I Know It's Over (10 page)

“They seem like a nice family,” Dad said in the car later.
Yup.
“And Sasha is a bright girl.”
Uh-huh.
“Nicholas.” That last word hung in the air as Dad fixed his stare on me. “Is everything okay with the two of you?”
Sure it was.
“What I mean is—you’re being careful, aren’t you?”

Being careful?
My head snapped up before I could stop it. That was a conversation I didn’t want to have for so many reasons. For one thing, it was none of his business what happened between me and my girlfriend. For another, the topic was premature and I didn’t want him to know that either. The fact that we weren’t sleeping together was as much personal information as if we had been.

“Everything’s fine, Dad,” I said. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I’m sure I don’t,” he continued, eyes back on the road. “But I still think I should. Just because we don’t see each other all the time doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be involved in your life. You can always talk to me. I hope you know that.”

“Thanks,” I said abruptly. That was a good thing to hear, but I didn’t want to go there. Nathan was the only person getting any information on the subject and I didn’t even tell him much. Mostly it was just Sasha and me working things out as we went along and the new rules, clothes optional, were working out just fine.

“So just let me get it out then, okay?” Dad’s voice was weirdly conscientious, like he was afraid he’d mess up his lines. “A lot of young people have sex without considering the consequences, but there are a lot of things to worry about—diseases and pregnancy—and you need to act responsibly, for both your sakes. You have to take care of the girl you’re with. Even if she says she’s on the pill or having her period. Got it?” I nodded like my life depended on it, embarrassment scratching at the inside of my stomach. “You don’t want to find yourself in a complicated situation until you’re ready to deal with it. So condoms all the time, right?”

“I hear you,” I said in a low voice. A tangled weed was growing inside me; its pointed leaves tickled the lining of my stomach. I glanced out the car window and noticed, with a shallow breath of relief, that we were two blocks from my house.

“Okay.” Dad nodded. “Good.”

Neither of us said anything until we pulled into the driveway. I thanked Dad for coming to the game and grabbed my hockey bag from the trunk. “I miss watching you play,” he said. The two of us were standing beside the car and that weed poked up into my throat, threatening to choke me. Sometimes I missed the way things were too, but there was no point in getting worked up about it.

“You don’t have to miss it,” I told him. “It’s still happening.”

“Right,” Dad said lightly. “You’re absolutely right.” He reached into his wallet and handed me two crisp fifty-dollar bills. “Safe sex money.”

“Okay.” I was still staring at the fresh bills in my hand. “Thanks.” I shoved them down into my back pocket. In my head I was already telling Sasha and she was saying: “I can’t believe you let him think that.”

“Give us a call,” Dad said, getting into the car. “We’d love to see you again soon.”
We.
I reminded myself to give them a call the next time a new ballet opened. How would I sleep at night without a full costume and cast description? Dad honked as he reversed out of the driveway and I hauled my hockey bag into the house and IMed Sasha every word.

Sasha has this teddy bear named Toby on her bed, a real raggedy thing with stitches in its stomach. I first saw him when she gave me the official tour of her house back in July. “How long have you had that thing?” I asked. “Does he get to sleep with you at night?” I knew the answer before she opened her mouth. “That’s so cute,” I sang, wrapping my arms around her in the doorway. “You’re so cute.”

That girl had her entire history stored in her bedroom—sailing trophies, picture books with inscriptions from godparents and old aunts, even her baby album. “Shouldn’t your mom have this?” I asked, flipping through the album.

“We have loads of family albums in the living room.” Sasha twirled her hair around her finger. “This one is mine, for when I leave home. It’s funny, you know….” She glanced down at a picture of her toddler self, darting across a maroon carpet. “They don’t even feel like me.”

“I think that when I look at mine too.” There’s one in particular. I’m about three and I’m wearing these dark brown cords I was crazy about at the time. It’s winter and I’m staring down at the snow like I’m mesmerized. I wish I could remember exactly what I was feeling when that picture was taken, but I can’t. It’s like Sasha said, like it’s not even me.

“Oh, you have to show me yours,” Sasha begged. “All of them.”

