Until He Gets It

“Sometimes, not all the time,” he said. “But sometimes I wonder…”

“What do you wonder?”

“What I’d look like if I was fat,” he said, pulling the passenger-side mirror down and gazing at himself. Often I’ve thought of Kelly as different, borderline troubled– like he’s got some social disorder from being knocked around too much as a kid. And I almost said it out-loud but I refrained due to his constant convicted expressions. Instead, I only sighed and nodded. I ran my hands down the wheel and held it at “eight” and “five”, right above my crotch. If he weren’t in the car with me, one of my hands would be in there, scratching away. I shifted uncomfortably and tried not to hate his presence.

“Sometimes I wonder what kind of donut I’d be,” I said, feeding the flame of his stupidity.

“Yeah, me too,” he said thoughtfully. “I’d be a cinnamon sugar twist. The best kind.”

“Cool,” I said.

I also wondered what my life would have been like if I didn’t listen to my parents, went to a trade school instead (like I wanted to), and never went to college. I went for graphic design when everyone and their cat were applying, too. I went right at the time that they were hiring like mad for the position and by the time I came out, bright-eyed and innocent, the market shit the bed and there were nothing but dead-end jobs in my hometown and already filled positions in the city. This dead-end job is how I met Kelly, a skinny idiot from the sticks. I was from the sticks too, but we were a heterogeneous bunch, never easy to pinpoint, always surprising. You’d never think your pizza delivery boy had a Bachelor’s in Fine Arts, was on the Dean’s List all four years and had a strange knack for fixing toilets. That was my real interest: plumbing and maintenance. My doctor father turned his nose up at this. My lawyer mother talked me out of it. Kelly, well, he was never sure what he wanted to be outside of a donut. I’m not sure ambition was something he was capable of. I had been training him in the art of pizza delivery for a week and he still didn’t know how to deal with money or people. The only reason he wasn’t fired was that his older brother owned the place.

He had some talents. He really knew his way around places. You could drive him to the middle of nowhere, blind-fold him, spin him around and punch him in the balls and he’d know which way was home. He was like a homing pigeon, same brains too. He’d be fine as a delivery guy except the last time we left him alone he took two slices of pizza for himself because they didn’t give him a tip. While they stood there, handing over the money, he politely opened the pizza box and took two pieces, leaving them dumbstruck as he made his way down their porch. He wasn’t malicious or anything; he just thought it was right and deserved. I couldn’t help but love him a little for it.

In the five days I’d driven Kelly around, I learned that his favorite television show was still the Ninja Turtles cartoon from the nineties, his favorite band was Nickelback and his favorite female was Jessica Alba. I think his love for Nickelback was only because his brother liked it. Jessica Alba and the Turtles was his own thing; I was pretty sure of that.

My phone vibrated in my pants. It was my mother calling me. I ignored it and slipped it back into my pocket.

“Who was that?” Kelly asked.

“Your mom,” I said. “I left my boxers in her bedroom.” Kelly said nothing for a long moment and then, everything clicked into place. He gave me a side-glance, smiled and punched me in the arm.

“You’re a real dick sock,” he said.

“Dick sock?” I asked, intrigued.

“Yeah,” he said, licking his lips. “It’s the thing you put your dick in to jerk off with. That’s you. You’re an old, used up dick sock.”

“Thanks,” I said, laughing.

There would be total, unbridled depression floating in the interior of my rasping 2001 Taurus if it weren’t for the job in Manhattan. Every day I lived in a quiet, unfocused anticipation for this distant but possible promise of a better life.

Their name was Peripheral Design Group, but I didn’t let their marginal company title discourage me. I applied, hoping for an interview, and a week later I got a call. I had a thirty-minute phone interview that went really well, but they didn’t welcome me down to New York for something in-person. They said they’d call me by Friday if they were interested. It was already Wednesday. I checked my phone like a text-hungry tween. I must have driven Kelly a little nuts from it.

Whatever happened, whatever Kelly said or didn’t do right to mess up another delivery, it was all okay because I felt–I mean, I truly believed–that there was something on the horizon. I was young, on the stale side of twenty-one, and ready for whatever life had for me.

