In the safety and privacy of Ethan’s room, Alek felt freer and more confident than he ever had before. So when Ethan leaned in and kissed him back deeply, Alek responded in kind.
Alek looked at the absolute ordinariness of his own room. Transforming it so that it would be more him would be a challenge, but he felt ready to take it on.
“How’s this?” Becky asked, adjusting the poster. “Is this good?”
“Move it a little to the right,” Alek instructed Becky. “A little more—that’s great!” He grabbed a pencil and started making marks on the wall.
“So, are you going to be, like, out now?” Becky asked.
Alek stopped in midmark. “What do you mean?”
“Well, are you and Ethan going to hold hands in school? Are you going to join the Gay-Straight Alliance in the fall? Are you going to become an expert on musical theater and fashion and wine?”
“I haven’t thought about any of that. I mean, do you think people are going to treat me differently? Am I going to behave differently?”
“Alek, it’s not like your personality’s changed, or you just found out that you were adopted and that you’re not really Armenian. You’re still you. You’re just a you that likes boys.”
“I guess,” Alek said. “But I hadn’t thought about any of that other stuff.”
“Well, I don’t wanna stress you out, but you do need to think about it, because if you and Ethan even hold hands in school, it’ll get back to your brother, and you know he’ll tell your parents, and then—”
“Oh my God. My parents! They’re gonna freak out!” Alek put the pencil down and sat on the floor. Until now, he’d been floating high on the thrill of having kissed Ethan. But these questions made him realize how much more he had to think about. “They’ve been talking about grandchildren for as long as I can remember. Producing grandchildren is one of the most fundamental of all Armenian responsibilities. It’s more important than celebrating Remembrance Day or boycotting Turkish restaurants.” Alek felt a sharp sensation in his hand. He looked down to see that he had snapped the pencil in half.
“Um, isn’t it a little early to be thinking about kids? Don’t you have to pick out kitchen curtains first?”
“I’m telling you, procreating is a sacred Armenian responsibility.”
“So adopt.”
“It’s not that easy—passing along your DNA is part of what makes it so important.”
“Alek, you have to calm down, okay?”
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one about to be outed to your parents.” Alek hadn’t even thought about what he and Ethan would do in school. From the way Ethan spoke and carried himself, Alek knew that he wasn’t scared of what other people thought. But Alek hadn’t considered any of the consequences.
“Why don’t you talk to Ethan about this? He’s already gone through it. This is where being the younger man is nice. I’m sure he’ll know what to do. He always seems like he does.”
“Thanks, Becky. That’s a good idea. I’ll try to put off my breakdown until then.”
Alek hadn’t thought about any of these things when he was with Ethan because Ethan’s room felt like its own dimension, safe and far away from the rest of the world. Before he had left, Ethan played a Rufus track for Alek, insisting that he listen to the words.
“What a beautiful, sad song,” Alek said.
“That’s ‘One Man Guy,’” Ethan responded. “It’s my favorite Rufus. Do you get what he’s saying in it?”
“I think so,” Alek said. “It’s about integrity, right? That people will understand that he’s the kind of guy who’ll stand up for what he believes in, and that he won’t stand for the things he doesn’t.”
“That’s right.” Ethan beamed. “Rufus’s dad recorded it years ago—he was a famous folk singer, so being a ‘one man guy’ to him was like a cowboy thing—alone on the range, doing the right thing. But do you understand why I wanted you to hear it?”
“You want to be a cowboy?”
“Funny, Alek, but you’re not going to get off that easy. You see, when Rufus sings it, the song takes on a different meaning. When a gay guy sings, ‘I’m a one man guy,’ it means something more.
“After Remi, I used to think that I was going to be a one man guy the way Rufus’s dad meant, alone in the world. But now I’m kissing you, and I want to be a one man guy the way Rufus means it. And I know this is new to you and you might not want to commit to anything right now, but that’s the only way I can go on this ride. It’s all or nothing with me.”