“No way,” I kidded, but I actually wanted to. Especially that one.

Sasha and I never had a moment alone at her house. Either her brother, Peter, was hopping into the TV room on one foot, telling us what had happened at school that day, or we were sitting at the kitchen table, sandwiched between her parents. It was a round table, too small for five, and I never felt right sitting there—I felt like an overgrown foster child—and that feeling made me quiet.

The five of us were sitting there, all scrunched together, one night near the beginning of October. We were having chicken and rice and Sasha’s parents were talking about building an extension onto the house, while Peter methodically scooped up one grain of rice at a time and swallowed, a process that seemed like it would take a hundred years. My cell started vibrating in my pocket, but picking it up in the middle of dinner would probably count as a personality flaw so I ignored it. A couple minutes later the kitchen phone rang and Mrs. Jasinski continued chatting as she grabbed the receiver from the wall.

She offered a gracious hello and then held the phone out. “That’s actually for you, Nick,” she said. “Someone named Nathan.”

I jumped up and took the phone, conscious of four pairs of eyes on me. “Hey, Nate,” I said quietly into the receiver, “I’m sort of in the middle of something here.”

“I know,” Nathan said. “I’m sorry, but I really need to talk to you right now. Holland told me you were there. It really…” Nathan’s voice cut out. “It can’t wait. I told my dad and…I need to see you, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” My blood was rushing under my skin, but I didn’t want to give off any signs of anxiety. Everyone’s eyes were back on their plates, but I could sense the whole family listening. “Where are you?”

“At the mall.” Nathan barked out a high-pitched laugh. “I couldn’t think of where else to go.”

“Okay. Give me a few minutes to get there. I’ll see you in the food court.”

“Okay,” Nathan said faintly.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, Nate. Just wait for me, right?”

“I’m waiting,” he confirmed, and then he was gone.

All eyes zeroed back in on me. “Is everything all right?” Mrs. Jasinski asked. She looked concerned and that made me like her more.

“It’s my friend. I have to go.”

“Do you need a ride?” Mr. Jasinski was already pushing away from the table.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “You’re in the middle of dinner.” I could just imagine the scene in the car—Sasha’s dad staring expectantly over at me, waiting for me to explain what the emergency was. I wouldn’t even blame him; I’d probably want to know too.

Sasha walked me to the door and squeezed my arm. “Call me when you get home,” she said.

I walked down to the end of her street, fishing for change in my pocket. There was a bus stop around the corner and with any luck a city bus would swing by soon. An old woman in a long cardigan was waiting too. She looked through me, making me feel like a juvenile delinquent. “Do you know when the bus will be here?” I asked. She shook her head mutely, still avoiding eye contact. “Do they come by often?” I persisted. Ditto on that.

When the bus arrived ten minutes later, it had an NYC logo painted on its side that the Courtland bus company hadn’t bothered to paint over and I glanced back over at her, determined to score a positive response. “You headed for New York City too?” I asked with a neighborly smile. The woman glared at me and stepped towards the curb. I started to wonder if she had a couple screws loose, but she began chatting, quite sanely, with the bus driver as soon as the doors had closed behind us.

Fifteen minutes later I was racing through Courtland Place. Nathan was sitting at a table in the food court, pale and alone. I slid into the seat across from him and plunked my hands down on the table. “Sorry I took so long. Are you eating anything?” He wasn’t, but I didn’t know what else to say. “Do you want me to get you something?”

“I’m not hungry,” Nathan said into his palm.

“So can we talk here?” I lowered my voice. “What happened?”

“I got tired of being chickenshit so I told him the truth and…” Nathan scanned the immediate area. He rested his head in his hands, his fingers hooked around his ears. “He said that it was just a phase, like an experimental thing that would pass. I told him it wasn’t like that—that I’d always been this way, as long as I could remember.”

“As long as you can remember,” I repeated. “Like when you were six?”

