Wish You Were Here, chapter 3
Mendocino Hills - July 1986
"Try it," said Tre, handing me the bottle.
"I'm not sure," I said to him. I kind of wanted to, but...
"Oh, go on, you'll like it," he said. He was quite insistent, but I knew he wouldn't ever make me, he'd give up after a while.
I was staying at Tre's house as my parents had gone away together for the evening. It was their anniversary, and they wanted it to be just the two of them, have a meal out and spend some time alone for some reason. Tre embarrassed me by saying they were having a dirty night away. He could be so rude sometimes.
Tre had managed to steal away a bottle of whisky from his parent's drinks cabinet, but I wasn't keen on the smell. I didn't want him to keep on thinking that I was stuck up, so took a swig from the bottle. It burned the back of my throat and mouth, and it made me wince.
"That was a weird face you pulled," said Tre. He always did this jiggly thing with his eyebrows, and it was like they had a life of their own.
"Piss off," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "That was strong."
"The next sip is better," he said "and anyway, I thought you Scots liked your whisky," he said in the annoyingly incorrect accent.
I took another glug from the bottle.
"Actually, the second mouthful wasn't as bad as that first taste," I said to him, handing the bottle back but somehow knowing that the bottle would be passed back and forth.
We were hanging out on the log, and it was early evening. We had watched the sun go down, and it had started to get a little chilly so we'd put our sweatshirts on so that we could sit outside for a little longer.
Tre got out his tin of cigarettes and passed me one. This time I took one as he'd eventually got me on to them, and we'd been smoking here, together for about a year now, but I still couldn't blow smoke rings like he could.
We sat for ages on the log, then I felt all silly and drowsy and my speech was slurring. It was obvious that we were drunk. What would Tre's parents think? We weren't fourteen yet.
We staggered uneasily back down to their house with Tre holding the empty whisky bottle by its neck, shushing at each other and putting our fingers over our mouths if either one of us got too loud. Twigs and leaves crunched underfoot, and for some reason, they seemed extra loud in the quiet night air.
The house was in darkness, and there was a note attached to the door. It read:
Tre and Julie,
We knew you were OK as we could see you both across the lake. There's plenty of food in the fridge if you want anything to eat. We've gone to bed early, as we're very tired.
Mum and Dad. Xxx
"They're having a dirty night too," said Tre, swaying away as he pulled the note from the door.
"You're disgusting," I said to him, pushing him into the house.
I have never felt so ill in my entire life, and I was so embarrassed at throwing up every hour in the Wrights' bathroom. I'd missed the toilet pan the first time, and Tre had to help me clear my vomit up from all over the bathroom floor. Actually, he was so good to me and didn't complain; in fact I could swear he was laughing at me, saying that your first hangover was always the worst. This wasn't a hangover, I thought to myself; this was most definitely a sick bug.
The Wrights' thought so too, and Tre's mum was concerned that I'd eaten something bad whilst she was looking after me as there was no way that she'd have thought that it was the affect of the bottle of whisky that we'd guzzled up on our 'spot.' I vowed then that I would never drink again...just like everybody does...
...Tre was hot and sweaty. The sunlight glared through the window, and there was this fly buzzing around somewhere. He turned onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow and dozed off thinking of a time, a long time ago when he'd camped out with Jules where there were flies and spiders...
Mendocino Hills - Two weeks later
"You don't get many spiders here, do you?" said Jules, looking suddenly nervous.
"Of course you do, but..." he looked at her face, seeing how scared she suddenly was. "They're not going to hurt you, they don't bite, and they're not poisonous," he said. He didn't want to laugh at her. Some people really hated stuff like that, he thought.
"Yeah...but they...you know...crawl, and they have these...legs," said Jules nervously.
"Of course they have legs, dumbass," said Tre, erecting the little tent with expert hands. Their parents had agreed that they could camp out. They'd ask them so many times, and finally they had succumbed but the first sign of anyone being scared, they were to both come back together. That was the agreement.
"Look, if you're scared, we're going to have to go back," said Tre. "They won't let us stay. It'll be OK, any spiders, and I'll catch them for you," he said, looking up at her. He was desperate to camp out. He'd been a few times before with his Dad, but this was the first time he was allowed to do it alone...well...with Jules, anyway.