We pulled in to two-sixteen Charter Lane. The car crunched over loose gravel and came to a tired halt before the front door. It was a typical house: a dumb whirly-gig in the yard, a house-shaped mailbox, flowers everywhere, plastic siding over old wood–a Colonial with a face-lift. I knew this place. I used to ride by it on my bike.

We stepped out of the car; Kelly went first like an energetic, police K-9. He carefully carried the pizza in its usual red delivery bag. We walked up to the door together as I put on my cap that read: “Astro Pizza: Out of This World”. After Kelly’s older brother Ted ordered the hats, he discovered the “h” was missing on all of them. Instead of complaining or mailing them all back (things that took effort), he just sat Kelly down with a black sharpie and a bag of Doritos and told him to take care of it.

Kelly rang the doorbell. I could feel the energy emanating from him, the anticipation. I watched him there at the front porch, standing beside me with his mouth half-open, his skinny shoulders slumped over, and envied the bastard. I wished I could be this ridiculously happy over something so simple and stupid. I hated him for it, but only a little, and only for a moment.

The door opened to reveal a curvy, thirty-something woman in a bathrobe. She had her hair down and a glass of wine in her hand. She must have just gotten out of the shower. I imagined what she was like under that robe, and felt myself start to stand at attention.

“Hi! Astro Pizza!” Kelly the genius said. I softened immediately.

“Jason?” she asked, her head tilted.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Oh my god, I’m Janet.”

“I’m Kelly.”

As if he wasn’t there, she looked at me and smiled. “Do you remember me?”

“Not really, no,” I said, shrugging.

“I was your babysitter. For like, a whole summer. You were a little monster.”

“Oh my god, Jan?”

“Yeah!”

“You look great!”

“So do you!”

“Nah.”

“No, you do. Take the stupid hat off.” I did. “Look at that dark hair. And you’re all filled out, look at you. You look…you look good, Jason.”

“I’m Kelly.”

We looked at Kelly. Crickets chirped.

“Hi, Kelly,” Janet said.

“Your pizza’s gonna be ten bucks.”

“Okay,” Janet said, and dug into the pockets of her robe. She gave me a funny look and I cringed, apologizing for Kelly’s abrupt personality. “It takes two guys to deliver pizza?”

“I’m training him,” I said.

She handed over the ten with a few dollars on top. Kelly saw this and smiled, enthusiastically handing the pizza over to her.

“You should stop by sometime,” she said. The box pressed against the thin fabric of her robe, pulling the collar open a little further. I didn’t stare, but Kelly did.

“Yeah, I will,” I said.

“Cool.”

“See ya,” Kelly said. Janet gave me one more up and down look before closing the door. I felt like a piece of meat and I loved it. Women my age around here were unappreciative. At least the ones I ran into.

As we got back into my car, I wondered if Janet would be turned off if I told her I had crabs. The answer was obvious but I was hopeful anyway. Realistically, I knew it would have to wait until they cleared up to make any visits like that.

“She was hot,” Kelly said, throwing his seat belt over his chest and clicking the buckle.

“Let me ask you something,” I said. “Let’s say she didn’t tip you. What would you have done?”

“Thrown her pizza in the woods.”

I looked at him for a long moment. He smiled.

“No, stupid, I’d a just said, ‘have a nice night’.”

“Okay,” I said, turning the key in the ignition. “Just making sure.”

# “How’s he doing?” Ted asked. He threw a pizza in the oven and said, “Hector, watch this. I’m getting a smoke.” Then Ted jerked his neck toward the back door and I followed him out.

I put an arm on the dumpster as he moved the cinderblock in front of the door to keep it open. Ted was tall, muscular, nothing like his brother. He was a good-looking guy, too. It’s almost like everything good went to Ted, except most of the time he was kind of an ass-hole. He was more like an Eddy than a Ted.

“He did okay today.”

“Just okay?” he asked, lighting a Camel.

“He’s just…he’s a little abrupt.”

“Abrupt?” The cigarette bounced between his lips.

“Well, yeah, like…he’s just a little short with people. You know, if they don’t pay the second the door’s opened. Stuff like that.”

“So it’s his personality now?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“It don’t take personality to deliver pizza.”

I laughed. “I think it takes a little, Ted.”

