Disequilibrium

Part 3: Junior Year - Scene 4

"I'm grounded," Casper says. "My mom found out about what went on at the party. I mean, not the whole kissing thing, but the drinking. And the drugs. Did you even know there were drugs? I sure as hell didn't."

I can hear another murder mystery playing in the background, the music growing louder in suspense. "Did you tell her that?"

"Of course I told her that, but she wouldn't listen. She kept saying I should've known since I was the host. I should've kept my eyes open for those kinds of things, and if I didn't know a person, I shouldn't have let them stay, and blah, blah, blah." He sighs. "I mean, I know she's right and all, but it still pissed me off."

"And what did your dad do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Yeah, nothing. He just stood there and let her berate me like I'm some—"

I burst out laughing as soon as he says that word. Berate. Only someone like Casper would say it like it's the worst swear word in history. Only someone like Casper would say it at all. I'm laughing for about a minute until I notice he's gone silent, which makes me quit it right away. That's something I haven't quite figured out about him—his silence. I can never tell if it's good or bad.

After a second of utter stillness, I mutter, "Sorry."

"Don't be."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way—"

"Hey, I said it's alright. I'm not mad. I just like hearing you laugh."

There's an instant fire burning my cheeks, and I can't help thanking God he's not here to see them. "Oh. Well, thanks, I guess."

"It's been a while since you laughed like that."

"Has it?"

"It has. I'm in love with it, you know."

The fire grows. "You're embarrassing me."

"Good. That's what I'm here for." He pauses for a moment before saying, "I want to make you laugh like that more often. No more of that bootleg shit. I want the real deal."

"Then you've just got to work on not being an asshole. It's that simple."

He lets out a short, quick laugh that only lasts for about two seconds, but it's not cold at all. I find that interesting; how he can laugh like that without making you feel like you're drowning. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?" he says. "That those laughs were fake?"

"I was hoping that you wouldn't."

"Well that's stupid. I know you better than anyone else, O'Donovan. Possibly even yourself."

I beg to differ.

The suspenseful music is back on the other line again. Casper falls silent for a while, his breathing hitching a bit until he lets out a soft "Damn," right when a lady screams. That's another thing I like about him. How invested he gets. It doesn't matter how many times he's watched that same scene—he'll still love it just the same. It doesn't even matter how screwed up it is.

At times, I think of telling him about the things I've done. About the things I've thought of doing. There's a part of me that wants to believe that when I do tell him, he'll still love me just like he loves his movies. He'll say that's okay, Holden, and hold me like all we've been through—all I've done for him—wasn't for nothing.

But then there's a part of me that knows it'll never happen. I know him, and I can already imagine the look in his eyes once those words come out. I stole money from old people. Disgust. I pushed a girl down the stairs. Shock.