"Seattle Class Story"
Richie went to a private school outside of Seattle but he was not rich. In fact, on many occasions Richie’s mother and father, Mr. and Mrs. Palmer, explained sadly, “we just can’t keep up with the other families at your school. You’ll just have to do your best to fit in.”
That was OK with Richie for a long time. He did many things to ‘fit in’ at school. Some of these things he came to regret. To this say, Richie notices in himself a distain for hired help and people who are ‘not alcoholics.’ Eventually, during, and especially after college, Richie became comfortable with his awkward subject position. His mother’s voice echoed in his head for years “we are upper middle class” and yet Richie knew that he had been given access to the most privileged places and opportunities. At some point Richie realized that he was more comfortable hanging out with people who were ‘fucking loaded’ than people who were actually ‘middle class.’ For a while this made Richie uncomfortable, yet this too passed.
By the time Richie has spent a year or so in college, doing the same ridiculous, dangerous, and exciting things as every other university undergraduate, he realized that he had managed to fit in. ‘Holly shit’ he thought, ‘I actually fit in.’ At the same time, he remembered a time when things had been much more difficult.
Once, at a party his sophomore year of high school Richie was placed in an awkward position. His friend Jerry had gotten very drunk, tried to sleep with a girl in the class named Melanie, and ended up puking his guts out all over the inside of a 2009 Mercedes SUV. There were little chucks of tuna fish coming out of the air vents for weeks. When the heated seats were turned on, you could smell a faint odor of very expensive cheese, which, of course, was not cheese at all.
Jerry had a desperate, world-bending crush on Melanie. Probably, they were both virgins. Having sex in private school was much like being the first to climb a very steep mountain: best be fit and very rich. Both teens were very rich but they lacked certain social skills that allow typical adults to have sex without totally ruining themselves from the inside out.
On his second Bud Lite, Jerry asked Melanie to dance. The song “Love In This Club” has just started playing from the home stereo of Melanie’s parents, who were away on business. Jerry’s breath smelled of cheap bear and fish tacos. Melanie said yes.
Unlike other girls her age at the private school, Melanie was not a virgin; she had been dating a 20-year old ‘big-time drug dealer’ who went to Bellevue Community College. She remembers him: “he was pretty stupid, I wonder what happened to him. He did have a big penis though. But regardless, not one of my better choices.” In addition to not being a virgin, Melanie was also not stupid, so she did not want to have sex with Jerry.
Jerry was a twitchy, impulsive boy. Like Richie, he was awkward and quiet. Unlike Richie, Jerry possessed a strange, sophisticated pride that sometimes passed for confidence.
“Do you want to fuck in the car?” he asked Melanie.
“No.” She said. Though, smiling and passing him her mixed drink of vodka and Gatorade, she was ‘secretly flattered.’
It was about this time that Richie noticed his friend Jerry was in over his head. He know Jerry would not be able to fuck Melanie, either physically or ‘socially.’ Jerry was not having a good idea and he would probably puke soonish.
Self-consciously, Richie stood in the corner of the large kitchen and tried to feel normal. While he leaned against a Thermador gas range that cost more than both his parent’s cars, he felt really lost, uncomfortable, and helpless to help his friend. This was one of Richie’s first ‘drinking parties.’ He thought ‘I have not yet mastered ‘drinking parties.’’ The voice in his head was detached and seemed to not care that he needed to make non-sarcastic conversation with his classmates.
Suddenly, Richie noticed Jerry making a B-line to the garage, dragging Melanie, who appeared amused and a little excited to know what Jerry might attempt to do with her there. Melanie enjoyed watching boys make mistakes at parties. She was rarely profoundly offended.
Jerry opened the door to the garage and leaned into a good stride for the nearest car. It was large and expensive and it happened to be unlocked. Breaking away from Melanie he suddenly seemed content to ‘go it alone’ as we all must do sometimes in life.
“No!” said Richie in a quiet, selfish voice. He was suddenly aware of how non-drunk he felt.
Alone in the driver’s seat, Jerry began to vomit violently. For a moment everyone was still except for Jerry shaking and loosing his dinner. It almost looked like he was dancing.
“We need to help him,” said Melanie. They pulled Jerry out of the destroyed car and into a bathroom. Grateful for something to do, Richie followed Melanie’s directions down a long, gilded hallway. Jerry moaned melodically.
They got him to kiss the toilette and watched him shake for a few minutes. They talked about the new Radiohead album, which Richie thought might become ‘a classic’ and Melanie seemed certain it was only ‘very sexy.’ This seemed interesting.
They left Jerry and had a cigarette on the back porch. It was about ten thirty. The sky was yellow and dark at the edges. In the light of the hot tub, the two seemed very good together. Almost normal.
Richied looked at Melanie for what felt like ‘the first time ever.’ She was gorgeous, with strait dark hair, long pastel-colored limbs, and small intense eyes.
“Do you want to fuck me?” asked Melanie. “I’m kind of up for it if your parent’s aren’t coming for a while.”
“Why? Why do you want to fuck me?” asked her, confused, enchanted.
“Yes or no? It doesn’t need to be that complicated.”
Richie felt the warm glow of American wealth penetrate his body as he sunk deeper into the hot tub. He realized ‘they’ would have called it a ‘sauna.’ Too late. It didn’t matter now; Richie was on his way. He would soon become ‘upper class’ at least to the eyes of most people who cared to notice.
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