Alek stared at Ethan, dumbfounded.
“I knew it!” Ethan said. “Remi told me never to get involved with someone just coming out. They’re insecure, they don’t know what they want, and they just use you as their homo experiment.”
“How do you know I’m just coming out?” Alek asked.
“No disrespect,” Ethan responded, “but you might as well have ‘newbie’ tattooed on your forehead.”
“I just know that I like being here with you and can’t imagine wanting anyone else. Is that good enough for now?”
“Good enough.” Ethan pulled Alek onto his bed, where they held each other until they heard his father approaching the room again.
Alek smiled to himself as he remembered how quickly he had scurried off Ethan and to the opposite side of the room, just to be safe.
“What’re you grinning about, Alek?” Becky asked, putting the poster down.
“It’s a gay thing. You wouldn’t understand,” Alek answered.
13
The spoon Alek was tapping against the kitchen table later that day made a dull ringing sound. He wondered how many times he’d have to bang it against his head to knock himself unconscious. But if he did that, his parents might never leave.
“This is the phone number of the hotel where we’ll be staying tonight,” his mother explained again. “If you need us, just call and they’ll connect you directly to our room. Of course, your father and I will also have our cell phones. Then after Wednesday, we’ll be staying at the Marriott outside of.…”
This was the third time that his mom had gone over these instructions, and Alek could barely make the effort to pretend that he was paying attention. In the hallway that connected the front door to the kitchen, his father was making sure they’d packed everything they needed.
“Alek, are you listening to me? I want you to know how to get in touch with us in case anything goes wrong,” his mother said.
“You’re only going to be gone for five days! Now, show me where you put the homing pigeons in case the flesh-eating zombies attack while you’re gone and I need to ask you where you keep the Band-Aids.”
“This isn’t something to joke about, Alek. It’s the first time we’re leaving you alone and—”
“And everything’s going to be fine, Mom,” Alek reassured her.
Nik walked down the stairs, wearing a shirt and tie.
“Prom isn’t until next spring,” Alek cracked.
Instead of insulting him back, Nik looked flustered and turned to their mother. “Do you think it’s too much, Mom?”
“Well, today we’re going to be driving mostly. Maybe you could save that outfit for a nice dinner, honey.”
Nik ran up the stairs.
“What’s wrong with him? We don’t dress that way unless we’re going to church.”
“I think, well…” his mother stumbled, clearing her throat.
“What is it, Mom?”
“I think Nik is worried about impressing Nanar’s parents. They’re so proper, you know. He’s just worried he’s not Armenian enough for them.”
“If Nik doesn’t cut it for them, they’re going to need to get a mail-order groom delivered directly from Armenia,” Alek said.
“Honey, I was thinking, if you want to do your summer shopping while we’re gone, I’m leaving you this,” his mother said, handing him an envelope. Alek opened it and found an American Express gift card.
“I know. I trust you,” his mother replied simply. “We’re also leaving you this, just in case there’s an emergency,” she said, handing him an envelope full of cash.
Alek accepted it solemnly, thinking that he wished his family went on vacation without him more often.
“I had your father stock up on all the sundries, like soap and canned goods.”
“I know. Between that and the twenty Tupperware containers full of food he left, if a nuclear war breaks out, I’ll be able to support the entire neighborhood until the radiation levels drop.”
Alek braced himself for the rebuke that was surely going to follow. Instead, she put her hand over his.
“We just want to make sure you have everything you need,” she told him.
“I promise I’ll be fine, Mom. Don’t worry about it, okay?” Alek stroked her arm reassuringly.
“You’re a good kid, Alek. I’m sorry I haven’t—”
“Kadarine, can I talk to you for a moment?” Alek’s father called from the corridor. “We have to figure out if we want to take I–95 all the way to I–80 or get on 287 and then switch over.”