"It's fun camping out at night," he said, "you'll love it. Have you got the soup to warm on the stove?"
"Yes," said Jules, looking about her nervously, wondering what on earth had possessed her to agree to camping out at night when she could be tucked up in her own bed away from...creepy crawlies. She opened the tin of tomato soup with the tin opener and placed it into the small pan on top of the little gas stove that Tre had lit for her. She stirred the soup up with a little wooden spoon, glancing about her all the while. It was getting dark now, and although she'd often sat here in the dark before, she'd never felt as anxious as she had now. Tre was laying out their sleeping bags in the tent, then he came over and passed her a couple of mugs so that she could pour the soup into them. They sat on their log, and Tre pointed up to some of the stars. He named nearly every one of them.
"How can you remember their names?" asked Jules, her hands wrapped round her mug. "They all look the same to me."
"Just learnt about them, and hey...look there's a shooting star. I've seen loads of those," he said, pointing up towards some stars.
Jules glanced up to the black sky with the thousands of sparkling dots of varying sizes and saw the shooting star that Tre had pointed out.
"How pretty," she said.
"I suppose yeah...it is pretty," said Tre, gulping at his soup and dipping some bread into it hungrily.
"You've got soup running down your chin," said Jules. "Here," she said, getting out a tissue that she had up her sleeve and wiping his chin, her hand brushing against his face.
"Hey...have you...shaved?" she said to Tre, taken aback suddenly.
"Mighta..." said Tre, not looking up at her. They were quiet for a moment, then Tre stretched his arms up and said they'd better wash the mugs, couldn't leave them out dirty as it would attract some animals.
"Really?" said Jules, getting anxious again.
"Yeah...but we'll be all zipped up in there," he said, nodding over towards the tent and trying to reassure her.
They washed the mugs in the lake, cleared everything away, and then got into the tent. Tre had this huge torch that he switched on. It was quite a cool night but not too cold, just the right sort of temperature to snuggle down into the sleeping bag without it being too hot.
"Night then," said Tre. Jules could hear him zipping up the bag, then he switched off the torch, turning the tent into complete darkness.
"'Night Tre," she said nervously, but she couldn't relax, as she was sure there was something in her sleeping bag, crawling away.
"Tre?" she said.
"Mmmmm?" said a sleepy Tre.
"TRE!" she said, then she was up and out of the sleeping bag, huddled over in one corner.
"What the hell is it?" said Tre, switching on the torch.
"There's a spider in my sleeping bag," said Jules
"Are you sure?" said Tre, rubbing at one eye and adjusting to the light of the torch.
"Yeah..." said Jules, but she wasn't really sure at all. She felt foolish now; what if it was nothing, just her imagination? She suddenly wanted to go back home, but didn't want to tell Tre this, as she knew how he loved camping out and had wanted to do it for so long. She was just going to have to brave it, even if she stayed awake all night.
Tre crawled out of his own bag and unzipped Jules sleeping bag, and there was a spider. The tiniest spider Tre had ever seen.
"Oh Jules, please don't tell me that is what you're scared of?" Tre said, slightly annoyed but half wanting to laugh at her.
She nodded.
"Open the tent flap," he said, nodding towards the front of the tent and with that, he scooped up the tiny spider in his hand and gently carried it outside.
Tre shook out the sleeping bag and said, "That's it, nothing there, now get in and get some sleep."
"I can't, I don't want to get in there now," she said. Tre noticed she hadn't moved from the corner of the tent.
"What you going to do then? Shall we go back? I don't really want to go back, but if you want to, then that's fine," said Tre. He wasn't annoyed at her, but just thought how stupid to be scared of something so small.
"I want to stay but...I can't get in there," she said, looking at the sleeping bag. "I just can't."
Tre was getting into his bag. "Well you'll just have to get in here with me then," he said and unzipped the bag.
She cautiously got in to the bag and laid beside Tre while he zipped up the zipper. They laid back to back. "What's that smell?" asked Tre suddenly. "Smells like apples or something."
