by Sara Hosey
“That’s how I felt,” I said, marveling. “Like, right away …” I knew I was acting totally cheesy, but it was impossible to stop.
“I know.” He sounded just as cheesy as me. “I know.” And I couldn’t stop smiling. I was glad we weren’t facing each other directly, but still. I could tell he was smiling too.
So, we sat there like a couple of dorks, smiling, and then I perched up on the bench so I could kiss him some more and then he held my face in his hands and told me that he thought I was beautiful.
I looked down. “Ah, cut it out.”
“What?”
“I just feel embarrassed.”
He grabbed me around the shoulders and squeezed me hard.
I realized that the other tables were empty; all of the other people had left and I hadn’t noticed. In the dark, with only orange lights from the streetlamps, the park looked gorgeous, like a movie set.
“Iffy,” he said. “Is it okay if I call you that?”
I nodded. “Yeah,” I said.
“Iffy, I want to hang out with you all the time.”
I breathed out, happy. “Okay,” I said, feeling a little shy again.
“I mean it! Is that okay, like, okay, we can hang out all the time?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
We smiled at each other. “So, let’s do something tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah? What do you want to do?”
“I dunno. Let’s go somewhere. Let’s go to the beach or something.”
“That would be awesome,” I said, absolutely meaning it. Being on the beach with Anthony. I couldn’t imagine anything I would have liked more.
“Yeah, I have to do this thing for my brother, but if you don’t mind, we could go, like, in the afternoon.”
“I would love that,” I said.
“You know what? I’ve always wanted to go to Coney Island and, Iffy, I’ve never been there. So, let’s do this. Let me steal—I mean borrow,” he laughed, “my brother’s girlfriend’s car, and me and you can head over to Coney Island.”
“I’ve never been there either.”
“What? You’ve lived here your whole life and you never even went to Coney Island?”
“Not that I can remember,” I said. “We always went to Rockaway. Or, if we were feeling fancy, Jones.”
“Well, cool. It’ll be a first for both of us.”
He smiled at me and I looked up at him and smiled too.
“You know,” I said, “if I had known they had guys like you upstate, I would have run away there a long time ago.”
He pulled me closer. “If I had known that there were girls like you … well, I woulda spent a lot more time in city parks is all.”
I tilted my head up and kissed his lower lip and then his upper lip before going in for a big kiss.
“Wow, Iffy,” he breathed. “Wow.”
Part V:
All Saints
Chapter 28
We didn’t have watches, so we left the radio on and at ten to two I picked up my stuff to head out to the gate.
“Have fun on your date,” Corinne teased.
“Oh, shut it,” I answered.
“He’s real cute, Iffy,” Corinne said, genuine and suddenly serious. “You nervous?”
I nodded.
She put an arm around me. “He’s really nice. Anthony’s a really nice guy.”
“I know …”
“What is it? Do we need to, like, talk about the birds and the bees?”
I made another face.
“Okay, for real,” Corinne said, dropping her arm and facing me. “What’s wrong?”
“I mean …” I sighed, looked away. “I just, you know. I haven’t, like, ever really dated. Like, had a boyfriend or anything like that.”
“You’ll be fine,” Corinne said. “Just be cool. He likes you, you like him. Just have a good time.”
“I know …” I said again.
“You were fine last night,” she pointed out.
“I know. When I’m with him I feel fine, but …”
“So, go!” she commanded. “Go be with him.” She dropped her head into a tilt. “You’ll feel better once you see him again.”
Rationally, I knew she was right. Emotionally, not so much. I had butterflies in my stomach, thinking about the kiss, about the things he had said. Hoping that he hadn’t, overnight, changed his mind about me.
“I’m happy for you, you know.”
“Thanks, Corinne,” I said. “I know you are.” I bent down and scratched Angel behind her ears and under her jaw. “And thanks for watching Angel.” I handed her the leash; I didn’t want Angel following me after I left. “You two have fun now too. Be good.”
“Tossed aside, just like that,” Corinne snapped her fingers, “for a guy she just met.”
“Aw,” I said.
“Oh lordy, Iffy, I’m kidding.” Corinne rolled her eyes. “Have fun!” she demanded, sticking out one hip and opening her eyes wide, imploring me to go.
“Okay, I’ll meet you back here tonight.” I gave Angel a final pat.
“It’s fine, Iff, go.”
“Okay.” I stood there.
I sighed.
She swept her hands, as though to brush me away. “And you look totally hot. I mean, for a hobo. Now go!”
“Thanks a lot.”
“You do, though. Very cute.” I was wearing a little tank and some short shorts—Corinne’s—which weren’t quite as short on me as they were on her. I didn’t have a bathing suit, but after a long discussion, Corinne and I decided I could go swimming in what I was wearing and I could change into a clean(er) tee and shorts after. I carried those clothes in a backpack; I also brought some water and snacks, a towel, some cash.
“Go!”
I kissed her on the cheek, one last kiss for Angel, and I was gone.
