Bacchanal

I: Bacchanal

Only a few minutes past midnight and already there’s been seven pukes, six hook-ups, three noise complaints, two people trying to skinny dip in the ocean despite being way too far gone, but baby this party is just getting started, Zeke is going around to each guest, just checking in, making sure you’re doing alright, damn y’all really turned out, we’re gonna run out of beer soon but don’t worry, David’s making a re-up, and if you want something else Samanatha brought that good shit back from her trip to California, give it a shot, just you be careful Max, someone make sure to keep an eye on this guy, just sayin’! just sayin’! we all remember dude, and beneath the clear, star-filled night the fire is raging, the music is blasting, this beach is going to be a nightmare tomorrow morning, you won’t be able to see the sand beneath the dead soldiers, cigarette butts, vomit, Nathan is stumbling around barely conscious, a bit too close to the fire, someone swoops him away to the parking lot before disaster strikes, Christ, he can barely stand, heaves all over the side of some beat-up ’04 Charger then sits down in his own vomit, but everyone laughs it up, it’s not the night to fight, tonight they are celebrating the beginning of their lives, the beginning of their freedom, some about to head off to college, some working parents’ shops, some gonna gun it as far away from here as they can with no cash and no plan, but all alive, all made it to the end of this piece of shit called high school, and not everyone could say that, but the dead are still with them as memories, their ghosts cannot die, this party is for them as well, the lost, if there’s a heaven I hope you’re up there, I hope things are better than here, hope things make more sense up there than they do down here, because right now this party is about to fucking explode.

Cheers as the flashing of Ford headlights in the parking lot gave that most blessed of signals: more beer had arrived, whole boxes of it, an all hands on deck situation to get it out of the back and into the coolers on the sand, people clamoring over each other for shitty Lone Star, cans dropping on the asphalt to crack open and shower the crowd with fountains of cold, pale brew, and Perry, brave, stupid bastard, picking up as many as he can to shotgun what’s left. Things were revving back up again, now that there was more than just weed to work with. Some of the football team had started up an impromptu wrestling pit, friends and teammates cheering as two sweaty, shirtless bodies grappled for dominance in the sand. The loser got a beer of consolation, the victor had to keep going, take on all challengers, until he too was pinned, dethroned. Over by the surf all hell was breaking out, people were finally deciding to hell with it and stripping off shirts, jeans, to charge into the dark water, heads bobbing in the moonlight, salt water splashing into eyes and nostrils, there’s a drop-off somewhere, they know, swim too far and the bottom just disappears, but who had the time to care? The water was cool, the breeze gentle, the waves calm, why think about anything else when you could lay back in the sea and watch the stars?

Back on shore another van had pulled up, Sammie’s, beat-up piece of shit probably from the seventies but he’d been working on it forever and you know what, it still drove pretty good, and more importantly he’d brought the really good shit, the blow and the ex to kick things up another notch (not giving them away for free, of course, but his prices were good, they had money to spare), pushing one am now and no sign of slowing down, not til the sun showed its face, not til the last man was pulled off that beach like a corpse and loaded into the van to high tail it to IHop, and that wouldn’t be for a long, long time…

And still there was Zeke, stalking around the edges of the fires’ shadows, placing hands on shoulders, whispering into ears, admiring his work, his last party of high school. He watched the bodies sway, barely more than shadows against the blaze, watched beer spill, speakers shake the sand, and he looked beyond them, through them, to a point no one else could see or know. He smiled. Soon it would be time.

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