Rank and Adam are known to get quietly fed up from time to time, and avoid the Temple out of irritation with Kyle Jarvis’s magisterial approach to friendship. When by themselves, Rank and Adam’s running gag is to refer to Kyle euphemistically as “The Lord and Master.” It’s a joke, but one with a defensive edge.
Okay? We clear? And so to continue.
Wade is yelling over the crowd: “That’s what I told him, I told him like fuck, we’re lucky the girls saved us such an awesome table, let’s just get some drinks and sit down.”
Kyle starts shaking his head rapidly, like a furious dog, as if to shake off Wade’s insubordination.
“I can’t believe you guys. I just cannot believe you guys.”
“Dude,” says Rank, getting to his feet. The weary realization has set in that Kyle is going to require some big-time mollycoddling if the evening’s fun is to be salvaged.
“I go to all this trouble to set this up,” complains Kyle, “and you guys are like: Yeah, whatever.”
On the other side of the table, Adam says exactly the wrong thing.
“Oh come on, man, who gives a shit? It’s a drunk. We’ve been getting drunk together all year and we’ll get drunk together next semester. It’s not like we’re going off to war.”
Kyle looks over and his eyes seem to take on an extra layer of zombie-film. Rank intuitively steps in front of him to block his view of Adam.
“All he means,” says Rank, “is that this is not worth getting pissed about. We’re supposed to be out having fun together, right? That’s all. Let’s not make a big deal out of it.”
“No, it’s not a big deal,” says Kyle. “Nothing’s a big deal. Why don’t you just go tend bar or bounce drunks or something, Rank? You’d obviously rather be working. We’re not here five seconds and you’re asking Ivor for a shift. Okay, fine. If that’s all it means to you, whatever.”
Rank cannot believe the soap opera this is turning into. “Kyle,” he says, starting to laugh in his frustration. “We’re having some drinks. Relax.”
It’s funny to think that with the crowd and the music, they are all actually screaming at each other. If the bar was empty they’d sound like lunatics.
Kyle turns his blank eyes to Adam. “Are you guys coming or not?”
“Kyle,” says Rank, wilting with frustration. In the background, Wade throws up his hands.
“What’s the matter?” calls Emily, who has been watching them open-mouthed and hearing only every other word.
“Fuck it,” says Kyle, turning away. “I’m out of here.”
“Man, come on,” says Rank, reaching for him.
“No, fuck it man,” says Kyle again, assuming a final, tragic pose — the Deposed King. He pushes Rank’s hand away before it can land on his shoulder.
It’s all so stupid. It’s such a joke. Kyle’s pride is wounded. He’ll go home, stew all night, and the next day the guys will show up, apologize en masse, tease him a little until he allows himself just a hint of the old Jarvis twinkle, until finally they are laughing together and saying “fuck you” in the spirit in which it should be said among friends and Kyle is chasing them all around the room demanding hugs.
Rank follows him a couple of paces and reaches again to stop him from going. Kyle whirls around and bats Rank away using both hands.
“I’m warning you, Rank,” says Kyle.
“Kyle,” says Rank again, spreading his arms wide, thinking maybe he can just employ a little humour and fast-forward to the inevitable hugs-and-apologies segment of the evening. “Brother. Hey. Come on, bro. Where’s the love?”
“Screw off, Rank, I’m serious.”
Rank advances on Kyle, neglecting to screw off. “Love me, my brother,” he says.
Kyle’s mouth is shut tight but Rank can tell he is clenching his teeth.
“Don’t touch me, Rank.”
“Let me love you,” Rank insists, moving in. “Come, my brother. Let us love together.”
Press pause. Is Rank aware of what he’s doing? Does he know what’s coming? Have he and Kyle locked eyes and — even from the depths of their mutual alcoholic fog — arrived at an understanding? Yes. Yes, yes.
Does Rank keep moving anyway, toward Kyle, with arms outstretched? Vulnerable? Heedless? In full knowledge?
He does. Let it be said. Let it be known.
Press play.
Kyle shoves Rank. It’s not a particularly violent shove. It’s half-hearted, if anything. But seeing as how the act is a surprise to neither of them, and even as he feels himself propelled backward, Rank has already decided to let it go. He’s going to