I had gotten a late start, though, and I was sweating as I jogged through the park, worried that I’d get to our meeting place at the Richmond Hill entrance and he would’ve gotten there and not seen me and left, but I only waited a minute or two, scanning the street, looking hard at every car that passed, when he pulled up in a black Corolla and honked.
“Hey!” I called, hustling over to the car, as though he would pull away if I didn’t get there fast enough.
“What’s up?” he said as I got into the car, slamming the door shut behind me, a little harder than I meant to.
He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. He was the opposite of me: totally unhurried. It was cool in the car, the AC on high, blowing loudly. His hand rested on the gear shaft. I grabbed it. “Hi,” I said, smiling.
Someone honked. “All right, all right,” Anthony said into the rearview mirror, squeezing my hand in his and then letting go to shift into drive. As soon as he had pulled into traffic, though, he reached for my hand again.
Corinne was right. I was fine.
With Anthony, I was fine.
I noticed how big his hand was, especially compared to mine. Big and calloused, but clean. My hands were small and calloused and not as clean as I would’ve liked. But I was going to be getting in the ocean; just thinking about the beach and the seawater made me feel fresher, more awake.
“So, I think I know where I’m going,” Anthony announced, but not with a lot of confidence. “I think I go straight down here for a while?” He nodded his head at the street that stretched out before us.
“Sure,” I said. But I had no idea.
There were more than a couple of false starts. We would start going one way and then get into our conversation and then Anthony would say, “I have no idea where we are right now.” Then he’d pull over and I’d yell out the window to some pedestrian, “Could you tell me how to get to Coney Island?” or, after the first guy’s incredibly detailed instructions, “Can you tell
us how to get to the BQE?”
One guy looked at me like I was crazy. His face somehow reminded me of Lizette. “From here?” he said, as though I had asked for directions to Madrid. He sighed and walked over to the car. “Well, you’re gonna have to get to the LIE first,” he said.
“We can do that,” Anthony called from the driver’s seat.
The man settled his forearms on the window and leaned in, like he was resigned to a long conversation.
We had to ask one more person after that, but eventually, we did get to the highway. And then, on the highway, of course we hit traffic. But that was okay, too, because it let us have time, together, holding hands, listening to the radio, talking, and sometimes kissing. We got honked at more times than I could count. But it was nice, in the AC. It was nice to be in a car. It was nice to be with Anthony.
“Listen, I want you to hear this song,” Anthony said, fiddling with the tape deck. “This guy’s called Daniel Johnston. He’s like, I don’t know, like, sort of not-all-there but he’s totally amazing. I guess … just listen.” And he turned up this song, piano and vocals, just the sweetest and saddest thing I ever heard. “Some things last a long time,” the man sang. I turned and looked out the window and listened.
“Do you like it?” Anthony asked over the music.
“Yeah,” I said. Looking at Anthony. I wanted to add, “It’s beautiful,” but I couldn’t.
Anthony smiled and we listened some more.
I liked the song, but what I liked even more was that Anthony wanted me to like it. I leaned my forehead against the cool window.
When the song was over he said, “I have something else for you to listen to.”
I smiled.
He put a different tape in and turned up the volume and I heard a spare electric guitar and drums and a voice that I recognized as Anthony’s.
I couldn’t make out some of the lyrics, but what I could catch was strange and lovely. He crooned,
“I don’t know what I would do
without my honey baby-bee, but I suspect
it could not be much better than
whatever
I am doing now”
Or something. It was like poetry.
“I like this a lot,” I said.
Anthony was smiling broadly. “You do?”
I nodded. “Is it the Beat Drums?”
“It is,” he confirmed.
“What is it about?”
He shrugged. He was embarrassed.
“I really like it,” I said.
“I’m glad.”
I saw him a little bit differently, suddenly, knowing he was so talented, that he could sing and write and play guitar. I wondered, not for the first time, why he was interested in me.
“What?” he said, looking at the road and looking at me. “What?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head.
He took my hand and squeezed it. “Iffy. Tell me everything about you. I want to know everything. Like, I don’t know, what were you like when you were younger? Were you a troublemaker? A good kid?”
I laughed. My desire to tell him, to tell him everything about me, overcame my self-consciousness. His interest in me was like the warm sun shining. “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I was mostly just really quiet. And then I found skating. Skateboarding. You know? So, that was cool.”
“How did you start skateboarding?”
“My friend Lizette’s little brother showed up at the park one day with this, like, weak-ass Toys ‘R’ Us skateboard and I looked at him trying to do it and I was like, ‘I can do that.’ And I could.”
“So, you just knew how to do it?”
“Sort of. I mean, I fell down a lot too. But it was worth it. It was kind of like, okay, this is for me. You know? You ever feel that way?”
“Yeah,” Anthony grinned. “That’s how I feel about music.”
“Cool. So, that was you playing guitar?”
“Yeah, that’s my main thing, but I can play most anything, you know, if you give me a little while.”