Ted put his hands on his hips and shrugged. He looked over across the street at the little blue building that used to be a video store before Netflix happened. “Cock” was scrawled over the front window in graffiti.

“I don’t know what to do about him,” he said distantly. It was the most pensive he’d ever been around me. I felt kind of special that he chose to share his doubts with me, like I was an advisor to him.

“Maybe he should go back to cleaning.”

“He hates that, Jason,” he said. “He’s twenty-four, he doesn’t want to clean the rest of his life. And no one else would ever hire him.”

“So…I continue training?”

“Yup,” he said.

“Until what?”

“Until he gets it.”

You can’t just teach a person to have personality. It was an impossible task, and something I was going to ignore and let work itself out. It wasn’t my responsibility to undo years of social inadequacies. Some people are delivery guys and some people clean the floors. And some people are big-time graphic designers in Manhattan with a nice car, proud parents and no crabs to speak of. That’s just the way it goes.

# The next morning I sat at my computer with Peripheral’s website up. I absently brushed my teeth with one hand while scrolling through the About Us section with the other. This was about the tenth time I read it over.

“Jason?”

I turned, my toothbrush dropping from my mouth. My mom stood in the doorway with a cup of steaming coffee in her hand. She wore a polo shirt and light-colored shorts. It meant that she and my dad were going out to play golf soon.

I grabbed my toothbrush off the floor and popped it back in and continued brushing.

“Yeah?”

“First off all, it’s ten o’clock, why aren’t you dressed?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Second, don’t brush your teeth at the computer. That’s a terrible habit your father started you on and I want it to stop. Third, Peripheral called-“ I bolted out of my chair and almost knocked her over running down the hall to the landline when she shouted, “Kidding!”

I stopped. I hated her. Without a word to her, I turned and went into the bathroom and finished brushing my teeth, my heart sinking in my chest. She did this shit to me all the time.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was playing around.”

“Not funny.”

“I know.” She sipped her coffee and watched me for a moment.

“What?”

“Let’s say you don’t get this.”

“Great.”

“Well, what are you going to do?”

“Die,” I said.

“Okay, drama queen.”

“Mom, it’s important.”

“I know it is, but…what I’m trying to say is that if you don’t get it, have you considered moving down there anyway? Getting your own place and networking? Maybe getting an entry-level design job somewhere?”

“Move out?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you telling me or asking me?”

She sighed, “I’m telling you, honey. I’ll even pay the rent for the first three months.”

I put the toothbrush in the holder and rested my hands on the sink basin.

“I’m not even sure if that’s what I want, Mom.”

“Don’t tell me that. A hundred thousand dollars later, please don’t tell me a thing like that. I don’t want to go back to heavy drugs.”

I gave her a look.

“Kidding,” she said.

“I did college for you,” I said. “I did a good job. And now you’re kicking me out?”

“You’re twenty-two.”

“Twenty-one.”

“Right,” she said. “Jason, you need to live on your own. I don’t care if it’s down the street or in Sri Lanka, you have to make it on your own.”

“I feel like…”

“What?”

“You’re throwing me to the wolves.”

“How else are you going to grow up?” she said. “You want to end up like that slow kid you drive around?

Kelly?”

“He’s different, don’t compare me to him.”

“He’s no different. He was coddled his whole life. Did you know that he’s a math genius?”

“No,” I said.

“He could be at MIT right now, or in a great job somewhere but he’s not because he’s babied. So toughen up and get out there. You’re twenty-one years old for god’s sake.”

She walked away, worked up but feeling good about herself. I punched the porcelain sink with the meaty side of my hand and started the shower. I made it hot enough that it hurt.

# I put the pizza on the counter and went to find Kelly. We had a fifteen-minute window of time to deliver, and even though Kelly could do no wrong, I could. I didn’t want Ted up my ass because Kelly made me late.

I found them in the back room with the dirty dishes. Kelly absently picked at a dirty pie tray, his shoulders slumped, his head down and nodding. Ted stood, his arms crossed, his muscles straining under his NIN t-shirt. He was trying to get Kelly to look at him.

I stayed by the door and put my hands in my pockets. I checked my phone: nothing. It was six-thirty on a Friday night and their office closed at seven. I bit my lip and focused on Ted and Kelly, trying not to think about Peripheral.

