by Unknown
All through the night, we wake each other up with kisses and make love; I’ve never had a night so wonderful as this night. The next morning, just before the sun rises, I put on his shirt and sit at the foot of the bed leaning against the log rail and watch him sleep. I watch the pink and orange sunrise spread across his beautiful face. I smell him all over me, and it stirs me again. The sun continues to seep in through the windows, and he’s glorious. I realize I might be insane for this kid. He stirs and opens his eyes slowly. He pats the bed beside him and then looks up alarmed. Then he sees me and smiles.
“Hey, love,” he says in a scruffy morning voice. “Hi,” I reply softly.
“Come here.” He sits up and pulls me up to him and snuggles in close to me, taking a deep breath of me.
“We can’t spend the whole day in bed,” I say, trying to be the voice of reason.
“Who says?” he mumbles.
“The world. We’ve got to be checked out by noon,” I say sadly. He checks his phone and groans, but we still lay there awhile longer basking in each other.
After breakfast, and we pick up, pack up, and load his car. I scoot across the bench front seat and snuggle in under his arm. I fall asleep before we reach the state road. The next thing I know, he is pulling into my driveway. Neither of my parent’s cars are in the driveway, so he comes in with me as I put my bag up in my room. I walk him back downstairs, and we stand at the hood of his car. He leans against it and puts his hands on my hips, pulling me close to him.
“What are you gonna do now?” I ask, draping my arm around his neck, loving our glow.
“Sleep,” he chuckles.
“That does sound tempting,” I agree, stifling a yawn.
“You sound tempting. I’m not going to be able to put last night out of my mind for years, maybe ever.” He shakes his head and kisses my forehead.
“Good,” I say.
Lana
“My mom wants you to come over for dinner,” Tomas says as he stares at the TV. Dad is in the kitchen seasoning up some hamburgers. It’s late March, still cold, but as soon as the snow melted he began cooking out about once a week. My parents love the back patio.
“When?” I ask, glancing at my dad. He whistles as he mixes.
“Friday,” he says, still not looking at me. I groan and lean back into the couch. “We’ve been together for almost six months. Mom wants us to come around more.” Six months? It seems like yesterday we met on the first day of school, but then I realize it’s almost April. The school year is nearly over. I’ve not felt this healthy mentally and even physically in a long time, if ever. My scars from cutting are now faint white lines. You can still see them, and they’ll always be there, but they aren’t as noticeable. My scars from my suicide attempt are just thin, brown lines. I feel like, just as the scars are fading, the pain of that whole experience, that dark period in my life, is fading too. With Dr. Mase’s help, I hope that if I’m ever in that situation again, I will make the right decision. I wonder if Tomas is tired of hearing about who I was versus who I am now. I think he understands that it’s a part of who I am. Each day I have to accept that I can’t change the past. I can only learn from my mistakes and move forward. “I think we should talk to my dad,” he finally says, as if he’s been having his own internal monologue too.
“About me?” I actually gulp when I ask it.
“Yeah, I think he needs to understand that whatever stereotype he’s placed on you isn’t the right impression. I think we should talk to both of my parents about it. My dad is old school when it comes to his views of people. It’s not fair, but I think we could convince him.” He drapes his arm around my neck and drags me into the crook of his arm as my arm lands across his chest. He kisses the top of my head, and I want to feel relieved, but I don’t. I’m not sure if I can feel relief until after Friday.
Lacey’s short shorts are back. All fall and winter I think she missed them more than anything, but she’s wearing her short grey dress shorts with a silky, flowing, black top and a lightweight mint green sweater. We are driving to school with the windows down. Lacey’s different these days. I’m not sure I can put my finger on it exactly. She and Chase are like no other couple I’ve seen before. They don’t fight over stupid stuff or play games with each other. They don’t fight at all. They are in synch with each other on almost every level. Me, I’m in skinny jean Bermuda shorts, and a thin, brown plaid button-up shirt wavy hair and sandals. My shirt is long sleeves. I’m still not ready to reveal my scars to the world. Maybe I’ll be ready by next school year.
