Wait, What? That Happened?

He's my best friend from high school, and he isn't even supposed to be here today. I am at his alma mater to fete my graduating cousin. They call my friend Captain. Soon they will say, "Green Beret." Isn't supposed to get leave like that. Isn't supposed to be this drunk before we hang out for the first time in many months. Isn't supposed to be there with his family.

I have not seen his sister since she was a tween. She is a sophomore in college. Too old to have common ground with the memory you knew, too young to be unembarrassed her brother is this obnoxious when wasted.

He normally lacks tact, and the alcohol has removed even this fine a filter. He has noticed the girl is with me, not just someone I'm with, and he asks the question.

"So what's this?" He gestures with two fingers jutting out, linking her and I with jerky swishes of the wrist. "She the girlfriend?" We check with each other, questions in my eyes. She subtly nods and rolls her eyes toward him as her eyebrows raise. By now, he has begun asking a follow-up to fill the space. "Or are y'all just fucking or what?"

I glance back, double-check I didn't need to do. She smiles and nods quickly three times, indicating it is okay to say it.

"Girlfriend sounds about right."

The words don't dissipate, don't disperse, don't do anything but hang in front of the situation as she refocuses her attention toward him. He is sucking water out of a Camelback, and he looks ridiculous. He smiles around the mouthpiece, still clenched between his teeth. "Looks dumb, I know. But this is a useful device, my friend. ... Useful."

She survives the day. I survived the moment. I don't know which matters more. I don't care. She doesn't either.

We like this.

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