“Will you just look at me?” Ted said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Kelly looked at him. “I think you’re great. Jason likes riding around with you.” Ted glanced at me and back at Kelly.

“He does?”

“Of course. All I need from you is to let Jason do the talking for a little while. Just listen to him. Learn from him. You can do that.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Good.”

I cleared my throat and Kelly turned. The pie sheet he was picking dropped off the rack and onto the floor. It sounded much worse than it was. After Kelly put the tray back, I said, “We got a delivery.”

We drove down one fifty-three toward Rupert onto Blossom Road. It was well beyond the fifteen minutes because I had to get gas and Kelly must have taken the longest pee in recorded history. Still, when you’re the only pizza place within twenty miles, it’s hard to find real complainers.

We pulled into a small nook in the forest. Set back in a semi-circle of pine trees was a white, rusted trailer. A sedan, much like mine, sat in the driveway beside a new Dodge pickup. A rusted swing set loomed motionless in the yard. We stood at the doorway with the pizza, warm in my hands. There was a television murmuring from within. Kelly knocked on the front door. It made a rattling noise.

It opened. On the other side stood a tiny toothless girl with blonde pigtails and a pink dress.

“It’s my birthday!” she said, jumping up and down.

“Daddy! Pizza! Daddy!”

A tall, thin man in glasses appeared behind her. She grabbed his thigh and rested her head on him as he went through his wallet.

“Sorry about her, she’s a little nutty tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “How old are you?”

“Five!”

“How exciting!” I said, handing the pizza over. Kelly stood beside me like a stiff board, lips pressed together, arms to his sides. He stared straight ahead, expressionless. The dad noticed this, adjusted his glasses and asked how much he owed.

“Ten,” I said kindly.

He handed the money to me: a five and a ten.

“Thanks, guys,” he said.

“Thank you. Have a good night. Happy birthday, Princess!”

As the door shut, I heard the little girl say, “Daddy, he called me a Princess!”

“I know he did,” the dad said.

Kelly was silent as we made our way down the winding road back to one fifty-three.

“What’s wrong, man?” I asked.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said. I was surprised to hear it. I thought he had found his calling in life.

“Why’s that?”

“Ted said I can’t talk to people.”

“I think he just meant for you to listen a little more. Listen to how I do it.”

“But I’d say the same stuff you say!”

“But…”

“But what?”

“You’re kind of forceful. Your tone is forceful. A little demanding. For the cash I mean.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry, but it is,” I said. “And it’s almost worse now because when you stand there saying nothing, just staring straight ahead you creep people out!”

Kelly punched the armrest under the window, hard. I was surprised by his strength. He put a hand over his mouth and looked out the window, watching the trees fly by. Streaks of sunlight illuminated the car at our backs.

“Hey, you want me to put on EQX?” I asked, reaching for the dial. It was a station we both agreed on, found common ground with.

“Fuck it,” he said through his hand. I let my hand drop, snuck a quick nut scratch and wished I were somewhere else.

# Twenty minutes later we were on the road again. Kelly had a couple words with Ted and seemed to feel a little better. He was smiling stupidly again, like normal. He had one foot up on the dashboard and EQX was playing. The windows were down; the summer air was blowing a crosswind through the car.

I checked my phone. It was eight-thirty. In that moment, it became clear to me: I didn’t get the job. It felt as if someone put their foot on my heart and stomped.

“Who do you like better: Ghana or Germany?”

“I don’t know, Kelly.”

“I like Germany. Hector likes Ghana. We both think France sucks.”

“Mm-hm.”

“Who you think’s gonna win?”

I shrugged.

“The squid thing says it’s gonna be Germany, Hector thinks Spain’s gonna take it.”

“It’s an octopus.”

“It’s a squid.”

“No, it’s not. It’s called Paul the fucking octopus, so it’s a goddamn octopus.”

“Hector calls it a squid.”

“Hector can’t speak English!”

“Well, I think it’s a squid, I’m pretty sure of that,” Kelly said. “I’ll ask Ted when we get back, he’ll know.”

“Kelly, I’m telling you what it is. It’s a motherfucking octopus called Paul and this is an asinine conversation anyway so shut the hell up.” I shut off EQX. We sat in silence for a long time as I went too fast down route twenty-nine.

