Free Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg

Benny!” Steve yelled, when we were back out of the bathroom and somehow in an upstairs bedroom. My spinning pupils located Ben, sitting in a rocking chair in the corner. On the other side of the room, a Joey Warren couple was having a gentle conversation, and Ben looked like he was just chilling.
    “Benny. Keep an eye on this one,” Steve said. “Way, way too much to drink. On the positive side, we won at Spinner. I did four.”
    “The folks at AA will be so proud,” Ben deadpanned. He took a swig of his Diet Coke, and Steve headed back downstairs to drink some more. Personally, I was glad to be taking a break. I sat on the floor against the bed, facing Ben’s rocking chair.
    “Urinal Guy,” he said, and I cracked up. He’d called me that in practice a couple times now.
    “Oh, my God, the urinal. That was out of control,” I said.
    “It was certainly special” was his response. “Having fun?”
    “I threw up when a girl kissed me,” I said, before I could even attempt to switch into intelligent mode. And then I realized, fuck it. There was no way, with this much alcohol in my system, that I’d be able to seem rational and intelligent.
    Ben laughed, though, like it was a totally normal thing to say. “You get her?”
    “Missed, thank God,” I said.
    He laughed again, rocked, and took a slow swig of soda.
    “What are you doing up here?” I asked.
    He rolled the Diet Coke can against his meaty left leg. “Designated driver. Anyway, I’m more an observer than a partay animal,” he said.
    I laughed and raised one eyebrow. “I think you’re only allowed to say ‘partay’ if you’re, like, wearing a lamp shade on your head.”
    Ben looked around the room. Then he stood, crossed over to the other side, and took a lamp shade off a floor lamp. He put it on his head, came back to the rocker, and sat back down.
    “Partay, partay, partay,” he said. “So there.”
    “Yep, you can say it all you want now,” I said, closing my eyes and lying down on the floor. “Why did I drink that much?”
    “Same reason I even come to these things,” he said, taking the lamp shade off and placing it on the floor next to him. “Pure stupidity.”
    “You’re a good guy,” I said. “I really like you.”
    He laughed. “Oh, good. I was afraid this was going to be awkward, like at the urinal.”
    I thought that was hilarious, for some reason, and I couldn’t stop laughing. And I think Ben liked that I thought he was funny, because then he said some other things that were equally funny that I can’t even remember because I was sloshed.
    “I wish I was more like you,” I said softly. I could hear the squeaking of the rocking chair. “You aren’t ridiculous.”
    I could hear him sighing. “You’re not ridiculous, Rafe. Just a little … I dunno.”
    “What?” I said, sitting up so quickly that my head spun and I had to drop down to the floor again.
    “Drunk,” he said, and I laughed.
    I pondered what I was a little of for what felt like a couple seconds, but the next thing I heard was: “Rafe? I think you passed out.”
    “I’m not usually like this,” I mumbled, feeling incoherent.
    “Should we get you back?”
    I felt sick to my stomach. “Yeah,” I said.
    He helped me to my feet. Ben was strong. Very.
    “I just need to check on Bryce before we go, okay?”
    “Why?” I said. “What’s wrong with him?”
    “He gets sort of intense, and alcohol is not a big help,” Ben said as we left the bedroom and headed downstairs.
    We found Bryce leaning against the fireplace, beer in hand.
    “Hey, buddy,” Ben said.
    “Hey,” Bryce answered, listless.
    “You remember Rafe.”
    “I just watched him puke on a girl,” Bryce said.
    “Yes, I’ve heard tell nigh on three times in the last twenty minutes,” Ben said.
    “Nigh on,” I repeated. “You crack me up.”
    Ben ignored me. “You wanna come back?”
    “Nah. I’ll stay,” Bryce said.
    Ben hesitated. “You sure?”
    “I just don’t