From What I Remember

“One for me. One for Maxie,” she says.

I look at Kylie wearing that rocking dress, backlit by the moon, and I can’t help but wonder how I didn’t notice this girl years ago.

The priest says something to us in Spanish. He waves his hand above our heads and touches his chest with his fingers. We exchange rings, fumbling to get them on each other.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest tells us. “You may kiss the bride.” And that’s exactly what I do.

Everyone shouts out, “¡Felicidades!” as Kylie and I kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss. An older woman comes up and hugs us both. Several others join in, and soon we’re in the center of a group hug. I’m still holding on to Kylie, but she’s sliding out of my arms and down onto the ground. I hold her tighter, trying to keep her upright.

“Kylie, you okay?”

“Hey, you,” she says. She’s half asleep. She can’t fight the alcohol anymore. And then she completely passes out. Her head falls to the side. I grab her under the arms so she doesn’t hit the ground. I’ve got to get her into bed. So much for the wedding night.

il, what are you doing here?” Charlie asks, when he sees me sitting on the hood of his Jeep.

It’s a valid question at five thirty in the morning.

“I’m coming with you,” I say, trying to sound all chipper, like I’m going to make the best damn driving buddy a guy could want. As if.

“We talked about this. You agreed.”

Technically, he’s right. I tacitly agreed by not arguing, as I normally would have. I didn’t have the energy. I wasn’t exactly on my game last night. I was already losing my shit over Dad’s news, and then Max’s bizarro phone call to Charlie telling him he was in Mexico, with no further explanation and absolutely no interest in talking to me, only added insult to injury. So I didn’t force the issue because I hadn’t fully realized just how enraged I was at Max. Blowing me off on the last day of school to go hang in Baja, probably to surf and get drunk all day.

“A girl can change her mind,” I say.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.…”

“You shouldn’t drive alone. It’s not safe. Besides, it’ll be fun. A little end-of-the-year road trip. And”—I hold out a shopping bag filled with junk food—“I brought snacks. Your favorite. Oreos and Yoo-hoo. You can’t kick a girl out with Yoo-hoo.”

I’m thinking the best sell is positive spin and lots of ammunition. I came locked and loaded. I figured I was going to need it. And I was right. Charlie is such a stupid slave to Max. Blindly following his every request like it’s the frigging word of God. He may be a nice guy, but nice guys finish last, my friend.

I still can’t believe Max didn’t even bother to text or call me. All day. So rude. And hurtful. Especially in light of what I’m going through (not that he knows, but still, Max needs to start putting my feelings first a little more often). Petty as it is, I kind of feel like I need my pound of flesh. And I’m going to Mexico to extract it.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with him, but Max really wanted me to come alone. I feel like I should respect that,” says Charlie.

“I know. You made it abundantly clear. Which is insulting, but I’m choosing to rise above and accompany you anyway.

With Yoo-hoo and Oreos. That’s just the kind of loyal friend I am. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Charlie isn’t making this easy, and I don’t have the patience to play nice much longer. Here’s the deal. I’m going. My boyfriend blew me off the entire last day of school. He has inexplicably and suspiciously found himself stranded in Mexico. I am not going to sit in La Jolla and wait for him to come find me. Given that the rest of my life has gone to shit, I’m not going to let Max slip away without a fight. I am hightailing it south, and then, on the off chance that Max hasn’t done anything too offensive, I will be there for him in his time of need. In the event that Max has been a total selfish asshole (far more probable), I will be there, front and center, to ream him out and then graciously consider forgiving him, which should earn me a few Brownie points.

“He really wants me to come alone.”

“Yeah, you just said that. Several times. And I’m not so interested in what Max wants.”

Okay. That was quick. I’ve already gone dark. I polish off the last of my venti capp (thank God the new Starbucks at the mall opens at five a.m. or things would be really gruesome right now), slide off the hood of the Jeep, and jump into shotgun before Charlie has a chance to say anything more.

Charlie climbs in, closes the door, but doesn’t start up the engine. Oh, no—here it comes. Charlie is a talker. Which is pretty ironic considering he’s Max’s best friend. I can only imagine the one-sided conversations that take place in the locker room. Probably pretty similar to Max’s and mine. Normally I’m happy to chew the fat with Charlie—he’s been almost like a girlfriend, listening to my shit when Max won’t—but I’m not in the mood this morning.

“Maybe Max wanted some time off, you know, to think about…stuff.”

“Stuff? What kind of stuff?”

“College. Squash tryouts. His dad?”

“His dad? What about his dad?” I ask. “I thought he was getting better.”

Charlie just stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

“You should probably ask Max. It’s not my business.”

Yet another thing Max and I haven’t properly discussed. I could fill a room with the things we can’t talk about.

“This whole thing is probably no big deal,” Charlie continues. “Maybe he just wanted to catch some good breaks. There’s great surfing in Baja. The thing is, I don’t think he wants any drama right now. It’s not anything he said, so don’t ask me what I know. It’s just a vibe I’m getting. The two of us showing up is go

“Absolutely no drama. I’m on board with that.”

“C’mon, Lil. You know that’s not true. If you come, there is going to be drama. There always is. Just wait here. I promise I’ll bring him back quickly, and then you can go at him all you want.”

“I’m coming, Charlie.…”

“And it’s graduation. What if we’re late? You don’t want to be late. Seriously, Lil, this is not a good idea.”

“I’m coming, Charlie.” I pull a Yoo-hoo out of the bag and offer it to Charlie. I throw my feet onto the dashboard and sink into my seat. Let’s go, bro.

Charlie takes the Yoo-hoo, opens it, and gulps it down. He’s still not starting the car. I’m tempted to grab the keys and fire up the ignition myself. Charlie is really begi

“I feel like you’re ready for a fight before you’ve even heard Max’s side of things,” Charlie says.

Oh my God, more talking. Please, stop.

“Max’s side of things is always up for grabs. I want to see for myself what’s going on.”

I am working myself up into a total lather. This was not the plan, but Charlie is not starting the car, and I am not getting out until I’m in Mexico.

Charlie sighs. Debate is not his strong suit. He’s always a little too concerned about everyone’s feelings.

“Start the car, Charlie. You know you can’t win this one. I will wear you down.”

“I just want to go on record as saying this is a really bad idea.”

“Noted.”

Charlie starts the car and takes, like, five years to back out of his driveway. He turns on to the street and we’re crawling toward the intersection. Oh. My. God. At this rate, we’ll be in Mexico early next week.

“Are we going to drive twenty the whole way?” I ask.

“It’s not even six in the morning. I don’t want to wake the neighbors. I know everyone on the street.”