"That's my apple shampoo," said Jules, flicking her hair out of Tre's way. She knew she should have tied it up, what if a spider crawled into her hair.
"Oh, right," said Tre.
"Oh Tre," said Jules, "don't tell me what that other smell is," she said. "That's disgusting. Tre you've farted, haven't you?" she said. "You're farts are just...foul," she said. He laughed, then imagining her holding her nose to block his scent...
...There was the buzz of the fly again, thought Tre, but it wasn't a fly at all, it was the doorbell.
He checked the clock, almost noon. He levered himself around off the bed, and after a painful interval, his brain followed, and he heaved himself unsteadily off the bed. He pulled on last night's shorts and grabbed a fresh t-shirt out of the drawer. He went to the door and down the stairs, raking his fingers through his hair as he went. On the way downstairs, something stabbed him in the foot; he glanced down and dislodged a metal bottle top from his heel.
On the doorstep there was a pretty young girl smiling at him. Tre automatically smiled back, even if he did smell like shit. He recognized her immediately as his neighbour's granddaughter who was doing a school project, Stephanie something or other. She was about nineteen years old and doing some project on music in the 2000s. What had he agreed to here?
"I hope its OK to drop by," she said shyly. "You said to Granddad that the next time I was in the neighbourhood to call in, remember?" She was clutching a bundle of books. "If this is a bad time?"
"No, no," said Tre, finding his voice; he was looking at her dark hair falling all over her shoulders in a glossy wave, her skin was smooth and glowing.
"It's a perfect time," said Tre, his hangover subsiding. "Come in."
He stepped back to let her pass him, and as she did so, he inhaled the fresh smell of soap.
"Shit," said Tre, recoiling from the rancid blast of last night's fumes as he opened the living room door.
"I forgot, wait here a moment, will you?" he said as he went into the room to tackle the squashed potato chips, bottles, glasses, and ashtrays.
He opened the window, then puffed up the cushions on the couch.
"Come and sit down," he said, "and I'll grab us a coffee."
Stephanie was leaning against the doorframe and watching him with amusement and smiling.
"What's so funny?" he asked looking up at her. His head hurt slightly.
Her smile grew, showing him her pearly, straight, white teeth. "You. What happened here?" she asked, looking around her.
Tre decided that this would be a good moment to tuck his t-shirt into his shorts.
"Party last night," he shrugged.
"I kind of guessed," said Stephanie, coming over to sit on the couch and crossing her bare legs. She gave a dreamy sigh, "I love parties."
"Not that kind of party," said Tre. "This was a boy's party, cards and booze and all that stuff, you're much too young and innocent for that type of thing," he responded.
"I'm nineteen," said Stephanie, protesting.
"Exactly," said Tre, going off to the kitchen. Boy, was she adorable, he thought to himself. Fuck! He had to stop drinking so much.
While the kettle boiled up, Tre popped into the downstairs bathroom to freshen up. He splashed some water over his face and cleaned his teeth. Much better, he thought, going back to the kitchen, then pouring himself a glass of water and grabbing a couple of headache pills out of the cupboard.
He could hear Stephanie coughing slightly from the other room. He decided then that he wanted to find out more about her.
When she returned, she was looking through his record collection.
"All these records," she said, "have you really listened to them all?"
Tre couldn't believe it either. "Yeah, I've listened to them all," he said modestly and slightly slopping coffee onto the table.
"Here, let me do that," said Stephanie, taking charge of the coffee and pouring it out in neat efficient movements while Tre sprawled in a chair.
"So this is the home of Tre Cool," she gushed. "You can't imagine how exciting this is to see how a real rock star lives."
Tre glanced around.
"It's kind of messy, I guess," he said, looking at this adorable creature in front of him.
"It's not that bad," she said, getting out her pad and pen and setting them down on the table. She was facing the door, and she suddenly glanced up.
"I thought you said it was a boy's party?" she said, looking over at him.
"It was," said Tre "why do you ask?"
But she didn't respond to him, she just nodded over at the doorway. His eyes followed hers, and there was Jules, standing there in one of his old T-shirts and not much else, it just about covered her knickers. She looked dreadful.
"Oh...that's Jules," said Tre, shrugging. "She is one of the boys."
