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“What I see is the course as it stands now. Today. At 10:27:07 p.m. Relatively Standard Time. Tomorrow, Keith could pick up a book, read a sentence there that completely alters the course of his life, and decide he wants to become an English professor and that’s it. New ball game. Destiny isn’t fixed, Cameron.”
“A butterfly flaps his wings in South America and they get snow in Chicago,” I say, repeating something I learned from my dad.
“Right. Exactly. The snow comes down in Chicago, and a seventeen-year-old kid’s mom tells him to shovel the walk. He’s in the front yard just as this new girl walks by. She slips on a patch of ice, but he catches her, and that’s how they start dating. And on and on, a revolving door of action-reaction, of interconnection. Things can change, Cameron. It’s the one constant of this universe.”
“So now, just by randomly picking Keith up on the side of the road, I’ve altered the course of his life?”
“And he’s altered yours.”
“But which way?”
She shakes her head. “That I really don’t know.”
“What if I told Keith not to enlist? That he’ll die if he does?”
“You can try it, but he’ll probably think you’re crazy. Haven’t you ever watched any TV sci-fi? People think they can warn other people and it always backfires.”
“So I’m just supposed to sit with this information for the next one hundred miles to the Party House?”
“You feel responsible for his life choices?”
“Well, I didn’t until a minute ago, till you sprung your little news on me.”
“Sorry I upset you.”
“Forget this, man. I’m gonna tell him,” I say.
“Do whatever you need to do,” she says, flopping to the ground. She opens the jelly-bean bag again and picks out two pink ones.
I make my way over to where Keith is sitting with Balder. “Hey, um, Keith, right?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” He goes back to singing his song and Balder joins in on the chorus. Balder, it turns out, is a very happy drunk.
I don’t exactly know how to begin this conversation. How do you tell a guy you know how he’s gonna die? “So what do you think you’ll do, you know, after college and stuff?”
“I don’t know. Can’t think that far ahead.”
“Maybe you’ll meet somebody at the Party House.”
“I have a house!” Balder slurs. “It is called Breidab … Bradeblack … Braeder … it is called Balder’s house, and it is very, very nice. You should come and try to kill me again there.”
“Awesome, dude.” Keith fist-bumps Balder.
“You could totally meet somebody at the Party House,” I say, trying to get Keith back on track. “And, you know, maybe she lives there and you’ll want to stay.”
Keith scratches his chin. “Yeah. Maybe. I hear Daytona’s nice. I could be a beach bum for the rest of my life. Stay by the ocean.”
“That sounds great, man. You should do that.” Ha! Take that, Dulcie, you angel of doom.
“I don’t know,” Keith says. “Daytona’s expensive, and my money for school just ran out. But I got a cousin in the army. He says they really take care of you. I was thinking of enlisting this summer.”
Balder nods. “Man is the augmentation of the dust. Great is the claw of the hawk.”
“Okay, Balder? Could you and your Norse goodness do me a solid and take a hike? I need a minute here.”
Balder bows. “As you wish, Cameron the Noble. This Twist My Brains beer is worthy. I shall have more.”
“You do that.”
