Uncle Billy spent most afternoons lying outside in the sun. I don't know where he got money but he always seemed to have some. He had moved in with mom and me just after the holidays. Even though he wore long sleeves for the first three months I saw the bandages. It was pretty obvious what was going on. He wasn't supposed to drink but late afternoons he would get out of his chair and disappear around the side of the house where Dad used to keep his boat and the smell of weed was obvious.
"I'd do him." said Krissa.
"Ha." I answered. We were floating in the pool on our rafts. Mine was shaped like an ice cream cone and hers looked like a donut. I don't think that matters at all but that's what they were.
"What's that supposed to mean."
"Dylan is my best friend, remember?"
"So."
"So... 'I signed a pledge.' Sound familiar."
I'd known Krissa since middle school and her boyfriend who lived in the little townhouses across the street since Kindergarten. Although she was my best friend, Dylan and I were blood brothers. We had cut our fingers with a pocketknife in fifth grade. I forget what book we were reading at the time, Last of the Mohicans, maybe. I knew Krissa was all talk and that even though we both turned twenty this year she was a virgin.
"I hate that you and D talk about me like that."
"I know. We try not to. He just gets horny and has to let it out."
She went mute and I knew why.
"At least we just talk about it." I tried to re-assure her. It wasn't true, we did a lot more than talk about it. We weren't a couple or anything, we just messed around a little when we were bored or stoned.
Krissa wasn't talking to me anymore. It was just a spat, nothing serious. I asked her if she wanted a beer. Mom didn't care. She actually preferred that we drink at the house instead of running around getting drunk at parties. Krissa never answered and I went inside. I got her one anyway and got a bottle of water for Uncle Billy.
Neither of them ended up getting their drinks.
I stepped back outside and wrestled the sliding glass door closed. Of the 1000 things broken or breaking in the ratty old house, the sliding glass door was the one that bothered me most. Mom didn't care. She had her own door to the backyard off her bedroom. When I turned around I saw Krissa had left the pool. She was sitting on Billy's lounger between his legs.
I didn't want to face what I was really feeling so I told myself it was hot and sat down as quietly as I could at the table on the porch. I opened my beer and took that first sip. They still don't taste good to me and I know I snarl when I take the first sip but after that it is better, it's like I am ready for it.