sweetheart! Down the hatch!" He glared at Tip with a look in his eyes that was daring him to drink it, as if he wanted to punch him in the face if he didn't.

Tip tilted the contents of the cup into his mouth. It burned going down. Brent slapped his back and shouted, "That's more like it! Kappa Sigma don't recruit no pansies!" He poured another two shots. This time it was vodka. Tip and Roger took the drinks and downed them, knowing better than to refuse an older frat brother.

After another two shots, Tip's head was spinning. The faces in the room were just blurs of flesh. He stumbled around, trying to find his way to the living room, but got sidetracked at an open door. He could make out a hazy outline of a bed and his instinct was to lay down. He couldn't hold himself up any longer. In three long strides, he was lying flat on the bed that was covered in coats. He fell into a deep sleep soon after.