When we arrive at school Stacey, Henry, Bea, and Byron call Lacey over to them. I don’t understand why Lacey’s so trusting of them now. The way I see it, a zebra can’t change it’s spots. This is where you tell me zebras have stripes, and I say, “My point exactly.” We walk over to them just outside the entrance to school. I wonder if Chase is pacing yet, worried about where Lacey is.
“I like your outfit,” Bea says immediately, and Lacey thanks her.
“Saturday night, do not make plans,” Byron interrupts demandingly. Lacey looks between them, confused. I glance around the group and really look at them. Byron, Bea, and Stacey are smiling at her sincerely; Henry’s expression says something else, though I can’t really decipher it. He’s smiling, but there’s a sadness in his eyes, too. He watches everything she does. As a breeze blows us, and she moves the hair from her face, his eyes go to her neck; as she shifts her bag on her shoulder, his gaze follows her hands to the strap, and when she leans on her side, his ogling, that is apparently obvious only to me, travels discreetly up and down her whole body. She doesn’t pay him any attention; she’s focused on Byron and Bea as they glance between each other like they are sharing a secret. “It’s our birthday. We’re having a little get-together, and you have to come,” Byron continues. “I’ll text you all the deets.” He smiles, and Lacey nods as we go on toward the doors. Just before we go through, I turn and look at them again. The others are talking to Derrick Chandler, but Henry is watching us. He looks away when he notices me.
By Friday after school, I’m literally a ball of energy moving at kinetic speed. Tomas comes up to my locker as the final bell sounds.
“Hey,” he smiles. I jump and grab my heart as it explodes in my chest. “Sorry,” he adds as he shifts nervously on his feet.
“Sorry, I’m just. . . anxious,” I offer.
“It’s going to be fine, are you ready?” He takes my hand as I close my locker.
No. “Yep.” I grip his hand so tightly, and our hands begin to feel clammy as we stroll toward his truck in the parking lot.
“Calm down,” he says as he unlocks the truck and opens my door for me. I climb in and sit down, but he stays there and looks up at me. I turn to face him and put my trembling hands on his steady shoulders.
“I don’t want to do this,” I whisper.
“I know, but we don’t have any other options.” He puts his hands at my waist, and leaning in, he kisses me. “Trust me on this. Once my dad understands everything, he’ll see you like I do, as you are, a loyal friend with a genuine honesty. Beautiful on the inside and outside.” I nod, unsure as I turn forward and he shuts the door. The drive to his house is quiet. As we enter his house, I smell the most delicious scent of Mexican food.
“Mmm, Chilate,” Tomas smiles at me. “It’s like a spicy tomato and chicken soup. You’ll love it.” He leads me through the house into the kitchen where we find his mother standing at the stove.
“Hi, guys,” Bridget smiles as she pulls Tomas into a hug. Then she hugs me and smiles at me, smoothing my hair from my face. I wore khaki capri shorts with a linen cream top, I hope that I am presentable enough. Nothing like a first impression take two. Tomas’ dad rises from the recliner in the great room just off the kitchen, and it’s all I can do not to jump when he appears.
“Hi, Dad,” Tomas says casually.
“Tomas. . . Lana,” he says as he nods to us. “I thought dinner was at five.” He
looks at Bridget, and she smiles nervously.
“We wanted to talk to you guys about something if that’s alright,” Tomas begins, bravely if you ask me. His dad crosses his arms and leans against the cabinet. Tomas looks at me, as if to say “go ahead,” and I take a deep breath.
“Mr. and Mrs. Gonzales, I know things have been tense between us since we met at Thanksgiving. I’m not sure I was completely forthright with you.” There I go, talking like an adult again. “Last spring I had a sort of breakdown emotionally. I was dealing with a lot of hardships at school, and I began to deal with it in a destructive way.”
