When You Don't See Me by Timothy James Beck

sound came out. “What are you, a cop?”
    â€œSomething like that,” he said. He gripped my arm and gave me a little push. I glanced again at my friends, but they still hadn’t noticed that I was being manhandled. I wondered why Fred had chosen this night to stop paying attention. But of course, he was. To Davii.
    â€œAm I being arrested?” I asked.
    â€œWe’ll let them decide that at the precinct,” the man said. Then he repeated with sarcastic exaggeration, “Peter.”
    The cold air blasted us as we went through the door, giving me a moment of clarity.
    â€œPeter’s my friend,” I said. “I must have picked up the wrong license. Mine’s probably at home.”
    â€œLike I said, we’ll let them figure that out at the precinct.”
    He walked me to a van, where a uniformed cop opened a door so I could get in. Three other people barely glanced my way as I sat down. Two of them were girls with black-rimmed eyes and dye jobs as bad as Morgan’s. One of the girls was putting on dark lipstick, and the other was on her cell phone.
    â€œJust tell Daddy to get there,” she snarled into the phone before snapping it shut.
    â€œHey, can I use that?” the only other guy asked. He was short, even thinner than I was, and covered with acne. Why had he imagined anyone would think he was old enough to drink?
    The girl tossed him her phone with indifference. She looked at me and said, “You can use it, too. If they’re too stupid to take it away from me, I figure we can call whoever we want, right? I’m sure as shit not sitting in jail.”
    â€œI’ve got my own,” I said, reaching into my pocket for my cell phone. I stared at it for a minute, realizing that more than anything in the world, I didn’t want to make my call.
    I dialed the number and waited.
    One ring.
    Two.
    Three.
    â€œWe’re not here. To leave a message for Daniel, press one. For Blaine, press two. For Gavin, press three. For anyone else, hang up and dial your number again.”
    I pressed 2 and began, “Uncle Blaine? It’s Nick.”
    Too bad I hadn’t specified good luck when I’d wished for some luck of my own.
    A couple hours later, I was a free man, wondering how much Uncle Blaine had spent to buy my way out of being charged with anything. He hadn’t waited around to give me answers. I didn’t want the cops to change their minds, so I just walked out of the Ninth Precinct. Someone had brought my coat and left it for me. I buttoned it against the cold night air and splurged on a cab to take me home.

 
    March 5, 2003
    Nicky,
    I was surprised to call my brother and learn that you moved out of his apartment and dropped out of Pratt. My check that was meant to cover your tuition cleared. Is that the money you used to get into your own apartment? Don’t you think that’s something we should have talked about first?
    I suppose it’s too late for me to reason with you, but I’m very concerned about the choices you’re making. I assume you’re getting a job and suggest that if you plan to return to school in the fall, you save enough to pay your tuition. I’m not going to give you money again unless you can prove that you’re more responsible and committed to your education.
    Dad

3
The Sodom and Gomorrah Show
    T he beauty of working as a housekeeper for I Dream of Cleanie was that I usually didn’t have to work until after 10:00 AM. The downfall of living in a microcosm with three other people was that my roommates made a lot of noise in the morning. Because my room was off of the kitchen, I heard it all. I lay in bed and listened to the same dialogue each morning.
    â€œCan’t I go first?”
    â€œI’ll be five minutes. Ten, tops.”
    â€œHurry up. Don’t use all the hot water, like yesterday.”
    â€œGive me a break, Morgan. When you get out of the bathroom, it looks like a