“You can be a real dick,” Kelly said.

I pulled the car over. Kelly sat upright, bracing himself. I got out, walked down to the ditch and into an alfalfa field. I screamed. I screamed, letting out my murderous, raging boredom and utter disappointment until I couldn’t scream anymore. It felt good.

I went back to the car, turned on the radio and continued down the road. Kelly just looked at me, bewildered.

“I like Ireland’s team,” I said.

“They didn’t play.”

“I know.”

# We pulled into the driveway of a three-story white house. It was a Victorian, but not the trashy, neglected kind. They always reminded me of dusty, rich old women. Of tragedy. This Victorian was well maintained, with groomed shrubs out front and a new paint-job. It could have been a bed and breakfast.

“Ted said I could talk,” Kelly told me as we walked up the lawn to the front porch.

“Fine with me,” I said. Kelly rang the doorbell.

We waited.

He rang it again a few minutes later. Finally, the door opened. On the other side was Chris Valencia, the biggest asshole in town. This kid used to pants me in junior high, invite me to hang out with him and his friends and send me on errands the whole night, he’d push me into lockers, flip my food tray, read off my tests in class–the usual bullshit.

He used to be bigger than me, but I caught up. I hadn’t seen him since graduation day and I hoped I’d never see him again. His blonde hair was shaved down to his skull; he wore a tight gray shirt and shorts. He was in good shape, always was. I wondered if he was still an asshole. Mainly, I hoped he wouldn’t recognize me. I wanted him to think I was off doing better things in life, that I’d “made it”.

“Holy shit,” he said. He recognized me all right. “Jason? Jason Stone?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Ho-lee Shit.”

“Hey, Chris.”

“How are you, man?”

“Okay, you?”

“Chilling,” he said. “This what you’re doing now?”

“For now,” I said. “I got a job lined up in New York for the fall. Design company.”

“No way,” he said.

“You do?” Kelly asked. “I thought you said you wanted to go full time in the fall?”

Chris smiled at Kelly and then at me.

“No,” I said. “I got that job.”

“That’s great, Jason!” Kelly said.

I felt terrible about the lie but I didn’t know what else to do. I knew Chris wanted to see me fail and I wasn’t going to give it to him.

I asked Chris, “What are you doing now?”

“For now? Just helping my dad. Learning about construction.”

“Awesome,” I said, hardly masking my envy.

“I just ran five miles so I need some serious grease.”

“I hear you,” I said, smiling. It wasn’t a genuine smile but I don’t think Chris cared. I hated running, never understood it.

I handed over the pizza and the check. Chris disappeared behind the half-closed door for a moment and came back with a fat, brown wallet. I heard Kelly’s wet mouth fall open a little. I wanted to punch him.

Chris pulled out a ten and two ones from a fat stack of twenties and fifties. He handed the money to me. He gave me exactly what he owed us, with no tip. Chris put his wallet away and I heard Kelly swallow. He was pissed.

“See you, Chris,” I said, and turned. I was halfway down the steps with Kelly when I heard: “Jason?”

I turned back. My throat went dry, the hair on the back of my neck stood up, my balls itched worse than ever. It was she: Stephanie, the bitch who gave me crabs.

“Hi,” I said. She was dressed for sex: a black tank with a push-up bra, tight jeans and high-heel boots. She looked nice, sexy, even. When we got down to business the first and only time, we were both so drunk that I don’t remember much about it. Only the after-effects. She looked this nice the night we did it, before she worked her magic on me and cursed me like an old gypsy.

Chris put a proud arm around her.

“You know each other?” he asked.

“A little,” I said.

“I just saw Chris at the track today.”

“My Uncle’s got a racehorse there,” he added.

“Haven’t seen him since high school.”

“Doing some catching up?” I asked.

“Something like that,” Chris said, smiling.

“Aw,” Kelly said. “I gotta piss. Can I use your bathroom, man?”

I shook my head at Kelly. Chris grinned and said, “No, you can use the side of Jason’s car, though.” Stephanie giggled. I put my hands on my hips like Ted and gave him a wry smile, like I didn’t care.

“Oh, I can’t do that,” Kelly said, frowning. “You’d hate that, right Jason?”