Alek’s mom smiled at him warmly. “Don’t worry about us too much when we’re gone, okay? And remember: no more than one friend, no sleepovers, and call every morning and night.” She stood up and left the kitchen, passing Nik on the way, who was now wearing skinny hipster jeans and a tapered, striped button-down. He was carrying a bundle of books, which he started putting into his suitcase.
“What’re those, dear?” she asked him.
“I thought I’d bring along some summer reading I haven’t gotten to yet.” Nik held up one of the tomes. “This is a collection of plays by William Saroyan.”
“Have you heard of him, Alek?” his mother asked hopefully.
“Let me guess. He’s some Armenian guy who wrote plays?”
“He’s the premier twentieth-century Armenian-American writer,” Nik offered quickly. He held up another book. “And this is The Forty Days of Musa Dagh.”
“That’s the exposé about the Armenian Genocide by that German guy, right?” Alek offered. “Even I’ve heard of that one.”
“He was Austrian, not German,” Nik insisted.
“Whatev.”
“Nik, what a great group of books you’ve assembled,” his mother complimented him. “I’m sure Nanar’s parents will be impressed.” She kissed Nik on the forehead and went out to the car to help their dad pack up for the trip.
“You excited about your big trip?” Alek asked his brother.
“Yeah—we’re going to start by going to North Point, and then by tomorrow we should make it up to Niagara Falls. You going to be okay by yourself all week?”
This sudden concern for Alek seemed to be afflicting everyone.
“I’ll be fine. Just do me a favor, okay?”
Nik eyed Alek wearily. “Okay?”
“Don’t spend the whole vacation reading those books. The whole point of going somewhere is to see that place.”
“I know, Alek, but these books are on my summer reading list. I need to get through them.”
Alek put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Nik, there’s a difference between need and want. Remember that, okay?”
* * *
Alek usually dreaded walking into the school cafeteria. But today, his heart was racing. This would be his first Ethan encounter since the kiss. A quick survey of the room revealed Ethan sitting with the Dropouts at their usual table.
The table was in the middle of the room, and the Dropouts easily made more noise than the rest of the cafeteria combined. Their dyed hair and metallic piercings made them pop out from the rest of the cafeteria like a highlighted sentence. Alek had to force himself to look away.
He started walking to the table where he usually sat. But after a few steps, he heard Ethan calling out to him.
“Wassup, Polly-O?”
“Hey, Ethan.”
Just seeing him again sent shivers through Alek’s body. Ethan’s jeans hung low on his hips, and his hair fell on his face so that you could only see one of his blue eyes. He bounded over to Alek, hair flopping with every step.
“What are you doing?” he called out between bounds.
“Well, this is the cafeteria, so I figured I’d eat some lunch.”
“Don’t play with me, dude. I meant what are you doing walking back to that sad lonely table where you always sit by yourself? You sit with me from now on.” Ethan put his hands on Alek’s shoulders and guided him toward the table.
In all of the permutations that Alek had imagined for this interaction, he had never considered this one. He prayed that there wouldn’t be a spot for him, but saw that Ethan had put his backpack on the seat next to his. Even at the D.O. table, no one would defile the holy high school code of saved seats.
“Good to meet you, Dropouts!” Alek blurted when they arrived at the table. Immediately, he wished he could take the words back. “Not that I think that, like, you guys are future dropouts or anything…” he fumbled, desperately trying to backpedal.
“We know what people call us,” said a guy wearing a black leather jacket even though it was the middle of summer. “But we’ve come up with our own meanings.”
“Like ‘Dope Offensive,’” a guy with two eyebrow piercings shot back proudly, and the table cheered their approval.
“Or ‘Destructive Obliteration,’” another guy on the other side of the table wearing a Bob Marley T-shirt said, earning another cheer.
“Or ‘Devious Others,’” Alek added. But only silence followed his remark.
“I don’t really think we’re devious,” one of the D.O.s said, a little defensively.
