“Birth of a Story in an Hour or Less” (way longer than an hour)

A disco ball is set up in the high school gymnasium. Abba is blasting over the speakers, “dancing queen, only seventeen.” The gym is filled with freshmen, a few of them dancing, most of them segregated by gender and looking at the other groups suspiciously. Tom and Shane are by the punch bowl.
“She’s looking at you.”
“Nah uh, really?”
“Ya, she wants to have your babies.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious. She was telling me at lunch, she wants you to make her pregnant.”
Shane tried to Punch tom in the arm but Tom jumped back in time. They laughed loud and spared back and forth. They looked at the girls in quick undercover glances.
“Look at Billy and Sue.” Tom nodded his curly ginger head at the middle of the gym. Billy and sue were locked together in that way only young teenagers can seem to do. They swayed back and forth like desperate automatons. Shane and Tom watched with admiration.
“Did he just, did he just, um, he just asked her to dance?” Shane looked over at Lisa nelson. Lisa was wearing a Robbins Egg blue dress, strapless. It went down just past her knees. She was tossing her head around and laughing with Kara.
“Ya numb nuts, that’s how it works.”
“So go do it then, if it’s so easy.”
“I don’t feel like it now, I might later.”
“Wuss.”
“So you do it.”
Shane looked at Lisa again. Lisa looked at Shane and smiled. Shane raised his arm half way like he was going to waive but he didn’t and it just kind of hung there. Lisa turned to Kara and giggled. Shane turned red.
“I’m going to.” He clenched his jaw and stood very straight. He was six feet tall and looked like a stork in a baggy suit. He tried to swagger a little as he walked towards the girls. He gulped. Tom gulped. Tom took of after him.
“Yo.”
Shane turned and waited.
“I’m coming too, I’m going to ask Kara.
The girls pretended not to watch them walking over.
***

“Are you sure it was him though?”
“Ya, I mean, who else would it be?”
“But did you see him do it?” Tom asked. He and Shane were sitting at Shane’s kitchen table. The kitchen lights are dimmed and the other lights in the apartment are off. You can barely see the orange shag carpeting in the living room or the scar face poster that hangs above the T.V. they lean in across the table and speak softly.
“No.”
“So you’re not sure it was him.”
“Who else would it be?” Shane takes a swig off a bottle of Canadian Club, grimaces, and takes a sip of his beer. The table is littered with empty cans of Pabst. Shane has a beard and is dressed in jeans and a flannel work shirt. Tom’s orange hair is cut short. He wears the remnants of a suit. The jacket is tossed over the couch; the tie is hanging off the kitchen faucet.
“I don’t know, I’m just saying we don’t have conclusive proof.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t, you have circumstantial evidence and a personal bias influencing you.” Tom leans back as he says this and starts to roll up his sleeves, he has put on seventy five pounds since high school and his face is round and red.
“What are you, on law and order? I got the proof I need, what more do you want?”
“Look I can think of at least three other people it could have been.”
“Oh ya, who?”
“Well James could have done it-“
“James didn’t do it.” Shane cuts him off.
“He could have.”
“No he couldn’t, he doesn’t have the balls.”
“I’m saying he had opportunity.”
“And I’m saying it doesn’t matter.” Shane’s voice is getting louder. He takes another swig of whiskey. Tom takes the bottle from him and has a sip.
“Look, I’m trying to think about this logically, you’re getting all worked up and you’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’d like to break his face.”
“I know.”
“I’d like to go all hulk on his ass and just fucking rage stomp him.”
Tom laughs a little, “Dude, just chill, we’re gonna think this one through.”
“Oh, I’m thinking.”
“First we get a list of everybody who had opportunity”
“That’s dumb”
“Dude, just shut up for a second, then we figure out who had motive.”
“We know who had motive, and when I see that fucker I’m gonna go all wolverine and freaking claws are gonna pop outa my fists and I’m gonna slice his face off.”
They both start laughing uproariously.
“Oh my god dude, you are wasted.” Tom is sweating; there is a bead of moisture hanging off the end of his nose. Shane has been watching it without paying any attention to it for most of the night. He looks Tom in the eye and grins.
“You’re wasted”
“No dude, you are really trashed.” Shane tosses and empty can at Tom who tries to catch it. He misses and it lands with a clank on the wood floor. He laughs. Shane doesn’t.
“I just can’t believe she’s gone.”
“I’m sorry dude.” Tom has instantly stopped laughing.