"Try it," said Tre, handing me the bottle.
"I'm not sure," I said to him. I kind of wanted to, but...
"Oh, go on, you'll like it," he said. He was quite insistent, but I knew he wouldn't ever make me, he'd give up after a while.
I was staying at Tre's house as my parents had gone away together for the evening. It was their anniversary, and they wanted it to be just the two of them, have a meal out and spend some time alone for some reason. Tre embarrassed me by saying they were having a dirty night away. He could be so rude sometimes.
Tre had managed to steal away a bottle of whisky from his parent's drinks cabinet, but I wasn't keen on the smell. I didn't want him to keep on thinking that I was stuck up, so took a swig from the bottle. It burned the back of my throat and mouth, and it made me wince.
"That was a weird face you pulled," said Tre. He always did this jiggly thing with his eyebrows, and it was like they had a life of their own.
"Piss off," I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. "That was strong."
"The next sip is better," he said "and anyway, I thought you Scots liked your whisky," he said in the annoyingly incorrect accent.
I took another glug from the bottle.
"Actually, the second mouthful wasn't as bad as that first taste," I said to him, handing the bottle back but somehow knowing that the bottle would be passed back and forth.
We were hanging out on the log, and it was early evening. We had watched the sun go down, and it had started to get a little chilly so we'd put our sweatshirts on so that we could sit outside for a little longer.
Tre got out his tin of cigarettes and passed me one. This time I took one as he'd eventually got me on to them, and we'd been smoking here, together for about a year now, but I still couldn't blow smoke rings like he could.
We sat for ages on the log, then I felt all silly and drowsy and my speech was slurring. It was obvious that we were drunk. What would Tre's parents think? We weren't fourteen yet.
We staggered uneasily back down to their house with Tre holding the empty whisky bottle by its neck, shushing at each other and putting our fingers over our mouths if either one of us got too loud. Twigs and leaves crunched underfoot, and for some reason, they seemed extra loud in the quiet night air.
The house was in darkness, and there was a note attached to the door. It read:
Tre and Julie,
We knew you were OK as we could see you both across the lake. There's plenty of food in the fridge if you want anything to eat. We've gone to bed early, as we're very tired.
Mum and Dad. Xxx
"They're having a dirty night too," said Tre, swaying away as he pulled the note from the door.
"You're disgusting," I said to him, pushing him into the house.
I have never felt so ill in my entire life, and I was so embarrassed at throwing up every hour in the Wrights' bathroom. I'd missed the toilet pan the first time, and Tre had to help me clear my vomit up from all over the bathroom floor. Actually, he was so good to me and didn't complain; in fact I could swear he was laughing at me, saying that your first hangover was always the worst. This wasn't a hangover, I thought to myself; this was most definitely a sick bug.
The Wrights' thought so too, and Tre's mum was concerned that I'd eaten something bad whilst she was looking after me as there was no way that she'd have thought that it was the affect of the bottle of whisky that we'd guzzled up on our 'spot.' I vowed then that I would never drink again...just like everybody does...
...Tre was hot and sweaty. The sunlight glared through the window, and there was this fly buzzing around somewhere. He turned onto his stomach and buried his face into the pillow and dozed off thinking of a time, a long time ago when he'd camped out with Jules where there were flies and spiders...
Mendocino Hills - Two weeks later
"You don't get many spiders here, do you?" said Jules, looking suddenly nervous.
"Of course you do, but..." he looked at her face, seeing how scared she suddenly was. "They're not going to hurt you, they don't bite, and they're not poisonous," he said. He didn't want to laugh at her. Some people really hated stuff like that, he thought.
"Yeah...but they...you know...crawl, and they have these...legs," said Jules nervously.
"Of course they have legs, dumbass," said Tre, erecting the little tent with expert hands. Their parents had agreed that they could camp out. They'd ask them so many times, and finally they had succumbed but the first sign of anyone being scared, they were to both come back together. That was the agreement.
"Look, if you're scared, we're going to have to go back," said Tre. "They won't let us stay. It'll be OK, any spiders, and I'll catch them for you," he said, looking up at her. He was desperate to camp out. He'd been a few times before with his Dad, but this was the first time he was allowed to do it alone...well...with Jules, anyway.
