By William Beachum

It was at that moment I got so scared that the people I love would get hurt, I realized that I wasn’t ready to grow up.

The thing I remember most about March 23rd, 2021 is the feeling I had when I decided I wasn’t ready.

There’s a house party thrown by a girl I barely know. It’s my second real house party. It’s the first one where I know most of the people there, so I decide to go and choose memories over safety. My plan was to stay sober for the night so I could control how the night went. I didn’t know the importance of the date just yet.

I dreaded this night. I thought it would be the night where all of the adult things that happened in high school movies started happening. The night that would forever taint the way movie nights were run and sleepover agendas were managed. The night where I had to grow up and start doing all of the things that adults are supposed to do when they have fun.

Everytime I see a case of White Claws pulled from under a table, or  smell beer on one of my friend’s flannels, the memory of this night pinches at my spine.

Sometimes, it’s comforting to remember. I pull out my phone and try to recover that night.

*

Text Message: 9:59 P.M.

Hey, Have fun tonight. Remember to be safe and have fun. We’ll be waiting for you when you come home.

(Mom, sitting down to watch reruns of The Middle, excited I’m trying to be an adult.)

Text Message: 10:31 P.M.

Can you come help take care of Sara with me? She’s already throwing up lol

(Ellie, the host of the party, waiting to get drunk so she doesn’t have to pace herself.)

Text Conversation: 10:52 P.M.

Hey you’re sober right?

(Ellie, quickly realizing she shouldn’t have hosted this party.)

Yea what’s up

(Me, slowly realizing what the rest of high school is going to look like.)

Do you mind checking on Chloe? She’s been upstairs for a while and she seems pretty upset

(Ellie, fighting the urge to text her mom.)

Sure

(Me, knowing I’m not ready for any of this.)

Text Message in Group Chat: 11:37 P.M.

Has anyone seen Chloe? She said she went for a walk but she’s goni lol

(Ellie, drunk off her ass because she hasn’t eaten in three days.)

Missed Call: 11:52 P.M.

(Chloe’s Girlfriend, Aliyah, terrified her parents will have to figure out who they really are)

Text Message: 11:53 P.M.

Hey, I can’t find Chloe, come downstairs when you can

(Aliyah, 11:58 P.M, helpless)

This is the text I remember. I smell Sara’s vomit behind the couch. The stench takes any sweetness away from the feeling of Chloe lying in my arms.

Chloe’s drunk. So laughably, scarily drunk. If she had any more, she’d be hospitalized. She’s had a sip of something here or there at a grad party but she’s never felt a release like this.

Chloe’s a good sister. She’s the best alto in her choir and teaches the younger girls how to utilize their voice. She’s a consistent supporting character in the school musical, never the last bow but always playing the character that people talk about after the show. She’s an angry daughter. She fights with her mom to prove that she can be something more than what’s been planned for her. She wants more for herself than she might be able to achieve. She knows that she might fall short.

Chloe looks up at me with a look that prompts my remembrance of the moment. The drop in her jawline and the unsettled nature of her eyelids signal to me that she doesn’t know what to do. She wears that look of helplessness, that look that says “I’m too young for this,” with the knowledge of who she wants to become stamped into her pupils. Her face folds into a delicate balance of youth and fear, swaddled with both the pain and pleasure of release.

The rest of my friends are drunk and useless by now. They stumble past the door of the room I’m in. They walk with a sense of desperation but they laugh with a sense of innocence.

It was at that moment I got so scared that the people I love would get hurt, I realized that I wasn’t ready to grow up.

The only thing I knew what to do was hold onto what’s closest to me. I wrapped my frail arms around Chloe and I held her unsteady breath in my arms until all of her unsafety had exhaled into the stains on the couch below us. She slowly dozes off to sleep. She keeps adjusting her head because my body is too bony to stay comfortable. I’m not comfortable either, but I’m ok, I think.

Text Message: 12:03 A.M.

Hey ok saw you with chloe thank you hav ea good night

(Chloe’s Girlfriend, Aliyah, 11:58 P.M, stuck in the release, relieved that her reveal is postponed)

Text Message: 12:17 A.M.

Hey are you still with chloe i need help

(Ellie, understanding less and less)

Text Message: 12:28 A.M.

???

(Ellie, knowing less and less)

Missed Call: 12:42 A.M.

(Ellie, realizing she shouldn’t have trusted a stranger)

I continued to hold Chloe. I let the phone ring.

Some people need to be held close and know that it’s okay to try to figure out who they are. They need to be able to explore what it means to them to try to be more than a child.

I was young enough to know that I wasn't ready to grow up. I had grown up enough to know that other people didn’t know that they weren’t ready to grow up.

Text Message: 2:03 A.M.

We said 1:30.

(Mom, readjusting her sleep schedule)

Missed Call: 2:16 A.M.

(Mom, imagining the worst.)

Missed Call: 2:18 A.M.

(Mom, investigating the worst.)

Voicemail: 2:30 A.M.

“I’m heading to bed now. I hope you’re okay. Call me as soon as you’re up.”

(Mom, hoping she trusts her son enough.)

Text Message: 9:51 A.M

What happened last night?

(Chloe, held in her innocence) ■