You Should Have Been Here Yesterday

Things I'd Like to Do Before 1970

"Mrs. Hamilton, hi," Joe said shyly.  We were looking for invitees to Tom's party, as it was tomorrow night.  "We're looking for, uh, Cecily, Scott, and Perry?"  Those were the names of Tom's siblings.  I had a pen and piece of paper ready to copy down their numbers.  Next, we called the members from the Jam Band, the band Tom had with Joe back in high-school.  "Hey, Pudge," Joe said.  And the party guest list commenced.

        We couldn't get hold of Scott or Perry, Tom's older brother and sister, respectively, but we managed to find Cecily, his younger sister.  She said she'd call Perry and Scott, but that unfortunately she was already doing something else.  Though she did give us some great insight as to what Tom might want as a gift.  Not that we had much money, anyway, but...

        "Should I get a pizza?" Joe asked me.  Joey was out buying cake mix with Mark; Tom was at Berklee College with Steven, meeting up with the guy named Brad.  Steven knew Brad because one of his guitarists in a previous band, named Twitty, had known Brad.

        I shrug.  "Steven and Tom should be back soon.  You got enough cash for that?"

        "Good point," he muttered.  "You wanna stay here?"

        I sigh.  "Yeah, I gotta talk to him."

        "I already tried, Gin," Joe groaned.  "He ain't gonna hear it!  He's already pissed 'cause Mark doesn't label his shit, Joey made a mess, and now this... Fuck..."  He hung his head, clearly ashamed of what happened last night.

        "I'm sorry," I mutter.

        "You're sorry?!" he asked, almost looking like he was going to start laughing.  "It was my fuckup.  Shit, I'm so sorry."  Oh my God, this is horrible.  He can't even look at me!  He shouldn't feel bad at all... I was the one who was all Oh, I don't remember.  Maybe I wanted him to kiss me...

        I voice this opinion to him, minus the part of the maybe wanting him to kiss me.  He laughs.  "You're cute," he stated.

        "So I've been told," I mutter.  "Look," I say with another sigh.  "I'm with Steven and I'm happy with Steven, okay?  I don't wanna fuck that up 'cause I like him.  I really, really like him..."

        "Ya love him," Joe said.

        "I do," I agreed.  "Very much."

        "He loves you too.  Told me last night when I tried to explain what happened," Joe said quietly.  "It was massive.  You know when he left?  He didn't come back 'til midnight."  He was gone for twelve hours?!  Holy shit!

        "Where'd he go?" I asked, astonished.

        "I dunno; wouldn't say.  I tried to apologize.  I told him it was all my fault–"

        "It wasn't all your fau–" I try.

        He closes his eyes, holding up a hand.  "I don't have a clue where he woulda gone.  He wasn't drunk at all.  Seemed perfectly normal.  It was weird.  He stopped in front of me on his way to his room and was just like, 'Fuck you.'  He didn't even give me a chance to say anything.  Like, 'I fucking love her, fucking got it?'  And he just yelled one final 'Fuck you!' before walking off to his room and slamming the door shut."

        "I'm sorry," I repeat, feeling tears form in my eyes.

        "Stop," he says, almost whining.  "Don't cry... All I did was kiss you.  I don't care if he wants to kill me now."