Untitled

He sat on the couch, lazily switching through the channels. Sitting, waiting, wishing he knew what was to come. He had been there for over an hour, beer cans scattered about the house and people sleeping where they had fallen. This was a typical scene on Saturday and Sunday mornings at the Sigma Phi house. As John sat there looking around, flipping from channel to channel, he realized how much he goddam hated this place. He had wanted to get away, from his mother and from his family. That’s why he went to the east coast. When he first arrived he was so excited. He was away from his mother, away from his crazy family, out on his own. He had joined the fraternity for God knows why; his friend Stan had talked him into it. He had no school spirit whatsoever. He told himself it was for all the sweet parties every weekend, all the hook-ups he’d get. But deep down he hated it all. He sat there, waiting for something to happen, wishing he knew what would come next. It was his senior year now, and he was majoring in business. He hated businessmen. John sat there contemplating all of this, staring blankly at the TV, when he was interrupted by the shouts of the football crowd. A new party was starting, the old one from last night not even over yet.
John decided to leave. He got up and started walking. He walked away from the house, down towards the park. His cell phone started to ring. He checked the caller ID; it was his Mom. Now isn’t the time, he thought to himself, but sucked it up. “Hello?” he answered questioningly as though he had no clue whose voice was to come out of the other end.
“John, why haven’t you called returned my calls?” She jumped in head first. John had to come up with some Grade A bullshit to keep her happy.
“I’ve been busy Mom, lots of tests and papers.” John didn’t pause at all, he had become accustomed to lying, “How are things back home, Mom?” John knew his Mom; she liked to hear he was interested in the family.
“Things are going well, John, but that’s enough about me, let’s talk about you, Big Man on Campus this year.” John rolled his eyes at the phone.
“Yea, one year left, it feels good.” John didn’t feel like talking at all, but before he could end the conversation, his Mother interrupted,
“Did you receive the care package I sent you? I baked those cookies special.” “Oh, yea, Mom thanks a lot for those, I had some last night, and they were delicious.” He had just entered the park and decided that he wanted to enjoy it. “Hey Mom, I gotta go right now, I need to run some errands before dinner,” he lied. “Love you, and hope everything is going well.” John hung up on her before she had a chance to respond, satisfied with the wool he had just pulled over his mother’s eyes.
As John walked deeper and deeper into the park he felt more and more relaxed. He did not have to deal with those fools back at the frat house, or with the fakeness of the people around him. He was in an almost completely relaxed state when his goddam phone rang again. Annoyed at the disturbance of his peace, he checked the caller ID. What a useful tool, he thought to himself as he answered the phone, “Hello?” The hinges on his flip phone were almost completely worn from the frequent use.
“Dude, where are you? It’s almost game time.” It was Stan, one of the few people John actually liked. He had answered the phone because he decided that he could use a good laugh.
John let out a slight laugh. “I’m running some errands; I’ll be back soon enough. The game doesn’t even start for three hours”
“You better hope your sweet-” The signal was lost and Stan was cut out for a second or two. When he came back in all John heard was, “-you will be.” Stan
John was thoroughly lost at this and laughed again,
“Ha-ha what’d you say?”
“Yea, that’s right.” Stan responded vaguely, nodding to himself as though John could see him through the phone.
“Ha-ha alright, I’ll see you in a little while…oh hey…who all is over there?” “EVERYONE! .... HEY EVERYONE…COME AND SEE HOW GOOD I LOOK!” Stan exclaimed while hanging up on his friend. John kept walking along, laughing at his conversation with Stan, forgetting about how much he hated the place he had left, and the place he was in.
John was well liked among his peers. Everyone knew him, he just didn’t know everyone else. To be honest, he didn’t care about them. He never lied to himself about that. He had four categories he put people in: Risen, Fallen, Cool, and Don’t Know/Don’t Care. The “Risen” list was composed of people who had gone from a status of unknown to a status of friendship. His “Fallen” list was reserved for people who had betrayed him, or fallen in with the wrong crowd. The “Cool,” or “Liked,” list had five people, maybe, on a good day. These were people who John cared about, one or two good buddies, his girlfriend. His goddam family wasn’t even on this list. The last list, “Don’t Know/Don’t Care,” is pretty self-explanatory, but these people can work their way up. John almost always went on first judgments. He never got to know one goddam person if they didn’t give a good first impression, unless they somehow proved themselves to him. John was very forgiving though, and offered redemption to those whom he liked. Those people ended up back on the “Risen” or “Cool” lists.
Anyway, John continued his walk through the park, contemplating his lists, sorting and resorting people. This kept him entertained for awhile. As he was passing a hot dog cart he realized that he had not eaten anything in awhile, so he stopped. “Hey Mac…wadaya have?” the vendor asked him.
“Hmmm,” John verbalized his contemplation, “I’ll take a hot dog with some ketchup and mustard.”
“Any drink with that?” The vendor asked as he was getting out the hot dog.
“No thanks, I’m good for now.”
“That’ll be $2.” The vendor told him. As John handed over the money he noticed a familiar tattoo on the vendor’s wrist. It was one that he was forced to get, along with all the other pledges at Sigma Phi. Still, not quite in a conversational mood, John decided to ignore the observation.
He continued along the path through the park, eating the hot dog. His goddam phone started to ring, again. He began to wonder why he even brought it along. He checked the caller ID, “God what would I do without it”, he thought to himself again. It was his girlfriend.
“John?” she asked.
“Yea?” he responded through a mouth still half full from his last bite.
“What are we going to do tonight? Isn’t there that party at your house for T.O.?” she asked him.
“Yea, there is…” his voice dropped off as though something had caught his eye. On a stretch of grass he saw a father and son playing catch with a baseball. He did not feel like talking “Hey, meet me over at my place and we can watch the game, and then maybe go out for drinks after,” he told her, still talking with his attention diverted.
“Ok, I’ll get ready; I’ll meet you there in an hour.” John hung up before she could say anymore. He had now passed the father and son, and was walking more quickly as a cool breeze blew.
It was starting to get dark, and he could see a yellow cab in the distance and hear the dull roar of traffic. He was getting close to the end of the park and back into the city. John began thinking, again, about his girlfriend. He thought about how much he liked her, and how cool and beautiful she was. At that moment his phone started ringing again. He checked the caller ID, and this time just let it ring. He was back on campus now and he could hear the noise from his house already. He checked his watch. The game didn’t start for another hour, yet he knew the pre-game party had been going strong for about three or four hours now. He walked in and saw the familiar slew of bodies, some passed out, some just sitting around. By the TV he saw Stan and all the other frat members, each with a girl. It was the usual scene. Stan yelled something at him, but he didn’t hear. He walked up to his room. His phone began to ring. John didn’t bother to check the caller ID, he didn’t even answer it. He let it ring as he sat down on his bed, his face in his hands. The phone kept ringing. He pulled out a bottle of “Mike’s Mix,” a highly potent alcoholic creation he had come up with in high school. He began to drink, his phone still ringing.