Fall (8 page)

Such a bad idea.

It’s fine I say.

Drive that car quietly. Hear me. And safely. Wide corners. And don’t drive it at all. Please. Keep it parked.

I plan to.

I don’t want to hear about it he says.

It shakes when we fuck I’m thinking. It’s hilarious.

It’s my job he says. I WILL be fired if anybody hears about it. I owe you William.

And if you’re late. One minute past seven. You won’t get it. I have an awful lot of beer and forgetting to meet on Friday night.

I won’t be late I say.

There goes Noel she says.

There he goes.

You should talk to him she says.

I will I say. I’m living with him.

It’s weird she says. A school this small and there’s people we haven’t talked to.

Yeah. I’m just not seeing him so much. I haven’t seen him much ever. He’s not around much or something. Right.

I guess she says. Is he going to Brown’s.

I don’t know.

Anyways I’ve decided to stay here tonight she says.

What I say.

I want to study she says.

What.

I just want to take it easy. I don’t want to stay at home and tomorrow night we’re going to Brown’s.

But it’s Friday night I say.

I know.

I’m getting the car.

I know.

I can’t breathe.

I need to study she says.

I can’t think.

Sex.

I only have the car for an hour anyway I say.

I know she says. Let’s do the car some other time. Don’t be mad she says.

I’m not mad I say, and I am, I’m mad and sad and mad.

You can’t study on Friday nights I say. It’s like trying to be happy on Sundays.

But I want to. Tomorrow’s a big night. Let’s walk she says.

We’re walking.

So why do you want to stay here I say.

You’re really having trouble with this aren’t you she says.

It’s lonely here.

It’s lonely at home she says. I feel like taking it easy.

I hate coming here on Fridays I say.

You don’t have to.

But you’ll be here.

I’ll be all right.

But I want to see you.

She’s smiling.

We can spend some weekends apart sometimes she says. I’m gonna try hard not to let that bother me. I’ve got to be quiet here for a minute.

. . .

The day’s getting dark.

You should have told me before I say.

Why.

She’s all grown-up sometimes.

That why is a smart woman’s why.

She’s got it all figured out.

I don’t know I say. I could have planned I say.

It’s no big deal. I just want to study.

I thought you would study at home. And I could pick you up.

What difference does it make.

I don’t know. I pictured you at home.

So you can picture me here.

I love her hands.

Picture me in my PJs she says.

Mmm. White socks.

Short white socks she says.

No pyjama bottoms.

You say pyjomma like a cutey.

White socks.

I’ll be thinking of you she says.

Why don’t you just come out. It’ll be fun. It’ll be a riot. A big pink hoot. We’ll make out and I’ll . . . you know . . . do things . . .

Stop.

What.

Just stop she says. I want to study.

I grab her hand and think it’s gonna be limp but it’s tight like a loving trap, and she’s strong.

Maybe I should stay here tonight I say.

You should go out.

I could help you study.

You should go out.

Her hand’s on my chest and it doesn’t feel like pushing.

Let’s go see a movie I say.

Fuckin A says Chuck.

Ball in the face.

Ow.

I look stupid.

But I’m good.

I’m a green and white breath with a ball.

Check out this goal mom.

Cheer up I’m saying to the people in my head.

Cheer up sad teachers.

Cheer up sad boys in your bunks.

There’s a million mysteries and the ground’s electric I swear.

I’ve got fizz in my belly and a condom in my pocket. Who knows what’s gonna happen tonight.

Mayhem.

Orgies.

Fights.

Police.

What a boring fuckin party says Ant.

It’s just starting I say.

It’s early says Fall.

Give it a chance I say.

I might do some knives in the kitchen I’m thinking.

Where’s Chuck says Ant.

He’s talking to that girl over there.

The ugly one he says.

She’s not ugly says Fall.

Nyah says Ant.

Antony never looks at Fall she’s told me. It’s true. He won’t look at her when she’s talking.

I’m gonna go break it up says Ant.

He’s walking to Chuck and the girl.