“Always,” he confirmed. “Before I even thought of what it was called. I always knew there was something different.” I nodded encouragingly, thinking of the two of us at eleven, skateboarding at the park, and of him knowing, even then. “But he won’t let it be that way. He said he won’t accept that coming from me at sixteen and that he doesn’t want to hear another word about it. He said when I get older and move out, I’ll be able to do whatever I want but not now. His house. His rules.”

“Maybe he just needs time,” I offered. “It has to be a shock.”

“It wasn’t a shock to you.” Nathan sighed. “You know how he is, Nick. He thinks it’s weak somehow.” Nathan squinted down at the table, his eyes lined with red, and I knew that we had to get moving before he lost it in the middle of the food court.

“Come on.” I reached across the table and bumped his arm, reminding him that I was still there. “Let’s go back to my house.”

“I don’t know.” He looked up at me with shining eyes. “I don’t want to talk to anyone else.”

“They’ll leave us alone,” I promised. “We’ll hang out in my room. Come on.” I stood first. Nathan rubbed his eyes hard before hauling himself to his feet. I felt drained watching him. I wanted to tell his dad that Nathan was fine the way he was and that
he
was the one that needed to change. There was way too much macho bullshit going on at Nathan’s house all the time. It made me glad to have my parents. If I told my dad I was gay, he’d probably just look scared and hand over more safe sex money.

I wondered how Nathan’s mom would’ve reacted. She died of cancer when Nathan was eight and his dad didn’t like to talk about her. I was sure his dad had never sat Nathan down and said, “We need to take a little time to adjust to this as a family.”

Nathan glanced wearily over at me as he matched my stride. “Thanks,” he said, hunching over like he was bracing against the cold. “I didn’t know what to do.”

Nathan had more friends than anybody I knew. There were so many people he could’ve called, but maybe he wasn’t sure they’d understand. I wasn’t sure I understood one hundred percent either, but I knew I’d be there no matter what.

He’d do the same for me. He always has.

nine

Nathan ended up
staying with us for four days. Mom made him call his house and leave a message about where he was and it took Nate’s dad three days to phone back. They had a huge fight over the phone and Nathan said he wouldn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t and hung up. His dad came with the car the next day. My mom put her arm around Nathan’s shoulders and asked if he would at least try to talk to his father. Nathan’s dad had dark shadows under his eyes and he spoke to Nate alone in the kitchen. They left together forty-five minutes later.

When I asked Nathan what’d happened, he said, “He told me he loved me. He never says that.”

“What about his rules?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “He just said the most important thing was that I come home.”

Sasha came over once while Nathan was with us. He told her everything that he’d told me over the summer, including the stuff about Xavier, and she said, “You know all the really good-looking guys are trouble.” They both looked pointedly over at me, grins creeping across their faces.

“Shut up,” I protested, breaking into a smile too.

“You need a nice guy,” she continued. “The good-looking ones expect you to fall all over them. You have to do all the chasing. And then there’s the sexual expectations.” She poked me in the ribs.

“Sexual expectations are good,” Nathan said keenly. “I have sexual expectations.” He forced his features into a serious expression and added, “With the right guy, of course.”

We laughed at that, but it still felt serious. Watching Sasha with Nate made me aware of how restrained I was. She was completely natural about the whole thing. She hugged Nathan and said, “I’m sorry this is so difficult when it shouldn’t be anything.” She rubbed his back. “Anybody who matters will be okay with it in the end. Even your dad.”

That was hard for me to imagine; for Nathan it must’ve been near impossible. But maybe she was right. After all, he did tell Nathan he loved him. Love does strange things to you sometimes. It can twist you into saying and doing things that you know you’ll regret and still, you do them.

I didn’t spend my dad’s safe sex money. I put it in my camera box, on the top shelf in my closet along with a pack of condoms I’d bought at the beginning of summer when I thought it might happen with Dani. I’d even practiced putting one on so I wouldn’t fumble around like an idiot when the time came. Only the time didn’t arrive, not then.

Of course I never forgot the condoms were there. I was conscious of them every time Sasha was in my room, but I never mentioned them. I didn’t want her to think I had a timetable in my head; I wanted to be the patient boyfriend. Most of the time I was surprisingly good at that. The more I liked her, the easier it got.