"It's fun camping out at night," he said, "you'll love it. Have you got the soup to warm on the stove?"
"Yes," said Jules, looking about her nervously, wondering what on earth had possessed her to agree to camping out at night when she could be tucked up in her own bed away from...creepy crawlies. She opened the tin of tomato soup with the tin opener and placed it into the small pan on top of the little gas stove that Tre had lit for her. She stirred the soup up with a little wooden spoon, glancing about her all the while. It was getting dark now, and although she'd often sat here in the dark before, she'd never felt as anxious as she had now. Tre was laying out their sleeping bags in the tent, then he came over and passed her a couple of mugs so that she could pour the soup into them. They sat on their log, and Tre pointed up to some of the stars. He named nearly every one of them.
"How can you remember their names?" asked Jules, her hands wrapped round her mug. "They all look the same to me."
"Just learnt about them, and hey...look there's a shooting star. I've seen loads of those," he said, pointing up towards some stars.
Jules glanced up to the black sky with the thousands of sparkling dots of varying sizes and saw the shooting star that Tre had pointed out.
"How pretty," she said.
"I suppose yeah...it is pretty," said Tre, gulping at his soup and dipping some bread into it hungrily.
"You've got soup running down your chin," said Jules. "Here," she said, getting out a tissue that she had up her sleeve and wiping his chin, her hand brushing against his face.
"Hey...have you...shaved?" she said to Tre, taken aback suddenly.
"Mighta..." said Tre, not looking up at her. They were quiet for a moment, then Tre stretched his arms up and said they'd better wash the mugs, couldn't leave them out dirty as it would attract some animals.
"Really?" said Jules, getting anxious again.
"Yeah...but we'll be all zipped up in there," he said, nodding over towards the tent and trying to reassure her.
They washed the mugs in the lake, cleared everything away, and then got into the tent. Tre had this huge torch that he switched on. It was quite a cool night but not too cold, just the right sort of temperature to snuggle down into the sleeping bag without it being too hot.
"Night then," said Tre. Jules could hear him zipping up the bag, then he switched off the torch, turning the tent into complete darkness.
"'Night Tre," she said nervously, but she couldn't relax, as she was sure there was something in her sleeping bag, crawling away.
"Tre?" she said.
"Mmmmm?" said a sleepy Tre.
"TRE!" she said, then she was up and out of the sleeping bag, huddled over in one corner.
"What the hell is it?" said Tre, switching on the torch.
"There's a spider in my sleeping bag," said Jules
"Are you sure?" said Tre, rubbing at one eye and adjusting to the light of the torch.
"Yeah..." said Jules, but she wasn't really sure at all. She felt foolish now; what if it was nothing, just her imagination? She suddenly wanted to go back home, but didn't want to tell Tre this, as she knew how he loved camping out and had wanted to do it for so long. She was just going to have to brave it, even if she stayed awake all night.
Tre crawled out of his own bag and unzipped Jules sleeping bag, and there was a spider. The tiniest spider Tre had ever seen.
"Oh Jules, please don't tell me that is what you're scared of?" Tre said, slightly annoyed but half wanting to laugh at her.
She nodded.
"Open the tent flap," he said, nodding towards the front of the tent and with that, he scooped up the tiny spider in his hand and gently carried it outside.
Tre shook out the sleeping bag and said, "That's it, nothing there, now get in and get some sleep."
"I can't, I don't want to get in there now," she said. Tre noticed she hadn't moved from the corner of the tent.
"What you going to do then? Shall we go back? I don't really want to go back, but if you want to, then that's fine," said Tre. He wasn't annoyed at her, but just thought how stupid to be scared of something so small.
"I want to stay but...I can't get in there," she said, looking at the sleeping bag. "I just can't."
Tre was getting into his bag. "Well you'll just have to get in here with me then," he said and unzipped the bag.
She cautiously got in to the bag and laid beside Tre while he zipped up the zipper. They laid back to back. "What's that smell?" asked Tre suddenly. "Smells like apples or something."
