Page 37 of On the Edge

“Thanks. I want to, though. It’s important.” Another deep breath, his chest expanding dramatically under his thin T-shirt. “I wasn’t going to go to this today. I have trouble with big groups—parties—like this. Even though it’ll just be the team there, I still don’t…I just really don’t like being around a lot of people. My first year here—that October—I went to a party with my roommate and…”

He trails off, turning away to look at the gas stationthrough the windshield. I give him a few moments before softly prompting, “And what, Max?”

“And someone put a roofie in my drink, and, well...”

My arm, which had been resting on the steering wheel, slips and the horn gives a quick report. I don’t know all the street names that are used for drugs in this country, but I knowthatone. I know what it does and I know what it is primarily used for. I don’t need for him to continue in order to guess what might have happened.

“Oh, no, Max. I am very sorry about this.” Desperately, I try to think of anything I could say or do. I wish I could be like Zeke—he always knows the right thing.

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. “I’m not…I just wanted to explain why I don’t hang out with the team very often. I wasn’t going to go to this barbecue, but Dr. K said I should. It’s my homework.”

“We shall stick together. You and I will be together today, and everything will be well,” I promise, feeling miserable and a little ill.

Max smiles and flattens his hands on his thighs, rubbing them back and forth as though he’s drying his palms.

“Actually, that would be great. If you don’t mind,” he adds quietly.

“I do not mind!” I say a little desperately. “But I am thinking Coach Mackenzie would not want you to stress yourself. We can go home if you wish. I will tell Coach it is because of me that we did not go.”

“You’re right. Coach told me not to come if I wasn’t comfortable. But I can’t keep hiding, and it’s just a backyard barbecue with friends. It’ll be fine.” He sounds like he’s not stating a fact so much as trying to convince himself of the truth.

“Yes, it will be fine. And we shall stay together, you and I. I will be your Luke for the evening, except perhaps with less jokes and kissing.”

Max chuckles and I relax into my seat a little bit. I want to reach back in time and smack myself for not being a better person; for not trying to talk to him when I had noticed something was off. I feel awful. I’m a terrible friend.

“I am very sorry,” I repeat. This time it isn’t English failing me, but words in general. I don’t understand how this could happen. How someone could hurt Max, who is sweet and quiet and never makes any trouble.

“Vas, please don’t feel bad. I just wanted to explain, that’s all.”

“It is very hard not to feel badly when your friend tells you something like this.” Max smiles a little and I try my best to return it. I almost wish he had asked me to turn around and drive us back to his apartment. Suddenly, I am not feeling much like socialization myself.

“I wouldn’t have told you what happened back then, even if you’d asked,” he says quietly, eyes intent on my face. “So don’t go feeling guilty. You and Carter being my friends was help enough. I don’t know what I would have done if you guys hadn’t done that. I would have been alone on the team and felt a hell of a lot worse than I already did.”

“That is kind. Thank you for telling me, Max. I promise I will not abuse your confidence, and I promise I will stay with you at Coach’s barbecue.”

“Thanks. We’d better get going so we aren’t late.”

The car is silent once more as I drive, but it’s a more comfortable silence. I did not grow up with a particularly affectionate family, and I have mostly used that model of behavior in my adult life. But now I am wishing I had givenMax a few more hugs, and Carter as well. Perhaps there are a lot of people in my life who might benefit from a little show of affection, and I have been letting them down. I think of Atlas, as I so often seem to do these days, and add him to the list of people who probably need a few extra hugs. When we pull up to Coach Mackenzie’s house, and park behind someone’s truck, I turn to Max.

“I think I might hug you, if that is all right.”

He smiles. “That’s all right.”

Nate pulls up right as I’m letting Max go. He walks up grinning, and slings an arm over each of our shoulders, squeezing us to his sides in a single-armed hug.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hello, Nate.” I smile at him. He is an easy guy to be around, and one of my favorites on the team. He is always in the thick of things, making the rounds in the locker room and talking to everyone. At one practice, he somehow convinced Micky to lend him his pads and stick so he could try being a goalie. He might give Coach Mackenzie an aneurism, but he’ll have the rest of us laughing in the process.

“I am so fucking hungry. Haven’t eaten all day in preparation,” he says, dropping his arms and rubbing a hand over his stomach.

Coach Mackenzie instructed us to come straight to the back and not bother knocking, so we skirt around the edge of the house. As nonchalantly as I can, I step behind Nate and put myself on Max’s right side, so there is no longer a body between us. I am going to stick to him like glue today.

Judging by the amount of people milling around, we are some of the last to arrive. Smoke is rising from a massive grill over on a large deck, and there are tables set up and alreadystrewn with food. Nate groans dramatically, making Max chuckle.

“How many servings do you think I can eat before it’s considered rude to fill my plate again?” he asks.

“I think you can have as much as you want,” Max answers, with a small, knowing smile.

---