“You cut yourself on your thighs and arms and stomach. You tried to kill yourself by slitting your wrists up to the middle of your forearm. You wanted to die and begged the doctors to let you die. You said you deserved to die.” My jaw falls slack as I stare at Mr. Gonzales wide-eyed. Tomas stumbles backwards until he falls in a chair at the breakfast table. “You said you’d be better off, everyone would be better off.” He pauses and watches me as the tears well in my eyes, making them glassy. “It was me who saved you. I saved your life.” I try to think about that night and all the faces I remembered seeing. His wasn’t one of them.
“You saved me?” I ask stupidly.
“Yes, I was the ER doctor working that night. That’s my department. I recognized you on Thanksgiving even though you changed your appearance.”
“Then you understand how desperate I was.”
“Yes, and how weak you were. What kind of girl throws her life away so carelessly? Not a girl whom I want my son associated with, and the stigma that follows,” he says it almost compassionately, but the words sting me.
“I’m not that girl anymore. I was spoiled and a mean person. I did die that night. The old me did; now I’m a girl who appreciates every day because it’s a gift. I’m learning to forgive myself.” I hold my chin up defiantly. “I was shunned, ridiculed, and humiliated at school. Lies and vicious rumors were spread about me, and it could have been because I was such a wretched person who treated people like that first, but that didn’t make it right. I was alone, I felt abandoned, and as dirty as the things that were said about me. I thought I had no one. Only someone who has reached that depth of despair and depression can understand it. Sometimes now when I think about it, I don’t understand it. I have the scars and will carry them with me as a reminder of my selfishness. I’m not that girl you saved. I’m stronger. Tomas saw that in me. I hope that you can too someday.” A large teardrop falls from my eye.
“I know all about what you went through. I sat with your family as your sister told your parents the secrets and lies you were hiding from them. I hoped that you would learn your lesson and grow. I’m pleased that you have been able to move on from the whole experience, but for now I still stand in my decision. I hope that I can see what my son sees in you someday too.” He straightens himself and returns to the great room without saying anything else to me. Bridget steps closer to me and embraces me in a tight hug.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Tomas calls after his dad as he rises. Mr. Gonzales turns and looks at Tomas. Bridget releases me as Mr. Gonzales’ words roll around in my head.
“Because whether or not you chose to be with Lana was your decision. I hoped that she was honest with you, but I wasn’t going to be the one to tell you about her.” They stare at each other. Not angrily, not menacingly, they just stare.
“All we are asking is for a fresh start. I love her, Dad. She makes me happy,” he says as he takes his eyes away from his dad and looks at me.
“As long as you follow our rules, you can see her. If you break them, your relationship is over.” He sits again in his chair, and Tomas looks at me with hopelessness on his face.
“You two go wash up. Dinner is ready now, and we’re all here. It doesn’t make sense to wait to eat.” Bridget says as she goes to the cupboards and begins taking down bowls. Defeated, we follow her instructions.
Lacey
I’ve never been to Byron and Bea’s house. It’s a few blocks from my house and looks similar to our house, a remodeled historic home with an in-ground swimming pool in the backyard. Byron greets us at the door, excited that we are there. He tells us to make ourselves comfortable, and drinks are in the kitchen. We go there and get sodas. A lot of people are here; this is not a little get-together.
“We’re just making an appearance.” I pull Chase toward me and whisper in his ear.
“I just don’t understand when appearances became so important to you.” I look at him confused as Bea squeals from across the room and runs to me embracing me in a hug.
“You made it,” she slurs.
“I told you I’d come.” I offer a smile as Chase looks away.
“Well, make yourself at home,” she says. “I’ve got to get back.” She motions to her clique in the corner.
“Let’s explore,” Chase whispers in my ear sexily. When I look at him, he’s now wearing a wicked grin, so I follow him back through the house toward the stairs. We begin to climb as Byron notices us.