"That's my apple shampoo," said Jules, flicking her hair out of Tre's way. She knew she should have tied it up, what if a spider crawled into her hair.
"Oh, right," said Tre.
"Oh Tre," said Jules, "don't tell me what that other smell is," she said. "That's disgusting. Tre you've farted, haven't you?" she said. "You're farts are just...foul," she said. He laughed, then imagining her holding her nose to block his scent...
...There was the buzz of the fly again, thought Tre, but it wasn't a fly at all, it was the doorbell.
He checked the clock, almost noon. He levered himself around off the bed, and after a painful interval, his brain followed, and he heaved himself unsteadily off the bed. He pulled on last night's shorts and grabbed a fresh t-shirt out of the drawer. He went to the door and down the stairs, raking his fingers through his hair as he went. On the way downstairs, something stabbed him in the foot; he glanced down and dislodged a metal bottle top from his heel.
On the doorstep there was a pretty young girl smiling at him. Tre automatically smiled back, even if he did smell like shit. He recognized her immediately as his neighbour's granddaughter who was doing a school project, Stephanie something or other. She was about nineteen years old and doing some project on music in the 2000s. What had he agreed to here?
"I hope its OK to drop by," she said shyly. "You said to Granddad that the next time I was in the neighbourhood to call in, remember?" She was clutching a bundle of books. "If this is a bad time?"
"No, no," said Tre, finding his voice; he was looking at her dark hair falling all over her shoulders in a glossy wave, her skin was smooth and glowing.
"It's a perfect time," said Tre, his hangover subsiding. "Come in."
He stepped back to let her pass him, and as she did so, he inhaled the fresh smell of soap.
"Shit," said Tre, recoiling from the rancid blast of last night's fumes as he opened the living room door.
"I forgot, wait here a moment, will you?" he said as he went into the room to tackle the squashed potato chips, bottles, glasses, and ashtrays.
He opened the window, then puffed up the cushions on the couch.
"Come and sit down," he said, "and I'll grab us a coffee."
Stephanie was leaning against the doorframe and watching him with amusement and smiling.
"What's so funny?" he asked looking up at her. His head hurt slightly.
Her smile grew, showing him her pearly, straight, white teeth. "You. What happened here?" she asked, looking around her.
Tre decided that this would be a good moment to tuck his t-shirt into his shorts.
"Party last night," he shrugged.
"I kind of guessed," said Stephanie, coming over to sit on the couch and crossing her bare legs. She gave a dreamy sigh, "I love parties."
"Not that kind of party," said Tre. "This was a boy's party, cards and booze and all that stuff, you're much too young and innocent for that type of thing," he responded.
"I'm nineteen," said Stephanie, protesting.
"Exactly," said Tre, going off to the kitchen. Boy, was she adorable, he thought to himself. Fuck! He had to stop drinking so much.
While the kettle boiled up, Tre popped into the downstairs bathroom to freshen up. He splashed some water over his face and cleaned his teeth. Much better, he thought, going back to the kitchen, then pouring himself a glass of water and grabbing a couple of headache pills out of the cupboard.
He could hear Stephanie coughing slightly from the other room. He decided then that he wanted to find out more about her.
When she returned, she was looking through his record collection.
"All these records," she said, "have you really listened to them all?"
Tre couldn't believe it either. "Yeah, I've listened to them all," he said modestly and slightly slopping coffee onto the table.
"Here, let me do that," said Stephanie, taking charge of the coffee and pouring it out in neat efficient movements while Tre sprawled in a chair.
"So this is the home of Tre Cool," she gushed. "You can't imagine how exciting this is to see how a real rock star lives."
Tre glanced around.
"It's kind of messy, I guess," he said, looking at this adorable creature in front of him.
"It's not that bad," she said, getting out her pad and pen and setting them down on the table. She was facing the door, and she suddenly glanced up.
"I thought you said it was a boy's party?" she said, looking over at him.
"It was," said Tre "why do you ask?"
But she didn't respond to him, she just nodded over at the doorway. His eyes followed hers, and there was Jules, standing there in one of his old T-shirts and not much else, it just about covered her knickers. She looked dreadful.
"Oh...that's Jules," said Tre, shrugging. "She is one of the boys."