Alek didn’t know which was worse—insulting Ethan’s friends within a few seconds of sitting down at their table, or almost getting beat up by one of them a few weeks earlier.
“Anyway,” Ethan cut in, “everyone, this is Alek. And that’s Andy, Pedro, Anthony, Dustin, Chris, Mikey, Jack…” Alek didn’t even try to remember all the names being fired at him. Whenever his parents had guests over, they had instructed Alek to shake hands upon acquaintance, making full eye contact. Alek heard the words “Good to meet you, everyone” come out of his mouth. He knew he should’ve said something like, “’Sup, dudes?” or just “Yo,” or not even said anything and just given some super-cool hand gesture that would’ve somehow communicated that he didn’t need words to earn their respect.
Alek was painfully aware of how out of place he was in this crowd. Wearing his khakis and a green short-sleeved Izod that his mom got him for his birthday, he looked down the table at a cornucopia of color, metal, and rough materials. Alek could tell that all of the Dropouts had been buying and wearing whatever they wanted to for years.
“How come he gets to sit here?” the guy with the doubly pierced eyebrow and shaggy hair complained from one end of the table.
Alek shifted in his seat, wondering why Ethan had chosen to subject him to this unique and cruel form of torture.
“What’re you talking about, Pedro?” Ethan asked.
“Look, Ethan, when I was with Stephanie I wasn’t allowed to bring her to our table. Do you know how pissed she was when I didn’t sit with her during lunch? She said it was one of the major reasons that she dumped me.”
“I think the fact that you didn’t shower was another, Pedro,” a guy with spiky bleached-blond hair responded. The entire table erupted with laughter.
“Good one, Josh,” said an Asian-American D.O. next to him sporting a Mohawk.
“Don’t be such a dick, Pedro. You know Stephanie couldn’t sit with us because she’s a chick,” Ethan responded nonchalantly.
“So you’re saying that because you’re into dudes, the people you’re with are allowed
to sit with us?”
“I’m saying that only guys are allowed to sit at our table, so I’m allowed to invite Alek to sit with us.”
“That blows.”
“Think of it as a gay perk. Like not having to worry about pregnancy.”
The table howled again, and Alek felt himself relax just a little bit. He had always lived outside of the Dropouts and observed them with awe and horror. You never saw a D.O. by himself: they always traveled the school in a pack, like wolves. But being at their table, he could see that they ate and fought and laughed like everyone else.
Alek leaned in to Ethan. “Does everyone here really know you’re gay?”
“Yeah.”
“Was it hard to come out to them?”
“In my head, it was really hard. None of them are gay, and I’ve known most of these guys since I was a kid. But one day during freshman year, at this very table, we were going around the table talking about which teacher we’d most like to bang. When it got to me, I said, ‘Mr. Spack.’”
An image of the athletic history teacher with broad shoulders flashed into Alek’s mind.
“At first they thought I was joking,” Ethan continued. “But I wasn’t. Josh”—Ethan pointed to the guy with spiky bleached-blond hair—“was like, ‘So what does that mean? You’re into dudes?’ And I was like, ‘You got a problem with that?’ And Josh was like, ‘No way—I’d definitely bang Mr. Spack over Ms. Schmidt,’ and that was that.”
“That easy?” Alek asked incredulously.
“Well, yes and no. Two seniors jumped me after school, but I sent them running.”
“You beat up two upperclassmen when you were a freshman?”
“And got beat up by them,” Ethan admitted sheepishly. “But after those two assholes graduated, everyone knew better than to give me shit.”
One of the guys pounded his fist on the table. “No more whispering, girls.”
“Shut it,” Ethan hollered back.
Alek busied himself with unpacking his lunch.
“What you got there, dude?” the Asian-American D.O. sitting diagonally from Alek asked him.
“Yeah, it looks whack,” Jack said. He got up from the far side of the table and walked over until he was directly across from Alek.
One Man Guy Page 12