What an asshole says Fall.

I’m thinking about doing some knives in the kitchen I say.

I’m thinking about taking you upstairs she says.

I like her.

Bedroom one.

WE’RE IN HERE!

Bedroom two.

SOMEONE IN HERE!

I like the feel of her hand.

My body’s in my cock.

Bedroom three.

Oops she says. Sorry.

Did you see someone.

I saw someone’s butt she says.

Whose.

I don’t know.

Nice. Boy or girl.

I don’t know she says. Just a butt.

There’s no more bedrooms I say.

She’s smiling.

We’re kissing.

Her tongue tastes like beer.

She’s so fuckin pretty sometimes she makes me nervous.

Look what I’m wearing she says.

o god.

Hey.

Hi.

How are ya.

Good.

See ya.

Bye.

She was very cute.

Hey Jules.

Where ya been Chuckie.

Christ he says. I was talking to that girl. Very sweet, man. A truly lovely girl. And along comes Ant.

Yeah.

Every girl I talk to he’s either trying to piss them off or he’s hitting on them himself.

Yeah.

That girl there. We were connecting. Ant comes along and tells the big vagina joke.

The president’s.

Yeah.

That’s hilarious.

No says Chuck. No it isn’t.

I’m barfing.

Are you ok says Fall.

Pwuh I say. Plah.

Are you ok.

I love you I say.

Plee.

O
UR ROOM BECAME
a refuge, a place where, for a while, I felt I could be myself more than anywhere else in the world. Julius created it. He dimmed the lights and closed the door to everyone else.

After Chapel on the second Sunday night I was reading in the room. I remember being annoyed that I hadn’t washed my white shirt. On Sunday nights we had to wear Number One for Chapel—grey flannels, house tie, blue blazer, and white shirt. We had to wear the same thing every Monday as well, and since I had only one white shirt I had to make sure I washed it every weekend. I remember I couldn’t find it that weekend until just before Chapel, when I dug through a pile of Julius’s clothes in the corner of the room and found it buried there. It was too late to wash it, and it would definitely smell by the end of Monday.

The door burst open while I was reading and Chuck stood there in the doorway, scanning the room but not looking at me. When he met my eye he said, “Sorry,” and closed the door again. Julius appeared around fifteen minutes later.

“Hey.”

He jumped up onto the top bunk and threw his blazer, which landed in the sink.

“Do you believe in God, Noel?”

“I believe in the maker of heaven and earth.”

“Of all that is known and unknown?”

“Seen and unseen.”

He laughed and I remember feeling cool. St. Ebury was an Anglican school, and in my years there I never knew anyone who was actually Anglican.

I stared at my book, pretending to read.

“You mind if I turn off the big light?” he said.

“No.”

He jumped down, turned off the overhead light, picked his blazer out of the sink, dropped it on the floor, and hopped back onto the bunk. With just the reading lights on, the room felt comfortable. For some reason I had always assumed that the overhead light had to be on.

I can’t remember what book I was reading.

“I’m still hungover,” said Julius.

“Chuck came in here looking for you,” I said. “Twenty-one minutes ago.”

Julius sighed.

“Maybe we should turn all the lights off,” he said.

“I can’t read in the dark.”

“I forgot,” he said. “It’s so fuckin’ hard to be left alone in this place.”

“Yeah.”

“Chuckie. Someone’s always banging through the door.”

I kept pretending to read. It might have been Hobbes. I remember reading
Leviathan
that year.

“Nobody bangs through the door at home,” he said.

I went through my usual list in my head.

Nobody showers with other guys at home.

Nobody wears uniforms at home.

Nobody lives with 113 people at home.

Nobody has twelve parents.

Nobody works, goes to church, eats every meal, and plays mandatory basketball at home.

I put my book down and brushed my teeth at the sink. Julius jumped down and turned off his desk light and hopped back up. I turned off my own light and climbed into the lower bunk in the dark.

“I’m in your bed, aren’t I?” he said.

“That’s okay.”

