Two Nights in Tahoe

Two guys, two girls, drugs, sex, and love

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Freshman year passed and then summer came and Sacramento was hot just like every other summer. Stella was riding in the back seat with me and car grew cooler the higher we climbed into the Seirras. We were on our way up to Lake Tahoe to escape the heat. The needles on the pine trees were dying and falling to the ground, turning from vernal green to an autumn brown. Stella was not as developed as she was two years later when we met again, and metal showed across her teeth when she smiled or laughed and it was a challenge to make her do ether for she was self conscious about having braces later than most do. I was only fifteen and as with most young men my motives were not far from sinful when I would look at her in a bathing suit or a pair of Daisy Dukes and a shirt that was obviously a size too small for her, but she was young as well and knew what she was doing. Max who was a year older than me because he had been held back a grade in elementary school, was driving us, Michelle seated to his right. It was a one hundred mile drive from Sacramento and took just over two hours because the road had some extreme switch backs and blind turns that would force you to drive slow for fear of a head on collision on the one lane highway. Im not sure what humbles me about thick pine forest but I always feel a force greater than myself while in there presence. The trees were flying past the window and I was trying to look at each one individually, a daunting impossible task, when my pocket vibrated and I pulled my phone out only to see that I had received a text from Stella.

-I forgot to tell you.

-What?

-Michelle has been talking about

you a lot lately....

-Saying what?

-Jeze Con dont act so dumb

-I know you know she likes

you.

-Yeah thats nice...

-She told me yesterday that

she was hopping you guys

would hook up this weekend

-She said that??

-Yeah, Im basically giving you

a free pass!

Stella smiled and showed her mouth full of metal and let out a silent laugh.

-What you don’t like her??

-Idk... She’s just kinda

crazy. What’s up with that

Brian guy you’ve been

talking too??

-Idk nothing were just talking

Where did you even

meet him?

-I’ve known him like forever

beacuse our parents are

friends

-Do you like him?

-Idk... He’s really hot tho

The words I read from the bright screen of my Iphone made me want to throw it out the window so that I could have the satisfaction of seeing the sentence physically brake apart and die as it it made contact with the pavement. If Brian were in front of me at that moment I probably would have beat his face in until he was unrecognizable. I looked out the window and saw the river that ran along a stretch of the highway. The river bed was lined with giant granite boulders and small pebbles and the boulders protruded from the water and sparkled in the sun high and dry. There was a flood here years ago and broken bridges crossed the water, some hanging down into the current. On the other side of the river was a steep mountain slope covered with pine trees that the late summer sunlight was hitting, creating beams of bright fiery lasers in between the high thick woods that hit the ground and illuminated parts of the forest floor. I was trying to stop my premeditated plans of murder, and thought of where the river must start, up high in the sierras in between two mountain peaks in a high elevation lake created from the run off of melting snow. The river winds and down the steep mountain slope through the thick green woods and out of sight to all until it meets this part of the highway and runs along it for some time. It eventually veers off the highway and continues its way down the slope of the sierra and into the foothills where it crosses from El Darrado county and into Sacramento county. The water flows to the San Juaquin valley floor where it feeds into Folsom lake, a man made lake created by the Folsom dam. On the north side of the lake is the town of Granite bay and to the South El Darrado hills where on the jutting hill sides that overlook the fake man made spans of water sits mansions with sprawling lawns. If not overlooking the lake the houses face too the west and look down into Sacramento where on clear days you would see the high rises of downtown.

The hills overlooking the city are no more than fifteen miles from where Stella and I live and late on nights of this previous summer, one of us would steal our parents car and we would drive up there with a bag of weed and a few beers. We learned to go to a part of the hills where the houses were still being built and we would park in between them on a high ridge and look out over the city and talk a wile.

The river flows through the Folsom dam and into a smaller lake also created by a dam and when it finally squeezed its way through the flood gates it created the American River, where our high school got its name. The waters continued migrating passed the neighborhood of old Fairoaks where large houses on the cliffs above looked down on the subtle current. The river flows into the Arden area where we lived and passed steadily behind our school that backed right up to the levy. On days when it was overwhelming to sit in a classroom, we would sneak over its high steep wall into the nature preserve along the water. The current flowed past our high school heading further west still under the Watt avenue bridge and beyond until it was running right along the north side of downtown and emptied into the Sacramento river where in veered suddenly south and ran along the west side of downtown with sky scrappers to the east and River Cats stadium to the west. The river would not head south long, for it would bend slowly westward traveling further across the valley heading for the coast and into the Sacramento delta where other rivers all congealed and flowed west until the water was in the bay and it passed downtown San Fransico and emptied out into the pacific after traveling under the the Golden Gate.

My eyes flashed away from the river and onto the screen of my phone and I began typing.

-I don’t know how ur going

to feel about hearing this

but I don’t think I could

stand to see u with some one...I mean how would u

feel if I was with Michelle honestly?

I pushed send and then there was fear and anxiety, the feelings only she could bring out of me. I had never spoken to her this way and she me. The reason being or so I always thought, was that if we did share theses words of truth that we might be enslaved and never set free. We knew that it must and would happen some day and that we, much later in life when we were old and our skin hung in wrinkly bags from or body’s and one of us was on our death bed, that the other would be right there one hand in the other to see us out. We would always be together and love and at this young age we felt it to be too early. It was never openly talked about but just and underlying understanding and agreement we had communicated telepathically. I always assumed that too be love, but I was fifteen... ​

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