“I’m gonna kill that fucker.”
“I know you are, I got your back man.”
“Ya you do, I fuckin love you man, who needs that bitch, right?”
“You don’t need her.”
“I love her dude.”
“You don’t need her, she was a bitch, remember that, you’re better off without her.”
“Don’t talk about her that way, I’ll punch you goddamn face in, she was a classy lady, and I love her dude, I really do”.
“I know man, I know you do.”
“Lets go to her house, I gotta tell her, I gotta tell her right now.” Shane stands up, he sways, then grabs the kitchen counter for balance. Tom is blinking slowly.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I love her so much.”
“I know you do.”
“I gotta call her, dude, let me barrow you’re phone.”
“You’re drunk.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“I regret everything in the morning.”
“Jesus.” Tom looks morose.
“I mean when she was there it didn’t matter how much everything else sucked, yunno?”
“You’re just drunk, you always get depressed when you get too drunk.” Tom glares at Shane as if he blames him for this.
“No man, I always get too drunk when I get depressed.”
“Oh man, that is so true.”
“Right? let me barrow your phone.”
“No, I mean that is really true.”
“let me use your phone.”
“Dude, did you hear what I said, I’m trying to tell what you said.” Tom starts laughing.
“Would you just give me your god damn phone?”
“Not a good idea.”
Shane nods, “Ok tell me what I’m gonna do when I see him.”
“You are gonna go all Darth Vader on him, fucking start choking him from across the room, and then, bzzzzzzzzzt, you pull out the light saber and you tell that fucker you’re his father.”
“Ya I do, wait, what, why the fuck would I tell him I’m his father?”
“Oh man, I am drunk.” Tom closes one eye.
“You are wasted dude.”
“I gotta pass out.”
“I gotta call her.”
“Dude, just shut up with that, I feel Ill.” Tom pushes bear cans out of the way and lays his head on the table.
“You gonna puke?”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’d like to puke all over his face.”
“Oh god.”
“I’d like to puke all over his face and then tell him I’m his fucking father, right man?”
“I am way to drunk.”
“Blaaaggggghhhhhh, how you like that, oh, and by the way, I AM YOUR FATHER.”
“Don’t make that noise.”
“You feel alright dude?”
“I gotta pass out”
“You should drink some water first man, your gonna have a hangover.”
“I know.”
“Hey dude?”
“Ya?”
“Thanks for coming over.”
“Anytime dude.” Tom stands up to hug Shane, pukes on his shoes, and passes out on the kitchen floor.
***
A tall women in a black jacket walks up the hill in the cemetery holding a baby. A stocky man with red hair walks beside her. He has an umbrella and is trying to keep any of the drizzle from touching his four month old child. He is trying to stay slightly in front of his wife and is doing an awkward step and turn to see where he is going and see the baby’s face at the same time.
“Tom, cut it out, a little rain isn’t going to kill her.’
Tom doesn’t answer but slows down to walk beside her.
“Oh god, Tom, I didn’t mean to say that today.”
“No, it’s fine.”
There is a group of about thirty mourners gathered at a grave at the top of the hill. The grave is under a tree and Tom briefly wonders if trees have a hard time surviving in cemeteries with all their roots under attack. He scans the faces intently. There are dark circles under his eyes; his face is thinner than it was five years ago.
“Is he here?” His wife asks.
“No, but he will be.”
“Tom, maybe he won’t be.”
“No, he wouldn’t miss this.”
“He wasn’t at the funeral.”
“No.”
“No one’s heard from him in years.”
“He’ll be back for this, he left because of her, he’ll be back because of her.”
“What was she like?”
“Beautiful, I guess.”
“No, what was she like?”
Tom thought about it. “Manipulative, insecure, sad, she really fucked him up.”
“Ya, you said.”
“I still can’t believe he married her.”
They got quite as they joined the group of mourners. Lisa’s parent stood by the minister. They were stooped and subdued. The minister was smiling that patented smile that says I’m empathizing one hundred percent; there is nothing happy or humorous about this. There was a wreath of roses on the casket, looking bright and shiney because of the drizzle. Tom watched tiny rivers of water run off the pile of dirt and into grave. His wife wondered about the food at funerals, people will spend twelve grand on a casket but serve plastic ham just to save a few bucks, something about that’s not right. Something about tom wasn’t right today either. She squeezed his arm.
There was the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Everyone turned to look. Tom didn’t, he smiled.