“I’m not used to this room yet.”

“I fall off the top bunk, anyway.” I fell during my first year and landed on my desk. I heard my roommate calling me the one-eyed bird the next morning when he told everyone about it.

“I could keep the top bunk,” he said.

We were lying fully clothed in the dark and it was one of those shy moments, so full of potential, when people are about to get to know each other. I felt nervous, but I didn’t think about the strangeness of it or worry about what Julius was thinking. It was two of us in the dark in our white shirts and formal trousers, a bright light and noise beyond the door.

“You have a good weekend, Noel?”

I said it was okay.

“You go out?”

“I stayed here.”

“All weekend?”

“Yes.”

I don’t think he had ever spent a full weekend at school.

I wanted to ask him a question but I didn’t know what. It was quiet for a while and I thought he might just want to sleep.

The door flew open and Chuck and Ant were standing in the light, looking in.

“What the fuck?” said Chuck.

“Sleeping?” said Ant.

“Jules, man, Ant wanted to tell you that his cock hurts.”

“Kills.”

“He used some cream.”

“Exfoliating cream. My aunt’s exfoliating cream.”

“To jack off.”

“Instead of lubricant.”

“He’s not smart, Jules. Our friend Ant. He’s dumb and his cock hurts. Are you asleep?”

“I guess he’s asleep.”

“It’s nine o’clock, Jules. You’re, uh, no longer eight years old, man.”

“Jule.”

“Jules.”

“Joolie.”

“Jules.”

“He’s asleep.”

“Little boy.”

“Sleepy.”

“Sleepy boy. So cute.”

“They’re both so cute.”

They left, and left the door open to the light.

“Fuck’s sakes,” said Julius. He got down from the bed and closed the door. When he stepped back up his foot landed on my hand, but I pulled it away before he would have to say sorry.

“Last night,” he said, “Ant started crying because he thinks no girl will ever know him. ‘No one will ever
know
me,’ he kept saying. So drunk. We were drinking Jägermeister.”

I laughed and said, “I got so drunk on that once. Well, it was more like rum.” I remember thinking I should find out what Jägermeister was.

It was quiet again. The bed moved and there was a thud, thud— Julius pushing his shoes off his feet and them landing on the floor. I could smell them.

“You stayed at home?” I asked him. I already knew the answer.

“I sign out to my dad’s place every weekend. I don’t always stay there. I got home last night at three in the morning and nobody cared. Except the Marines.”

“Really?”

“And my dad. Everybody cared. We have Marines all over, and police at the gate of the place. Ever been over?”

“No.”

“It’s this big place with a gate and Marines and when I come home that late they get all excited. Then I have to walk through the house and not wake any of the staff. And usually Marie-Claude comes out in her robe and says, ‘Du lait, Monsieur Jules?’ like I should pour milk over all the beer I’ve had and I say, ‘No, no, night-night.’
My dad always hears about it in the morning and shouts at me. ‘
You know, you’re an ambassador, too, goddamn it, I’m not letting you do this every weekend
.’”

“He never does anything?”

“What could he do?”

“He could call the school. Tell them not to let you sign out.”

“True.”

“He could tell the Marines not to let you out of the house.”

“Yeah. I’m glad you’re not my dad.” The bed moved when he shifted. “Dad’s an Irish Catholic. He’s strict, right, and his job makes him, you know, fuckin’ obsessed with the rules. But there’s something about drinking. Staying out late with my buddies. He’s kind of only pretending to care. He shouts at me for a while and nothing happens.” He stopped suddenly, and sighed, and said, “Fuck, Noel, I feel so . . .”

“What?”

“I feel so weird today.”

He got out of bed again, and in the dark I watched him take off his clothes and brush his teeth.

Was he talking about his hangover?

I loved the darkness of that room.

He got back into bed.

He asked me if I ever got tired of friends.

I didn’t say anything while I got undressed. I’d started sleeping in just my underwear that year, once I was working out regularly. It was liberating. We were supposed to wear pyjamas at St. Ebury.