Chris laughed harder. “Who is this guy?”

“I’m Kelly,” he said.

“He’s like a skinny Costello. You know, like from Abbott and Costello?”

“What’s that?” Kelly asked.

“You should watch it, it’s uncanny.”

“Chris.” I said. To Kelly I said, “Let’s go.”

“Can’t believe this is our lives,” Chris said. “Years later, here I am living the dream and you’re,” he laughed, “also living the dream.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I said.

“Your dream isn’t delivering pizzas and driving retards around?”

Kelly was at him before I could blink. He was skinny, weak, but fast. He had Chris by the collar; the pizza had fallen from Chris’s hands to the porch floor. Stephanie had her hand over her mouth and Chris was laughing. I pulled Kelly off of him, directed him down the steps to the car and told him to go sit inside. He flipped Chris the bird and did what I said.

Stephanie was bent over, closing the pizza box up. Her breasts almost popped out from the top of her tank.

I tore my eyes from her and looked at Chris, who fixed his shirt.

“I’m sorry about him,” I said.

“I was just playing around,” he grinned.

“I really am leaving in the fall,” I said.

“So if I order pizza you better not show up here,” he said. After a moment he said thoughtfully, “No one wants to be here forever.”

“Not even you?”

“No way, I hate it here. Boring as hell.”

That made me feel a little better. I appreciated the asshole’s honesty. I guess he owed it to me for calling my friend a retard. Kelly got that a lot in school and we all knew it was a soft spot for him.

“I’ll go get us plates,” Stephanie said. “Nice to see you, Jason.” She walked away, her heels clicking and her ass swinging back and forth until she was gone.

“Damn,” Chris said, looking after her. “Hey, did you and her eh…did you do her?”

“No,” I said. “She’s just a friend. I don’t think she’s interested in me.”

“Really?” he said. “She’d probably consider it. Hey, I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Have fun.”

“Tell Kelly to toughen up,” he said. “I was kidding.”

“Sure,” I said. Chris shut the door.

I got in the car and started the engine. I caught Kelly wiping a tear off his cheek. He stared out the window, silent.

“He wanted me to tell you that he was sorry,” I said.

“Yeah, right, Jason.”

I drove off. I heard his breath hitch once and then he seemed to be over it. The guy was too sensitive for the world, for other people. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to stick to cleaning. All he had to deal with was a few grease stains, some muddy floors. Leave the jackasses and the dumb bitches to people like Ted and me.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” I asked, as I pulled into the parking lot.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“No, I mean you know this is hard. Why do you insist on doing it? My mom said you could go to MIT if you wanted.”

“Because, Jason,” he said. “I’m afraid of people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “All they want is something other than what they have. And it makes me nervous. If all I do is clean, I’ll never get over this. And if I don’t get over it, I’m just going to be a total fuck up to Ted. And he’s going to hate me forever for it.”

“Ted doesn’t hate you.”

“Yeah, he does.” Kelly stared at his palms.

“If it counts for anything, I don’t think you’re a retard.”

“Oh, I know I’m not either,” Kelly said, laughing. “I was just pissed that I didn’t punch the bastard.”

Whether I believed Kelly or not, it didn’t really matter. Regardless, I wanted to clear something up with him.

“I didn’t get that design job.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” I said.

“Then why’d you say you did?”

“Because I didn’t want that dick to think that this job was all I had.”

“What’s wrong with this job?” Kelly asked, a little hurt.

“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just…”

“You should stop worrying what other people think of you. Especially dick socks like him.”

“Yeah,” I said. “You’re right.”

“Common sense,” Kelly shrugged.

In ten minutes we were back on the road to Lake Lauderdale with ten large pizzas steaming in the backseat. I took my phone out of my pants pocket and turned it off. It felt good to be unleashed from it. Like I was cut off from the world, a cowboy, or the lone ranger. Delivering pizzas like the Pony Express delivered mail.

Kelly put his foot up on the dashboard. Nirvana came on and it felt like I was a little kid again when I didn’t understand the lyrics but still liked the music. The pines opened up on Route twenty-two and I could see the lake shimmering in the night. Beds of algae floated at the top, beach house lights shined on the other side. To my right, The Burger Den was hopping. It was beautiful.