“That’s so cool,” I really meant it.
“I like it,” Anthony said. “But tell me more about skateboarding. Like, are you like one of those kids you see hanging out in front of the mall, getting chased by the cops?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I laughed. “But yeah, you know, I guess it’s more than just skateboarding. I don’t know. You meet a lot of people and stuff too. I know it’s cheesy, but it is like a way of life and all.”
“Yeah.”
“My friend Lizette started skating too, although she was never very good and then we met all these guys, not like that, but you know, they’d always be like, you girls skate? And those skater guys, they were a lot cooler than the other guys from our high school. I don’t know, less … basically not assholes, you know?”
“I guess. So what, though, you like skater guys?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying,” I said quickly, embarrassed. “I just meant, I don’t know. Whatever.” Again, I wanted to say more. I wanted to say, “I like you. You’re the only guy I like,” but instead I forced a laugh.
He laughed too and looked out over the wheel. “I’m no athlete, but I could get a board,” he offered, joking. “Shoot, I’d do just about anything you asked.” It was as though he could read my mind, as though he could simply say all the things I only thought about saying.
We smiled at each other.
“But you know, when I first saw you, I was like, ‘What’s up with her?’ Like, in a good way? Like, you just looked so … okay, whatever. You can laugh, but you looked cool. You know? I was like, ‘I’ll never have a chance with a girl like that.’”
I was already slapping at his arm, saying, “Oh my god, shut up.”
“Really, though,” he said.
“Oh my god.” I looked out the window to hide my smile, pretending to be mad.
I had tingles running up and down my spine. I couldn’t stop grinning.
Of course, I wanted to hear more about what he thought of me when we first met, but I couldn’t really pursue that without seeming like I was fishing for compliments. So, I figured, something for something: “Well, you know, I thought you were pretty cute when I first saw you.”
“Oh yeah?” He had a case of the grins too.
“But, you know, I never thought that you’d like me. I have been living in a park and all.”
“You have no idea how good you look,” is all Anthony said.
“Shut up,” I said again. Yeah? Really? I thought.
“I’m afraid you’re gonna figure it out and dump me. Like, what are you doing going out with this chump?” he said, pointing his thumb at his chest. “I don’t know, Iffy, you’re so smart and funny and all that.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, thinking, “dump me,” thinking, “We’re going out.”
“Let’s not even pretend, Iffy,” Anthony said. “Like, I don’t know your SAT scores, but all that camp stuff, you had it figured out. Not everyone could do that.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I do. And I may not be the smartest tool in the whatever,” he said, laughing, “but I’m smart enough to know to get together with a smart girl. That’s where my talent lies.”
“Well, I can be the brains and you can be the beauty,” I said.
“Oh, you got them both. I can be, well, I’ll just be the boyfriend.”
“You’re my boyfriend?” I said, my heart soaring. His easiness, his warmth, made me feel like I could be warm and easy too.
“Is that okay?” He looked at me and squeezed my hand.
“Yeah,” I said, smiling and nodding and laughing. “That’s okay.”
“For, like, real?”
“Yeah. For real.”
; He laughed too and then he said, “Awesome. ’Cause I’m done, Iffy. This is it for me. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”
I looked down, still smiling. “Well, that’s gonna be a long time.” After a moment I added, “But don’t worry, we won’t have to live in the park.”
He chuckled. “Whatever you want, Iffy. It’s a nice blend of city and country.”
“I think I’d like to live in the country,” I said. I’d said it twice now, so I guess I meant it.
“I like it too,” he said. “But maybe not Monticello. Maybe we could go south or west or something.”
“That’d be cool,” I said.
“You know, we should really think about, I don’t know, like, whatever’s next,” he said gently. “Like, you think you’re gonna go back? Finish school someday or what?”
“I want to. Definitely. I definitely want to.”
“Me too,” Anthony said. “I didn’t finish high school either.”
I kind of snorted. “We can study for the GED together, right?”
“Maybe, I guess. But you could actually go back to high school, right?”
It hadn’t occurred to me, so I didn’t answer right away. “No,” I said finally. “I mean, it might be allowed, but I don’t think I would. Go back. But wait, how old are you anyway?”
“Eighteen,” Anthony said.
I didn’t say anything for a minute, and I guess that made him nervous. “Is that too old for you?”
“No,” I said, distractedly. “Sorry. I was just thinking about something else.”
“Home?”
“I guess,” I answered.
“So, you wouldn’t go back there?”
“No,” I said bluntly.
Anthony waited.
“No,” I said again. “I might not stay in the park forever, but I won’t go back there.”
He nodded, looking out at the traffic.
Neither of us said anything for a while and then, very softly, he asked, “Why not?”
I didn’t answer at first. I was thinking about what to tell him. How to tell him.
“If I hadn’t left I probably would’ve killed myself,” I said at last.
“Iffy,” said Anthony. He looked at me. He looked back to the road, but put his hand on the side of my face and left it there.