“You guys can go wherever; just don’t go into my parent’s room.” I nod as Chase drags me upstairs. We peek into the first room and assume it’s Bea’s because it’s hot pink and zebra print with white furniture. We giggle because that’s her. Across the hall is a room with grey walls and black and white linens. No messy, dirty clothes piled up, neatly made bed, desk in the corner with his laptop sitting on it. The carpet looks freshly vacuumed. Yeah, Byron is so gay. I’d totally live in this room. Chase looks confused as he closes the door. The third doorway is a bathroom with a simple boardwalk beach theme. The fourth room is an office, big desk, lots of large leather bound books in a bookshelf, computer in the corner. Chase goes to the fifth door and looks at me then past me down the hall before he opens the door.
“We can’t Chase,” I hiss.
“Bea told us to make ourselves at home,” he smiles mischievously. The room is massive, and the bed is covered in silk. The furniture is expensive, heavy, carved cherry. It’s a gorgeous room.
“Can you imagine sleeping on this?” I trace the linens. Chase is in the bathroom, smelling Mr. Ellis’ cologne. He scrunches his nose and returns to my side as I open the closet door. I’m amaze. It’s the size of a bedroom. Rows of suits, elegant dresses, everyday clothes, and in the back corner, fur coats. I go to the corner and touch the soft fur. I turn and look at Chase who’s just inside the door. He’s stoic with his ear turned toward the bedroom. He pulls the door and hits the light before he runs to me and presses me into the furs until I hit the wall.
“Wha—” he shushes me by touching my lips with his finger and looks into my eyes. I know that look. I feel his entire body coil, and his muscles tighten around me as I try my best not to kiss him right there. The closet door opens.
“I saw them come upstairs. Maybe they went back down, and I missed it.” Byron says to someone. My eyes widen, and Chase smiles at me. His finger is still on my lips as we hear the bedroom door close. We both let out the breath we’ve been collectively holding. I kiss his finger, and his smile broadens. He leans in and kisses me, softly at first, then building deeper, stronger. He pulls up my skirt and grabs my legs, and I jump as he pulls them to his waist. He presses me against the wall again as he kisses my neck, my chest, and around my heart as it pounds against his lips.
“Hold on a minute,” he whispers in my ear as he lets go of one of my legs and reaches for his wallet.
“We can’t,” I exclaim in a hushed voice knowing he’s going for a condom. Since the cabin, we have stolen as many chances as we can to be together. In his room, at our deadend parking spot, and on the couch in the great room at my house while a late movie played after everyone went to bed.
“Why not?” he breathes against my neck, and suddenly it seems silly not to. I undo his jeans, and we make love, right there between the wall and fur coats, sweating, heaving, and unable to get enough of each other. It’s a quickie, and after we finish together,
we clean up in the master bath before we go back downstairs. We stop by the stairs at the front door as Tasha comes in with Paul.
“Hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” She bounces to me as she embraces me.
“I think we’re getting ready to leave,” I say, looking at Chase, but he’s talking to Paul.
“But I just got here,” she whines.
“Babe, want a drink?” Paul asks her.
“Yeah, whatever. Lacey?” I look from her to him. They are both expecting me to place an order.
“Bottled water?”
“I’ll go with you,” Chase says as he rolls his eyes at me as if to say, “Don’t let anyone get you a drink but me; I’m your boyfriend.” I watch them disappear into the crowd as Tasha scans the room.
“Everyone is here,” she says over the music. I nod.
“There you are!” Byron calls from across the room. Tasha and I look at each other. He makes his way across the room almost spilling his drink a few times; he’s sloshed. “I have an emergency.” Tasha looks at me wearily. She still doesn’t understand our friendship.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
He leans in and says, “Where were you? I was looking everywhere.” I look away guiltily.
“You were doing it somewhere, weren’t you?” He covers his mouth feigning shock. How no one knows he’s gay yet is beyond me. “Where?” He puts his hand on my shoulder and looks around like it happened in this room with all these people around. Tasha giggles at my discomfort.
